#THIS GAME IS PERFECT FOR ALL OF YOU SHUT UP

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[stump-not-found]

i <3 creepy hallway

creepy hallway number one <3

alright time for more home life stuff . the bedroom scene came up as a way of trying to reintegrate the gold statue from earlier, since i just really love trying to find old elements and tie them in as plot relevant as time goes on . not usually planned, but it comes through during the editing stage, which is a fun game of deciding what scenes to keep, and which to get rid of . i wasn't so certain about this one, but i loved the idea of baby ford interacting with mabel, who's slightly older... i need to draw art of it, honestly . they're cute

it's really gratifying seeing people pick up on what i've been setting up as part of ford and the statue, the fact i was able to effectively communicate something going on means the world to me . the rest of the story is gonna dig into it more so i won't lay it all out here, but it really is so much fun . makes the whole writing process feel so communicative when people share thoughts and interpretations . especially when the scenes are meant to be read into !

we also get the closet yay . sure that's not gonna be important at all

writing the kids big blow up fight was a trip and a half . the original vision was a pretty shallow "we're stressed out and out grunkles should stop being mean to each other :(", just as a way to try and push forward the dynamics between ford and stan . that still exists, it's just a lot more focus being put onto the kids themselves . they're tertiary characters for sure, but i like thinking about their home life, and how that impacts them

one of the challenges is trying to have the fight feel fairly balanced between the two of them . shoutouts to my brother and wife for the full ass socratic seminar we had about threading that needle . how do you get a conversation where a young trans boy is trying to discuss his fears about his life and his body, and keeps getting shut down ? how do you balance that with a little girl who feels like it's her job to be the sweet, happy, emotionally intellegent adult in the room ? i'm happy with the end result but boy was it stressful

bill also wasn't gonna be here but i wanted more bill so . he got to come back . i really liked tying in nick with the spit to the little chats their having in the paradox dimension . love the lil hand pinch that was just a treat for meeeee, i get to be indulgent in my fics as much as i want . i also like the fact that ford is under some indescribable pain that entire time . they got a dynamic in this story that makes me laugh .

you know whats funny is i didn't even realize ship of theseus was a paradox writing a lot of the stuff about paradoxes . for some reason i just stumbled into that one . very funny . or, no wait -- i totally knew the entire time my brain is the size of three (3) whole apples

oh man and the entire lab scene i just loved writing . i love including bathroom breaks . i love dipper's poor hygiene . i love the fact the kids traded gold for soda, they're such perfect lil con men in training . and again the whole talk about star trek was so indulgent and fun

the brothers grew up queer in the 60's/70's and that's a major part of their arc . i hope to get across the ways they both hurt each other both as kids and adults . they still got so much to work on, and i just don't know if they've got the time

anyways creepy hallway bill time

favorite part:

“Clark.” Ford stiffens, stops. Looks up. “What?” “That, uh, captain guy. The one with the, he had the big, you know–” Stan gestures over his chest, puffing his pecs out a bit more. “Always had em out, shirt cut off or whatever. Got all hot and sweaty. Great hair.” “...Kirk?” Ford turns in his seat, slightly, to get a better look at his brother. Stan clicks his tongue, points his index finger in recollection. “ Kirk .” He repeats, and the image of the guy blooms in Stan’s head. Ford had a magazine with him on the cover, about as disheveled and beat up as a guy could look, shirt torn open. That particular mag went ‘missing’ into Stan’s stash, and he laughs at that old memory getting drudged up. “I, uh. Was a fan , back then.”

i just love how neither one of them can say what they're talking about out loud lol

Stan and Ford have a conversation, Mabel and Dipper get a bit absurd, and something gold is given meaning.

If you don't look, you won't see it fading.

[ishtar7677]

