#It wasn’t me it was the man in the chicken costume!

[greyjade00117]

I have done it.

The four personas of Grian.

[impala-dreamer]

The Way My Hand Looks On Your Face

A Short Story 

~It's not like Y/N doesn't find her husband incredibly sexy, but something about his new character is doing more for her than any other...~

Jensen x F!Reader; Soldier Boy x F!Reader

3,248 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Role Play, Rough Consensual Sex, Choking, Slapping, Overstimulation, Degradation, Breeding Kink, Dom!Jensen, SexyBastard!SoldierBoy

A/N: This was a commissioned story. I hope you love it!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Lightbulbs flashed over and over and Y/N wondered how he never got a headache from photo shoots.

She stood off to the side, her tiny frame hidden in the shadows behind the crew. Despite being married to the man, visiting sets like this wasn’t something she did often, and she relished every moment.

It was always fascinating to see just how much effort went into something simple like a photograph, how many hands it took to get Jensen looking as perfect as he always did.

Not that he wasn’t always handsome, always deliciously attractive, but when he was working, it was something else. Every hair was perfectly in place, his beard was meticulously trimmed, his lashes were darker and his lips a little pinker. Even his eyes seemed different, more colorful under the bright lights.

But seeing him that day was something she’d never seen before.

Watching Jensen’s face darken, his demeanor shift from lovable actor man to… this… impossibly sexy yet infuriating anti-hero was doing things to Y/N that she hadn’t anticipated.

Jensen stood against the dark backdrop, his hands clasped at his waist, his chin dipped down. His muscles strained against the tight, dark green fabric of Soldier Boy’s costume.

The flash popped.

Jensen cleared his throat and scowled at the camera.

Y/N gasped, her body tingling with sudden arousal.

Another flash.

He leaned back and flipped the bird.

Her mouth watered.

The camera clicked.

Jensen spread his legs.

Y/N stared at the large bulge in his tights and shivered.

The photographer moved around, repositioning the camera and Jensen looked toward Y/N. He picked her easily out of the shadows and cocked a brow. He could see how much she was enjoying the show, how much her face had flushed and her pretty eyes narrowed, glassy yet focused on him.

He winked and she quickly shied away, caught and embarrassed. Jensen swallowed a grin and got back to work, instantly becoming the villain once more.

He let the character take over, but tucked an idea in the back of his mind for later.

She liked Soldier Boy.

She… really liked Soldier Boy.

The back door creaked open and a tall, dark figure stepped through. A gloved hand closed the door carefully, and heavy boots stepped onto the tiled floor.

The kitchen was dim; the only light coming from the glow of the oven. The large room was warm and the air smelled sweet like vanilla and melted chocolate. A long bank of cabinets and counters was cluttered with bowls and spoons; flour sprinkled the top. Music flowed gently in from another room, but otherwise, the place was quiet.

He moved quickly and quietly like a snake slithering across wet grass. The shadows hid him well.

A small timer shaped like a chicken clicked to zero and a bell rang loud and free.

Tiny footsteps approached and Y/N appeared in the doorway. She flipped on the lights and grabbed an oven mitt from the drawer beside the oven.

The door opened and warm, delicious heat wafted through the room.

“Now those look good,” she said to herself, smiling at the perfect chocolate chip cookies lined up on the tray.

He stepped out of the shadows as she closed the oven door.

“So do you.”

His deep voice burst through the kitchen and struck her ears like a gunshot. She spun around with a gasp, startled and unprepared for what awaited her.

Clad head to toe in forest green and polished brass was Soldier Boy. His jaw was clenched tight and a wild look filled his eyes.

Y/N relaxed. “Jesus, Jen- you nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing?”

A smirk played upon his plump lips. “Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me, Sweet Cheeks. I saw you starin’ at me the other day.”

Something was strange; his slight Texan accent was off- gone, really.

She glared up at him. “Sweet Cheeks?”

He ran his eyes down her body, stripping her with his gaze. “What can I say? I like your rump. Saw it when you bent over just now. Nice and… round.” He motioned with his hands, cupping them in the air. “Wanna take a big bite.”

He snapped his teeth shut quickly and Y/N jumped. He wasn’t usually so… forward.

He took a step closer and she felt the heat flood her system. She countered, taking a step back until she was flush against the counter.

“What are you doing?” she laughed, awkwardly aroused.

“Just watching you. Enjoying you.” He licked his lips. “Ya know, I love seeing a woman where she belongs. Barefoot in the kitchen.” He paused and eyed her middle. “Too bad you’re not pregnant. Then we’d really be cookin’.”

Her pussy fluttered. She squeezed her thighs tight.

“Jensen- I-”

He lunged for her and caught her cheek in his big hand. Bare fingertips swept backward through her soft hair and tugged. Her chin lifted and he bent himself over her; a predator adoring his prey.

“Jen-”

“Name’s Ben,” he corrected roughly. His fingers tightened in her hair and she let out a breathless cry. “Learn it,” he whispered. “You’ll be screaming it soon.”

Her jaw trembled, her insides melted, her voice trickled out in a pathetic whimper.

“I… um…”

With a blink, Jensen was back and his hand fell from her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I should have called first or something. Are you OK?”

Y/N relaxed, her body slumping back against the counter. “Fuck, you are… wow.”

“Baby-” He reached for her, tentative fingers hovering over her cheeks.

She smiled up at him. “I’m fine. You just caught me way… way off guard.”

Guilt painted his face and he turned away, ashamed. “We didn’t discuss it, I know. I just- I saw the way you were staring at me during the shoot and I thought I’d be… I don’t know… I stole the suit for the night.”

Y/N caught his hand, tiny fingers barely able to wrap around each of his.

“Jensen- It’s OK. I… I kinda love it.” She chewed her lip and shrugged when he looked back over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean…” Her hand slid up the spandex covering his big bicep and squeezed. “It’s really hot.”

He raised a brow.

“You,” she corrected, letting her arm travel even higher, “are really hot.”

In an instant, Jensen was gone again, replaced by the cocky, misogynistic, sexy asshole that had broken in through the back door.

He flipped his wrist and caught her arm, pushing her back against the counter again.

“You think so?” He smirked and dragged a hand down her body, slowly surfing each curve like a tidal wave. “Kinda hot yourself.” He stopped and pinched her right nipple through her shirt. “Real hot.”

Y/N moaned desperately as he twisted her nipple.

“And a slut, too, huh? Fuckin’ perfect.”

She arched her back a bit, shoving her tits out for him.

Ben took full advantage and cupped her breasts in his massive hands. He squeezed them hard and tugged at her nipples until she let out a little pained cry.

“What’s the matter, slut?” he asked, towering over her, totally in control. “Little bitches like you need a little pain. It’s good for you. Keeps you obedient and wet.”

Again, she clenched her tights together, but it wasn’t enough to stop the wetness from dripping into her pretty pink panties.

“Obedient?” she questioned in a whisper.

Ben sneered, perfectly white teeth gleaming. His upper lip quivered. “Obedient,” he repeated. “Respectful.” He fisted her hair and yanked until she was almost off of her feet. “Submissive. Like all women should be.”

He let her go and she stumbled across the tiled floor, half playfully, half truly retreating. He was scaring her a bit, but she liked it. Somewhere deep inside, she needed it; wanted him to rip her open.

“You’re crazy,” she said, grabbing the far countertop to steady herself. Her fingers slid through flour and a light dusting floated to the floor like fresh snow.

Boots fell loudly behind her.

“I’m crazy?” he mocked, stalking across the room. “And you’re a mouthy little slut who needs to learn her place.”

Again, a giant hand reached for her, this time wrapping around her throat. He pulled hard and Y/N fell back against his chest, her throat locked against his palm. He was solid and warm and she nearly bounced off of him.

She grabbed his arm, tried to pry him loose.

He squeezed and bent his lips to her ear.

“You think you can get me all worked up and then run off?” He tisked and her knees buckled. “You can’t do that. Can’t give a man blue balls.” His fingers dug in a little deeper. “It’s bad for the reproductive system.”

His free hand tore at her shirt, ripping the thin cotton away.

Y/N’s eyes went wide as she gasped for air.

Ben pawed at her tits, roughly massaging until she could feel his dick press into the small of her back.

“That’s better,” he laughed, rolling his hips against her. Dropping from her chest, he slid his fingers down to her waist, plucked open the button on her jeans.

Anticipation and deprivation swirled in her head and her eyes fluttered, pupils rolled back. She clawed at his suit-covered arm.

He squeezed tighter, wrapped himself fully around her, pressed his hand between her thighs.

She tried to moan, but there was no air to push out, no way to make a sound.

He thumbed her clit, pushed two long fingers into her dripping cunt.

“Damn…” He sucked his teeth, whistled in approval. “Fuckin’ wet as Niagra.”

Y/N shuddered. Pleasure and searing pain raced through her body and the edges of her vision went white.

Ben scooped up her juices and rubbed her clit hard and fast, pushing her without ceremony right to the edge.

The kitchen was blurring, floor and ceiling switching places in her head. She felt her legs give out and she hung in the air against him, held up by his hands and the grip she had on his arm.

“Go ahead and cum, sweet cheeks. Want you nice and ripe for me.”

Y/N’s body went stiff as the orgasm struck and her grip slipped from his arm. Her body went slack and at the very last second, Ben released her from his grasp and oxygen rushed back into her lungs.

Her head was spinning, her limbs tingling. The pleasure intensified as the air flooded through her and woke every cell, every numb muscle. She gasped and thrashed against him, safe but shaking in his arms.

“Such a fucking slut,” he growled, pulling his fingers from her panties. “Getting off with me damned near killing you.”

Y/N floated, lightheaded and drunk on the pleasure.

Ben lifted his fingers to her lips and pressed them inside. “Suck.”

She licked at the tips and moaned at the taste of herself.

“I said, suck.”

He pushed his fingers in deeper and Y/N had no choice but to suck. She swallowed hard as he fucked into her mouth, nearly choking her again.

Her head fell back against his chest, her eyes rolled deep.

“That’s it. Stupid little slut does what she’s told.” Slowly, he retracted his fingers and a line of saliva fell down her chin. “You’re an obedient slut, aren’t you?”

Y/N could do little more than moan and nod her head, so she did.

Her answer wasn’t good enough and Ben roughly flipped her in his arms and grabbed her face, squeezing her mouth between his index finger and thumb.

“I asked you a question,” he sneered.

Her eyes went wide and arousal trickled down her thigh. Her panties were soaked; her legs were weak.

“Answer me.”

Y/N took a breath and nodded again, this time eeking out a soft “yes”.

Again, he wasn’t happy, and Ben yanked her face upward and glared down into her eyes. “Try. Again.”

A hint of a smile prickled her lips as he released her. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

Ben grinned. “Better.”

She swayed on the spot when he backed away, shrieked with awe as he shoved his hands beneath her arms and lifted her up onto the flour-covered counter. He shoved her down onto her back and yanked at her jeans, tugging every bit of fabric away.

The marble was old, but his hands were warm, sliding up from her ankles to hips and spreading her wide. Ben knelt down and kissed her pussy, gently at first before diving in like a hungry beast.

Y/N screamed behind tight lips as he sucked hard on her clit. His beard scratched her thighs and swollen lips, his blunt nails scraped across her belly. Once his fingers were back inside, she felt the flood return. She knew she’d be cumming again soon, and she reached a hand down to tug on his long hair. Jensen always loved it when she played with his hair like that.

Ben slapped her hand away. Hard.

She gasped and meant to say something but his tongue fluttered so warm and fast against her clit that she couldn’t remember what words were.

She groaned and rocked her hips into his face.

He sucked harder; jabbed three fingers in deep.

She broke, thrashing on the marble and squeezing her thighs around his head.

“Fuck, this pussy is delicious. I could make a lot of money selling you off.”

His voice made her shudder and the orgasm struck every inch of her, from the tips of her ears to the back of her heels.

“Please…”

Once more, she reached down for him, but Ben reprimanded her. He shoved her hand away and rubbed his nose over her clit. She was aching and raw, her muscles still pulsing on his fingers.

“No more, please… fuck!”

Ben sat back, his face gleaming with her wetness. “You’ll get what I give you and you’ll thank me for it.” He clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her. “Won’t you?”

She shook her head, begging. His touch was almost too much, but his thrusting hand would not slow.

“Jensen, please-”

He was on his feet in an instant, leaning over her, crushing her into the countertop. He stared down and cocked his head, examining her, daring her.

“What’d you call me?”

She trembled beneath him. “Baby-”

A heavy palm came crashing against her left cheek and Y/N gasped.

“What did I tell you to call me?” he growled, grinding his covered erection against her spread pussy. “What did I tell you you’d be screaming later?”

Her mouth hung open and she blinked up at him, consumed with the feeling of the thick fabric rubbing against her sex.

Another crack against her cheek.

“Well?”

“Ben!” she gasped out. “Ben! Soldier Boy! Ben!”

He smirked. “Good.”

His lips came down swiftly and he licked into her mouth, sucking hard at the air that was left inside her lungs. She turned to jelly, barely able to move to meet his dry thrusts.

Just for fun, he hit her again, this time leaving his hand against her face. She felt the outline of him burn into her skin and he laughed to himself when he pulled his palm away. Her cheek was bright pink, the ghost of each finger clearly defined.

Almost tenderly, he caressed the spot, dragging his thumb across the top. “I love the way my hand looks on your face…”

Y/N was panting, shaking with arousal or pain or renewed orgasmic power, she couldn’t tell which. Whatever it was, it was driving her insane. She whined and reached down to grab his hips, pulling him closer.

“Please fuck me,” she begged in a quick whisper. “Please.”

Ben bared his teeth, tiny fangs peeking out from beneath perfectly ruddy and swollen lips. “You don’t get to decide that, you little bitch.”

Three hard thrusts between her thighs had her screaming and she slapped at his chest, tugged at the golden embroidery.

“Sorry! Sorry! Please! Fuck!”

He grabbed her hair.

“Who decides?” he asked, yanking hard.

“You do!”

His hand relaxed and Ben dipped his chin, looking down at her with a devilish stare.

“Lucky for you, I don’t wanna wait any more.”

He was gone for only a quick moment, stepping back to fumble with the costume and shimmy the leggings down.

“This fucking… thing…”

The fabric clung to his thick thighs and he stumbled forward, fighting with the pants and his dick which was making things very difficult.

Jensen looked up and gave her a little shrug. “Be right with you,” he laughed.

Y/N popped up on her elbows, watching him struggle. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Take your time.”

He managed to get the tights down to his calves before she attacked, unable to wait any longer. She hopped down from the countertop and lunged at him.

The hard tile floor came up to greet them both, but neither seemed to care. Y/N mounted him, fitting her tiny legs around his trim waist and wiggling down onto his cock.

Jensen moaned and bit his lip hard as her ass bounced on the top of his thighs, her cunt swallowing him whole.

“Fuck, baby- oh, fuck…”

She smiled down at him, grabbed his hands and placed them on her tits. “Don’t go soft on me now, Ackles. Where’s that bad boy?”

He took a breath and the cockiness took over, shifting his features like a mask had been fitted into place.

“No fucking way I’m going soft, bitch.”

Ben twisted her right nipple and she bounced faster. He slapped her left breast and she rolled her hips. He grabbed her throat and she shook, entire body trembling as the pleasure crested once again.

“Fuck, Ben- Put a baby in me. Fuck!”

He sucked his teeth and squeezed her neck. “Oh, yeah? You want that? Want me to flood this little cunt with my cum? Knock ya up good?”

She nodded quickly, her jaw slack, her eyes wide.

“Yes!”

Holding her in place, he bucked his hips hard.

“Gonna drown you. Filthy sluts need to be bred-”

There was more he wanted to say, so many more disgusting insults raced through his head, but there wasn’t enough blood there to support them. He dropped his hand to her hips and held on as he came, thrusting slowly up into her dripping pussy.

Y/N trembled; her tight cunt milking him dry.

“Fuck!”

Jensen’s eyes rolled back and his back arched up off of the floor. “Jesus Christ!”

A sweet moment of blissful silence passed over them and their breathing steadied.

“You OK?” he asked, blinking up at his beautiful bride.

Y/N nodded. “Amazing. Damnit, you’re good at that. Too good.”

Jensen blushed and licked his lip. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

With a satisfied sigh, she fell down over him and into a deep kiss.

The suit was ruined, the kitchen was covered in flour, but they were happy and riding the afterglow.

Y/N snuggled into him, nuzzled her face in the crook of his sweaty neck. “Hey, babe?”

He wrapped his arm around her. “Hmm?”

“Can you keep the suit?”

Jensen laughed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll give Eric a call and see what I can do.”

“Perfect…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[modelbus]

Could I request a Singer!Reader x Tommyinnit fic with the song ‘So American’ by Olivia Rodrigo? I think it would be cute if tommy bragged about reader on stream and she wrote songs about him <3

I assume you wanted a song fic, and if not… too late… whoops…

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Fem!Reader

So American

Drivin’ on the right-side road He says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes

Tommy’s eyes are on the window, looking vaguely surprised every time that the Uber takes a turn and reaffirms that, yes, he is meant to be driving on the right side of the road. It was something he jokingly called “barbaric” when he first visited your parents with you, but now he simply gives you a disgusted look to confirm that his beliefs on it hasn't changed. 

His arm is over your shoulders, playing with a loose thread on your sweater. Technically, it’s his sweater, but you claimed it as your own this morning. You claim most of his clothes as your own, actually. You liked wearing his baggy sweaters, he liked seeing you in them. Your fans go wild for it.

A fair trade, in your opinion.

His clothes were softer than yours for some reason, and they smelled like him. Plus, he had about a gazillion sweaters. He could definitely afford to spare some for you.

“The fuck is that?” Tommy asks, squinting at someone in a chicken costume dancing on the roadside with a sign. “Are they a fucking chicken?”

“It’s advertising.” You explain, laughing at the look on his face.

“Take a photo, take a photo.” He directs you, barely waiting for you to get your phone out before he snatches it to take a photo while the Uber drives by. Then he flips the camera to take a selfie of you two, making a horrified look for the photo. You mimic his expression. “There, send it later, I’ll post it.” 

“Got it.” You take your phone back, zooming in on the photo of you two to see how you look in it. Your hair’s a little messy, but that's to be expected. It’s a long Uber ride, after all.

“You look pretty as always, stop inspecting the photo.” Tommy grins at you, yawning after.

“Yeah yeah.” Clicking your phone off, you drop your head onto his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Tom.”

“Damn right, whatever I say.”

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much

“This mod adds alligators to Minecraft.” Tommy says, showing you it.

He’s trying to find a collection of mods for a new modded Minecraft video, but he’s run through most of the good working ones. And he wasn’t receptive to downloading a virus for a video on the bad mods.

“What do you call an alligator in a vest?” You ask, looking back down at your phone. “An investigator.”

He stares at you. After a moment of silence, he snorts. “That was so shit. Never make a joke like that ever again.”

“You still laughed.”

“But it wasn’t funny.” He stresses. “It was a pity laugh. Your joke was pitiful.”

“So you say, but you laugh every fucking time.” You smile brightly at him: he can’t help but smile back.

“There aren’t even any fuckin’ alligators in England, man. You’re so American!” Tommy nudges you with his elbow, going back to scrolling through mods.

So American. A common insult, but he has a way of making it seem endearing. 

“And you’re so British.”

I'd go anywhere he goes And he says I'm so American

Tour life is exhausting. 

Traveling from place to place, staying in hotels that range from absolute shit to five stars, you start to wonder why on Earth you’re doing this. But, for all your complaints, you know Tommy is even more exhausted. After all, he’s the one performing damn near every day. And although he loves it, you know it’s draining.

So there you are. Waiting in the wings after every show, giving him a hug when he runs off stage. Enduring the same creaky hotel beds as he is, although he uses your body as a pillow while you use the hotel pillows. 

Despite it all, it’s incredible watching him shine. He’s in his element, sharing comedy and humor with the world. And every single show, he always seems awed at how many people show up.

You’re glad you get to be there to see him flourish and to support him through it. Even if you get stuck with the odd-job of trying to fit Freddy into a dog costume a few too many times for your liking. Even if Tommy drags you out onto the stage for bows despite your lack of being in the actual show and your protests.

Simply put, you’re happy to be wherever Tommy is. He inspires your songs, pages of your notebook filled with the mere idea of his stage presence.

Your fans are probably tired of it by now. You’re not.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

“Turn the light off.” Tommy groans, face in a pillow and arm thrown over your stomach.

You glance at the light above the bed, the switch within arms reach. The hotel room is otherwise dark, matching the time of how late it is. And yet you can’t go to bed. With Tom next to you, your mind is racing, inspiration racing through your thoughts like lightning in your veins.

“I’m almost done.” You promise him, knowing you’re not. The notebook full of song lyrics and ideas is crammed full, the page you’re working on is half empty. It’ll be filled by morning.

“Bullshit.” He complains, blindly grabbing for the notebook and pen. He whacks you in the arm, making you shove him, and he finally gets his hands on your prized notebook. “Fucking thing.”

Yelping when he drops it off his side of the bed, you try to lean over him to grab it back. Instead, he acts like an octopus, throwing all his limbs around you like you’re a damn stuffed animal.

“Tom—“

“Light. Off.” He demands.

“I need my notebook—“

“Light.” He repeats slowly. “You have a recording tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t mean I need sleep.” You grumble, but reach out and flip the light off. The hotel room plunges into darkness, and Tommy makes an agreeable noise.

Within what seems like mere seconds, he’s out as easily as you had turned off the light. Exhausted from his stream earlier, no doubt. By all means, you should be exhausted too. Yet the warm body next to yours keeps you wide awake.

If you blink, or close your eyes, he might not be there in the morning. The best damn thing to ever happen to you, a British guy. You won’t lose him, or everything good he’s brought to you.

Laying your head on his arm, you stare blankly at the ceiling. Half-formed lyrics with no background music swirl around in your brain, pushing insistently at your cerebral cortex in a desperate bid to escape from being thoughts and becoming reality.

Tommy snores loudly, knocking you directly out of your thoughts. Laughing, you nudge him with your foot. He rolls, suffocating you with the way he ends up half atop you.

You’re more than happy to let him.

But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

Two steps forward, five back. Turn, flip your hair gracefully.

The metronome ticks in time with your moves, keeping count for you so you stay on time. Although you preferred the singing part of your job, you tough it out with your choreographer for dances. Besides, seeing it all come together is immensely satisfying.

“Run it through one more time girls!” Your choreographer, Elain, shouts with a clap of her hands. You scramble back to your spot, flyaway hairs already sticking to the back of your neck. Who needs a workout when you have dance?

By the time you’re finished with the last run through and take a break to chug some water, you’re dripping sweat. Attractive? No. But you worked damn hard, and it’s proof of that. All of your other dancers are sweating too, chatting between swigs of water.

You grab your phone, swiping it open to check your messages. Your manager was meant to email you about a certain venue sometime today, and you didn’t want to miss it.

But the second you open your phone, it vibrates with a call. A photo of you and Tom pops up, his name broadcasting across the screen. You smile automatically, knowing damn well he has your schedule memorized to call you during breaks.

“I thought you were streaming?” You ask, accepting it and raising it to your ear. One of your dancer wiggles her eyebrows at you, knowing exactly who it is.

“If only my man was that good to me.” Another girl jokes, laughing.

“I thought you were dancing.” Tommy snarks back on the phone. “Slacking, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’d like to see you dance. Last time you broke a vase.” You lean against the wall.

“It was in a stupid place and it was fucking ugly.”

It was on a table, and it was flower-patterned.

“It was fine, Tom. You just can’t dance. Wait— I take that back. You ‘club girl’ dance.”

He gasps commercially, then starts shouting into the phone. “You bitch! I do not! I am a sexy sexy man while dancing!”

Your jerk your phone away from your ear, laughing despite the fact he probably just burst your eardrums.

“Break’s over!” Elain shouts, eyeballing you in particular. You nod at her, bringing your phone back to your ear. Luckily, Tommy’s stopped shouting.

“—Jack goddamn manifold is coming over for the stream, so I have to hide all your shit because I don’t trust him with it—“ Tommy is saying, rambling about a topic. You wish you could skip choreo to listen to him for ages, FaceTime him and watch while he talks. God, you miss him. You really should plan a visit to England again soon.

“Tom.” You cut him off. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to dancing.”

“Is it already—? Oh, yeah.” He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can let you leave my amazing presence. Call me after, or else.”

“Promise.” You assure him. “Love you.”

“Love you!” He echoes back enthusiastically.

You end the call, frowning down at your phone for a second. Definitely need to plan a new trip.

"Girl, stop frowning!" A dancer calls out to you, and you laugh, dropping your phone.

"Yeah yeah, I know."

You're lucky to be in love.

[truthfulpoint]

Halloween (inspired by true events

This story is inspired by a Halloween experience.....names have been changed for obvious reasons…..

It must have been because it was Halloween. Violet just didn’t do things like this. She was a nice girl. She was a disciplined girl. She had a good job and a lovely apartment. She visited her parents regularly. She fed her cat and went to the gym and sent thank you cards to people who gave her gifts. It was Halloween, though, and sometimes when you put on a costume it just changes you. It changes you enough to do something crazy, if only for one night. Originally she really didn’t want to go to the party. She didn’t even have a costume, but her friend Christine had brought over some rabbit ears and said “Just put on the sluttiest thing you have and you can be a Playboy bunny or something!” The thing about Violet was that she had these tits. She was a somewhat plain girl, cute, but in a girl-next-door sort of way. She had very large breasts for her frame, though, and she spent a lot of time hiding them and generally hating them. As she looked through her closet, she considered that Halloween was one of the few times in the year that she could actually show them off. After all, Violet really didn’t know many people at the party and what could it hurt? She found a very skimpy pink top. It barely even fit over her breasts and showed several inches of cleavage. She put on her best bra, the one that really pushed her tits together and put on the low cut pink top. Looking in the mirror, she blushed a little. It wasn’t shocking for Halloween, but it was shocking for her. She pulled on a pair of jeans, chickening out on the mini skirt. Then she placed the rabbit ears on her head and applied a little too much makeup. Violet smiled at her reflection. She looked like a slut. When the two friends arrived at the party, it was like being back in college. A lot of people were milling about with red plastic cups in their hands. Everyone was a little drunk, which made Violet uncomfortable because she didn’t like to drink. Drinking made you lose control and do stupid things and she wasn’t interested in doing that. A dark-haired man with dark glasses eyed Violet as she walked in. He wasn’t really wearing a costume, just a pair of devil horns. Christine saw Violet looking back at him and told her “Oh, that’s James.” Christina sort of smiled a little. “We went out once or twice.”

“What’s he like?” Violet asked innocently, trying not to look back at him as he smiled at her and continued to stare.

“Oh, he’s nice enough… a little too kinky for me.” Violet wanted to ask what she meant by that, but Christine went to get a drink. Violet went to follow her but bumped into a sandy-haired tan-skinned guy wearing a black robe, like the killer in the Scream movies.

“Hi there, I’m Peter,” he said smiling wide and staring at her tits. Violet felt like everyone was staring at her that night and the feeling was both embarrassing and a little powerful.

“Oh, I’m Violet,” she sort of mumbled with a smile.

“Your costume is hot,” he said with a grin. She didn’t reply. The dark-haired man with the devil horns came over and stood next to Peter. The two of them sort of smiled at each other.

“Who’s your friend?” Peter looked her up and down, eating her up with his eyes.

“This is Violet. She’s a Playboy bunny, right?” Peter asked with a laugh.

“I’d buy that issue. I’m James,” he said with a grin, moving in on her a little.

Violet looked around for her friend, Christine, but she was no where to be found. Violet was pulled into a conversation with James and Peter. The topic started with what they all did, but moved quickly to sex and never left.

Violet wasn’t used to this. They were being so forward and she didn’t know how to react. She thought she was probably supposed to smack them or something, but she enjoyed the flirting like this. She was sort of getting addicted to their eyes on her body. A break from real conversation. The embarrassing rush of being an object for a little while. Peter was cocky and sort of a jock, but James was smooth and intelligent. Peter looked at her body all night, while James liked to look into her eyes and guess what she was thinking.

As they spoke, Violet found herself being moved by them around the room. They would back her up a little by moving in on her, and before she knew it, she was next to a door. Peter looked at James and opened up the door. James took Violet’s hand and led her in.

“What are we doing?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“We want to kiss you,” Peter replied with a chuckle. The room was dark and messy. Clothes on the floor, a computer on a desk in the corner, a low bed near the window. Violet’s eyes were moving quickly around, judging the environment, looking for her escape route. Peter closed the door behind him and turned around with the same cocky smile. James had a predatory grin that matched his devil horns. The devil pushed her back and she tumbled to the low bed. Sitting up, wide eyed, Violet was eye-level with two belts and two zipper and four big hands. Violet started to breathe a little faster.

The two men looked at each other, communicated something with their eyes. Violet looked up at them trying to figure it out. Peter chuckled a little. His eyes were right on her cleavage. James was looking right into her eyes, though.

Violet wasn’t sure where to look or what exactly to do. Her heart was racing. This was it. She’d had fantasies about this, but it was different with two strangers in some house she’d never been to. She thought she should probably end it soon, maybe just kiss them. But the man in the devil horns leaned down and slipped his hand onto her shoulder, then around her. He pulled her head back by her hair. Suddenly, he was kissing her.

His kisses were a little rough and a little insistent, but his lips were soft. When she was kissed right, Violet’s mind sort of wandered away and she tended to do things she knew she shouldn’t. When he opened her lips a little with his tongue and then swirled around in her mouth, tasting like candy and a little beer and heat, she felt herself falling. When the second pair of lips touched Violet’s shoulder, her body locked up for a second. The reality of it started getting her scared as well as very wet. Usually a kiss on her lips really got her started. And if a guy knew how to kiss her neck, she would totally melt. When Peter started sucking on the skin just under her ear while the devil horn guy kissed her deeper and hungrily sucked on her lips and tongue, she felt a new level of desire. It was like Violet couldn’t control herself anymore. Four hands roaming all over her. Peter was aggressive and rough. James had knowing hands that floated over her skin and nails that dragged up her back and down her arms. Each man alone would have made her swoon with their attention, but both at the same time were making her mad.

Peter touched her breasts for the first time and he chuckled hoarsely.

“Fuck, your tits are perfect,” he whispered as he squeezed them and lifted them and his thumbs hunted for her nipples though the thickness of her shirt and bra. As Peter grabbed and rubbed her breasts, James took her hand and pushed it against the crotch of his jeans. He was hard and although she wasn’t sure how far she wanted to take this, Violet couldn’t help holding the firm shape under his pants and wanting it. There is something so intimate about the first time a man unzips his fly and pulls out his cock. It is usually in some intimate moment and you are seeing a part of someone that has been hidden that you may have felt a little and wondered about. This was new, though. This was two strangers. When there was a cock in front of Violet, she could focus on it. She could worship it. She could suck it and savor it and hold it and own it. Two cocks made everything different. They both pulled at her attention. They surrounded her. She felt compelled to hold each one, go back and forth between them. The demands of it made her dizzy. The world became hard and throbbing. The smell of their bodies was overwhelming. The feel of their coarse hair and the rawness of all that skin; it was all too much, but she couldn’t stop. Sitting, Violet jerked the two of them off a little. She wasn’t really sure how far she might go. One of them, she couldn’t even tell which anymore because she couldn’t look up, moved closer. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the two cocks. Violet licked her lips. She was a good girl, but she did love to suck cock. She really shouldn’t, but when he moved closer, the head of his cock just brushed her lip. She just held the two of them, feeling the heat and hardness of them. She closed her legs tight. She really shouldn’t. She didn’t know them. Peter reached forward and pulled her hair. Her mouth opened and James moved forward, slipping the head of his cock between her lips. Once it was in her mouth, there was no more thought of what was wrong or right. There was only the taste of his skin, the feel of his length and the power, of making him gasp as her wet tongue slipped under his sex. She closed her eyes and sank into the rhythm of it. Filling her mouth with saliva to wet the pushing and pulling. The build up that she needed. She couldn’t keep her eyes shut for long because she felt Peter’s hardness in her other hand. When James pulled away and Peter moved forward, Violet was breathing hard and fast. Peter’s cock was fatter, slightly rougher and darker skinned. She licked the head of it, her hand slipping up and down James’s cock, still wet with her saliva. Peter’s hips bucked as she licked the head. He wanted her badly. He wanted her to envelope his cock in her hot mouth. She liked that. She teased him, tightening her lips and just sucking a little on the head, letting it pop in and out of her mouth. She looked up for a moment to see James watching her. A wave of dirtiness washed over her, so much she almost stopped, but she didn’t. She had a job to do. She sucked Peter’s cock, slipping in as much as would fit. She wet it down so it slipped in and out smoothly. She worked the shaft with her hand and sucked the tip and then gave it long strokes with her mouth.

“Fuck,” he gasped. She smiled a little between strokes. James moved closer so that both cocks were directly in front of her face, so close the two men’s hips were touching. She moved back to James, his cock feeling cooler that Peter’s. She sucked James fast and deep, nearly gagging, then she went back to Peter. Back and forth, back and forth, until the only thing she knew was cock and thickness and wet tips and hands in her hair and on her neck and shoulders.

“I need to fuck this chick.” Peter said between gasps. Then suddenly the two men were moving quickly around her. Peter lifted Violet up so that she was standing and pulled off her shirt.

“Fuck, that’s what I’m talking about.”

He squeezed and massaged her breasts groaning at the feel of them as James moved behind her and started unhooking her bra.

“They’re huge,” Peter marveled as he pulled off the bra. Violet was getting nervous. This was all going fast. Kissing and touching and even a little sucking was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she could fuck a total stranger, let alone two. But his hands were so hot on her breasts. Her nipples being played with made her bite her lip. Then James started working on her pants as Peter pulled off her shoes. The two of them were taller and stronger and she felt like a rag doll being pushed between them. When they were done she was only wearing her panties and the two of them were standing in front of and in back of her. A hard cock pressed against her stomach and another against her back. James kissed her and Peter reached around and squeezed her breasts from behind. He took her nipples and pulled on them a little, testing her sensitivity. She knew she should tell them to stop, but every time she thought of it, the thought would get washed away by fingers and cocks and wanting. The next thing she knew she was on the bed again, this time on her knees.

“What the fuck? She’s soaked right through her panties! Her thighs are wet. Jesus Christ, she fucking wants it.”

She didn’t even know who said it; her face was burning and eyes were closed. She knew she should really stop it, but then she was being pushed down farther, her ass up in the air and her head almost level with the bed. Then James’s cock was pressing against her lips again. It pressed and slipped against the wetness of her lips and she couldn’t help it. She opened her mouth and it slid in, pushing her back into the rhythm and the taste of him. Peter was pulling down her panties and she knew she had to stop it. She struggled a little but the cock was in her mouth and when Peter got the panties down to her knees, he rubbed his fingers around the wetness of her and found her swollen clit and then she was overcome. The finger on her clit, the cock in her mouth, Peter leaned over and with his other hand rubbed her tit and pinched her nipple, harder now, a little too hard.

Her hips bucked and the two of them laughed.

“Damn, she has a nice ass, too,” James said. She could feel the vibrations of his voice through his cock.

“Hell yeah, she’s built to fuck. Perfect,” Peter replied as if she couldn’t even hear. Then the first spank landed on her ass. The two of them laughed. Another spank, harder. James’s hands came up to her shoulders, holding her still. She was breathing fast out of her nose, but she needed to keep sucking. She braced herself for another slap but then felt the hot hardness of Peter’s thick cock rubbing against her.

She had to stop this, she thought. She had to, but he was sinking into her. She shouldn’t, but his hands were on her hips and James was holding her shoulder, and then he was holding her by her hair, and his cock was pushing into her mouth as Peter pushed right into her cunt. Then the whole thing became unstoppable. She was trapped between them, sucking, being fucked, her senses overloading and her body being pushed and pulled and used. They were pistoning in and out in the same rhythm. She felt helpless to them and helpless to the itching building frightening pressure inside of her. She had never really come from just being fucked, but this was new. This was so overpowering. It just kept pounding from every direction.

“Fuck, she is so tight,” Peter said, his voice straining.

“And she doesn’t stop sucking,” James added.

Peter’s fingers grew tighter on her hips and his thrusts started harder and faster and wilder. James was pumping into her mouth and he was gasping. They were both making grunting noises and spilling out curses and moans. They both started ramming her faster. Violet felt this rush and this fear and then she was coming hard, trying to keep sucking, but James pulled out of her mouth just as she let out a loud moan.

She was still coming when she felt the hot shots of come on her cheek and neck. Then she felt Peter pull out of her and felt more hot jets of come all over her ass and back.

Then there was emptiness. She was lying on her stomach, soaked, spent, and used. Everyone was panting. James brushed her hair back and she looked up to see his eyes, a little kinder now and his smile. The devil horns were just visible above his now tousled hair.

“We’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You should get cleaned up.” Violet swallowed hard, the shame pouring down on her, and at the same time, her chest welling with invigoration. She had an adventure, a wild new adventure. Lifting herself back up on her knees, she arched her back.

“But you didn’t get to fuck me yet,” she said, with a smile. The two men smiled and the dangerous game started up again

[cloudstaff]

It wasn’t me it was the man in the chicken costume!

[madaboutmunson]

In The Still Of The Night (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 4/4)

This series is now complete!

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth 2023

Week 4 prompts used: Eager, Earnest, Drama, Melancoly (a drop), Hopeful Week 5 prompts used: Haunted House, Frantic, I Put A Spell On You - Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Costumes, Protective

Warnings: Brief mentions of creepy haunted house things, masks, dolls, spiders. A short moment of claustrophobia, which is eased and resolved.

Summary:

Halloween night, 1959. Eddie Munson built the haunted house, but he wasn’t prepared for the real ghosts...whispers in the dark, stolen glances, and the feeling that something is slipping through his fingers. By the time the night takes them from flickering candlelight to the glow of a hidden nightclub, Eddie is faced with something far scarier than ghosts...the truth. Because some things feel too perfect to be real.

And some moments change everything.

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 18.7K

Ao3 Link -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie flicks up the collar of the borrowed trenchcoat against the wind howling down the street, as they stood outside the decrepit old place. “Dustin, are you sure about this? It looks like this place might fall apart if one of us sneezed,” Robin complained, folding her arms so that some of her scarecrow straw got bent. Dustin waved a dismissive hand at her. “Look, if you want to chicken out and go trick-or-treating with Max, that's up to you. Lucas said the scavenger hunt here was amazing last year, and Eddie managed to land it for us this year.” “Well, my mom really,” Eddie corrected.

He had ventured out to Maxwell Street with his mom when she went to buy some new tools, hardware, and fasteners. Maxwell Street, in 1959 Chicago, was a vibrant stretch of market stalls, bustling with energy. The air was thick with the mingling scents of a cornucopia of foods, diesel exhaust, ground metal, and polish. Vendors called out their wares, and the chatter of pedestrians added to the symphony of the street, making it feel alive and full of possibility. Esmeralda shopped around for anything unique but kept to her regular stall for her staples.

“Loyalty’ll get you places, kid,” she said, eyeing the goods. “You keep your word, you work hard, and in this city, that’s worth more than gold. Too many people out here looking to line their pockets, and you know what? They’ll throw you under the bus for a buck. You hear me? If something looks too good to be true, it’s probably a con.”

Eddie nodded his understanding and helped carry her shopping.

“Hey, Freddie! Hey, Guiliana!” His mom called out, receiving a wave from the front of the stall for them to ring up her purchases.

“Well, well, look who’s back in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Munson herself! Been a minute, huh?” The stout man with slicked-back, receding hair and tattooed forearms beamed at his mother and looked Eddie over. “This the kid?"

His mom nodded proudly. “Yeah, this is my Eddie,” she said, bundling his face in her hands and kissing his cheek hard. Eddie pretended to hate it, pulling a face, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t help but smile, despite the embarrassing public display. It was a love and acceptance he’d always wanted. He quickly glanced at Freddie, catching his teasing grin, and he could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“Oh, Ezzy, honey! He looks just like ya! Doesn’t he, Fred?” The woman with a baby on her hip exclaimed and beamed at him. Eddie looked away, the blush creeping further down his cheeks from the compliment, and started having a look through some of the Halloween decorations.

“He sure does. Is he gonna be taking up the family business?” Freddie asked as he bagged up the screws and nails.

“Undetermined. He’s working at Harrington’s at the moment, but I sure hope we can get him in a nice office somewhere if we can get him his dream. He’s a creative type. Writer, artist, musician. You know the type, Freddie, the ones sending this city to ruin,” Eddie’s mom teased with a wink, sending Guiliana into a loud chuckle.

“Sounds like the boys in the bar have been gossiping again, huh, baby?” His wife laughed, and her husband’s cheeks reddened.

It wasn’t exactly clear to Eddie why, after all that talk of loyalty and such, his mom had embarrassed the man adding up her total.

“Well, I didn’t mean your boy. I just mean the ones spilling out of the blues clubs and university,” Freddie defended and looked over to Eddie with a friendly nod, his voice softer. “Harrington’s, huh? You all set for Halloween? I could throw in a few decorations if you wanted?”

“Hmmm, well, you might be able to help us with something. You still got that place in the back of the market? The one I sorted the plumbing on? Eddie here could decorate it for ya for Christmas, brighten up the place, providing you let him and his friends use it one night for a few hours. Save you and Lana a few hours, right?”

Eddie perked up at his name. He used to help Wayne decorate a lot of the trailers where they lived, just so everyone had decorations up.

“I ain’t so sure about a bunch of teens using that place for a few hours if you know what I mean?” Freddie said, handing over the total to Esmeralda.

“Freddie. It’s the Harrington kids, and Eddie here, it’s just for a few hours on Halloween night. Not late. No funny business. Right, Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed enthusiastically, finally picking up on the deal his mom was laying down.

Three sets of eyes trained hopefully on Freddie, and he didn’t look convinced.

“You know Fred, if Eddie’s doing the decorating of the old place, and Carla here is at her Nana’s, that’d give us-”

“Sold! I mean, deal!” Freddie said enthusiastically at Eddie and his mom. “I’ll grab you the key, buddy. Two shakes of a tail.” He rustled about in a toolbox behind him.

Guiliana and Esmeralda exchanged mischievous smiles, and Eddie had to hide his laughter.

Freddie handed over the key to Eddie’s mom, and they went on their way.

“I get why Freddie was so enthusiastic about not decorating, but why his wife?” Eddie whispered when they were out of earshot.

“Well, Eddie, I thought you were a modern man. Women can enjoy alone time with their spouse just as much as men can.”

Eddie turned crimson. “Oh my god, Mom, no, I didn’t mean that, but is that why?”

She laughed loudly. “Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist. It’s actually because Freddie is not a decorator and usually injures himself every Christmas Eve decorating that place. He won’t ask for any help and leaves it until the last minute! You’re basically ensuring her husband is able-bodied for Christmas,” she smiled. “But in more important news, we got you a venue for Halloween, huh? I know he’s hired it out before, and I can help you set up and decorate if you want. Unless, of course, you wanna ask Steve?” She offered, but Eddie didn’t miss the mischievous grin on her face.

“Hey now, come on, that’s not fair,” he was embarrassed about his crush on Steve being so obvious, but lately, it had seemed pointless to hide it from his mom. She could read him like a book, and she wasn’t going to tell a soul. Even if it would never happen, having crushes could be fun, or so she said. Sometimes, it felt like torture. “Think I could pull off somethin’ real cool, surprise Steve, you know?”

“You think he won’t notice you not being around?” Esmeralda scoffed out a laugh.

“Oh. Right. Well, maybe I can tell him what I’m doing, just not tell him the details.”

Eddie couldn't believe his mom had taken such a risk teasing Freddie, just to get him and his friends a place for Halloween. It was pretty risky, especially since Freddie was her main supplier for work essentials. Though maybe he had underestimated his mom and the connections, bonds, and rapport she had built through her own hard work. She always had a way of knowing exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t, and this was no exception. Maybe this Halloween thing wasn’t just about a party or the decorations. It was about their bond. Something they could work on together.

And so, it had happened that way. Eddie had let Steve know that, though the original place Nancy had suggested had fallen through, this new place was an option. Steve had all but tackled him to the ground in excitement, and called Nancy, all of Hellfire, and ran upstairs to tell all the other Harringtons.

Eddie and his mom worked hard on the place for a few weeks in their spare time, setting up surprises and decorations they found in the attic until the place looked like a minimalist, abandoned version of the House on Haunted Hill.

“I would go, but I don’t know where Max has got to, and Steve’s driving, and we all know he’s not going home early tonight,” she rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Ah speak of the devil and he will appear,” Dustin chirped happy to see Steve, but he frowned, “Where’s your costume?” “This is my costume,” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, “What exactly are you a baked potato?” “No, Steve. I’m a Robot. I was a pretty great Robot until I got crushed in the back of your car because you invited too many people!”

Eddie knew Steve’s costume even without seeing it in full. The boots, the deep blue jeans and white t-shirt, the way his hair was styled slightly differently, how his cigarette drooped lazily from his mouth. He was just missing the defining piece. Steve smiled at him broadly, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” he said as a rumble of bikes approached and made him shout over them, “Bogart. Casablanca. Right?” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, unable to peel his eyes from Steve’s, “Dean. Rebel without a cause. Right?” he replied without needing to check over the outfit. Steve’s eyes searched Eddie’s and took a drag on his cigarette, “See Dustin, Eddie knew it right away. You like that movie, Ed? It's one of my fav-” Steve started to say as he approached Eddie but was cut off by the rapid sound of heels on the pavement, and a tackled hug, from a human-sized black cat. “I got the windbreaker you asked for!” Nancy smiled up at Steve and he sighed and beamed right back at her, and Eddie felt like a thumbprint in a perfect cake, and stepped back, only to bump into Jonny from the Hellfire Club. “Hey man, neat costume. Nance! Come and look at Ed’s costume its like he pulled it straight off the movie screen or somethin’!” he marvelled and patted Eddie on the shoulder as Nancy ran back towards them, Steve paced after her a moment, and was stopped by Robin who pulled him to one side, as he slipped into the bright red jacket. His hat got ruffled and two arms surrounded his shoulders from Gareth and Jeff from Hellfire as they flanked him, “Heard you got some frights for us tonight, Ed,” Jeff grinned. “Now don’t feel bad if I don't react, I’m just tougher than the lot of ya. The effort is still appreciated, Munson,” Gareth added kissing Eddie’s Fedora, “And don’t mind if Argyle tries to befriend a skeleton or two. He’s, uh, just got a few new samples from his cousin. So he might be more space cadet than anything else tonight.” Eddie notices the Hellfire guys don't have costumes on, that is until Nancy hands them out some masks, and puts some mouse ears on Jonny, drawing him on some whiskers with a beauty pencil she dropped back in her bag. “Glad to see someone else made the effort,” Nancy smiled at Eddie and extended her hand, “Nice to meet you again.” Eddie awkwardly shook it, kissing her hand seemed a little way out of line, or maybe he just didn't want to, maybe he was a little jealous of how good her feline outfit looked. She laughed and Eddie didn't miss how Steve rushed over when she did and smiled at her fondly. “Yeah, not a great first impression. Sorry about that,” Eddie said sincerely, and Nancy shook her head. “Not at all. That drawing was great, and honestly, Billy is a total ass. Steve vouched for you. I knew you were an ok guy,” She smiled kindly at Eddie. That smile told Eddie everything he needed to know. He wasn’t blind, after all. Nancy Wheeler was easily the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. When her big baby-blue eyes landed on you, it was like the world paused for a second. There was a kind of quiet intensity in them, like she was studying you, analysing every little detail, like she could see straight through you. It would be almost unnerving if she wasn’t so beautiful. Her features were delicate, elegant, yet undeniably striking, framed perfectly by soft waves of brown hair that bounced lightly as she moved with grace. All in all, a recipe for easy disarmament of anyone’s defences.

Eddie wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid either. He could see it. The way Steve’s gaze would linger on Nancy, the softness in his eyes when she smiled at him, the way he seemed to always have her back. Eddie knew the truth. Steve still had feelings for Nancy, and there was no question about it. How could no one else see it? Or maybe they did and just didn’t mention it? Not that it mattered. Eddie knew Steve was a pipe dream, a fantasy he’d created for himself, but the thought still stung in a way that Eddie couldn’t quite shake.

He could see Nancy for what she was. Funny, smart, kind, fierce. The total package. He could understand why Steve still carried a flame for her. And it wasn’t that Eddie had any ill feelings toward Nancy. Far from it. She was a force, someone anyone would be lucky to know. She didn’t just attract people; she fully enchanted them, probably without even trying.

He knew he and Steve were never meant to be, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t chase that dazzling smile or impress him tonight with a bit of creativity. Maybe if he leaned into the things Steve enjoyed about him, it could be a consolation prize of sorts. Something small to hold onto.

Steve’s voice broke his thoughts as he tugged Nancy toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go see what Eddie has planned for us.”