This was a Christmas gift to me and my husband from our GM of our very first characters that we ever TTRPG'ed (Pathfinder) who commissioned this from @cutetanuki-chan. (The picture is from me taking a picture and cropping at a weird angle - the whole thing in its frame is stunning.) These two characters (Chrissy and Odhran) met when our game night people were like... hey let's try pathfinder. So I made a character and so did my husband and after meeting them, I was like... oh god... we are gonna get divorced. Lol. We were struggling at the time. And we made these characters and god, they hated each other so much..... but eventually found their way to being friends. But they were our first characters EVER. The next character my husband rolled up in this campaign (we needed to double up to round out a playable campaign), my rogue eventually formed a romantic attachment with. Then I made a bard for a totally separate campaign, and now we're both determined that he meet Chrissy at some point b/c within MINUTES of meeting my bard in a totally unrelated campaign, we were like, okay he's soulmates with Chrissy! But that's the magic right? Finding the parts of ourselves unexpectedly that can be completely accepting of other parts of our partner... even the parts of them that we thought we didn't like, want to be around, or understand to begin with. (CAUTION WARNING: let the reader understand, do NOT use this story to excuse abuse or bad behavior to try to fix a partner! This is an exercise that can ONLY be done with a feeling of absolute safety and trust between partners. We were not there when we started TTRPGS but got to a better place of trust due to his own personal work with therapy. But there were MASSIVE strides before I even trusted it. ) We joked tonight after our friend gave us this picture that Odhran (my rogue) saw this picture and was like oh GOD, what hell-fan of Chrissy (actress) did this? Why do I look like I'm worshipping her? GAHHH nOoOo. But....Odhran can also shut all the way up. :) What ultimately makes me as the player love this picture so much is probably the underpinnings of a romanticism depiction. These two characters, while they never and will never fall in love, in a meta sense, they were the gateway for us into several characters who did help us rediscover love again after years in a very difficult marriage, find a adhd hack into new relationship energy through RPing, and just provide us an outlet for a lot of intense emotional energy. And this artist, despite knowing NONE of this, captured its essence in a two completely non-romantic character portrait. @cutetanuki-chan you knew none of this and still managed to capture it perfectly. This picture will hang proudly in our house and I will enjoy explaining it to anyone who walks through our doors. Your depiction of HERO FORGE characters being so accurate is stupid impressive. Also shout out to our GM, Grace, who actively sought this out for us. What a perfect present. We couldn't ask for a better GM or a better friend. You're family and we love you so much.

[fruitbasketball]

ncaa recap: uconn vs. usc

first of all: what a way to lose a completely winnable game. WHAT a thing to do. truly!!! i applaud it. i’m SHOCKED at it, really - bc no way you wanna lose every fucking top 10 matchup y’all have. there’s just no way!!!

and now i have to do the thing i have been dreading all season, bc i have such immense respect for this man.

geno. what. the fuck. are you. doing.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING BRO????????????

what’s the game plan?? HUH???? no matter what happens, it’s paige’s fault??? the best player in the fucking country stayed an extra year to play for you, and THIS is how you do her???

quit playing her off ball bro PLEASE matter of fact she can’t play off ball. yup! CAN’T do it. every single one of her numbers but efficiency is down from last season, so i can conclude that you need to stop playing that bitch off ball.

put the ball in paige’s fucking hands luigi or i swear to god i will shove it up your ass. you have the most CREATIVE, TALENTED, INTELLIGENT scoring pg in the country and you’re playing her OFF BALL???? WHAT THE SHIT?????

and paige bro. we don’t get to pick and choose when we wanna play basketball. you don’t get to ONLY show up the second half. and MAN was that a fucking monster second half. like my legs are still shaking from it jesus fucking christ. but when we do THAT SHIT!!! right???? when we DON’T PLAY THE FULL 40???

it comes down to a freshman and her free throws. sarah strong, you are a perfect angel. you did NOTHING wrong. the play was all wrong, it shouldn’t have come down to you, i am so so sorry it did. sarah has been so unbelievably consistent, and i just KNOW she’s blaming herself for it.

what’s the reasoning behind these last few possessions. like what the fuck is up bro. why are we going for the 2 when we’re down 3. why are we fouling with no fouls left to give. if you’re gonna do that shit take the 3!!! close the gap completely. why are we willing to widen the possession margin??? i understand the technicality of the strategy here, and it might be the smartest thing possible in ANOTHER situation.

in MY mind tho: take the 3, tie the game. get a stop on the other end, set a decoy, have paige or ash take the 3. or send jana down low for a 2. but it was so obviously a matter of geno not trusting the defense. which is NUTS - because this is one of the strongest defenses in the country. and it wouldn’t have been a perimeter job. probably not!! probably would’ve been a juju middy or kiki down low!! REALISTICALLY!!!

i just, like… those last few CRUCIAL possessions were really muddled and it pissed me tf off. like actually made me so fucking mad.

anyway bro’s yapping again - bc if kk is a game changer, keep her in the fuckin game dawg. idk just a thought.