Eddie caught Jonny’s relaxed, unfazed expression and gave a small nod, his confusion quickly swept aside. This wasn’t the time to dwell on tangled feelings or what could never be. He decided to shelve the mess in his head for later. Tonight wasn’t about him or his emotions, it was about putting on a show.

Forcing a grin, he strode toward the house, adjusting his hat and lighting a cigarette. With a practised ease, he let himself slip into the role of the confident, charismatic host.

“Man, this place looks like it’s about to eat us,” Dustin muttered, glancing at Steve, who only smirked.

“That’s the idea, Dusty,” Eddie replied with a wink, puffing on his cigarette and letting the ember flare briefly in the gathering darkness.

“Ladies and, well, are there any gentlemen here?” he teased in his best Bogie impersonation, a playful chorus of boos sounding out from the guys making him break out into a smile, “Tonight we venture into a house of horrors,” he declared, his voice low and theatrical, “not for the faint of heart, so if any of you are a gutless wonder, better high tail it outta here before its too late!”

A nervous chuckle rippled through the group, and Eddie smiled to himself. He had them exactly where he wanted them. On edge but eager to see what lay ahead. “Take a good look at each other and the city. It could be the last time you ever see it.” As he turned to the house,  the teens began murmuring among themselves. The building loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the evening sky. It was a three-storey brick structure, with the windows boarded up, but there has been some attempt to add decorative shutters at some point to cover up that fact. Unfortunately, the only one that seemed to remain was hanging on by a hinge. The slightly warped door made it look like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for them to enter. With the key in hand, he pushed it into the lock, and though stiff, with a grunt of effort, which he overperformed for the group, the door creaked open beautifully to set the eerie mood. Eddie stepped in to make way for the others to enter, and the floor groaned underfoot. The entranceway smelled of dust and rotting wood. A single dangling light bulb in the hallway flickered on, which was his mom’s genius idea, casting a shaky glow over peeling, yellow, floral wallpaper. Eddie knew that beyond this mood-setting introduction to the house lay a rabbit’s warren of deserted rooms, purposefully broken fixtures, and furniture from times gone by that would give it an extra spooky setting for the teens. “Welcome,” Eddie said with a grin, his voice dropping into a dramatic rasp, “to your worst nightmare.” Gareth charged through first, and Jeff and Argyle were in tow. Nancy clung onto Jonny’s arm as he was next over the threshold. Last of all are the three Harringtons. Dustin raised his boxed foil-covered head and marvelled, “Whoa,” he said softly as he took in some of the details the older teens hadn’t. Reaching out to touch the netted cobwebs made of stretched fluffy cotton, toy spiders placed in them, the eerie painting on the wall of what should be a portrait but in place of a face was a skull only, only lit up by the flickering candle beneath it, and the smokey smell of burnt herbs coming from the abandoned fireplace, where there sat not logs but a pile of broken dolls, some with their eyes closed or missing save for one looking right out into the room, both bright eyes focused on the doorway they had just come through. “Oh! Jesus!,” Robin exclaimed as she made eye contact with the watchful resident of the fireplace, and turned abruptly towards Steve covering her eyes, bumping Steve firmly into Eddie, Steve's hand gripping onto Eddie’s arm as he stabilised himself with a bashful whisper of, “Shit, sorry, Ed.” “It's dark in here, it’ll happen,” Eddie smiled up at him from under the brim of his hat, Steve's hand released its grip and smoothed over the arm of his trenchcoat, and Eddie was in heaven, and immediately had to distract himself, “You doing ok, Robin? None of it's real it's all just pretend. I can turn the lights on or grab you a flashlight if it's too scary?” He asked and it was not a tease or patronising, he was completely sincere.

The kind offer got a giggle out of Dustin, and Robin’s demeanour completely changed, she frowned and stood up tall, towering over her little brother in her scarecrow hat, “Oh you just wait. I’m gonna make you scream this house down when you least expect it.” “Yeah, yeah I’d love to see you try and scare me,” Dustin scoffed and was immediately shoved lightly by Steve.

“Knock it off, you’re ruining the mood. It’s supposed to be creepy and scary, and it will be because Eddie set this up,” Steve said, smirking as he glanced at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He gently ushered his siblings further into the dimly lit hallway. Eddie, watching the scene unfold, quietly closed the front door behind them and locked it, the click of the bolt echoing in the silence.

Steve placed a hand on Robin’s back, guiding her forward as they made their way down the dark corridor. Eddie noticed how, with a subtle movement, Robin’s hand slid up behind her and joined Steve’s. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but Eddie caught the way Steve’s fingers curled protectively around hers, keeping the gesture hidden from Dustin, who was too busy muttering to himself about the decorations to notice.

Ahead of them, muffled laughter and haunting noises drifted from the next room, where the Hellfire boys, Nancy, and Jonny had rushed ahead. Eddie could hear the occasional burst of giggles mingling with half-hearted groans.

Then came a sudden silence, followed by a sharp scream that sent a jolt through Eddie’s chest. He froze for a moment, straining to catch the voices that followed.

“Holy shit, it caught me off guard!” Gareth’s voice rang out, muffled but unmistakable, laced with complaint and laughter. It was hard to tell what had just happened, but the sharp thud that followed and the uproar of laughter suggested Gareth had fallen victim to one of Eddie’s traps.

“Help me up, you bunch of assholes!” Gareth shouted, and Eddie could imagine him sprawled on the floor, helpless as the rest of Hellfire doubled over in hysterics.

Steve glanced toward the direction of the noise, his eyebrows raised, before suddenly taking off, his pace quickening as he led Robin and Dustin toward the next room. Eddie followed, his heart quickening with a mix of amusement and unease. When they entered the room, it was eerily ordinary at first glance, its dark ambience transformed by Eddie’s careful handiwork. Worn chairs flanked a small table in the centre of the room, where a makeshift crystal ball sat. The orb, crafted from blown glass and shrouded in tattered fabric, glimmered faintly, casting distorted shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

The Hellfire boys’ muffled laughter grew quieter as they moved further into the house, their voices echoing from a room deeper inside. Nancy lingered behind, her expression bright as she glanced at Robin.

“It’s the music box,” Nancy explained, her voice low but amused. “When you open it, it triggers something.” She turned her attention to Eddie, her smile widening. “This setup is pretty neat,” she said with an approving nod before glancing at Steve.

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh, you guys went through the hallway too fast. You missed all the keen stuff. Want me to show you?”

Nancy nodded enthusiastically and looped her arm through Steve’s, pressing against his side. Eddie’s stomach knotted at the ease of her touch, the casual way she clung to him as if it were second nature. Jealousy itched at the edges of his mind. The sludge of envy swirled in his gut, even though he had no business being envious of what he could never have or who he could never be.

“Unless, of course, I’m stealing your protector away from you all?” Nancy teased, glancing meaningfully at Robin and Dustin. But when her sharp, analytical gaze landed on Eddie, he felt stripped bare, as if she could see straight through him.

He forced himself to act normal. “Hey, I set up this place. I know every single detail. I’m probably the best person to show Robin and Dustin around.” He smiled at the group, his voice steady despite the faint tension clawing at him. Before Robin could argue, Steve and Nancy had disappeared down the hallway, their whispers and giggles lingering in their wake.

Eddie turned to Dustin and Robin, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm to Robin. To his surprise, she took it without hesitation, her fingers curling lightly around his elbow.

But Steve and Nancy’s voices, those muffled, conspiratorial whispers, still reached Eddie’s ears. He couldn’t help but imagine the worst, and the thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“You guys want to know what happened?” he asked, plastering on a big, warm smile in an effort to distract himself.

“Fuck yes!” Dustin exclaimed immediately. “You made Gareth nearly shit his pants. I need to know how you did it!”

“Language!” Robin chided, wrinkling her nose. She tightened her grip on Eddie’s arm and glanced up at him. “So, is something going to jump out at us?”

Eddie patted her arm with mock reassurance. “Yeah, sort of. Dustin, would you do the honours?” he said, gesturing toward the music box. As Dustin’s hand hovered over it, Eddie leaned toward Robin, speaking softly.

“The setup’s obvious,” he explained as he led Robin a little farther into the room. “See? There’s no way to get to the music box without walking around the table and doubling back. But when you do…” He paused, letting the suspense build as he turned Robin to face the table. “You’ll see a guest at the table. Don’t worry, it’s just foam shapes covered in black netting. Ready?”

Robin nodded, her wide eyes gleaming with nervous excitement. Eddie led her to the edge of the table, positioning her just right, before gesturing toward the shadowy figure slumped in one of the chairs. The dim light made it look disturbingly human.

“And now,” Eddie continued, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “when Dustin steps closer to the music box…”

Dustin took a step forward, and the floorboard beneath him groaned ominously. Robin gasped, clutching Eddie’s arm tighter, while Dustin’s entire body shuddered in reflex.

“Oh, that’s creepy as heck,” Robin said with a nervous laugh.

Eddie grinned. “Then, when he opens the box…”

Dustin hesitated, then lifted the lid. The faint, tinkling melody filled the room as a plastic bat suddenly dropped from the ceiling, landing squarely on Dustin’s head. He let out a startled squeak, batting at it instinctively.

Robin burst into laughter, her tension breaking as Dustin carefully examined the bat, still wide-eyed. “Oh, that’s so good,” he said, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. He placed the bat back on the music box, where it retracted smoothly into the shadows above.

“Not bad, huh?” Eddie asked, looking at Robin.

She nodded approvingly, a playful smirk on her lips. “Yeah, not bad, I guess,” she teased. “Next room?”

Eddie hesitated, glancing toward the doorway where Steve and Nancy had disappeared. “Should we wait for them?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Nah, forget them,” Dustin said with a dismissive wave. “They’re a lost cause.”

Eddie forced a chuckle and led the way, doing his best to ignore the faint sounds of Steve and Nancy’s hushed voices trailing through the house.

The next room was much larger, which meant it was darker, but less cramped, the tightness of Robin’s grip on Eddie eased with it. He put his hand on hers, at which she looked a little confused but it settled as he patted it, “Listen, nothing in here is real. My mom and I checked the whole place out, and we staged all the creepy stuff. You’re safe. I wouldn’t have invited any of you here if it was unsafe. Sure it's old and creaky but Mom and I swung off these beams, and stomped all over the place.” He smiled, “I don't know if you’ve met my mama but she would not let me be in here if she was worried about it.” Robin nodded knowingly, “Yeah that's true. Ma wasn’t gonna let us out of trick or treating until Steve said you and your mom had set this up”

Eddie felt a little warmth in his chest at that level of trust.

“And Steve was not gonna miss being in a haunted house with-” Dustin chimed in but Robin cut him off. “With you and your mom designing it. He knew it would be imaginative.” Robin could see how Dustin shirked slightly at her minor frown. Did they suspect or know about Steve wanting to be alone with Nancy too? “Hey, you know what, I’m suddenly feeling a little braver from your pep talk. Dustin and I are gonna have an explore, isn't that right, Dustin?” “Yeah,” Dustin croaked out as Robin grabbed him by the arm and marched him off.

It should have felt like Eddie could now sit back and watch the others experience this creepy set-up to his delight, but he found himself feeling rather like a spare part, and for all his ideals of being a lone wolf or leader, he didn't like it too much. He moved to slink back into the shadow-heavy sides of the room when Jonny captured his shoulder in his hand. “The Munsons seem to have outdone themselves, even if it doesn't get any scarier than this, Gareth figuratively, thankfully, shitting his pants will be cemented in my brain as long as I live,” he laughed and pat Eddie hard on the back a few times, and then took pause, “Hey, where’s Steve,” he narrowed his eyes for a second and then raised his eyebrows in understanding, “Ah he and Nancy off giggling somewhere I bet? Thick as thieves those two.” Jonny shook his head with a fond smile. Eddie didn't respond, because he couldn’t. Was Jonny not concerned? Did he trust Steve and Nancy so thoroughly that the worry isn’t entering his mind? Had he taken a few too many bumps to the head and was just plain stupid? Eddie awkwardly fussed with the collar of his trenchcoat, for somewhere to put his weirded-out energy. It was even Jonny who had brought up the fact that Steve was breaking hearts all over the city, well, in that he didn’t pursue the girls he flirted with. Did Steve just like flirting and was saving himself for the one? Could a young guy be that chaste? “Penny for ‘em?” Jonny said getting into Eddie’s space.

“Uh, you know just trying to remember all the things we set up, where not to tread and stuff,” Eddie said with a weak laugh. “Oh! Hey, guys, Eddie just let loose a secret, there are more triggers on the floor,” Jonny called out and gave Eddie a wink, as he watched the booted Hellfire gang become beginner ballerinas and get on their tiptoes to move around, which made him genuinely laugh.

“Hey, Dustin! Come check this out, we found one of your-” Jeff called out, but before he could finish, the pyre of upturned small chests toppled over, revealing a small U.F.O complete with two clay aliens riding on it.

“You break it. You buy it!” Eddie called out in jest, but he got a forlorn grumble from Gareth as Jeff and Argyle playfully scolded him for being too rough with an odd sculpture.

Robin sighed next to Eddie’s ear and it was enough to make him jump, “Why are boys like this?” “An age-old question,” Eddie muttered and shook his head. Dustin rounded them quickly to go and investigate the heap of furniture with much enthusiasm, and Robin was still muttering about the general stupidity of boys when a voice cut in behind them.

"So, what'd we miss?"

Eddie spun around so quickly that he nearly gave himself a crick in the neck, and in his haste, he knocked Robin off balance.

"Jesus H. Christ, where did you two come from?" he blurted, breath catching as he glanced at the pair standing in the doorway. He looked away from them, their pleased-with-themselves expressions were enough to make the bile of jealousy simmer in his stomach.

Eddie didn’t have time to explore the possible reasons why, because Robin tumbled against a wall and reached up to steady herself by a light fixture. Eddie grimaced as the fixture clicked, and a bucket of plastic bugs cascaded down onto her. Her scream split the air, and Eddie rushed over.

He felt a light pressure on his lower back. A voice started to say, "Mis-" but their words were cut off by the sound of Nancy's giggle as Jonny swept her up in his arms.

"Robin, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I should have warned you," Eddie said, his tone thick with regret. "They're just plastic, see?" He gathered the bugs from her hair and squeezed them in his hand for proof.

A shadow loomed above, and Eddie looked up slowly. It was Steve. Eddie's heart sank; he was supposed to be watching over Robin and Dustin, yet here he was, having accidentally traumatized fifty per cent of them, and they were only in the third room of the house.

Steve knelt effortlessly and lifted Robin. "Come on, it's just a bunch of toys. None of it’s real," he said. Eddie had half-expected a more protective line, maybe "Shall I take you home?" or even "Want me to knock Eddie out for you?" Judging by the look on Robin's face, perhaps she’d been expecting the same.

"Hey, I'm sorry, let me make it up to you. I'll buy your drinks and snacks at the dance tonight, and I'll clue you in on all the safe paths in the rest of the house," Eddie offered with a hopeful smile, desperate not to upset her further. Robin glanced between him and a slightly indignant Steve, and Eddie's stomach churned at the thought of pressuring her. He stepped back, giving her space. "Or I can walk you home. I can call my mom, she'll get you. Whatever you need."

Steve's frown deepened, but not toward Robin. It was aimed squarely at Eddie.

"That's enough," Robin huffed, pushing Steve away and putting more distance between them. "I'm fine!"

"Didn't sound fine," Dustin muttered from across the room.

"Well, I am! I just got surprised, and it was more Eddie tripping over himself because of Steve creeping around than these stupid bugs," she grumbled as she smoothed down her clothes. As her blush faded, Eddie's bloomed, and Steve seemed relieved.

"I wasn't creeping!" Steve defended, though Robin barely registered his protest. With a roll of her eyes, she strode into the next room, leaving Steve and Eddie amid a scattered pool of plastic creepy crawlies.

Eddie turned to apologise, but before he could, he felt Steve's eyes on him. That familiar, sweet smile said more than words, a silent sigh of relief passed between them.

"Miss me?" Steve smirked.

Eddie couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine, and Steve's smile widened.

"Come on, guys! You don't wanna get left behind!" Nancy called out. As they turned toward her voice, Eddie noticed everyone else, except for him and Steve, had moved on to the next part of the house. In that moment, Eddie realised just how completely wrapped up he was in Steve.

Everyone stayed together for the last few rooms of the house. Eddie tried not to give much away apart from the occasional signal to Robin of things to avoid like it was their little secret. Paper ghosts, masks that had their contours ghoulishly emphasised by paint and lighting, a glowing cauldron with shrouded figures huddled around it, tantalised and terrified the group, and he should have been proud, but Eddie was too distracted by his own fear. Steve and Nancy would repeatedly slink off behind a curtain or into a dark corner of the room, and though he couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, their tone, whispers and mischievous giggles, made the jealousy swimming in the pit of his stomach, coil around his insides. Even though he had no right. Sometimes they didn't even hide it, they’d exchange knowing little smiles or glances.

The problem with jealousy was that it could be very distracting. Distracting enough for Eddie to lose his joy in the scare spectacular and glumly walk into a small closet to get away from everyone for a moment. “Ed? Are you in there? Thought we’d lost ya,” Steve said, peering into the darkness of the closet and straight at Eddie.

“Yeah, sorry, just admiring the symbols Mom painted in here,” Eddie replied, his voice wavering slightly.

Steve stepped inside to take a closer look, and a cold chill ran down Eddie’s spine. He barely had time to open his mouth before Steve unknowingly stepped on the panel Eddie had carefully avoided, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Steve jolted back, instinctively grabbing for something, anything, and ended up pressed against Eddie as Eddie simultaneously lurched for the door. His hands grasped at nothing, his stomach lurching as the terrible realisation set in. There was no handle.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Steve asked quietly.

Beads of sweat formed beneath the brim of Eddie’s hat. His breath felt too shallow, his thoughts too loud. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even realised he still had one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice softened, almost a whisper, but Eddie was stuck in time.

Eddie was six years old again, shoved into a school hallway by jeering kids while the teacher had conveniently disappeared for a coffee, or a smoke, or whatever the hell they did when they weren’t watching. He was backing up, back, back until he hit something, a mop and bucket, but he only saw them for a split second before everything vanished into inky blackness and as he turned back to his tormentors they too disappeared with a slam. Eddie knew what happened next, he'd be stuck in here for hours.

But this time, something was different. Something warm was at his back. Not cold. Not empty.

“Ed. You okay?” Steve asked, voice tinged with concern.

That was when Eddie realised what had pulled him back from the memory. Steve. His hand rubbing slow, warm circles against Eddie’s back.

Eddie cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

Steve’s hand retreated, but the heat it left behind migrated straight to Eddie’s face. “We’re stuck,” he admitted.

“Nah, let me try,” Steve said with a small laugh.

“There’s no handle on this side,” Eddie explained, keeping his tone gentle. “It’s a trap. I told my mom I didn’t like the idea of this one, but she said it would be fine. That I’d be on the other side to help. But I’m not. I’m on the wrong side.”

Panic helixed up his spine, icy and relentless.

The room was too dark. The only sliver of light came from the cracks in the door, illuminating fragments of Steve. The red strip of his collar, the curve of his jaw, the beauty marks Eddie had memorised a long time ago. The rest was lost in shadow.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Steve chuckled. “They’ll realize soon enough we’re missing.”

But Eddie wasn’t laughing. Fear had grasped at his lungs and his breathing was becoming faster, shorter, shallower.

Before he could think better of it, he lunged at the door, releasing Steve, and thumped on it with his fists and yelled for help at the top of his lungs.

“Jesus, it isn’t so bad being in here with me for a few minutes is it?”  Steve joked, but it sounded a little forced, maybe Eddie’s weirdness was finally putting him on edge.

“I don't think they can hear us,” Eddie said urgently, fear clear in his tone, sweat forming in his palms.

Steve sighed. “Let me take a look at this door. I’m sure it’s nothing a bit of brute force can’t fix.”

Eddie snapped his head toward him. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it can only be opened from the other side!”

The rustling of Steve’s jacket had stopped, he must have frozen at the sharpness of his voice.

Guilt twisted in Eddie’s gut. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he muttered, wringing his hands. “I just… I don’t do well in small spaces. Got locked in a closet once. For hours. Thought I was gonna die in there.”

Steve was quiet for a beat. Then, understanding dawned in his voice.

“Ah,” he said, “Okay, well, this ain’t gonna be like that. They’ll come back. And this time, you’ve got a secret weapon that won’t let anything bad happen to ya.”

Eddie swallowed hard, digging his nails into the arms of his trench coat. “I do?”

In the darkness, Steve’s gorgeous smile was audible, “Yeah, ya do. You got me, this time.”

Eddie drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah?” he asked, embarrassed that he needed the comfort. Flustered that he wanted it.

“Come here,” Steve murmured, gripping Eddie’s arms. His hands were warm, steady, grounding. Slowly, he peeled Eddie’s fingers away from his arms and replaced them with his own.

Eddie stopped breathing.

Steve ran his hands in slow, soothing strokes up and down Eddie’s arms. “You got the fear, that’s all,” he muttered. “Your insides are probably going crazy, right? We just need to get ‘em back to base. Same thing happens to me if I’m underwater too long.”

Eddie’s heart hammered, his breath still uneven, his skin on fire where Steve was touching him, melting the icicles of panic stabbing into him.

“Now, I can’t see ya too well, so did you nod yes, or shake your head no?” Steve asked, a quiet chuckle in his voice.

Eddie hiccuped. “Uh, yeah. I nodded.”

“Okay,” Steve said, gentle as ever. “Just listen to me. We’re gonna pretend this place ain’t so small. Close your eyes. Imagine the stockroom at the store. That’s pretty dark, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered.

Something about Steve’s voice should have sent him into a worse frenzy. But it wasn’t.

It was helping.

And that was the worst part.

This was probably the only time Steve would ever touch him like this. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Eddie wondered how many girls had felt this special because Steve wanted to hold them, not because he needed to calm them down.

“Remember that time we were in the stockroom and Caesar spooked you?” Steve asked, voice tinged with amusement.

Eddie did remember that. He’d yelped, Steve had laughed, and had looked so adorable petting the stealthy cat.

“And then we were at the shelves, weren’t we?” Steve continued, his voice lower now. “About this close?”

Eddie shivered under Steve’s hands. He remembered that too.

He remembered not panicking then. He remembered wanting the space to feel smaller, so Steve had to be close to him.

Just like right now.

“There we go,” Steve whispered.

Eddie realised he wasn’t breathing so hard anymore. His shoulders weren’t locked up. The pain across his shoulders had lessened, replaced by something else, a dull, aching warmth.

His heart wasn’t hammering as quickly, but it was deeply thudding in his chest so loudly he was sure Steve might hear it. As he became more aware of his body, he realised why. 

Steve’s hands had moved to his shoulders. Rubbing them soothingly.

And Eddie’s hands had also found a resting place.

They were on Steve’s waist.

The panic surged back.

Eddie jerked his hands away like he’d touched fire. “Oh, no. Steve, I’m sorry! Shit, I didn’t realise-”

“Hey,” Steve cut in softly. “It’s no big deal. I ain’t gonna say anything.” He tilted his head slightly. “It helped, right?” Steve’s voice was much closer, and Eddie could feel his breath on the shell of his ear.

Eddie had no words. If only Steve knew. If he knew the secret Eddie had been hiding, if he knew how much he wanted to remember this moment forever, he’d probably be disgusted.

“Eddie, I-”

Before Steve could finish, the door yanked open.

“About time!” Steve said firmly at Dustin’s silhouette. “E- I was scared half to death in there. We called for help!”

Eddie barely had time to process before Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the closet, tugging him into the dimly lit room.

“A ‘thanks’ would have been more suitable,” Dustin scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Any more of that, and you’ll find yourself walking home,” Steve grumbled, pointing in Dustin’s face before brushing dust off his jacket. Then, with an easy smile, he turned to Eddie. “Come on, Ed, show us the rest of the place.”

The warmth in Steve’s voice, the way he said Ed like it was something special, made Eddie’s insides do a loop-de-loop.

There weren’t many rooms left, but for the rest of the night, Steve didn’t leave his side. Not even when Nancy tried to coax him away.

Everyone enjoyed themselves. Even Eddie, despite the lingering tension still buzzing through his nerves. He was satisfied knowing that every last person had gotten their fair share of scares, his efforts rewarded by their laughter and lingering adrenaline. They all thanked him, telling him to pass on their appreciation to his mom.

Pride warmed his chest from their compliments, but what set his heart aflame was the pleased smile and approving nod Steve sent his way as he was sitting on the hood of his car, in front of Eddie.

“I knew it’d be a knockout with you on board,” Steve said, looking directly into Eddie’s soul before dropping his cigarette butt on the pavement. “I’ll never forget it, that’s for sure.”