SIT ice, START jana, and SHUT THE FUCK UP ‼️‼️‼️ hm i wonder who will be a better match for the best power forward in the nation - the 6’5 paint beast, or the big who’s been showing you she lowk CANNOT PLAY BASKETBALL

anyway i just wanna say - to anyone who thinks paige got outplayed this game, fuck all the way off. juju couldn’t even guard paige the whole game, while paige did not let up. if juju had a hard time scoring, it’s because paige was in her mouth the whole time. that’s a two way player. so i don’t wanna hear shit.

in conclusion: MANE FUCK THIS SHIT

[archivequinn]

Never Have I Ever, Drinking Game.

Summary: Eddie and Steve confess their feelings for each other in a fun drinking game. fluff, happy ending.

Words: 2,767

ao3 link | dividers by @strangergraphics 

Eddie was placing a six-pack of beer on the old but sturdy table in the corner of the caravan, smiling at Steve as he did. "Beers are ready. Even if Robin doesn’t show up, our night won’t be ruined," he said with a teasing tone in his voice.

Steve, slouched in a worn but comfortable armchair in the corner of the caravan, was running his hands through his hair and whining. "I mean, seriously... She didn’t even say why she’s not coming! She just sent a message: ‘I can’t make it today, have fun.’ What does that even mean? I don’t get it!"

Eddie chuckled softly as he opened one of the packs on the table. "Oh, it means that sometimes people change plans. Sad but true. But hey, at least we’ve got a perfect excuse to watch a cheesy horror movie tonight. Plus pizza... That’s non-negotiable."

The interior of the caravan was lit by the warm, slightly yellow glow of Eddie’s lamp. Sitting in the armchair, Steve threw his hands up in exasperation and kept talking. "We were supposed to be three tonight. Like a group. A dynamic trio, you know?"

"Three people, two people, what’s the difference?" Eddie said as he sat at the table and popped open one of the beer bottles. "Be honest, Steve. You’re not really upset about Robin not coming tonight. The real issue is, who’s going to comfort you during those dumb jump scares in the horror movie?"

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer. "You’re ridiculous. Horror movies don’t scare me."

At that moment, Eddie pulled out an old VHS tape from the cabinet above, holding it up in the air. The cover was worn, and the faded label read “Night of Darkness 3” in scrawled letters. "Are you ready, Harrington? This movie was voted the worst horror film of all time. It’s so bad that people cover their eyes out of secondhand embarrassment."

Steve groaned. "If it’s that bad, why are we even watching it?"

"Because there’s an art to badness." Eddie grinned as he slid the VHS into the player and adjusted a tangled pile of cables next to the TV.

The caravan filled with the bluish glow of the old TV’s flickering screen. Between Eddie’s loud laughter, Steve’s grumbling, and the dramatic music of the outdated horror film, the night slowly took shape.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he noticed Steve continuing to complain. Even the terrible horror movie playing on the TV wasn’t enough to distract Steve from Robin’s absence. Meanwhile, a slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He had a brilliant idea. A perfect way to shut Steve up and have a little fun.

"Alright, Harrington, cut it out. We can’t let the night go to waste just because Robin’s not here. I’ve got a proposition for you," Eddie said, his grin impossible to hide.

Steve looked up at him, his expression skeptical. "What kind of proposition?"

Eddie got up, grabbed a handful of shot glasses from the table, and headed toward the kitchen. “We’re going to play a game,” he said without looking back. Opening the cupboard, he started pulling out various drinks: beer, whiskey, red wine, white wine, and a mixed cocktail. He brought them all to the table and began filling the shot glasses.

Steve frowned as he watched him. “What’s this? A drinking party?”

Eddie shook his head, laughing as he handled the bottles. “Much more than that, Harrington. This is a drinking game. It’s called Never Have I Ever. Here are the rules: We sit across from each other, raise our hands, and take turns saying something we’ve never done in our lives. If the other person has done it, they put a finger down and take a random shot from the table. You can’t choose what you drink—it’s all up to chance. Whoever runs out of fingers first loses. Got it?”

Steve squinted at him. “Alright, but… what if I put down all my fingers at once? Or keep picking the wrong glass?”

Eddie barely held back his laughter. “That’s the fun of it. Nobody wins, everyone loses. But at least we’ll laugh a lot. So, what do you say? Got the guts?”

Steve couldn’t resist Eddie’s challenge and crossed his arms. “I’m not scared of some dumb drinking game!”

Eddie grinned and gestured with both hands. “Hands up, Harrington. I’ll start: Never have I ever flown on a plane.”

Steve gave him an annoyed look. “Seriously? That’s your opening question?” Shaking his head, he put down one finger and grabbed a random shot. He had picked the cocktail. After taking a sip, he raised an eyebrow slightly. “What is this? A tropical candy?”

Eddie responded with laughter. “Oh, Harrington, this is just the beginning. Your turn. Be creative.”

Steve took a deep breath, shot Eddie a challenging look, and raised his hands again. “Alright… Never have I ever jumped onto a concert stage.”

Eddie’s grin froze for a moment. “Oh, clever. You’re targeting me on purpose, aren’t you?” Laughing, he put down a finger and took a shot. He’d picked the whiskey. After a sip, he raised his eyebrows and sniffed slightly. “Good one. But remember, when it’s my turn, I won’t hold back.”

The game picked up pace, laughter and drinks creating a cheerful rhythm that echoed through the caravan as they played.

Eddie, blending the burn of the alcohol with his laughter, was pleased to see Steve’s mood improving. Steve’s exaggerated expressions and muttered comments every time he put down a finger and reached for a random shot made Eddie laugh even harder.

Steve, a bit more relaxed, said, “Alright, my turn,” furrowing his brows as he thought. After a moment, he spoke with a sly grin on his face: “Never have I ever… played Dungeons & Dragons.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, and then he dramatically lowered a finger. “Ah, Harrington. You and your ordinary life! But guess what? This only makes me stronger.” He picked a random glass and downed it quickly. When he realized it was wine, he scrunched up his face. “Wine? Seriously? Not my thing, man.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. Eddie raised his fingers again, signaling it was his turn. The mischievous grin on his face widened even more. “My turn. Never have I ever… been popular in high school.”

Steve’s laughter stopped abruptly, turning into a strangled groan at Eddie’s words. “Really, Eddie? That’s your move? Can’t you stop targeting me?” He lowered a finger and grabbed a shot glass from the table. This time, it was whiskey. As he sipped, his face twisted, but his defiant glare at Eddie didn’t waver. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair, laughing. “Bring it on, Harrington. You’re terrifying me. Your turn.”

Steve thought for a moment with a cheeky grin before speaking. “Never have I ever… used a fake ID to get into a bar.”

Eddie burst into laughter again, reluctantly lowering another finger. “Alright, alright! I admit it, I’ve done it a few times. But for the record, I didn’t get caught.” He grabbed a random shot, relieved to find it was beer this time. “Looks like my luck’s turning around. But that won’t stop me from destroying you with my next confession.”

The game continued, the confessions becoming both funnier and a bit more personal. When Eddie said, “Never have I ever helped someone put gel in their hair,” Steve lowered another finger, rolling his eyes. “The fact that you make it sound like a crime is upsetting,” he retorted in mock indignation.

When Steve declared, “Never have I ever cried during a horror movie,” Eddie had to lower a finger. “But it was an emotional moment, okay? It happens in good movies!” he defended himself.

Eventually, both of them were down to their last finger. Eddie leaned back against the couch, smirking lightly as he looked at Steve. “One last move, Harrington. Make it count.”

Eddie’s chaotic yet cozy caravan was filled with the faint haze of alcohol, laughter, and gentle shaking from their movements. Steve leaned his head back against the couch, locking eyes with Eddie. Fueled by the alcohol and feeling the weight in his heart begin to lift, he sensed it was the right moment to let it out.

Eddie noticed the look on Steve’s face and smirked teasingly. “Harrington, judging by how hard you’re thinking, is your next move going to be that big? What are you hiding? Come on, let’s hear it.”

Steve took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Eddie’s bright, almost childlike but deeply expressive gaze, and began to speak. “Never have I ever… admitted to someone, especially someone, that I’m truly in love with them.”

Eddie’s laughter stopped abruptly. The sudden shift in mood left him staring at Steve in surprise. “Wow, that’s… that’s a big one, man. I mean, yeah, not the usual kind of thing to say during this game. But… solid move. So, in that case, I guess—”

Steve noticed Eddie trying to brush it off lightly and cut him off. “No, Eddie. I’m not done.”

That statement snapped Eddie’s full attention back to him. The determination in Steve’s expression cut through the air like a knife. Eddie, who had been casually slouched in his seat, straightened up and leaned slightly closer. “Alright, Harrington. I’m listening. Who’s the lucky person? Who’s got you all serious like this?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, studying Eddie’s slightly bewildered but curious face under the dim light of the caravan. It felt as if the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in a heavy silence. “That person...” Steve said, his voice slow but resolute. “That person is you, Eddie.”

Eddie froze in his seat, the weight of Steve’s words landing like a thunderclap. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The sincerity in Steve’s eyes burned so intensely that Eddie knew instantly this wasn’t a joke.