Then, only when Eddie couldn’t respond, when his throat was tight with something he couldn’t name, did Steve finally turn away to stub out the cigarette on the ground.

They lingered in the crisp, chill night air for a while, waiting for Steve to drive them back. He was still deep in conversation with the Hellfire guys and Nancy about something, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie, feeling the cool bite of the night, motioned to offer Robin his trench coat. She gave him a look like he had just landed from outer space, but before she could say anything, Dustin plucked it out of his hands with a relieved sigh, exchanging it for his foil-covered cardboard box costume.

Steve rejoined them a moment later, scanning the trio with mild suspicion before shrugging it off.

“So, we’re thinking we’ll head to the dance at my uncle’s place next,” he said, eyes flicking straight to Eddie before shifting to Dustin. “Gotta make ourselves look real sharp first. That okay?”

Then, before Dustin could get any ideas, Steve pointed directly at him. “Not you, pipsqueak. Nighty night for you.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Not Robin either, though,” he said smugly, before turning to see her equally smug expression. His face fell. “That’s not fair!”

Steve crossed his arms. “First of all, you’re not old enough. Second of all, it’s gonna look pretty weird if you dance with Eddie.”

Eddie choked. His head snapped toward Steve, then toward Robin, who gave him a playful finger wave.

“Steve said you didn’t have time for dating,” she smirked. “Because of your writing? And you wouldn’t try and date your best friend’s little sister, now would you?”

Eddie opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Maybe he could get out of this. Maybe he could suggest not dancing or, even better, bailing on the whole thing entirely. But before he could even begin to form an excuse, Jonny clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“And you wouldn’t wanna skip out after we told Uncle V you’d be there tonight,” Jonny added with a grin.

Eddie blinked, dumbfounded. “Wait, what?”

“And it’s a dance,” Nancy added smoothly, drawing Eddie’s gaze to her. “So if you just stand there against the wall all night, it’s gonna look a little weird, right?”

Eddie swallowed hard, trapped.

“You’re coming, right?” Steve asked, breaking Eddie from his thoughts.

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Steve smirked. “The dance. You are coming.”

“I-” Eddie hesitated. “Um, I don’t even have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry, I got lots of clothes,” Steve beamed, already waving them toward the car. “You can borrow something of mine. Let’s go.”

“With the greatest respect, Steve,” Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think you’ve got a little more muscle on you than me. But it’s really kind of you to offer.” He glanced at the others. “I can just grab something for the next dance. My mom can-”

He stopped short when Steve glanced toward Jonny and Nancy, panic flashing briefly across his face before he masked it.

Maybe this was important. Maybe this uncle of his was someone Eddie actually needed to meet, formally. They’d met briefly before at Steve’s house, and Eddie knew he was a well-respected, and, in some circles, feared, man.

“Problem solved,” Jonny chimed in, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I’ve got a suit that’ll fit you. You’re not getting out of this one, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie looked between them, feeling very ganged up on. “You’ve just got an extra suit lying around?”

Jonny shrugged. “Yeah. I brought a spare in case I spilled something on mine.”

Eddie squinted. “Why does that somehow make sense?”

“Because I know myself,” Jonny said proudly.

Steve grinned, clapping Eddie on the back. “Alright, no excuses. We’re heading back to get ready.”

Before Eddie could fully register what was happening, he found himself, making a brief stop at Jonny’s, before being dropped off at his apartment with a complete suit in hand, including a hat.

“Steve said you’re partial to hats,” Jonny grinned, passing it over. “You sure you don’t wanna get ready at Steve’s with the rest of us?”

Eddie scrambled for an excuse, but Steve beat him to it.

“Eddie likes to take his time,” Steve chuckled, leaning against the car. “Can’t have him jostling for mirror space with you greasers.”

He chuckled and his eyes landed back on Eddie, “Pick you up in half hour?” Eddie breathed a silent sigh of relief and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“It’s a date,” Robin grinned from the back seat.

Steve immediately waved her off with a mock-annoyed look before shooting Eddie a final wave and driving off.

With the pressure of expectations mostly gone, Eddie took his time getting ready. No one had to know he was doing it for a potential compliment from Steve.

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hat, smoothing out the fabric of the suit. It felt good. For the first time in a long time, he actually liked how he looked.

A sharp wolf whistle snapped him out of his thoughts, and heat immediately rushed to his face.

“Mama, geez!” Eddie laughed.

His mom leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Well, excuse me, sir. Have you seen my boy? He was in here not twenty minutes ago.”

Eddie groaned, but he was grinning. “Aw, come on.”

She stepped closer, adjusting his tie, pride shining in her eyes. “You look like a million bucks,” she said warmly. Then, her expression turned teasing. “Now, don’t let any of those girls at the club bully you into anything. They’ll all be trying to get a dance with the most handsome guy there, so watch yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “Nah, that’ll be Steve. I think I’ll be okay.”

His mom tilted her head, smiling knowingly. “You think so?” She shook her head, smoothing his lapel. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

“Oh, stop,” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes.

She chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“I gotta go,” Eddie said quickly, ducking away. “Don’t wanna be late for pick-up.”

She walked him to the door, slipping some quarters and a few bills into his pocket. “Ok Sweetheart. If anything happens, you call me. I know that place, worked on it a few times. I can be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail to get you.” “Alright, Mama,” He said reassuringly as he walked towards the apartment door with her. “And remember to have fun!” She called after him as he closed the door and descended the stairs.

Eddie stepped outside just as headlights rounded the corner, casting long shadows against the pavement. His breath came a little shorter as the familiar car pulled up to the curb, engine purring low in the quiet night.

Steve leaned over, looking him over, smiling, and popping open the passenger door. “Right on time, Munson. Looking sharp.”

Eddie hesitated half a second too long, the compliment he’d made all the effort for made his heart flutter. He climbed in, adjusting his hat as he settled into the seat.

Steve gave him another once-over, grinning. “Not bad. Jonny’s suit actually fits you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie muttered, tugging at the collar. “Don’t get used to it.”

Steve chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. “Can’t make any promises.”

The night unfolded in a blur of spinning skirts, polished shoes scuffing against the dance floor, and laughter that echoed through the grand hall. In the end, Eddie wasn’t forced to dance with anyone, much to his relief. Steve, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He danced with what felt like every girl in the room, including his own sister, twirling her across the floor with an easy confidence that made it look effortless. He was a marvellous dancer.

Just like his mom had predicted, girls kept approaching him, asking if he was going to be dancing, but after his third excuse about an injured leg, Gareth caught on. That was all it took for him, Jeff, and Argyle to become Eddie’s personal defense squad, intercepting anyone who dared approach with a hopeful smile and an outstretched hand. It worked well enough, leaving Eddie free to watch the dancefloor from a safe distance, drink in hand, feeling the bass of the music hum through the floorboards.

Steve had been pulled into conversation with a group of older men in very expensive suits, their discussions quiet but intense. Eddie figured it was something important because within minutes, the group had been led, by Steve, upstairs to a private bar. It had deep, dark red leather armchairs and heavy, polished mahogany tables that gleamed under the low light. A large desk stood at the far end of the room, and a window overlooked the dance floor below. Most of the others drifted back downstairs soon after, but Eddie lingered, letting the atmosphere settle around him.

To his surprise, Steve didn’t leave either.

Eddie tilted his head as Steve exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Takin’ a break from all that twirling?”

Steve grinned, loosening his tie slightly. “You have no idea.”

Neither of them made any move to leave. The music still pulsed through the air, but up here, away from the press of bodies, the space felt quieter, more intimate. Eddie leaned against the railing, eyes on the dance floor below, but Steve was too close, his presence impossible to ignore.

He couldn’t tell how long they had been there, chatting idly, enjoying the music, pointing out anything amusing happening downstairs, sipping their drinks. Eddie felt almost giddy having Steve all to himself, finally, for the first time that evening.

“You wanna go dance?” Steve asked with a big smile, jutting his thumb toward the door leading back down to the club.

“Nah, I’m not much of a dancer,” Eddie said with a bashful shrug. “Two left feet and all that.”

Steve folded his arms, wrinkling the fabric of his jacket as he tilted his head. “What, we came all this way, and you don’t even wanna dance?”

The playful challenge in Steve’s voice, the way he looked at Eddie with that encouraging grin, made something coil tight in Eddie’s chest.

“I-I don't wanna embarrass you in front of your friends,” Eddie tried to excuse. “Or, you know, myself in front of the girls. That’d be really uncool, right?”

Steve hummed, acting like he was deep in thought, pressing a hand to his chin, finger tapping against his lips. “Okay, sure,” he said slowly. “But what about me?”

Eddie nearly choked on his own breath.

After a cough, a desperate attempt to steady himself, he took a quick sip of his beer, trying to buy time. But when he glanced back up, Steve was still waiting, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Well?” Steve prompted, his smirk widening.

“Well, what about you?” Eddie asked, feigning confusion. Stalling. Desperately clawing for an excuse, any excuse, to stop his brain from spiraling.

“I thought you were the smart guy around here?” Steve teased.

Eddie swallowed hard. What exactly was Steve implying?

Could he tell?

Had Eddie failed to assimilate into another community? Was the loudest thing about him tonight, not the clothes Steve’s friend had borrowed him, but himself, and the heavyweight champion-sized crush he had on his new friend?

Steve removed his jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the seat. Suddenly, the room felt a lot warmer.

Eddie swallowed hard as Steve rolled up his sleeves, fabric hugging the curve of his biceps before he turned back to face him.

“What I meant was,” Steve said, tilting his head slightly, “you wouldn’t be embarrassed to dance in front of me, right?”

He gave a small shrug. “You didn’t mention me in that list of excuses, so I figured that meant I was okay.”

Eddie desperately tried to keep his eyes on Steve’s face or the room surrounding them, to prevent them trailing over the rest of him. He laughed nervously, “Well it’s not like you can empty the club for us, can you?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “No, but there’s no need.” He gestured around the little bar-slash-office they were standing in. “We’ve got this whole place to ourselves.”

He took a step closer, his grin downright dangerous. “Come on, Ed. I’ve seen your foot tappin’ all night. I know you like the music. Just one little dance.”

And as the laugh barked out of him, it or maybe the last swig of beer he had, easily helped him drop part of his defences.

“Alright,” Eddie sighed, setting down his drink. “The next song. As long as it’s not a slow one.”

Steve beamed, throwing a hand over his heart. “Yeah, ‘course. Not a slow one.”

Eddie glanced over at him, smiling despite himself, then turned to look out over the dance floor below, watching as the current song wound down. 

He looked out over the dance floor downstairs, quickly trying to observe how the average kid danced around here.

But as the piano stabs of the next song kicked in, Eddie felt that the gods themselves were having a wail of a time at his expense.

Baby, let me be your loving’ teddy bear.

Eddie rolled his eyes in defeat, causing Steve to burst out laughing. “It’s almost like they knew you were gonna dance. They got a song just for you, huh?”

Eddie shot him a suspicious look. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Steve smirked, swaying subtly to the beat. “No one ever nicknamed you Teddy?”

Eddie copied Steve’s movements, trying not to think too hard about how easy it felt.

“Not really,” he chuckled. “The nicknames I get aren’t usually that nice.”

He watched his own feet shuffle from side to side, clicking his fingers to the beat, letting himself enjoy it for just a second.

Steve started singing along, and when Eddie looked up at him, he mimed running a comb through the side of his hair, curling his lip just like Elvis.

Eddie had no idea how he managed to keep dancing.

He was too busy staring, completely struck by how damn handsome Steve looked.

Steve was unfairly good-looking, the kind of handsome that made people stop in their tracks, made girls giggle behind their hands and kick their feet, writing about him in their journals at night. The kind that made Eddie fight not to stare.

The dim lighting softened his features, casting shadows along his cheekbones and jaw, making him look like something out of a magazine ad for trouble. His hair, ridiculous in how perfect it always was, gleamed under the light, pomade catching like comet trails streaking through every strand.

If his lips curled into Elvis’s signature smirk were the bait, then his voice was the barbed hook that Eddie couldn’t wriggle off of.

Eddie felt like a deer in headlights, except instead of high beams, it was movie-star-quality, sunshine-flecked hazel eyes, belonging to Steve Harrington and his stupidly perfect face.

His stomach was in a tailspin, and he valiantly tried to focus on the music, not on Steve’s mouth, or his body, or the way he moved so effortlessly, or the fact that he was standing way too damn close.

But once Steve realized he had Eddie’s full attention, he only played up the Elvis impersonation more. His enthusiasm was infectious, and before Eddie knew it, he was doing his version, remembering the moves he’d seen on the big screen when he went to watch Jailhouse Rock , as many times as he could afford.

He knew this song wasn’t from that movie, but the moves were more fun.

Lost in the rhythm, he let himself go, alternating between a knee bend, a half-hip twist, and the occasional precarious balance on the point of his dress shoes. He was mid-spin, grinning, when he looked up.

And Steve had stopped dancing.

He was just watching him, mouth slightly parted, eyebrows raised in what looked a hell of a lot like surprise.

Eddie slowed to a stop, suddenly unsure.

He laughed nervously, glancing away. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

The heat from the dancing was creeping into his collar, so he shrugged off his jacket, not wanting to sweat through Johnny’s suit.

As he did, a stray curl slipped loose from under his hat.

He reached up quickly, trying to tuck it back before it fully betrayed him, but the movement only caused more curls to tumble free. Huffing, he turned, searching for a mirror, when he suddenly came face to face with Steve.

Before Eddie could even protest, Steve was already tucking his curls back into place, carefully smoothing the strands back under the hat, his fingertips gentle against Eddie’s forehead.

“So, an Elvis fan, are ya?” Steve asked, his voice lower, softer now.

His fingers brushed a few strands still stuck to Eddie’s brow, tucking them away like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I knew you’d have some moves,” Steve added, smiling a little. “You like music too much not to.”

“Too much?” Eddie mumbled, trying not to sound as dazed as he felt being this close to Steve.

The way his smile curled, just enough to flash those perfect teeth. How neatly shaved his face was. Those wonderful beauty marks that adorned his skin. How his long, dark eyelashes, unfairly momentarily hid those cocoa honeyed eyes from Eddie’s, as he blinked.

And then, there was the scent of him.

Not just his cologne, but something closer, more subtle. Soap, beer, tobacco, and the faintest trace of lemon that Eddie knew came from him grating the zest earlier that day.

It was a heady potion, and Eddie felt like one more breath of it might be fatal.

He tried to ground himself.

He kept reminding himself how kind Steve had been since he got here. That he was his friend, and he couldn’t mess that up.

There were beautiful girls who dropped into the store all the time, and Steve never gave them a second glance. So what hope would Eddie have?

Because the glaring truth was that Steve wasn’t like him.

Eddie had never met another guy like himself, but he knew he couldn’t be the only one if there was a word for it. Homosexual.

And yet, how would you even find that out?

It wasn’t something you could just ask.

It might be the last question you ever uttered.

Even though he made Eddie so nervous he thought he might combust, he never made him feel wrong. Never made him feel like he had to be less than he was.

Never made him feel weird in a bad way.

He’d never met anyone who made him feel like this in his entire life.

Right from the moment he’d stumbled over the sidewalk, Steve had felt like a familiar stranger. But maybe that was just how Steve was with everyone.

“Nah, not too much, Ed,” Steve murmured, his voice just as quiet as before, low and steady.

“Not too much for me, anyway.”

Eddie took a chance and lifted his eyes to Steve’s, searching for any sign that he was lying. But Steve wasn’t looking at him.

His focus remained on tucking Eddie’s curls away, like it was the most important task in the world.

“You wanna dance to the next song?” Steve asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I dunno. Don’t wanna ruin Jon’s suit,” Eddie joked, forcing out a laugh.

Maybe it was nerves from the way Steve’s fingertip had just brushed over his temple.

Maybe it was because of how silly he felt after his over-the-top impersonation.

But none of that mattered.

Because all that mattered was the effect it had.

Steve’s smile broadened, and a soft, light laugh fell from his lips, warm against Eddie’s skin.

And it felt like magic.

“The only thing you’d do to anything of that goomba’s is make it better,” Steve grinned, giving his hat one last adjustment.

Then, quieter, almost like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it aloud.

“I wish somethin’ of mine had fit ya.”

Eddie almost convinced himself he’d imagined it.

“Maybe if I worked hard like you instead of scribbling away, I’d be more your size,” Eddie said, his mouth twisting into an awkward half-smile.

“You know… look better.”

“Not possible,” Steve said quickly with a laugh.

Eddie laughed too, because the thought of him ever having Steve’s physique was ridiculous. He’d have to work as hard as Steve did every day for years to even get close.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie chuckled softly. “Even if I somehow managed to get stronger, I still wouldn’t look as good as you.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Steve tilted his head slightly toward him, not quite looking at him directly.

“You think I look good, Ed?”

The next song started to play, and Eddie’s heart faltered.

For a moment, he couldn’t answer.

Thankfully, Eydie Gormé’s beautiful voice filled all the spaces around and between them.

In that moment of nervous awkwardness, there was no place Eddie would rather be than suddenly transported from this bar to the moon, just to escape his slip of the tongue.

“Everyone does,” he forced out, straining a smile as he swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

He tried to think of the fastest way home from here. It was probably miles away, but if things went south, there was nothing like a pack of angry guys to awaken your inner track star. He could just keep running until he found a place to hide, then wait it out until the small hours of the morning before sneaking back home.

But then, all that adrenaline to run melted away.

Because Steve’s eyes finally met his.

“That’s not what I asked,” Steve said softly, “I asked if you do.”

Eddie’s tensed muscles turned to pudding.

He was sure he could write an epic grander than The Odyssey, just to describe the way Steve’s eyes changed color depending on the light.

Sometimes, his irises were drowned in golden cosmic clouds, with only a fine spray of homely earth at their center, before converging at the small, dark void, the one he had fallen into the first time they met.

And ever since, he had been unable to escape.

But here, so close in the dim light of the office, Steve’s eyes looked impossibly dark, waiting expectantly for an answer.

Eddie’s mouth opened once, twice, nothing.

Every time he tried to form a word, his thoughts were trampled by a stampede of impossible dreams.

Then, as the strings on the record swelled, his heart exploded.

Steve’s beautiful smile stretched wider, and he gave a slight nod.

“Ya ain’t very good at answering questions tonight.”

Eddie let out an awkward laugh, desperate to look away from the hazardous peril that was Steve’s eyes, but it was far too late.

They had him.

Completely entangled, bewitched, and mesmerized, as Eydie Gormé sang out with her whole heart the words Eddie would die to say and have reciprocated.

In other words, I love you.

And in a stupid moment of bravery, Eddie finally answered a question.

“I’d like to dance again, sure.”

That, at least, he could say with confidence. That was safe.

They had just been goofing around to Elvis, and that had felt good. Relatively safe.

Steve’s chest brushed lightly against Eddie’s arm as he breathed.

“Even if ya don’t like the song?”

The extra contact short-circuited Eddie’s brain entirely, shutting down any quality control between brain and mouth and replacing it with some kind of highly polished playground slide. Reckless, and unstoppable. Just like his heart would be in its truest form.

“I’m sure I’ll like it if I’m with you,” Eddie said a little too dreamily.

His stomach plummeted immediately, panic kicking in a second too late.

“I mean-” he rushed to backpedal, “that last one was fun, right?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, like he was trying to process something.

“Yeah… yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

He took a step back, glancing out onto the dance floor.

“Um, stay right here, okay? I’m gonna get us some proper drinks. Made by the bartender, yeah?”

Before Eddie could stop him, Steve was already out the door, thundering down the steel stairs while shrugging his jacket back on, disappearing out of sight.

Eddie was left alone, listening to the final notes of the song, finishing off his beer with an excited spin.

He was certain he might have to change his genre from sci-fi to romance, because that moment was going to be etched into his brain forever. 

Even though he knew it could ultimately go nowhere, his heart was still so full it could burst.

He sang along loudly, grinning as the lyrics wrapped around him like a dream.

A dream with wide eyes of innocence that knew nothing of the word impossible.

Fill my heart with song,

And let me sing forever more

The door swung open hard, booted in with too much force, and Eddie jumped out of his skin, nearly dropping his empty beer bottle. He barely managed to catch it before it crashed to the floor, his heart hammering.

His fearful eyes darted to the doorway, only to find Steve standing there, holding two martini glasses, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

A few drops spilled over, racing around the delicate glass edges, and Steve quietly cursed, setting the drinks down before grabbing a napkin to blot at the splashes on his jacket. With a sigh, he slipped the jacket off and hung it over a chair, with his back to Eddie, smoothing a hand over his hair as he let out a slow breath.

Eddie watched him, noticing the slight shift in his energy.

Maybe staying up here too long had gotten Steve into some kind of trouble, with his friends, or maybe even his uncle. He didn’t look quite as relaxed as he had before.

Or maybe he was just annoyed about the suit.

Steve picked up the drinks again and walked over, extending one toward Eddie.

Eddie took it, carefully holding the thin glass stem, inspecting its odd, conical shape. The orangish translucent liquid inside balanced a few delicate slices of fruit on its surface.

“Figs?” Eddie asked, lifting the drink closer to his eyes, sniffing it curiously.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed, watching him with a small smile.

Eddie took another whiff and hummed in recognition. “Oh smells kinda like that citrusy vanilla filling thing, like in the cannoli you make.”

Steve’s smile broadened, radiant, and Eddie swore not even the sun could warm him the way that smile did.

“Huh. I like those,” Eddie said, taking a sip.

Steve did the same, but kept watching him as they drank.

“I know,” Steve said, smacking his lips as he set his drink down.

Eddie mirrored him, but a flicker of anxiety crept in. What did that mean? "I know?"

He laughed nervously, trying to shake it off. “What a funny coincidence, huh? That they have a drink like that here?” His fingers found a small loose thread in his pocket, twisting it between them. But fresh fear flooded him. Did Steve think he was lying? That he’d been pretending he didn’t go out, just because of this ridiculously specific coincidence? The feeling of running resurfaced sharply, his mind already mapping the exits.

He had never been here before. Never been to any club, anywhere, ever.

Steve’s expression shifted slightly, confusion flickering across his face before he smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he took a step closer.

“Weird name, too,” he said casually.

“Uh. Really?” Eddie edged back instinctively.

“Yeah,” Steve continued, completely deadpan.

“It’s a Munsoni.”

Eddie froze.

“Uh, Steve, I swear this is just a weird coincidence,” he blurted, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ve never been here. Or anywhere like this, honestly.”

His fingers nervously tapped against his leg, heart hammering.

“I know,” Steve repeated, his smile widening, eyes flicking between Eddie and the glass.

Eddie’s eyes scanned the floor, as if searching through a cascade of jigsaw pieces that had just fallen from the sky onto him. His mind frantically pieced the puzzle together, and as the final one snapped into place, his gaze lifted to Steve’s.

“Did you-”

He pointed between himself, Steve, and the glasses, unable to articulate the revelation.

Steve shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hitching up in an adorably squeezed shrug. One Eddie had never seen him do before.

“I mighta… supplied the joint with a few extra things for this evening,” Steve admitted, rocking on his heels. “When you said you’d come.”

“You made me my own drink?” Eddie asked, disbelief cracking through his voice.

Steve, oddly enough, ducked his head, kicking at the floor a little before looking back up at him.

“Is that okay?” he asked quietly, wrapping an arm around himself.

Eddie watched him for a few seconds, stunned.

Steve had boyish charm. He was playful, effortlessly confident, but he was also a man, toughened by the world, no doubt. And yet, the way he asked if that was okay, his voice so soft, couldn’t have been filled with more innocence if he’d tried.

Eddie snatched up his drink and downed it like it was the first liquid he’d seen after crossing a desert for forty days and nights.

Steve’s arm dropped from guarding himself as he laughed, reaching out to grasp Eddie’s arm.

“Hey, easy there. Easy. That ain’t beer! It’s vodka an’ vermouth.”

Steve’s concerned eyes met Eddie’s, who was now visibly struggling against the burn of the alcohol he wasn’t accustomed to.

“I know,” Eddie gasped, coughing slightly before placing a steadying hand on Steve’s shoulder, laughing along with him.

“You can’t get outta a dance with me that easy, Ed,” Steve smirked.

He didn’t move his hand.

And he didn’t move Eddie’s, either.

Instead, with his free hand, he casually took Eddie’s drink and set it down.

Eddie heard the soft brush of drums and the hush of backing vocals filling the air before Paul Anka’s voice resonated through the very bricks of the building, and through his very bones.

Requesting something that Eddie would give anything for.

Put your head on my shoulder.

Eddie looked down through the one-way window, watching as couples wrapped themselves around each other, swaying slowly to the beat.

He wondered if there would ever be a place in the world where he could be one of them. If the day would finally come when he’d have feelings for a girl and be like every other normal guy.

Some of the books he’d read said there were treatments for people like him. Ways to make him better. To make him normal.

His chest felt tight as he let out a deep sigh.

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned.

And saw the unbelievable.

For a split second, he thought maybe downing that cocktail too fast had knocked him out cold, because Steve’s hand was on his arm. His other hand was reaching toward him. Palm up. Like he was asking him to dance. 

But he couldn’t be. Could he?

Eddie froze, motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest, his brain desperately trying to process the moment. His mouth barely moved when he spoke.

“Am I dreaming?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve tilted his head, that same charming smile playing at his lips. The one he used when he was trying to convince Eddie to try anything.

“If you were,” he muttered, his voice warm and steady, “Would ya dance with me?”

Eddie, trembling, just about managed to nod.

“Then let’s say you are,” Steve said, extending his hand further toward him.

Eddie’s eyes darted between Steve’s hand and his soft gaze, his heart pounding so hard he was certain he might drop dead right there. Some poor drunk who fell asleep at a club and never woke up.

Gingerly, he reached out and placed his shaking hand in Steve’s.

His whole body vibrated with adrenaline, and he was sure it was fear. Fear that something dreadful was going to happen any minute. That someone would throw a bucket of water in his face and wake him up.

But nothing came.

No jeers. No cruel laughter.

Only Steve.

Steve drew him in closer, clasping their joined hands between them. His other hand pressed gently against the middle of Eddie’s back.

Steve smiled at him, giving a small, encouraging nod.

Eddie, feeling like he was sleepwalking through something impossible, hesitated only a second before moving his arm over Steve’s, his fingers settling at the base of his neck.

“You okay?” Steve asked gently as he swayed them slowly.

“No, not really. I’m scared to death,” Eddie half-laughed, his breath shaky.

“Of me?” Steve asked, concerned.

Eddie looked at him, then down at their joined hands. He could feel the warmth radiating from Steve’s palm on his back, soothing, steadying. And beneath his fingers, the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck, soft against his touch.

That’s when he realized.

“No,” Eddie murmured. “I’m scared because… because I’m not scared of you.”

Steve’s smile softened.

“Good,” he said. “You never gotta be scared around me. I’m gonna take good care of ya.”

Eddie could hear the smile in his voice. He dared a quick glance at it, and just like that, the spell it always seemed to cast over him worked its magic. The trembling in his body stilled.

He moved closer, letting himself bask in the warmth between them, his fingers cautiously threading through the short hair at Steve’s nape. Steve’s hands tightened slightly for just a second.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. I mean… fucking terrified too, but also? Best moment of my life so far.”

“Of me?” Eddie teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted with a nervous laugh.

Eddie froze for half a second. It must have been the first time he’d ever heard Steve sound even remotely anxious, because it didn’t sound like him at all.

“This is my dream, right?” Eddie said softly. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. I’ll keep you safe here.”

Something in him felt lighter, more sure of itself.

So he slid his arm further around Steve’s waist, pulled him closer, and let his cheek rest against his shoulder. Unlike reality, where they were the same height, here, Eddie could tilt his head and look up at him dreamily.

Steve still hadn’t looked at him directly.

“Ya promise? For always?” he asked, their slow steps barely disturbing the wooden floor.

Eddie smiled, rubbing soothing circles across Steve’s back.

“Until the seas run dry and the stars fall out of the sky to go home for good,” he murmured.

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then another, almost like he was drifting off to sleep.

Wouldn’t that be funny? Falling asleep in someone else’s dream.

“Do you know where they live?” Eddie asked quietly. “The stars?”

Steve hummed.

“Um… well, I thought they lived in the sky,” he said, brow furrowing. “But ya can’t go home if you’re already at home, right? I dunno where they go in the day.”

Eddie’s grin widened.

“Sure you do,” he said, gazing up at him, “They’re in your eyes.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Eddie caught the way his cheeks flushed faintly under the soft glow of the lights.

Eddie laughed, and Steve tried to fight his own smile, failing miserably.

“Is this what I’m gonna get now?” Steve grumbled playfully. “Pick-up lines?”

Eddie saw right through him. Saw the way his mouth betrayed him, the corners twitching up despite his best efforts. And in the glow of the dim lights, as they swayed to the music, Eddie watched the blush rise on Steve’s face.

And God help him, he knew he was in so much trouble, if he was sleep talking right now.

Put your lips next to my lips.

The singer crooned, and Eddie straightened up, preparing, almost instinctively, to do exactly that.

He stood at his full height, his face just slightly turned, a fraction to the right, not quite looking at Steve head-on. He kept that exact distance as they danced and waited.

It took a few full turns before Steve finally looked back at him. By then, Eddie could already feel the perspiration between their palms.

“Eddie?” Steve asked softly. “Can I ask ya a favor?”

Eddie barely hesitated.

“Anything for you,” he said, no longer filtering a single thing he wanted to say.

Steve let go of him, reaching up to the peak of Eddie’s hat. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it off. Then, with steady hands and quiet consideration, he removed the pins, one by one, and placed them in the hat. Eddie barely breathed as Steve set it down on a chair.

And then, with nothing left holding it back, he gave his head a small shake, letting his dark waves and curls tumble free.

Steve stared. Then, with a slow blink and a devastating half-smile, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for, but something about the way he said it made his stomach flip. Just as gently as before, Steve took him back into his strong arms. Back exactly as they were. Except this time, when their eyes met, Steve didn’t look away. Not once.

As the song faded out and another soft melody took its place, Steve spoke quietly.

“This is probably the last song, y’know?”

“It is?” Eddie asked, voice tinged with disappointment, “Does that mean I’ll wake up?”

Steve’s grip tightened just slightly.

“God, I hope not,” he breathed, tilting his face just a little more toward Eddie, just as a swell of strings filled the air and Nat King Cole’s voice melted through the room.

When I fall in love, it will be forever

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat tight.

He thought he really ought to get that cocktail recipe, because this was the most vivid, most intoxicating, most impossible dream he’d ever had.

Everything felt real, but it couldn’t possibly be, there is no way this is happening.

Steve shifted their hands, gently guiding both of Eddie’s arms around his waist before draping his own over Eddie’s shoulders. His fingers slid into Eddie’s hair, brushing through it softly, absentmindedly, like he was memorizing the feel of it.

Eddie adored how close they were like this. Barely room for light to slip between them.

He gazed, sleepy and lost, into Steve’s beautiful eyes, but something else pulled at the edges of his mind. The song.

It was like he’d stepped into a movie, into some achingly romantic scene, where the lighting was perfect and the world had slowed just for them. The camera was zooming in as the background characters were dancing elegantly out of frame.

Except, he could hear the soundtrack. The lyrics didn’t just fill the room, they wrapped around him, sinking into his bones, threading through his thoughts, whispering that forever love was the only kind worth taking a chance on.

And though the drunken dream was pure fiction. That was exactly how he felt.

And the moment that I feel that

You feel that way too

Is when I fall in love with you

Steve’s lashes fluttered, his gaze holding Eddie’s in something soft, endless, impossible. He was so beautiful. Even more so in this dream, where everything felt like it had been made just for him. 

And even though Eddie had close to no idea what he was doing. He felt like this was that moment. The moment he’d been waiting for his entire life.

Slowly, he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as they swayed in close, their movements slow and tender. Their noses brushed, a whisper of contact, soft as a secret.

Eddie’s pulse thundered in his ears.

“Steve,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together, “May I kiss you?”

Steve exhaled, his breath warm between them.

“God, yeah,” he answered quickly, breathlessly.

And without another second of hesitation Eddie closed the space between them.

He tilted his jaw and pressed their lips together, stilling completely as if the world had stopped turning, and for a moment he hoped he could stay like this forever.

A million fireworks went off inside him, bright and blinding, as Steve’s hands came up, surrounding his face, holding him steady.

Their lips moved together, finding them perfectly slotting together, like they had been made to do so, the perfect rhythm, the perfect dream come to life.

Eddie had never felt so alive.

Eddie felt the warmth of Steve’s lips lingering on his own, his pulse still thundering as they began to sway together again. He didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to change anything. Didn’t want to risk breaking the spell.

Steve smiled against his mouth, a quiet, breathy laugh slipping out.

Eddie barely had time to process it before Steve suddenly stepped back. He stumbled forward slightly, lips still puckered, chasing after Steve.

Which only made Steve’s laugh explode into something bright and delighted.

Eddie blinked, disoriented, as Steve reached for something behind him.

He didn’t leave Eddie waiting for long, though. Within moments, he was back, holding out the hat and pins like some kind of peace offering.

Eddie pouted like a toddler who’d just had his favorite toy snatched away and Steve’s grin only grew wider.

“Don’t ya wanna get out of here?” he asked.

“Already?” Eddie whined, taking a section of his hair and haphazardly pinning it up.

Before he could react, Steve leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

Eddie froze for a second, his mouth half-open, before quickly securing another pin. Another kiss.

His breath hitched, and he fumbled slightly with the next pin. Steve was watching him closely.

“Yeah, unless you wanna stay in this stuffy office, with my uncle and his cronies?” Steve teased, laughing.

Eddie frowned, grumbling as he reached for another pin.

“This isn’t how the dream is supposed to go.”

“Oh no?” Steve tilted his head, amused. “Just how’s it supposed to go, then?”

He shook the hat at him, waiting. Eddie begrudgingly secured another section of hair.

Another peck on the cheek.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as Steve flashed an innocent smile.

“Ohhhhh,” Eddie hummed knowingly, a mischievous giggle bubbling up.

With lightning speed, he snatched up the remaining pins, fixing his hair so quickly it was a miracle none of them stabbed his scalp.

Pin. Kiss.

Pin. Kiss.

Pin…

Eddie spun, trying to catch Steve’s next peck on the cheek right on the lips, and missed.

Missed again, because Steve was too damn quick.

Eddie let out a dramatic groan, jamming his hat onto his head in defeat. Steve, meanwhile, had to hold his sides, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.

Just as Eddie settled his hat back onto his head, the door was swung open. Eddie’s smile flickered, his body instinctively tensing as his eyes snapped to the figure standing in the doorway.

Steve’s uncle, Vito.

The easy smile he turned around to greet them with vanished, or at least, it faded into something unreadable. His eyes flicked between them both, taking in the scene.

Then, without a word, he shut the door behind him, and clicked the lock in place.

Eddie went rigid.

There was no anger, no tension, but something about the way Steve’s uncle looked him over, a quick, assessing glance, made his stomach tighten.

“Everything okay, Stefano?” his uncle asked, his voice even, steady as he placed a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie felt his pulse in his throat. Was he about to be thrown out? Or worse?

Steve’s face didn’t waver, but for a split second, his lips twitched like he was holding something back. Then he smiled.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice light, warm, certain, “Better.”

His eyes flicked to Eddie, “The best, ya know?”

And just like that his uncle’s entire expression shifted.

The seriousness vanished in an instant, replaced by something brighter, bigger, full of joy. His arm shot across Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in for a tight, crushing hug. Then, in rapid succession, he ruffled Steve’s hair and kissed him on top of the head so many times Eddie lost count.

“How ‘bout that, huh?” His uncle’s grin stretched wide, shaking his head in disbelief, “Unbelievable! What a fuckin’ day!” He gave Steve a playful shove, his serious entrance completely forgotten.

“Geroffame, you old sap. You’re embarrassing me,” Steve groaned, gesturing at Eddie like he was some kind of witness to a crime.

Eddie, who still had no idea what was going on, just stared back, completely bewildered. But then again dreams could be weird like that.

Steve’s uncle suddenly turned his attention to Eddie.

“Don’t think I fuggottabout you, buddy.”

He beckoned him over with a wave, and Eddie hesitantly took a few tentative steps forward, only to be yanked into a tight squeeze under his other arm.

Despite the manhandling, Eddie couldn’t help but smile over at Steve, and when their eyes met again, something about Steve’s expression made a swarm of butterflies take flight in Eddie’s stomach.

“I tell ya,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, “this is the most amazing and strangest dream I’ve ever had.”

His laugh was promptly cut off when his uncle’s hand came down hard on his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Well, ain’t that the most adorable thing I ever heard?” His uncle’s booming laughter shook the room, “This guy thinks he’s dreaming!”

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

“Wait…I’m not…?”

His thoughts scrambled, words tripping over themselves as he turned back to Steve.

“But you said-”

His mouth opened and closed, completely unable to put together a whole sentence as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. This isn’t a dream.

“I’m not…” Eddie whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

Steve simply shook his head, that sweet, knowing smile softening his whole face.

And then the excitement went off inside Eddie like a bottle rocket.

Eddie was yelling, jumping up and down with Steve’s uncle like the two of them had just won the World Series all by themselves.

This was real. Was it real?

“Jesus, pinch me already!” he shouted, wide-eyed, grabbing Steve’s uncle by the shoulders and shaking him in sheer disbelief. His uncle barked out a laugh, and obliged. 

Eddie yelped as a sharp pinch landed on his arm. He sucked in a breath, the pain grounding him, and began taking deeper exhales, each one calming him little by little until his grip on Steve’s uncle loosened.

His racing mind replayed everything that had happened since he’d gulped down that cocktail.

Then instinctively he turned back to Steve. His breath shuddered, his chest tight again, but this time, not with fear, but with something deep, overwhelming, too much to contain.

He slowly slipped out of Vito’s embrace, his feet moving of their own accord as he stepped toward Steve. The closer he got, the more his uncle seemed to disappear completely. It was just them, once again. A metaphorical vignette closing around them.

Eddie reached out first, tentatively, his fingers brushing Steve’s before slipping into his grasp. To his delight, Steve accepted immediately. That simple, easy touch sent electricity coursing through him.

For the first time in his life, Eddie wasn’t afraid to love.

Charged with the impossible reality of his dreams coming true, all his inhibitions melted away.

Without thinking, he lifted his free hand to cup Steve’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm, pulled him closer and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

His uncle’s booming laughter cut through the moment.

“Che diavolo! You said this guy was shy!”

Eddie barely heard him. He was getting lost in Steve’s eyes, which held the same stunned, breathless realisation.

“He was,” Steve murmured, still searching Eddie’s face. For half a second, Eddie worried he’d been too forward, until Steve’s lips curved into a smile.

“But I’m glad he’s not anymore,” Steve added pulling him into his arms.

“Okay, boys. I am overjoyed for you both, truly, but we gotta go over some rules, okay?”

Eddie felt the sudden coldness of a bottle pressed against his arm, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up as Steve’s uncle gestured toward his desk.

It was immaculate, but something about it felt, weighty. The wood was dark and polished, the kind that looked too expensive for just a nightclub office.

There were very few personal items. No family photos, no clutter, just a thick, leather-bound ledger, a locked filing cabinet, and a corded phone with multiple lines.

Eddie had never been in an office like this before, but something about it made him feel like important conversations happened here.

Vito sat on one side of the desk, while he and Steve took seats on the other. Their hands were still clasped together, their free hands holding celebratory beers.

Steve’s uncle raised his bottle, “Salut!”

Eddie quickly followed Steve’s lead, mirroring him as they raised their bottles and took a sip.

Vito barely drank before setting his aside, his fingers lacing together as he leaned forward. It was a subtle movement, but it made Eddie feel like a kid getting called into the principal’s office.

“Okay. So from your reaction, I’m guessing this wasn’t clear to you before.”

Vito’s sharp gaze landed on him, unblinking, unreadable.

“But we all know how special Steve is. We accept him and love him just as he is. But we also know the wider world don’t.”

Eddie felt a slight squeeze on his hand, and he instinctively tightened his own around Steve’s.

“I been thinking on it since Steve told me about you, and this is what I decided.” Vito’s voice was calm, but absolute, as he leaned back, the slight shift making it clear he had already made up his mind.

“When I’m in town, you two, and I’ll even extend that to your trusted friends and Robertina, you can have this space.”

He gestured around them, like the entire second floor of the club belonged to them.

“This is yours. Anytime I’m here, you can come up here and be safe. But-,” He lifted a finger, “When I am not here, you do not come here. Got it?”

Eddie nodded quickly, but Vito wasn’t done.

“Or go anywhere else. Stay at home, sit on the roof, stay outta sight. Gottit?”

He looked between them, waiting for a verbal answer.

“Got it,” Steve said first, with an easy nod.

“Got it,” Eddie echoed, though his mind was still spinning. He couldn’t stop thinking about when Steve might have mentioned his intentions towards him to his Uncle.

“Now, Edward,” He made a face and tried again, “Ed. I can call you that, yeah?”

Vito’s voice shifted slightly, less like an authoritative club owner and more like a man about to say something very personal.

Eddie nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

Vito gave a small nod in return.

“Steve asked me not to scare you off with any speeches, ”His lips twitched like that amused him, “And honestly, it feels a little unnecessary, judging from your reaction.”

Eddie swallowed, but didn’t argue.

Vito’s expression softened, just slightly.

“But I ask you this.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and for the first time, Eddie felt like he was really looking at him.

“As an uncle who cares deeply about his nephew, like he’s my own son.” Eddie’s gut clenched at that, because for the first time since stepping into this room, he wasn’t thinking about Steve. He was thinking about Wayne.

His Uncle Wayne, who had taken him in when he was just a kid.

Wayne, who worked long hours, often exhausted but never too tired to ask Eddie about his day.

Wayne, who, no matter how wild Eddie had been as a teenager, never once turned his back on him.

Wayne, who showed his love not with words, but with quiet, unwavering presence.

Wayne, who had given him a home.

Wayne, who had been his safe place.

And now here was Vito, sitting across from him, speaking about Steve with that same fierce protectiveness, but in a way that felt completely different.

Wayne was a quiet kind of strong, the kind of man who just kept showing up, no matter what.

Vito was a presence, a force of nature. He didn’t just show up, he made sure people knew he was there.

He thought for a moment they would get along famously, because in the end, they were both just men trying to protect the boys they’d raised. Eddie suddenly felt the weight of that responsibility.

Whatever Vito was about to say next, Eddie was ready to listen.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Keep my boy safe. Follow the rules.”

Vito’s voice was calm, measured, but absolute.

“Don’t flaunt this around. Too many jealous people out there, yeah?”

He hesitated.

Eddie caught the way his fist clenched, the way his jaw tensed as if he were biting something back.

Vito closed his eyes, took a slow breath, looked to be counting, then turned to Steve.

Steve nodded, a silent confirmation.

Only then did Vito look back at Eddie, his smile practiced, careful.

“And if,” The words seemed heavier, like they took effort to say, “If it don’t work out, I’m begging you to keep your trap shut about my boy.”

The unspoken threat lingered in the air. Eddie got it. Loud and clear. But honestly? It wasn’t necessary.

“I swear, I’ve got no intention of hurting anyone,” Eddie said, his voice steady, certain, “And if Steve changes his mind, no one needs to worry about me saying anything.”

His grip tightened in Steve’s.

“I know how hard it is to survive in the world when you’re like us,” he continued, voice tinged with something deeper, something lived, “I know firsthand how cruel people can be. I never want Steve to know that. Not a single day in his life.”

Steve’s hand squeezed his in return, and Vito’s forced smile melted into something real.

“Okay, good.”

He exhaled, shaking off the weight of the conversation.

“Now I gotta let these assholes in, ‘cause I left ‘em queuin’ on da stairs, and they ain’t smart enough to go elsewhere.”

His voice returned to something lighter, almost amused.

“You need my driver to drop yous home? Or someplace else?”

“Nah, it’s late. Ma will be worried,” Steve admitted, though his voice carried a hint of disappointment, “I brought the car anyway.”

Vito waved a dismissive hand.

“Let me deal with your Ma, okay?” Then he turned to Eddie, “Ed, what about your folks?”

“It’s just my Mama,” Eddie said with a small shrug, “As long as I’m back by sunrise, she won’t worry.”

Steve grinned. “Eddie’s Ma is Ms. Munson.”

Vito’s eyebrows shot up.

“No shit!” He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “I like her. Asks no questions, gets the job done.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms.

“A lotta guys here hired her after they saw the wall work she did for us downstairs. Preferred a woman doing odd jobs around their homes rather than some strange guy alone with their wives, ya know? How’d she get into all that?”

“Dunno,” Eddie admitted, “I haven’t lived with her in over ten years. She moved here alone. People back home wouldn’t give her a chance.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“She’s a mechanic, really. Learned it from her dad, ” His voice softened slightly, “When my old man up and left us, she tried to make enough to support us, but… it wasn’t enough.” 

Eddie sighed, voice dropping, “She still sent money back for me, though. Gifts when she could.” A pause. “I lived with my uncle.”

Vito studied him for a beat. He let out a low hum, his lips pressing into something like a half-shrug of a smile, barely there but not unkind. Like he got it. Like he’d seen it before.

“And do they know ‘bout your, uh… preferences? ‘Bout Steve?”

“My mom does, for sure,” Eddie admitted, “Think I talked her ear off about you,” he added with a bashful grin toward Steve, “But I just thought we were… y’know, just friends.”

Steve smirked, amused, but stayed quiet.

“My Uncle knows about me. I sent him a letter about meeting Steve here, but,” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, “Back home, you don’t talk about this kinda stuff.” His voice dropped lower, more serious, “Else you end up in a pretty bad state.”

Vito exhaled, his features still, revealing nothing, before he nodded.

“Well, you stick to our rules, and you won’t have to worry about none of that here,” he said firmly, “Not on my watch.”

There was a quiet moment, something final in his words. A promise.

Then, Vito clapped his hands together. “Now, I think I can get Carlo to drive anyone home who needs a ride, or,” he smirked slightly, “you guys can take the rest of the night downstairs in the booths if you want?”

Steve shook his head.

“Thank you, Zio, but I got an early start at the restaurant tomorrow,” he said, sending a beaming look at Eddie, “They got me on sweets, and I gotta prep early.”

Vito’s brow lifted slightly as he glanced between them again.

“You got Steve a job at that fancy place?” he asked, almost sounding impressed. “Damn. They only ever like to take my money there.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, laughing.

“No, not at all. I’m just covering for Steve at the store so he can go work there.” His grin widened as he turned to look at Steve, “He got the job all by himself.”

Steve’s face lit up, and Eddie couldn’t help but beam right back, completely captivated.

Vito eyed Eddie, amused. “Ain’t you a writer?”

Eddie shrugged, his smile irrepressible.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice turning softer, “but I can write anytime.”

His fingers brushed lightly over Steve’s knuckles.

“Everyone’s gotta have a chance to chase their dream, right?”

He could feel Steve looking at him, but he didn’t dare meet those hazel eyes just yet. Not unless he wanted to get completely lost again.

“And I know Steve’s not gonna be there too long before he’s branching out on his own,” Eddie continued, voice dreamy now, “Back at the store, but with all his own pastries and desserts.”

Finally, Eddie glanced over at Steve, caught in the warmth of his smile. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head at himself.

Vito watched them for a beat, something complicated flickering over his face. Then, suddenly, he cleared his throat and smacked his hands down on the desk. The sharp sound made Eddie jump.

“Okay then, lovebirds, off you fly.” He waved them off gruffly, masking whatever emotion had just threatened to break through, “And let those dumb-dumbs in on your way out, will ya?”

Steve grinned, shaking his head.

Eddie let out a quiet huff of laughter, still recovering from the moment that nearly was.

They stood, shaking hands with Vito, but before Eddie could pull away, he was yanked forward over the desk into a tight hug. For a second, he froze, startled by the strength of it, but then, without thinking, he patted Vito’s back in return.

Vito released him quickly, turning to Steve, who was already bracing for it. Another hug, a ruffle of hair, and a kiss to the top of his head, and then, a firm pat and kiss on each of his cheeks.

“Be good, Stefano.”

Steve nodded, eyes a little brighter than before.

As they collected their jackets, Eddie and Steve instinctively reached for each other’s hands again, only to pause, realising they had to let go in order to open the door. Their fingers slipped apart reluctantly.

They descended the stairs, the low hum of the club growing louder with each step. It was strange, knowing what had changed up there, but stepping back into a world that had no idea.

Once they gathered up the others and made their way to Steve’s car, Eddie barely had time to breathe before the knowing smiles started.

Nancy’s smirk.

Robin’s shit-eating grin.

Hellfire’s deeply approving nods.

Dustin’s absolute glee.

Steve just shook his head fondly and opened the passenger door.

“C’mon, Ed.”

Eddie barely had the door shut before Steve reached for his hand again, and held it all the way home.

"So, everyone knows about you? Well, your... preferences, I mean?"

Eddie lay wrapped up in one of Steve’s long winter coats, stretched out on the rooftop of Harrington’s, staring up at the night sky. His hand rested comfortably in Steve’s, their thumbs brushing lightly over each other’s skin.

"Anyone that needs to know, yeah," Steve said, adjusting the cushion under his head. "And anyone that gossips about it? They find out real quick not to. My uncle doesn’t like it. Says it’s nobody’s business but my own."

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

"So, it was literally just me that had no idea, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckled, and Eddie could hear the huge smile in his voice.

"The only person I was really eager to know my business."

Eddie's heart beat harder.

"Okay, but... you knew I was, you know... into guys?" Eddie asked, his voice quieter now.

"No."

Steve turned his head toward him, his voice soft but sure.

"I knew from your mom that you sometimes had trouble at home, and it kinda sounded like me. I wondered, for a time. But honestly, I didn’t know, or care, if you liked guys,” He shrugged slightly, "I just wanted you to like me."

Eddie’s stomach somersaulted.

"And the way you looked at me that first day we met, I thought you might," Steve continued. "But I wasn’t sure if it was because you were feeling sick or whatever."

Eddie laughed in disbelief, turning on his pillow to look at him, "You thought I might not like you? Have you met you?"

"You're so good at that," Steve said with a small shake of his head.

"Good at what?"

"You didn’t say, ‘Have you seen you.’"

Steve's eyes flicked briefly to Eddie's lips, then back up to meet his.

Eddie frowned slightly.

"I don’t get it. I mean, you’re really good-looking, Steve. There’s no denying that, I just-"

"Exactly!" Steve grinned. "You like me. Not just how I look." He shot Eddie a playful look, "I mean, you’d be a fool not to."

Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically, flopping back onto the cushion, "Ah, yes. Well, obviously, that’s a given."

Steve grinned, shifting closer.

"And how could I not fall for the layers of you? You’re like a perfect lasagna."

Eddie snorted, turning his head back toward him.

"A las-what now?"

"Oh, Jesus, Eddie, I can't believe you don’t-"

"I'm kidding!" Eddie grinned. "I know what that is. So, you think I’m a delicious, saucy, meaty dish, huh?"

Steve let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth as a deep blush spread across his cheeks.

"No!" he said, swatting Eddie’s arm. Then, almost as an afterthought, "I mean... yes."

Eddie smirked, triumphant.

Steve's fingers drifted absently to the buttons on Eddie’s coat, fiddling with them.

"I just meant... you have all these layers," Steve huffed out a breath, "Those beautiful eyes... the way you fell into my arms... how funny you are, how smart you are, well, in academics, anyway."

Steve’s grin turned mischievous.

Eddie scoffed.

"Alright, alright, I get it. I wasn’t smart enough to know the heartthrob of Little Italy was into me? Okay, geez, give me a break!" He laughed, moving his hand to intertwine his fingers with Steve’s, stilling them against the coat.

Steve just smiled, "Then, of course, you were so sweet, caring, thoughtful..." He exhaled slowly, "And when I saw your hair— how good you looked in that suit? Eddie, I nearly died. Seriously."

Eddie flushed, but laughed, "Okay, so then... why were you sneaking off with Nancy all night?"

"Uh..." Steve scratched the back of his head, "Because we were planning when I might make a move. But I kept chickening out."

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

"That closet situation kinda pushed me, though," Steve admitted sheepishly, "I didn’t mean for us to get locked in, though. I’m sorry about that, Eddie."

He looked up at him, the apology genuine in his eyes.

Eddie waved a hand.

"Ah, don’t worry about that. Worked out okay in the end."

"Yeah, well... after that, I thought if I didn’t do something, I might just explode, you know?" Steve sighed, "And I knew the safest place was at my uncle’s, upstairs."

Eddie frowned.

"So... why didn’t you take us all up there first?"

Steve looked sheepish.

There was a pause before his eyebrows pinched together and he made a chicken noise.

Eddie burst out laughing.

"So you made me sit there, watching you dance and flirt with all those girls, at the store, at the dance, because you were too chicken? Is that what you’re telling me?"

"Yeah... kinda," Steve honestly replied with an awkward but still charming smile.

Eddie shook his head, still laughing.

"Well, I was scared, you know?" Steve admitted, "Once I did something, it would be done. And I’d either get everything, or lose everything. No in-between. It was terrifying."

Eddie’s laughter softened.

Steve let out a breath, "But, you know... it doesn’t hurt for me to flirt with customers. Or girls at the dance. Keeps people off my back." Then, more seriously, "But I won’t do that no more if it upsets you, baby. I never wanna do that."

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "Baby?" he repeated, grinning.

Steve ducked his head, suddenly shy.

"Yeah… is that okay?" he asked, squeezing Eddie’s hand a little tighter.

Eddie beamed, dimples punctuating his grin, "Sure is, Sweetheart."

Steve bit his lip at the pet name.

"And I don’t mind the girl stuff," Eddie added, "Not now, I know. Now you’re mine."

Steve’s eyes went wide, then his whole body seemed to go boneless in the big coat.

Eddie had never seen anything so adorable.

"I like that, Eddie." Steve’s voice was soft. Certain. "Being yours."

Eddie’s heart skipped. "Me too," His voice almost cracked, "Being yours, I mean."

Steve swallowed hard, "I wonder if there are any shooting stars out tonight," he murmured. "So we can make a wish?"

Eddie wiggled closer, his hand trailing up Steve’s arm slowly. His eyes followed the movement until his fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek.

"I don’t need to, " Eddie whispered, "I got mine right here."

Then, cautiously, softly, sweetly, he leaned in, and kissed Steve again, under the safe cover of night.

Above them, the night stretched wide and endless, stars winking in quiet approval.

Steve’s lips were soft, warm, and certain against Eddie’s, like he’d been waiting for this his whole life. Eddie smiled into the kiss, breath hitching as Steve pulled him in closer, deeper.

The cold of the rooftop, the world below, everything else ceased to matter.

Just Steve. Just this.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Steve let out a breathless laugh, “Okay, you’re way too good at that.”

Eddie grinned, tilting his head smugly. “Yeah? You falling for me all over again?”

Steve hummed, squeezing his hand, “Maybe,” he murmured.

Eddie sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back and pulling Steve along with him.

“Well, I got all the time in the world for you to figure it out,” Steve huffed a laugh, snuggling closer, their hands tangling together over Eddie’s chest.

The stars above burned bright and infinite, like words scattered across the pages of the sky, but no story Eddie could ever write would compare to the one unfolding right here, in Steve’s arms.

[racerchix21]

2024 Fic Roundup

Tagged by: @bangpop91 & @cliophilyra

I wrote 42 fics and a grand total of 46,652 words

April

Chickens are Assholes: Buck and Tommy are living together and Buck wants some chickens. Tommy is still traumatized by Maurice the asshole rooster

May

Daddy? Interesting Thomas: Based on the Tevan dinner scene from the season 7 finale.

Tommy might have a daddy kink and well Buck’s kinda into that as much as Tommy’s into calling Evan baby boy.

July:

I Fucked Us Up but Maybe I Can Also Fix Us: At the 118 Sal knew that running his mouth to the captain was gonna get him fired but he’d foolishly thought that his relationship with Tommy would last. Now he’s gotta figure out how to fix his mistakes before he loses Tommy forever

Shovel Talk: Harbor Edition: 3 times Buck met one of Tommy’s friends and an ex boyfriend and they threatened him without Tommy knowing and 1 time Buck finally tells Tommy what his friend are doing and says those 3 little words.

It’s the Buck Moon Evan Buckley: Evan isn’t the only one who knows a bunch of random facts. Something Tommy takes pleasure in proving when he asks his boyfriend on a moonlit chopper flight.

Puppy Love of My Life: Sal adopts a puppy he meets at the scene of an accident and then tries to convince Tommy they should keep him.

August

BuckTommy Positivity Week: Happy BuckTommy fics

September

SalTommy Week 1: SalTommy stories

Dispatch We Have A Paramedic Down: And as Eli lies there trying to staunch the bleeding one of his last conscience thoughts is that he did know his killer as he watches the man scramble away. The last is about his family and the men he knows are probably still listening on the other end of the line.

The Black Keys (WIP): Innocent man Tommy Kinard is sitting in prison on some trumped up charges because he’s dating Black Keys Mob boss Sal Deluca. When he gets arrested, Sal requests the services of lawyer Evan Buckley.

Suddenly Buck finds himself fighting for his life, the lives of his family and trying to prove Tommy’s innocence all while dealing with mob business and falling for Sal and Tommy both

You Really Should’ve Started With That: Josh has a crush on both Sal and Eddie. They invite him over for dinner and make a move on him.

Also known as the one where Sal, Eddie and Josh have been dating for months and Josh never realized it.

Ice Cream and New Couches: From where he’s standing at his kitchen island dipping out for he and Tommy, Buck can his boyfriend stretching out on the new couch they'd gone and picked out together that morning.

Princess: Having the prettiest boy he’d ever seen on his knees in front of him was everything he hadn’t dare let himself hope for when he told Eddie he wanted to try something different tonight. His plan was to push all of Eddie’s limits tonight and he’d figured Eddie would fight him on it

October

Tequila Makes Tommy’s Clothes Fall Off: The more tequila Tommy drinks the more clothes he loses. Buck learns quickly that Sal wasn’t joking when he said Tommy shouldn’t drink tequila in public. [Tequilaverse]

The Littlest Monsters: Tommy and Evan take their kids Halloween costume shopping. Somehow they wind up with a couple a little monsters [Tequilaverse]

I Shoulda Chased After You Before Now: It’s a terrible fucking idea. He knows it is because the man he’s supposed to be walking down the aisle to isn’t the real love of his life.

Calls From Home: Or how Josh realizes that Sue was right when she said love makes a family.

You Drive Me Batty: It’s a run of the mill cat stuck in a tree call except they’re not at work but at Nonna’s house. As Tommy ascends the ladder to get Miss Caroline Thomas’ cat he sees it…. A bat caught between the screen and the window pane on the second floor of the house.

Goodbye Mackey: Sal has a fuck buddy. Eddie’s fucking him almost every night. His fuck buddy thinks they’re dating. His fuck buddy isn’t Eddie. Eddie thinks that if anyone’s dating it’s him and Sal. The only person who gets hurt is Sal’s fuck buddy but who the fuck cares he hurt Sal once and now Eddie’s gonna show him who the boss is.

November

Under A Haunted Halloween Moon: “A haunted house,” Evan says excitedly from where he’s standing at the counter drying plates to put them away. “I figure we already agreed to taking all the kiddos with us to hit up WeHo next Wednesday that it’s only fair that Sal and Eddie take Jordy and Caroline with them trick or treating next Saturday around our neighborhood.”

Tumblr Drabbles: Just fluffy drabbles based on Tumblr posts or asks

The Almost Breakup: Tommy tries to break up with Buck and Buck fights back

AITA Tommy’s Version: Tommy doesn’t know why he’s doing this whole putting his and Evan’s relationship troubles on the internet but he’s pretty sure it’s gonna backfire.

December

This Life We Choose To Share: SalTommy Week Take 2 aka how Sal and Tommy realize they’re in love with each other

The OG118 Boys and the Husky Pups: Eli’s heading to a diner to have dinner with the boys when he hears whining in the alley and finds 4 husky pups. Four pups that steal hearts of four firefighters one sad puppy look at a time.

Christmas Wishes and Grumpy Elves: Buck takes Jee to the mall to see Santa Claus again where they meet a grumpy elf and a handsome Santa. Oh and Jee wants puppies for her and her Uncle Buck

Share A Crimson Smile: When Marisol discovers Eddie’s been cheating on her she plots his death with the help of the other woman

Mission Kill the Captain: The one where Sal, Tommy and the boys piss Gerrard off and then Sal makes Tommy fall in love with him.

The Fare: When an attractive man climbs into his cab Tommy finds himself enchanted until the man disappears without a trace. When he resets the meter he’s brought back to the exact moment the man enters his cab beginning an endless loop.

SalTommy Engagement and Wedding Drabbles: Fluff!

Tagging: @rdng1230 @sinderellanightshade @weewookinard @girlwonder-writes @sunnywithachanceofbi @judymarch15

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Can you do it?

Of course I can. Unlike you, I am more than capable. My talent's include Ultimate Game Analysist, Ultimate Historian, Ultimate Theorist, Ultimate-

Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. Also, I'm the Ultimate Gamer, not the Ultimate Game Analysist.

I play games. I rarely ever think too hard about the story unless it's really good. Even if they're not, I still enjoy them.

But go on! Hit me with your best shot!

Alright...

The story starts with a man named William Afton, who moves from England to a town called Hurricane in America with his wife and three kids; His eldest son Michael, his younger son Evan and his daughter, Elizabeth. He meets a man named Henry Emily, and after forming a friendship, the two of them open an animatronic-themed family diner called Fredbear's Family Diner. The problems begin when one day, Henry's daughter, Charlotte, is having a birthday party at the diner. The other kids are mean though, and they lock her outside. William then arrives at the diner, drags Charlotte into the alleyway, and murders her. It's unclear why he does this, though it is rumored he was tired and drunk, and had been having a fight with Henry over management of the diner. Now, Henry built an animatronic called The Puppet made to watch over his daughter, but while this was happening, the Puppet was stuck inside a box. When it gets out, it goes outside to try and protect her, but not only is it too late, it's raining, so it ends up breaking down. Charlotte's spirit then latches onto the Puppet's body, and possesses it. The next part of the story focuses on Afton's sons, Michael and Evan, the former of which is abusive to the latter. On Evan's birthday in 1983, Michael and his friends shove Evan into Fredbear's mouth as a prank. However, one thing they did not know is that at least two of the animatronics, Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, contain a device called Springlocks, which allow these animatronics to be cranked open as suits. This was an idea by Henry and Afton to save on management funds for the animatronics, but there is a catch. If the Springlocks get loose on the animatronic suits, they fold back in and crush the person inside them. This is exactly what happens to Evan, who's skull is crushed after Fredbear practically bites his head off; he goes into a coma, and dies a week later. As if it wasn't the case before, William Afton reaches his breaking point following Evan's death, and starts using the Spring Bonnie suit to lure children into the back rooms of the diner, and then kill them; then proceeding to hide their bodies inside the animatronics. He's successfully able to kill 5 children before he gets caught, but due to the fact that no one can find the children's bodies or any evidence of his crimes, Afton gets away with it. After their deaths, Charlotte Emily, possessing the Puppet, starts putting the spirits of the dead children in the animatronics they were stuffed in. Which means by this point in time, the Puppet, Freddy Fazbear, Chica the Chicken, Bonnie the Bunny, Foxy the Pirate, an unused Golden Freddy costume, and Fredbear, are all possessed by the ghosts of the children Afton murdered, with Fredbear being the only exception, as he is possessed by Even Afton. Even though he is able to avoid prison, William Afton is fired from his own company as a result of the scandal. He then proceeds to open up his own business, Afton Robotics, to work with this sister company called Circus Baby's Pizza World. At some point down the line, Afton discovers this material called Remnant that is produced when young children die. Remnant allows one to preserve their soul after they die, and this is what allowed Charlotte, Evan and the other kids to possess the bodies of the animatronics, and using it, you can effectively become immortal. Afton then starts creating robots like Circus Baby and a few others designed to kill children, so that he can harvest this Remnant. However, another problem arises, when one day, Afton's daughter Elizabeth, gets too close to Circus Baby. With Evan now dead and with Michael having left the house, Elizabeth is Afton's only remaining child, and with this, she is then indirectly murdered by Afton's own hand. While the details after this incident are still unclear, supposedly, Afton loses what little remains of his sanity and ends up killing his wife, and puts her inside another animatronic called Ballora. This is still only tentative and theorized stuff though, so it's up for debate. Regardless, Circus Baby's Pizza World is closed before it even has a chance to open, and William Afton is all alone and on the loose. Flash forward to 1987, and there’s a new pizzeria open called Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The animatronic suits the deceased children possess are stored safely in the back room, and the new animatronics, including Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, The Mangle, and Balloon Boy are equipped with facial recognition software designed to detect the faces of criminals. This is implemented in case William Afton ever comes back, but it proves ineffective. Afton returns, and with no Springlock suits to hide in, he instead uses the empty Golden Freddy suit, since it’s unused, broken, and mostly empty. He kills another 5 children, which thanks to Charlotte Emily in the puppet still being present, possesses the spirits of the animatronics that I just mentioned. This is the second missing children incident focused in on Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The place is then forced to close down, but before that point, they hold one last party on November 14th 1987. During this party, it is suspected that Jeremy Fitzgerald, the protagonist of Five Nights at Freddy’s 2, becomes the victim of the Bite of ‘87, after moving to the day shift and having his frontal lobe bitten off by The Mangle. The restaurant is closed down for good, and a few years afterwards, suggested to be somewhere in the 1980′s, William Afton sends out a message to his only remaining family member, Michael Afton, and tells him that his sister and mother are trapped inside the now closed Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Michael goes to Circus Baby’s in the hopes of setting them free, which is now an automated establishment. They think he’s an employee, so Michael poses as one and spends a week there while the building attempts to reopen, until he is tricked by the animatronics, and attacked by a scooping device, similar to the one inside Baby that killed Elizabeth. During the week Michael works, the robots in the facility, including Baby, Ballora, Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy, as well as a few others, tear themselves apart and reform themselves into a mash of animatronic parts; adopting the name “Ennard”. When Michael gets scooped, he is injected with Remnant and completely scooped out of his insides. Ennard then uses Michael’s body as a suit to escape the sister location. After they escape, Michael effectively becomes a walking corpse, then vowing to find his father and end his suffering. The first place he tries is the new Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, which opens in 1993, which also happens to be the original location of Fredbear’s Family Diner, and uses the original cast of Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy, as well as refitting the original Golden Freddy suit, but they never actually use him. The original Spring Bonnie is also housed here, but is unused and rotting. Michael was blacklisted from Freddy’s history after the death of his brother, so in order to land a job at the place, he uses the name Mike Schmidt, the name of the protagonist of the original Five Night’s at Freddy’s. However, the possessed animatronics mistake Michael for his father and spend the week trying to kill him. After his week is finished, he is fired, and the place once again gets shut down. Michael unfortunately never finds his father, but William Afton DOES come back to the original location. Because of Michael, he now knows that the kids have possessed the animatronics, and fearing for what they might do, he goes to Pizzeria after it closes down to dismantle them. Every Fazbear Location has a room that is off the map and invisible to the animatronics, which the company typically uses for storage, as well as to hide the victims of the springlocks so they bleed out without the children seeing. William hides in this room, coming out to dismantle the animatronics until all four of them are torn apart. However, once he does this, he releases the spirits of the kids who attack him. With nowhere to run, Afton hides inside the rotting Spring Bonnie suit, in hopes of scaring the kids off. He laughs as he thinks he has them cornered, but the Spring locks, which have loosened over time, fail, and he gets crushed inside. Afton has spent years prior injecting himself with Remnant, so when he’s crushed, he comes back to life, thus marking the birth of the series’ most infamous antagonist: Springtrap. Afton doesn’t have a will of his own though, and is locked in the room until 2023, with the opening of Fazbear’s Fright. Fazbear's Fright: The Horror Attraction is the location in which Five Nights at Freddy's 3 takes place. The attraction is a replica of the old Freddy Fazbear's Pizza located inside a local amusement park, meant to revive the decades-old urban legends that surrounded the establishment. Outfitted with old animatronic parts and suits, as well as dim lighting and true-to-life décor, patrons would walk through the building like a haunted house, reliving the nightmare of 30 years ago. Afton, having spent another 30 years rotting inside of the Spring Bonnie suit, is transported to Fazbear’s Fright. And as luck would have it, the one filling the role of the night guard for the establishment, is Michael Afton. Taking the opportunity before he misses it, Michael sets fire to the building and burns it down with William inside it, using the establishment’s faulty wiring as an excuse. When Fazbear’s Fright burns down, William is killed and the spirits of the original 5 deceased children, who have been possessing Michael throughout the week he was working there, are set free...Or so he thought. As it turns out, William survives the fire and rebuilds himself with the parts that were left over inside the building, and escapes. As things stand, Charlotte Emily possessing the Puppet, Elizabeth Afton possessing Ennard, and William Afton possessing Springtrap, are all out roaming the world. Ennard gets tired of being controlled by Elizabeth, so he spits her out. Elizabeth then rebuilds herself into a new version of Circus Baby called Scrap Baby. Ennard then discards the clown mask and takes on a new Freddy-shaped face, now going by the name “Molten Freddy.” Molten Freddy also has the spirits of the 5 children possessing the Toy animatronics inside it. After all this time, Henry Emily finally learns what’s been happening over the past few decades, and decides to take it upon himself to settle things. At an unspecified time after FNAF 3, he devises a plan to bring all the animatronics into one location, including Springtrap, Baby, Molten Freddy and the Puppet, so he can destroy them and set them all free once and for all. Henry creates an animatronic called the Lure Encapsulate Fuse Transport and Extract device, also known as L.E.F.T.E or Lefty for short, modelled after Freddy, to find the Puppet possessed by his daughter, and capture her. When Michael finds out about this, he goes to the fake Pizzeria that Henry created for his plot, luring all the animatronics together in one place. Henry then locks down the building and burns the whole thing down with himself, Michael, Elizabeth, Afton’s wife, Charlotte, William and the remaining children inside Molten Freddy, freeing all of their souls from the torment. William’s soul is sent to hell where the children are free to torture him for all eternity, but the story of Springtrap doesn’t end there. Some time before his death, William uses his genius mind to scratch his consciousness and memories in binary code into the electrical components of some of the animatronics. The big problem with Henry’s penultimate plan was that Fazbear Entertainment was no longer in his own hands, and was actually still running as it’s own company at this point. Some time during the events of the other games, an anonymous games developer was hired by Fazbear Entertainment, then later hiring a different company called Silver Parasol Games to create the Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experience. The purpose of these games being published was to make it seem as if the events of the previous games were fabrications and old wives tails, and to discredit the real stories of the children getting killed. The issue arises in the computer chips that Silver Parasol Games were provided by Fazbear Entertainment to scan in, in order to make the animatronics in the virtual world appear more realistic. And as you might have guessed, William Afton’s consciousness is thus ported into the game, practically bringing him back to life within the world of the game. Now known as Glitchtrap, Afton programs himself the power to take over the body of the tester, so he can bring himself back to the real world. He tries taking over the body of a dev named Jeremy, but after deciding that Jeremy is a poor candidate, he possesses his body and forces him to commit suicide by using a guillotine paper slicer on his own face. The second person he tries to possess is the unnamed protagonist of FNAF VR: Help Wanted. This fails, and the dev is able to defeat Glitchtrap and lock him away. However, before this happens, Glitchtrap finds another host named Vanessa, and eventually settles on using her. After the VR experience, as well as an additional Halloween themed DLC, Fazbear Entertainment then commissions the creation of a giant mall called Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. During the run time of the Pizzaplex, multiple animatronics are switched around and the tragedies begin yet again. This leads into the events of Five Nights At Freddy’s Security Breach, and the events that preceded it involve an unknown specimen, Patient 46, and Vanny, Vanessa’s villainous alter ego under the control of Afton, reprogramming the animatronics' systems and make them more deadly. Alongside this, another 9 unnamed people go missing, likely all children, as well as multiple missing therapists, likely killed by Vanny. While the original lineup of band animatronics at the Pizzaplex includes Glamrock Freddy, Glamrock Bonnie, Glamrock Chica and Roxanne Wolf, Bonnie is eventually replaced by Montgomery Gator. With how the game says this happens following a night where Bonnie went down to Monty’s designated area, the golf course, before his disappearance, as well as how his physical appearance in Security Breach’s DLC, Ruin, shows he has claw marks across his body, it’s highly likely Monty dismantled or damaged Bonnie beyond repair, so that he could replace him in the main cast. Roxanne Wolf, or Roxy’s reason for taking Foxy’s place in the main cast is never given a reason. One night, after the Glamrock animatronics have been reprogrammed, Freddy Fazbear malfunctions and breaks down on stage. When he wakes up, it’s revealed that he was placed in low power mode, which likely saved him from Patient 46′s reprogramming. Also, he discovers that a young, homeless, orphaned, anonymously registered boy named Gregory, the protagonist of Security Breach, has been hiding inside his chest. Freddy resolves to help Gregory escape the Pizzaplex before Vanny and the animatronics can find and kill him, and they discover that the Pizzaplex is built on top of the fake restaurant that Henry Emily created to lure Afton and the others years prior. Vanny locates Afton’s corpse in this building and uses the recharge stations for the Pizzaplex animatronics to reanimate his body, effectively bringing him back to life. However, before Afton can return and start killing again, Gregory and Freddy stop him, and he is killed by a creature called the Blob. The Blob is very similar to Ennard and Molten Freddy, as it is an amalgamation of several animatronics that are possessed by the 9 people that went missing. Security Breach has several endings, but the “canon” ending that results in Afton’s defeat results in Freddy and Gregory escaping and sitting on top of a hill, staring into the sun. It is likely that with the eventual destruction of the Pizzaplex, Vanessa’s spirit is freed from the clutches of Vanny and Afton, but this is not guaranteed. Lastly, we come to where we currently reside in the story with Security Breach: Ruin. At some unknown time, Gregory befriended a young girl named Cassie, the daughter of one of the Pizzaplex’s engineers. Apparently, the story goes that Cassie had her birthday at the Pizzaplex, but none of her friends showed up, leaving her to become friends with Gregory, who comforted her, and for Roxy to do the same, becoming Cassie’s favorite animatronic. After the Pizzaplex is shut down, Cassie gets an SOS from who she believes to be Gregory, and goes to the ruined Pizzaplex to rescue him, as he has somehow ended up trapped under it. In reality, it turns out to be a trap created by an animatronic called the Mimic. The Mimic is first introduced in the Tales from the Pizzaplex storybooks, and is a hyper-intelligent animatronic created by Edwin Murray to care for his young son while he worked. The mimic has the special ability to copy the behavior and voice of anything it observes, as well as change its form to fit into any animatronic suit. After Murray’s son David dies via vehicular manslaughter, the Mimic tries to imitate David, after learning his mannerisms and habits through his interactions with the boy. Edwin loses it and bludgeons the mimic to death with his fists. A week before Christmas, Fazbear Entertainment sends a small team to the abandoned factory to "clean up a mess." The team believes they are expected to finish Edwin's projects, and while doing so they come across the remains of the Mimic. From the waist up it appears to be functional but it doesn't move, so the team decides to complete it by attaching legs from a nonfunctional animatronic onto it. Then, the Mimic comes to life and kills each of them in ways eerily reminiscent of innocuous behaviors it had seen from Edwin and David. Several more people come to the Pizzaplex for various reasons in the Tales from the Pizzaplex storyline, and the Mimic begins to claim more and more lives. It’s suggested that prior to the events of Security Breach, Vanny discovered the Mimic under the Pizzaplex and deemed it a problem, so she developed a system called the M.X.E.S to imprison it. However, during the events of the DLC post the original game, the Mimic poses as Gregory, mimicking his voice and pretending he's trapped in the Pizzaplex so Cassie can unknowingly free it. Once Cassie deactivates the M.X.E.S, the Mimic escapes and tries to kill her. In the supposed “canonical” ending, Roxy protects Cassie, then Cassie tries to escape via an elevator. The real Gregory contacts her through a loudspeaker, and tells her that it is not her fault. However, he also says that bringing Cassie back up to the surface will be a huge risk, as the Mimic will also follow them. And after apologizing, the wires to the elevator get cut, causing Cassie to fall into the depths of the underground. Her fate, as well as the Mimic’s, are left unknown.

...That’s it.

Holy $!-!17...

[interdimensional-warlock-man]

Is that a plane? Is that a bird? Is that… oh? Oh it IS a Bird! The mysterious Poultry Man assaults the scene as the next in line of Hermits I draw!

Remember, it wasn’t me, it was the man in the chicken costume!

[awlimagines]

Pumpkin Jamboree

So, first things first. HUGE thanks to @just-a-pansy for allowing me to use his rival children for this prompt! You should definitely check them all out if you haven't already! The story is below the cut to be sure proper thanks were given. Please enjoy!

It felt surreal to you sometimes. What were the odds of so many of you having children around the same time frame? You couldn’t say you weren’t happy that things worked out this way. All your worries about Ellis having someone to play with were gone. You and Gustafa maintained good relationships, giving your son plenty of friends among the children of others who could have once been romantic rivals. 

You loved the tradition of the Pumpkin Jamboree. You remember crying when your parents told you that you were too old. So, it wasn’t a surprise to Gustafa when you eagerly volunteered to help the children dress up and lead them to the part Rock and Lumina were hosting at the Villa. The day had finally come, and you were focusing on restraining yourself from gathering the kids into a group hug.

Cecilia and Marlin’s daughters dressed as little scarecrows. You had no doubt Marlin sewed the costumes for them. Ava dutifully tried to keep her younger sister Marcie from unraveling her clothes by picking loose threads. Tito dressed like his father. If it wasn’t for him having Flora’s eyes, you would have thought Carter had reverted in age. Your son had stolen one of his father’s large green hats and begged Gustafa to make him a robe. Ellis now stood with his friends, loudly proclaiming he was a wizard and could create spells from music. It was his daddy’s love spell song that entrapped you after all. 

Blushing, you did your best to ignore Gustafa’s laughter as you ushered the children outside. Four kids couldn’t be hard to track and wrangle. They should be more manageable than the farm’s adventurous chickens. You enjoyed their babbling as you followed behind the group. You had the group detour before heading to the Inner Inn and through the village. Since Nina’s passing, you did your best to include Galen. The older man was starting to involve himself in Forget-Me-Not Valley again, and you wanted to be sure he was included in the Pumpkin Jamboree.

In a flutter of activity, more children joined the group. First, Nami’s son Mikhail tumbled down the inn’s stairs. His bright hair almost matched the pumpkin costume he wore. Following Mikhail’s appearance were Cody’s son, August, and Molly and Griffin’s child, Rae. You recognized August as a Renaissance painter, though you couldn’t name the exact one. Rae’s costume stumped you until they explained. They were a warrior princess. It was why they had a frilly top with pants and a sword. Didn’t you know slaying a dragon would be difficult in a dress? 

It wasn’t until you started the path uphill to the villa that you realized something was amiss. There were too many children. There should be seven, but each time you counted, there were eight. You picked out the child you didn’t know quickly. She looked like a girl with black hair, her white dress only shades lighter than her. You fought panic as she ran with the other kids to greet Edie (dressed as royalty) and play. 

“Maybe she’s one of those black-eyed children,” Rock mused when you asked him about the child. “Y’know, I’ve heard they come and bring misfortune wherever they wander. Though with how close the mountains are, maybe she’s a mountain spirit instead? I wonder if she’d be appeased with candy?” 

“Oh! I’ll ask her if she’s a ghost!” Marcie excitedly quipped before running off. 

You hadn’t realized she had come to stand near Rock and you. You could only imagine what Marcie said when she reached the other children gathered around Lumina. You shrank back and sidled away from Rock when Lumina fixed him with a glare. Her disgusted frown told exactly what she thought of him telling such stories around the children.

“Adora is Daryl’s granddaughter,” Lumina’s voice seemed to drip with displeasure as she joined you. “She must have wandered away from the lab when she saw the other kids. Rock, please go let Daryl know Adora is here.” 

Lumina sent her husband off with a wave, refusing to acknowledge his explanations for the time being. She sighed to you about how sometimes it felt like she had two children. Edie was obviously the better-behaved one. You laughed along with her, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Daryl had a granddaughter? The man hardly seemed that old; he must have decent genetics. Who had his wife been? You couldn’t wait to share this gossip with Gustafa.

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #56 “Boo Cocky” | September 7, 2008 - 11:30PM | S03E16

I just realized what the title means. That’s cute. 

Man, do I hate this show. I swear to god, I don’t set out to hate this show; I will watch it with an open mind and hope that something in it will be of value and/or make me laugh. A few things get me here and there, but this episode? (spoken quickly, quoting a commercial I vaguely remember from my childhood) I-don’t-think-so.

First sketch of substance starts off with some recreations of scenes from the motion picture Revenge of the Nerds. The joke is that after a montage of mostly-faithful adaptations of key scenes of the nerds committing various crimes (notably the main nerd raping the cheerleader by posing as her boyfriend in a Darth Vader costume) it smash-cuts to them in a court room. They are sentenced to half-a-lifetime of hard time in a federal prison. They get brutalized in there. The show makes a joke that the gay nerd is happy to be in prison because he’s gay. Huh! What an interesting joke for me to talk about humorlessly for two paragraphs: 

Hey I JUST JOKEEENG. I am instead going to say opinions about those movies, because I think I’ve seen all of them? I don’t remember the third one almost at all. The first one is the best, but it’s not that good. I have a soft spot for it because it was one of the first R-rated movies I was allowed to see, along with Animal House. At the time I preferred it over Animal House, which is insane to me now.

Michelle Meyrink is in Nerds, va-va-va-voom! The second one is boring and bad, and rated PG instead of R. Ogre becomes their friend in that one, which is usually the domain of animated series adaptations (such as: Murph in the Problem Child movie/cartoon). Parts 3 & 4 are television movies, I think? The fourth one has one or some of the nerds getting married as a pretense for them reuniting. I remember they showed it in 3D that didn’t really work at all. You had to get the glasses from your local Safeway or something like that?

I remember turning the fourth one off early because it was lame, and then the next day at school my friend chided me for missing the much-ballyhooed bachelor party scene, where female strippers came out with like calculators on their bras (as seen in the promos). I watched the movie when the box set came out on DVD, and it was hilarious how gay it was. Literally, I mean, I’m not doing a thing where I am using schoolboy language to take you back to my 1990s Northern California grade school experience of being small and insensitive. What I mean is: the gay nerd gets so excited by the music and sensuality that he jumps on the strippers' stage and steals focus, and his friends all cheer him on instead of getting horny for girls. Honestly, those are some good-ass friends and I’m glad he found them.

I’m not talking about the next sketch yet. First I’d like to acknowledge that I’m doing a thing that I think I swore I would not do, which is use Robot Chicken sketches as a jumping off point to riff on popular culture in a self-indulgent way. I simply don’t care anymore. I like rehashing things I know about movies. It’s the only thing keeping me alive at this point. 

Okay the next thing is: Conan of “The Barbarian” fame answers the question “what is best in life”, and instead of delivering what I’m guessing are very iconic lines (I don’t like the Conan movies! I am sorry! I do not retain things from them!) he sings a song that is ironically flowery. He name-checks gumdrops, which seems like very low-hanging fruit when you’re trying to write a song where the joke is that it’s saccharine. Does anyone actually ever refer to gumdrops in any other non-ironic context? Anyway, I REALLY hated this one. The song wasn’t even fun. It felt like a song written by bad comedy writers who don’t normally write songs. Not the worst song to be on Adult Swim, that honor probably goes to the one in Casinko. 

Another bad bit: a channel change gag where a big monster carrot eats a rabbit and then says, “did that blow your mind?” at the camera. No. It did not. There’s an unfunny sketch about the Borg infiltrating the Star Trek experience in Las Vegas. My father-in-law is Walter Koenig, so I get to have that over dinner. There’s an okay sketch where a fart outbreak in a mental ward is interrupted by a TiVo menu and off-screen characters arguing about Robot Chicken that results in bloodshed (shout out to Moral Orel, a show Robot Chicken is friends with). There’s a sketch where two sound engineers are oblivious to the fact that the guy in the soundproof booth is being mauled by various fantastical things (zombies, aliens, finally a werewolf). 

The last “main” sketch is Saved by the Bell, but it’s Saw. You can tell right away that Jigsaw is Mr. Belding, because they got the real guy to do it. Lotta real guys in this. Dustin Diamond, fresh (not really) off his stint on Tom Goes to the Mayor, is in this as well! Get you a guy who can do both. Anyway, this sucks too, but I guess it’s sorta impressive that they got 80% of the cast to lend their voices to this. I guess. Wait, no, it’s not.

MAIL BAG

Bradley Needlehead rocks

HE DOES. Thank you for bringing him up. I read somewhere, and I also vaguely remembered it on the previously-mentioned AdultSwim.com video commentary that they told DLH that he was his replacement, and asked him to coach the actor to help capture him better. I think I characterized it a little differently. I could probably use a little clarification on that. It is remarkable that Needlehead went on to create China, IL.

[pokichusramblings]

I love the circumstances that led to the headcannons. Theyre so different and its funny.

Jimmy:

his character in Esmp was literally a fish man who came from the ocean and wears a fish head.

The bird lore came from a headcannon that he must be a canary because every time he dies in the life series everything goes to chaos.

Grian:

his face looks like a cod head lmao. And in Hc10 he’s been claimed by the ocean. But he’s always had RFF (resting fish face)

man is obsessed with birds. He flies everywhere on elytra, one season he dressed up as a chicken to do vigilante stuff with plausible deniability (“it wasn’t me, it was the man in the chicken costume”)

Pearl:

I’m pretty sure the fish stufd started in Hc10, correct me if I’m wrong. Anyway in Hc10 she wore a salmon head for the majority of ep 1 and it stuck and now she’s a salmon.

And again I am like 80 percent sure the bird headcannons came from her close dynamic with Grian? Gonna be honest I have no clue.

Just Skybling things...

[summonerluna]

Some years, the date sneaks up on me.

This year, it has been like a train barreling down the track, whistle screaming in the distance while I wait, unable to move until it has passed, and still I am surprised by how much the impact hurts when it arrives.

I read an article right after she died, or maybe right before. About a man who, five years after his father died, would still have times at work when he instinctively reached for the phone to call his dad. About that moment where you forget, even though it’s been awhile, and you wonder how you can forget something so monumental.

Because she was here for 34 years of my life and has only been gone for 5, and when you put it like that, 5 years doesn’t seem very long.

But when I look at my son who was only two back then, 5 years is most of his lifetime. She doesn’t know how much he loves dinosaurs, and can tell you the difference in a triceratops and sinoceratops, or that our chickens are the closest direct descendants to the T-Rex. She has never watched him jumping on a small exercise trampoline while playing a video game, because his brain processes best when his body is in motion, although I am certain she has given me grief about letting them play games and also been amazed at how fast he is at solving the puzzles. She hasn’t seen how gentle he can be with small animals, even when gentle is not typically a word anyone would use to describe him.

And then, it is absurd that she has never seen our house in Maine. How can that be, when I have memories of walking with her from the creek to the garden? Of sitting on the front porch in early spring and drinking coffee and talking about how different the seasons are up here. When she has joined me on walks in the woods and helped me identify plants I wasn’t sure about. She doesn’t know that Kairi has continued to love dance and takes 5 classes a week, but she has watched her in this year’s Nutcracker and was so proud of her for it.

Or she has, until I remember that she hasn’t.

And then I realize, when wanting to make something symbolic for dinner, that I can't remember her favorite meal.

I remember things I know she loved. I remember her talking about dishes she wished she could have all the time. But all I can come up with is going out for Mexican, because that's what we did so often. My sister, the only other one who knows this loss and how painful and complicated it is, gifts us money to go out, and it is good, and I think of the place near Boston we discovered that has chile rellenos like she used to make. How the first time we went there before I had even taken a bite the smell took me to those rare afternoons when the kitchen would be covered in every bowl we owned, because she could never find anywhere on the east coast that made chile rellenos like she used to get out west but it was an all day labour to make them herself. I know she has had them there, even though I don't remember if she ever even made it to Boston, much less one of its northeast suburbs.

I say a few times, "it's the anniversary of my mother's death." Sometimes I cry, even though it's the in-between moments that usually make me cry, not the the ones you can mark on the calendar.

And then later, I get mad, because I can hear her voice lamenting that nobody would miss her anyway, because she felt so small and unimportant, and five years later I want to scream, how could you imagine your children would ever not need you? And I don't know if I am mad at her, or a world that made her feel small, or myself for feeling the same way some days.

Tomorrow I will wake up, and check my email to see if casting is up for the spring ballet production. And I will work on Sebastian's Link costume, and shovel snow, and snuggle the cats and pet the dog and let out the chickens and ducks, and I will live a life that has been built entirely in a world post-her-death, that is further and further from our last conversation.

The dead stay just on the edges, there until we glance their way and are reminded that, no matter how strongly we may feel their presence or how certain we are of times they have been with us, they are gone

[geminiwritten]

untouched ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: billy hasn’t touched you for months, and you’re frustrated, so you decide to invest in some skimpy lingerie in the hopes that he won’t be able to resist

notes: YES, this is (very loosely) based on the song ‘untouched’ by the veronicas and if you haven’t heard it, it’s a bop. also, i’m so sorry for the terrible british accent writing, and i’m sorry for the fade-to-black but i was too chicken to actually write all the smut. please let me know what you think!

side note: i would die for this man (billy butcher and karl urban)

warnings: a lot of swearing, beer, very light smut, and some google translated french

word count: 5848

You hadn’t originally planned for Frenchie to come along on your little shopping trip, it was supposed to be MM, but when he got a call from Janine, you couldn’t possibly have asked him to prioritise you over his own daughter. Hughie had offered to drive you, of course, but you decided that Frenchie was the lesser of two evils in this situation, and you refused to go alone. Lately, you weren’t the biggest fan of going anywhere alone.

“Ooh,” Frenchie coos, pulling a lacy baby doll from one of the racks and holding it up to his own body. “I think this would suit me, no?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I think it would, why don’t you try it on?”

He giggles and throws the garment over his arm. “I think you, mon amour, would look ravishing in it.”

So here you were, in the middle of the lingerie section in one of New York City’s largest department stores, shopping for scandalous undergarments with Frenchie. You have to admit, he is a huge boost for your self-esteem, but you trusted him much less than MM to keep this little shopping trip a secret.

“What about this one?” he asks, holding up a bodysuit styled after Starlight’s costume that left even less to the imagination than her suit already did.

You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

He giggles again as he returns the bodysuit to its rack. You were doing your best to avoid anything that resembled the costume of a Supe, even if some of Queen Maeve’s designs did catch your eye. The purpose for which you were buying would definitely be negated by anything that looked like it had been produced by Vought.

“May I ask,” Frenchie says as he catches up to you at the next rack, “what exactly are you looking for, and why?”

“I just need some new underwear,” you lie. “The washing machine at that dingy apartment only works half of the time and I figured that buying more underwear was a more economical option than buying a whole new machine.”

The second part wasn’t a lie, but you still had to turn away to hide your pink cheeks.

“Ah,” he sighs, moving around the rack to follow you. “So silly of me to assume that this had something to do with Monsieur Charcutier, but I suppose you would not lie to me, hm?”

Your pulses races, pumping even more blood into your cheeks and making the huge store feel suddenly stifling. You ignore his inference and turn toward a shelf full of wrapped latex garments, ranging from underwear to bras, to suspenders and gloves. The items draped over your arm are mostly lace and straps, so you choose a pair of latex hot pants and hand them to Frenchie.

“Like this,” you say, “practical underwear, perfect for fighting. I won’t have to worry about them falling down.”

He smirks. “Of course, and perhaps you will need this to?”

He takes a riding crop off one of the hooks beside the latex display and offers it to you.

“Better than a gun, in my opinion,” you state, taking the crop and holding it under your arm that is already full of lingerie.

“What is it for if not to spank a naughty, naughty Supe,” he chuckles.

After an hour of browsing and dodging Frenchie’s attempts to get you to reveal your true agenda, you approach the check-out counter. A surly old woman serves you, grumbling between disapproving glares as she scans each item that is more scandalous than the last. You’re so busy trying not to burst out laughing that you don’t even notice the inclusion of the riding crop until she hands you the bag.

“Have a great day,” she mumbles insincerely.

“And you too, mon chéri,” Frenchie says with a wink.

You grab his wrist and drag him behind you as you b-line for the store’s main doors. By the time you reach the curb, you’re both giggling like idiots and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes while strangers watch you with wary expressions. It’s only a short walk to the car, but you manage to compose yourself by the time you’re both climbing into your respective seats. The engine sputters to life, and Frenchie swerves into the busy traffic in the direction of your current residence.

“Be honest with me, mon amour,” he says, and you look up from your phone, “what is all this about?”

The paper bag is nestled between your feet, and you can see a buckled strap peeking out of it. None of your purchases were at all for practical use.

You sigh, “I honestly don’t know, Frenchie.”

“Butcher has been distant lately, no?”

You nod, and he glances at you from the corner of his.

“It has been rough,” he says, “and I know he is not good with his emotions, even in the best of times, but I know he does care about you.”

“I know.”

He moves a hand from the wheel to hold one of yours. “You do not need all of this to make him lo-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, your pulse spiking with panic, “please, don’t say that word.”

“Mon amour,” he sighs, and somehow in French the word sounds a lot less intimidating. “You are beautiful, do not ever forget it.”

You smile at him and raise his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re beautiful too, Frenchie.”

He chuckles, “I know.”

It isn’t just that you’re afraid of that word when it came to Butcher, because there were so many more things to fear in this world, it was more to do with the fact that he hasn’t touched you in months. You knew, when it all started, that this situation wasn’t going to be easy and it definitely wasn’t going to be something that meant a whole lot to Butcher, but you went ahead and fell anyway. With the chaos of the cause you were all fighting for, and the uncertainty of whether or not any of you would live, you thought you’d be able to put your own desires on the back burner. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was good for a while, but then things got bad again and more skeletons crept out of the closet, and Butcher has all but forgotten about you. It isn’t that he no longer cares about you, because you know he does, but he’s been all work and no play for months now, and your heart is beginning to ache. And so is the place between your thighs that he is exceptionally good at satiating.

You might be stupid enough to fall for the man but you’re not stupid enough to assume that he might ever return those feelings, so you’ve decided to focus on the one element of intimacy you know he craves too.

“Looks like le Charcutier himself has returned,” Frenchie says, and only then do you realise the car has stopped.

Butcher’s car is parked at the curb in front of the decrepit apartment building that you currently call home, and you can swear there are new scrapes scratched along the passenger’s side doors. You tuck your purchases as deep into the paper bag as they’ll go before getting out of the car and following Frenchie into the building. You climb two sets of stairs and stop at the third door on the left, nervously chewing the inside of your lip while Frenchie fumbles with his keys.

“You know,” he whispers, pausing as he turns to you, “he might not-”

“Frenchie,” you hiss, “I don’t want to talk about the consequences, okay?”

He sighs, “I just don’t want you to be upset if he does not appreciate this the way you want him to.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

You snatch his keys and jam the big rusted one into the doorknob, twisting it angrily and pushing the door open before he can say another word. You knew your plan had holes, but you didn’t have the patience to try and talk any sense into yourself because Butcher was the only thing on your mind. He has been from the moment you met him.

The first person you see is MM, sitting on the couch watching old cartoon reruns with a content smile on his lips. Hughie is in the kitchen, on the phone to his dad and by the sound of it, attempting to talk him through the process of rebooting his Wi-Fi router. Your frustration dissipates at the sight of normalcy, or as normal as it got for people who live the way that you all do. It’s been quiet lately, more reconnaissance than murder, and more time to plan and recover for when things inevitably go wrong.

“Hey,” MM calls, “how did you go?”

He immediately glances at the bag and grin splits across his face.

Hughie bids his father goodbye before tucking his phone in his pocket and looking to you, his frown turning quizzical. “What is that?”

“It is a- uh,” Frenchie puts a finger to his lips, “how do you say flagellateur?”

“You bought a cane?” Hugh gasps, “What the hell for?”

MM chuckles, “I believe Frenchie called it a flogger.”

“For the naughty Supes,” Frenchie says, pulling it out of the bag before you can react.

Hughie bursts out laughing as Frenchie moves like lightning and smacks MM across the bottom with the crop, a sharp cracking sound echoing through the room. MM yelps, turning to Frenchie with a murderous glare.

“Touch me with that again and I’ll shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it in your throat,” he threatens.

Frenchie smirks, “Do not make promises you cannot keep, vilain garçon.”

MM moves to grab the crop, but Frenchie is faster. He steps back and holds it behind his back, giving himself a light tap on the thigh and moaning wickedly. Hughie’s laughter bubbles up again, and even MM can’t help from chuckling.

You roll your eyes despite your amusement, “Come on, Frenchie, that’s enough.”

“Au contraire, mon petit chat,” he coos, “we are just getting started.”

“Who’s gettin’ what started?”

All four of you turn toward the familiar voice – gruff and always a little sarcastic – to find Butcher standing in the door to the main bedroom. His hair is damp and tousled, and his signature trench coat absent.

“Nothing, Monsieur Charcutier,” Frenchie says, still holding the crop behind his back.

“What the bloody hell are you hidin’?”

Hughie is struggling to hold back his laughter, his eyes watering with the effort. The boy is definitely sleep deprived, though this time you blame Annie more than the vigilante lifestyle.

Butcher takes two heavy steps forward and his brows furrow. “Is that a fuckin’ riding crop?”

“Oh, this?” Frenchie shows him the flogger. “This is Mademoiselle Y/N’s.”

He steps toward you and slides the crop back into your bag.

“We went shopping,” you say, forcing yourself to meet Butcher’s eyes despite the overwhelming urge to run back out the door.

He cocks his head, “You went shoppin’ with Frenchie, ‘n’ bought a fuckin’ sex toy?”

You nod slowly, feeling the blood burn in your cheeks. The air is suddenly thick, and you struggle to draw anything more than a shallow breath as you wait in silence for someone to say something. You know it’s bad when even Frenchie shuts up.

“Right,” Butcher glances at the bag in your hand before turning to MM. “Well, since everyone’s ‘ere, we might as well go over what we know ‘bout the rally this weekend.”

Hughie rushes over to the small dining room table to retrieve his laptop, and MM turns the television’s volume down to zero. Butcher looks back at you, and then to Frenchie.

“Unless,” he says, “you two had somethin’ better to do?”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest, and your embarrassment turns into irritation.

“Just let me get changed.”

You don’t wait for a response before turning on your heel and marching into your room, slamming the door for effect. You tip the contents of your shopping bag on the bed and begin stripping out of your jeans. It is hot in this dingy little apartment, since no one had yet been successful in getting the thermostat to work, so your decision to change into shorts and a loose button-up wasn’t totally uncalled for. It just so happens that you decided to swap your bra and panties for a sheer black bodysuit with a built-in harness that wrapped around your chest and waist, and down around your bum into thigh garters. You button your shirt enough to only just show the straps over the curve of your breasts, and make sure the garters are tucked under your shorts before remerging into the living room.

The boys are gathered around the kitchen bench, Frenchie and Hughie looking at the laptop while Butcher and MM point at what you can guess is a map on the countertop. You assume Kimiko is still sleeping, and no one was game enough to try and wake her.

“We’re not sure if anyone from corporate is scheduled to attend,” Hughie says, “but it looks like every member of the seven have been ordered to appear.”

You step between Frenchie and MM, right across from Butcher. Frenchie glances at you, his eyes dropping for less than a second to your cleavage before he gives you a cheeky smirk. You press your lips together to keep from laughing, and when you look toward Butcher you find his eyes already on you, or rather, on Frenchie. If looks could kill, the poor French man would be a pile of dust on the floor.

“It would be suicide to try anything at this thing,” MM states, “with all of them there, the security is going to be tight.”

“I agree,” Hughie says, “so if we go, it has to be lowkey, and we can’t be recognised.”

“So that rules out you and Butcher,” you point out, leaning past Frenchie to see the laptop screen.

“You and I can go, then,” MM points at a spot on the map, “we recon from the outskirts, and Frenchie waits off side in case we need an emergency extraction.”

“No,” Butcher says, his eyes trained on you with an intensity that made your spine feel like a gummy worm, “she’s not goin’ anywhere near this shit show. Her and Hughie watch from this buildin’,” he points at a building two blocks from the main event, “me ‘n’ you go in for recon, ‘n’ Frenchie ‘n’ Kimiko will be waitin’ nearby.”

You frown, “Hughie can do the surveillance on his own, and you can’t go anywhere near Homelander. I’ll go in with MM.”

“No,” he says again, “you’re not gettin’ that close.”

“This isn’t close,” you point at the map where MM had, “and if you’re worried then you can wait with Frenchie but Butcher, you can’t be seen. It’s too risky.”

“You wan’a know what’s risky?” he snaps, his gaze dropping to your chest.

You cross your arms, fully aware that it accentuates your breasts.

“Fuckin’ arguin’ with me.”

You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Fine, get yourself killed for no fucking reason Butcher, see what I care.”

Tension rolls through the room like a dark storm cloud, rumbling with impending thunder as it settles right between you and the man you’re glaring at.

“No one is going to die,” Hughie speaks cautiously, “we’re not going there for a fight.”

“I know that.” you snap, though your eyes don’t dare leave Butcher’s. “Tell him that.”

“Butcher,” MM says, “I know you want to lead, but she has a point.”

Butcher scoffs, “I don’t give a damn about whether I’m on the front line or not, but she’s not goin’ anywhere near those fuckers. ‘Specially if I’m not at her fuckin’ side.”

Your heart stutters and your resolve cracks. Your shoulders slacken as every measure of intimidation you had built up dissolves and the stupid but familiar feeling of warmth and longing spreads through your body.

“We’re not getting close, Butcher,” Hughie says, “all we need is-”

“That,” Butcher spits, pointing at the same spot on the map, “is too fuckin’ close.”

MM looks at you, waiting for you to argue some more. Butcher rarely listens to anyone, but on the occasion that he does, it’s often you. But right now, you’re tired and you’re sick of arguing with this man when all you really want is for him to throw you up against a wall and tear your clothes off.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “you’ve got to live your life the way you want, right, Butcher?”

You circle around Hughie, around the kitchen bench, and behind Butcher where the barely functional fridge is. Silence hangs heavy in the air as you open it, bottles rattling in the door. You take a bottle of beer from the shelf and shut it again, turning to the drawer where you last saw the bottle opener, but it isn’t there. Sighing, you turn on your heel to stand beside Butcher and lift the hem of your shirt to wrap it around the bottle top, using it to buffer your hand as you struggle to get the cap off. With a soft pop, the cap comes free and so does another button on your shirt, revealing the little gold buckle connecting the straps between your boobs.

A small, triumphant smile quirks your lips as you look up, meeting Butcher’s gaze much closer than before. His eyes are dark, his pupils devouring almost all of his hazel irises.

Frenchie clears his throat, keeping his own gaze locked on the map. “Hughie says that most of the roads will be closed, but if we park the van here,” he points to a side alley, “we should be able to leave quickly, if we need.”

“What about the perimeter guard?” MM asks, “They’ll have more than usual, and I don’t doubt half of them will be Vought’s B-listers.”

Hughie nods, “Annie said they’ve been flying in all week, from almost every state.”

You can’t focus standing this close to Butcher, feeling the warmth rolling off his body and from the corner of your eye, seeing him turn to you every couple of seconds. He isn’t subtle about it at all, and with his height advantage, you know he can see right down your loose shirt. When you try to focus on the map, you can see his hands in fists at his side, knuckles white with strain.

“What do you think?” Hughie asks, at which you only respond with a slow blink. He frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just tired.”

You raise a hand to your neck and tilt your head to the side, rubbing at your hot skin and subtly letting the collar of your shirt slip off your shoulder. When you glance at Butcher, you know you’ve almost got him. His neck is red and jaw set as he watches you like you’re prey.

You bite your lip to hide your smile, surveying the map with a wicked idea when Frenchie, bless him, asks the perfect question. “Do we know where Homelander will be arriving?”

“There,” you reply, stretching onto your toes and reaching across the bench. “From there, he will walk through this audience before flying to the stage.” You arch your back as you trace your finger along with the directions, feeling your shorts ride up and the garters on your thighs dig into your flesh.

Another beat of silence pulses through the room before Butcher clears his throat. You look to him quickly, only to find him glaring at Hughie, and when you turn to the boy in question you realise that he too had noticed the black straps on the backs of your thighs.

“Sorry, uh, yeah,” he mutters, cheeks pink, “Homelander is the only one who won’t be escorted directly to the stage. They want to create hype, so he’ll be moving around to greet fans.”

“Well, we better make sure we’re not anywhere near wherever he’ll be,” MM says.

Hughie nods, “If he follows orders, he’ll stay within the barriers. Vought is wary and with all their assets in one place, they’ll be making sure even Homelander is on his best behaviour.”

Frenchie chuckles, “They do not want golden boy starting a civil war in the middle of the city, eh?”

“They know that there’s a huge chance of anti-Supe protest,” you say, “which raises another issue, access. No one in a two-mile radius will be allowed in without verification.”

Hughie turns his laptop to face the group, “I’ve been working on that, but I need to know who is going in so I can print ID badges.”

The four of you look at Butcher.

“It’s your call,” MM says.

He blinks as if suddenly returning to reality, and shifts awkwardly on his feet so his hips are pressed against the kitchen bench. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice thick, “I don’t wan’a think abou’ it right now, alrigh’?”

Hughie nods and closes his laptop, and MM sighs though his small smirk is betraying as his eyes meet yours.

“Well,” Frenchie says, “if we are done here, I am going to go get us something for dinner.”

MM tucks his phone into his pocket, “I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Frenchie frowns.

MM glances at Butcher before turning back to Frenchie. “Really.”

“I’ll come too,” Hughie says quickly, “I-I mean, I was going to see Annie, anyway.”

Frenchie’s smirk is so wide you’re worried his cheeks are going to split. The three of them hurry out the door, muttering goodbyes and arguing over who is going to drive before leaving you and Butcher alone with the storm cloud of tension still rumbling in the air.

You down half your bottle of beer in one swig before sighing, “Well, as much as I would love to keep arguing, I’m going to-”

“Oh, you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweethear’.”

You only just have enough time to turn around before Butcher traps you with a hand on either side, gripping the bench with white knuckles.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?”

You feign an innocent frown, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

His breath comes and goes with a shudder, and you can feel it fan across your bare neck.

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout this,” he hooks a finger under the garter around your thigh and lets it go with a snap. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout you goin’ shoppin’ with Frenchie for fuckin’ sex toys.”

“Okay,” you smirk, “and what exactly is there to talk about?”

His head cocks, and you feel like prey staring down a predator.

“What is there-” his eyes narrow. “What is there to fuckin’ talk about? I don’t know, maybe when the fuck you started fuckin’ around!”

His rage, though intimidating, only turns you on. It shouldn’t, but it does.

“Am I not allowed to fuck around, Butcher?” you ask, watching the pulse in his neck race.

An emotion flickers behind his eyes, too fast for you to discern, but it’s strong enough to relieve his frown and he almost looks hurt.

“Do you want to fuck around?” he asks, his voice low.

You can’t figure out if he’s baiting you or not, or if it’s just the aching in your chest that’s trying to convince you that he might actually be feeling something.

You decide to guard yourself, keeping a smirk on your lips. “Are you offering?”

He releases his grip on the bench and rubs both hands through his hair, making it stand in jagged spikes.

“Look,” he sighs, “I know it ain’t any of my business, but if you and Frenchie are-”

“I’m not fucking Frenchie!” you exclaim, the past few months of frustration finally breaking out of the bottle.

“Oh,” he straightens, “good.”

“Good?” you echo, “For fuck’s sake Butcher, you are thick.”

His frown returns and before you can move, he traps you again. “What was that?”

“I said, you are thick,” you press your bum into the bench in a lame attempt to create distance. “If you think I’m sleeping with Frenchie- with anyone, you’re an idiot, but you know what? I already fucking knew that.”

“Yeah? And when did you figure that one out?” he asks, once again a predator who has cornered his prey.

“About three months ago, when I woke up and you weren’t there,” you say, fighting the lump in your throat. “You fucked off for three days, Butcher. No one knew where you were, you didn’t answer your fucking phone, and when you got back, you acted like nothing had fucking happened.”

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you wait for him to bite back, but he doesn’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh, “And now you won’t even fucking touch me.”

“Is that what you want?” he whispers.

You can only nod, too afraid that another word from your lips will turn into a cry. He breaks your stare and lets his eyes fall to your chest, slowly moving his body closer until it’s completely pressed against yours. You can feel him against your lower belly, not fully hard but definitely there and probably the reason he was hiding himself against the bench before.

Unlike the last time he touched you, this one is gentle. His fingers start at your jaw, just below your ear, tracing the sensitive skin right down to your collarbone and stopping at the swell of your breast. He groans, the deep sound rumbling from his chest and reverberating through your body. Your breath is shallow as you wait impatiently for him to kiss you, watching his lips like an addict yearning for a taste of the drug that only he can provide.

He denies you, though, instead dipping down to press his mouth against your bare shoulder and sending waves of electricity dancing across your skin. It isn’t exactly what you wanted, but its enough to make you sigh, and you roll your head back to allow him better access. His lips leave gentle kisses along your collarbone, the scratch of his beard raising goosebumps in its wake.

You feel like you can breathe for the first time in months, and your heart is beating so violently within your chest that you know he can feel it on his lips. A small voice at the back of your head is screaming, telling you to stop and push him away, because the further this went, the less control your head would have over your heart. Your heart that is threatening to crack a rib as it tries to surrender itself to the man in front of you.

When his lips leave your skin, you whine, but he doesn’t smirk like he usually does. He doesn’t make a sarcastic comment about how needy you are, or even look up to meet your eyes. His gaze is on your chest as his hands come up to the collar of your shirt, fingers curling into the soft material before yanking it apart. The buttons break, popping off the shirt entirely and scattering across the kitchen floor. He gasps, almost inaudibly, but you know you heard it.

This isn’t like before, he’s too quiet and too gentle, aside from the whole ruining your shirt thing. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, longing for approval as his dark eyes devour your scantily clad torso. His hands follow the curve of your body down to the waistband of your shorts, finding the button and popping it with much less force than they did the shirt. His fingers hook inside the denim and guide them down over your hips and past your thighs before letting them drop to the floor. Then he steps back.

You feel empty without his warmth, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with your arms while he observes you from the other side of the kitchen. Given, it is a small kitchen and he’s barely two steps away, but you suddenly feel like an exhibit on display.

You swallow thickly, “If it’s- uh, if you don’t like it I can-”

“I fuckin’ love it,” he says, his voice low and raspy as he closes the distance again.

Pressed against you, you can feel him hard behind his jeans, and you can’t help feeling a little proud.

He cups your jaw with both hands, his face only inches from yours. “I fuckin’ love you,” he mutters, before crushing his lips to yours.

The taste of his mouth sets your tongue ablaze, but instead of melting into a puddle like you know you should have, your spine goes rigid. The voice in the back of your head grows louder, clearer, as it rushes to the front and crashes against your skull, screaming.

He notices you tense up, and pulls back immediately, not offended but afraid. His frown is deep and his mouth slightly agape, realising what he’d said and knowing that it’s the reason for your reaction.

You stare at him, “What did you say?”

He takes a generous step back and runs a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“Butcher,” you press, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and compensate for the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry, love,” he sighs, “I didn’t-”

The lump in your throat rises, “You didn’t mean it?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, “I meant it, jus’ didn’t mean to say it.”

“You meant it?”

He nods slowly.

You blink quickly to try and repress the moisture filling your eyes. “You meant it as in… you love me?”

He nods again and you can feel your whole body beginning to shake.

“D-Do you love me like-like a vice?” you ask, your voice unsteady. “Like you love drinking and smoking or-”

“I love you like I fuckin’ love you, okay?” he snaps.

The irritation in his voice makes you flinch, and he regrets it immediately but refuses to move toward you again.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N,” he sighs, “isn’t it fuckin’ obvious? I haven’t fucked you in months.”

You frown, “Yeah, and why would that make me think you love me?”

“‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ twat who doesn’t know what’s good for him,” he says, “and sweethear’, you are too fuckin’ good for me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You!” he exclaims, “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and young, and you shouldn’t be in any of this shit, let alone in it with someone like me.”

It feels like your heart is swollen, pressing against your ribcage and squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your pulse races, blood rushing to your head and making you dizzy as you try to make sense of his words.

“Butcher,” you close the distance between your bodies, pressing him against the opposite bench, “I want you, and everything that you want.”

He keeps his arms rigid by his sides as he stares down at you, his pupils still blown with lust.

“If you want me to leave you alone, then I’ll stop,” you say. “If you want me to fuck off, then I’ll go, but no matter fucking what, I’m yours because I love you. I don’t have a choice about that, because I fucking need you."

He breaks your stare to look up at the ceiling, letting go of a long sigh before looking back down with the smallest quirk in his lips. “You’re gon’a fuckin’ kill me, aren’t you?”

You smirk, “I’ll certainly try.”

His hands find your bum, pressing you impossibly close as his lips crash into yours and it feels like your heart bursts, sending shockwaves through your body and turning your limbs into jelly. With a soft grunt, he lifts you up and pushes away from the bench, allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips. You can feel him completely now, rock hard and rubbing against you in the most delicious way as he carries you across the room toward your bedroom.

Your hands are tangled in his hair as you kiss him sloppily, pouring every bit of frustration and longing into his mouth until he pulls away and drops you onto the bed. He begins unbuttoning his shirt and your fingers find his belt, eye level with you as you clumsily unravel it.

“An’ what’s all this?” he asks, calling your attention to the pile of lingerie dumped on the bed.

You would have blushed if your face wasn’t already burning red. “Just some things I bought.”

“Jus’ some things, huh?”

He picks up one of the lacy red garments and holds it up, a devilish smirk stretched across his lips. “Who’re plannin’ on wearin’ all this for, love?”

“Well,” you giggle, “Frenchie was very approving of it all when I was trying them on, so…”

He throws the lacy thing aside and pushes you back on the bed with a hand around your throat. His legs straddle your hips, pressing against your throbbing core and sending jolts of excitement up your spine.

“If any other fucker ever sees you in this, I’ll cut his fuckin’ throat,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as his beard tickles your cheek. “You’re gon’a wear all of this for me, and I’m gon’a ruin all of it.”

You move your hips for some sort of friction as a soft whine escapes your lips, but his other hand grabs your side with bruising strength and holds you still.

“Do you understand me, sweethear’?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “yes, I understand, Butcher. Just fuck me already.”

His hand tightens around your throat and another wave of heat washes over you.

He tuts, “What have I said ‘bout manners?”

“Butcher,” you groan, clawing at the fastening of his jeans.

His hands leave their places on your body to grab your wrists, easily transferring both of them into one hand, restraining you as he sits up. He reaches behind himself on the bed, and you wriggle impatiently beneath his weight.

“Think I need to teach you a lesson,” he says with a grin, holding the riding crop in his other hand.

Thrill bursts in your stomach and you feel yourself clench, wetness pooling in the crotch of your bodysuit.

“You ready for me to show you how to use this thing, doll?” he asks, touching it to the valley between your breasts.

The leather loop is cool against your hot skin, even through the sheer material as he traces it down your sternum and all the way to your belly button. All you can do is nod, holding your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress the whimpers wanting to escape.

He pulls the crop back before softly smacking it against your right breast. The gossamer fabric leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and his eyes light up at the sight of your taut nipple.

“You, my love,” he murmurs, caressing your left breast with the crop, “are fuckin’ diabolical.”

END.

[russetfoxfur]

Okay updates on the grian bit:

why are the cookies chicken. guys why are the cookies chicken. scar why are the cookies chicken. there were so many options WHY ARE THE COOKIES RAW CHICKEN

Doc jumpscares local girl scout troop because they want to vandalize his house using motivational quotes

seriously. i don’t watch doc or ren so… why is doc the Other End of the sniffer. why. in what world was that a good idea. in what world was that not supposed to spawn questionable fanart. doc what were you thinking??

The sniffer spy-place looks really cool!

The buttercup cookie shop looks really cool!

“We’re full grown adults,” says Ren, wearing a sniffer costume, being friends with a guy whose worst enemy is motivational quotes.

and then they agree to duke it out using robots

SO MANY THINGS GO WRONG WHY DID EVERYTHING GO WRONG

Grian is unheard by the rest of the buttercups. He lets the bottercup go. A bit of sand is still there. Somehow doesn’t catch on the rest of the thing. How. Grian. Grian grian grian how.

they reload multiple times and crash their own bottercup

Good job guys

Wait.

Are they actually fixing it?

Why isn’t Doc’s GOAT here

How are they fixing that so quickly

guys mumbo is a god he fixed the bottercup mid fight

how

Slowest bot fight of my life i guess??

doc’s is barely moving

sir why is your goat exploding your own perimeter

Did you think this through

No. No you did not.

Silly me. No one thinks things through on Hermitcraft.

okay. um. getting closer!!! god i cant wait to see the GOAT get owned. hm how will they retaliate? how will doc cope? will they have a halloween dress up dance off? will this go down like the turf war? will they

are you fucking kidding me

they did not just blow up their own robot

never mind. Mumbo is a spoon.

YOU BLEW UP HIS SNOOT AND NOTHING ELSE

HOW DID YOU FAIL THAT BADLY

YOU BLEW UP YOUR WHOLE FUCKING ROBOT AND HE GOT HIS NOSE CHOPPED OFF

WHY.

how did that

what did that di

the goat can’t walk anymore??? i guess???

yay they did something right! somehow they won! give it up for mumscarian, metal buttercups forever! settle this turf war style, get a bunch of people to build games and

wait

why is the butterfly moving

WAIT WASNT THAT THE TNT EXPLODIFICATIOR INSERT TECHNICAL REDSTONE TERMS HERE

WHAT

ITS GOING

CONFUSED LAUGHING SCREAMING CRYING WHAT IS HAPPENING

stop it stop stop Stop It Stop It STOP IT

jam it!

jam it!

jam it!

wait

wait wasn’t there a second one

Wait

WAIT

WHERES REN

GUYS WHERES REN

IS HE MANNING THE OTHER ONE

BUTTERCUPS

BUTTERCUPS YOU MIGHT LOSE TWO BASES TODAY

BUTTERCUPS THERES ANOTHER ONE

CAN YOU HEAR ME

There’s ANOTHER BUTTERFLY

KILL IT

yes this one is jammed thats good THERES ANOTHER

LISTEN

YOU FUCKING IDIOTS

REN IS CURRENTLY DESTROYING YOUR BASES

he wouldn’t do that would he

gentleman rules

would he actually blow up his base

impulse wouldnt so ren wouldnt

is ren actually going to blow up grians base

he might actually blow up grians base

FINALLY

YEAH GOGOGOGOGOGO NOWWWWWW HES BLOWING UP YOUR BASE GRIAN AND HES NOT GONNA STOP

JAM IT

FUCK YEAHHHH

how

what just happened

they had a bot fight and then they killed butterflies

would they tho

i… don’t know

what the fuck just happened

guys I’m tired

too tired

why

why hermitcraft why

how are they this lucky

are you playing favorites

i don’t have time for this

why

Just. Why.

exploding screaming throwing up

Zedaph on Imp and Skizz podcast

Bots go to fucking WAR

two favorite hermits (grian and zed) doing THINGS

guys I’m insane about them

I havent even watched the videos I’m too excited

[redfurrycat]

Top Gun: Peacock 🤠+🐓= 🦚 [Part 3]

[Bradley, Jake and Mitchell are on their way to the beach to meet their son’s godparents, Nat and Javy. Jake is sweet-talking his forever feathered chicken who’s moodily driving the Bronco.]

Jake: Come on, Bradley. A deal’s a deal. You HAVE to wear it.

Bradley: …

Jake: Do you really want to teach our son about not keeping his word?

Bradley: ….

Bradley: But I thought you always win at darts! That’s why I accepted the bet in the first place. I thought it was in the bag!

Jake: As much as it pains me to say, I wasn’t expecting Javy and Nat to win. I feel as bereft as you do, Roo. Come on. I wear one of your atrocities too. Do you really believe I’m okay being seen in public with…this? I even let you dress our baby with THAT THING.

Jake is looking forlornly at his son who is playing with his Léon plushie without a care in the world.

Bradley, smirking, to his son: Duckling, don’t you love your new clothes?

Little Mitchell: I wike it, pop! I’m you!

Bradley to Jake: HA. SEE? He likes it. My baby duck has such good tastes.

Jake: Agree to disagree, darlin’. I still have time to right his path. Also, I call dibs on his Halloween costume. Anyway, stop brooding and put your shirt!

Little Mitchell, giggling: Are we gonna have chicks, pops?! Nice.

Jake: No, honey, it means your pops doesn’t like his shirt. Silly, don’t you think?

Little Mitchell: Yeah. Siwwy. I wove your shirt pops!

Jake, mimicking tears: There is hope for you yet. You've earned the right to have a go in a F-18!

They arrive at the beach. Jake is carrying his son on his shoulders and making sounds of a F-18 taking off. These two happily laugh and run towards Nat and Javy, already there. Javy is even making howling sounds to welcome his favourite godson.

Natasha to Jake, smirking: Where is your other half?

Jake towards the bronco: Come on darlin’! Step off that perch of yours!

Bradley is bracing himself, puts the shirt and gets out of the car.

*Wolf-whistling*

Natasha: Looking good, Bradshaw!

Jake: Oh, very good, almost too good to be true.

Jake to Javy, discreetly: Thanks for this, man. You’re a true bro. I owe you one.

Javy: More like a thousand, but who’s counting…Now, give me my pup.

Natasha, Javy and Mitchell go towards the sea talking about Mitchell’s day at the zoo, meanwhile Bradley joins Jake.

Bradley: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

Jake with a devilishly smirking face: I don’t know what you’re talking about, darlin’.

[part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3] - [part 4]

(Check what's below the cut, you'll understand why Bradley is having a brooding seizure :P)

Little Mitchell's shirt:

Jake's shirt:

Bradley's shirt:

Nat's shirt:

Javy's shirt:

[part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3] - [part 4] - [part 5] - [part 6] - [part 7] - [part 8]