“Harrington...” Eddie swallowed, searching for words. His face was a mixture of surprise, a faint smile, and a trace of confusion. “This… this is something you say in a drinking game? Or are you actually...”

Steve cut him off again, leaning in slightly. “Eddie, this isn’t a game. It’s not a joke. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but I didn’t know how to say it. Maybe I was scared. But now, here we are, and I have to tell you. Because I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Eddie just sat there, staring at Steve, clearly not expecting this kind of confession. Words seemed to elude him, an unusual occurrence for someone so quick-witted. His hands unconsciously gripped his glass tightly.

Steve grew uneasy at Eddie’s lack of response. “Eddie...” he said softly, almost timidly. “Say something, please. If… if this was a mistake or if it makes you uncomfortable...”

Eddie took a deep breath and finally spoke. “Hold on, Steve. This... I mean... are you serious? Really?” His voice wavered slightly, making him appear more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen.

Steve looked into Eddie’s eyes and, summoning every ounce of courage, nodded. “Yes, Eddie. I’m serious. But don’t you understand why it scared me so much to say this? You... you’re different. I never knew how to approach you. Because… what if you rejected me?”

Eddie was still in shock. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the couch. “This... how long have you felt this way?”

Steve lowered his head slightly and sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t remember exactly when it started. But I think the first time I truly felt it was when we were walking and talking together in that damn Upside Down. Watching you, I thought... this guy is someone special. It was hard to admit how I felt at that moment. Because… because you’re the complete opposite of everything I am.”

Eddie let out a sarcastic laugh, but it was nothing more than an attempt to mask his astonishment. “And that’s why you said nothing? Seriously, Steve? God...” He paused for a moment, then averted his gaze from Steve and added, “You know what’s ironic? I’ve... I’ve had feelings for you since high school.”

Steve’s face froze entirely. “What?” he whispered in disbelief. “Eddie, are you... are you serious?!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though it was just another way to cover up his shyness. “I’m serious, Harrington. But you, Steve Harrington, were the King of Hawkins High. Popular, handsome, the guy everyone chased after. And who was I? A ‘freak,’ the outcast kid. How could I have said anything to you?”

Hearing Eddie’s words, Steve almost flinched as though in pain. “But Eddie… you… how did I not see it? God, I wish I had been braver.”

Eddie shook his head, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “If you couldn’t be brave, neither could I. Because I felt the same fear. The fear of losing you. Even when there was the slightest hint of friendship between us, I didn’t want to risk it. And… tonight, when Robin didn’t come, I realized being alone with you scared me. Because I knew exactly how I’d feel.”

Steve became even more emotional at this confession. “That’s why I was a little nervous today, too. But Eddie... the fact that tonight started as just another game night has already made it one of the best moments of my life. Because now, I’m not hiding. And I’m not carrying the fear of losing you. No matter what, I had to tell you this.”

Eddie’s smile slowly faded as he gazed into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s eyes were glistening, fighting back tears. His lips quivered slightly. “Eddie... but what if... what if I made a mistake tonight? What if... what if I ruined everything?” he said, his voice cracking and low.

Eddie immediately grew serious, reaching out to take Steve’s hands in his own. “Hey, hey. Listen to me. This is not a mistake. It’s never a mistake. Everything you’ve said, everything you’ve felt, it’s all real. And I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

Steve nodded, taking a deep breath. “But I’m scared, Eddie. Even just sitting here with you... the possibility that everything could go wrong is killing me. Maybe… maybe I was too open.”

Eddie leaned in closer to Steve’s face, his brown eyes radiating a heartfelt warmth. “Steve Harrington, you are the bravest person in the world. What you did—opening your heart to me—is the biggest thing anyone could do. And know this: I feel the same way. We don’t have to rush this. But there’s one thing you need to know: everything is okay. You and me... this feels so much more right than you think.”

Steve, Eddie’s words seemed to calm him down a little, though he still couldn’t hide the emotional expression on his face. He smiled faintly, licking his lips for a moment before nodding. “So... Eddie, can I ask you something?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly. “Of course. Ask away.”

Steve cleared his throat and spoke a bit shyly. “Who won the game?”

Eddie stayed silent for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “We both did. Something far more important than any game.”

Steve paused at those words, then leaned in closer to Eddie. “Eddie... I... thank you. For accepting me like this, for seeing me for who I am.”

Eddie tilted his head gently and lightly touched Steve’s cheeks. “You don’t have to say that. I’ve already accepted everything about you long ago. And if you’ll let me... I’d like to try something.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate for even a second before nodding. “I’ll let you.”

Eddie smiled softly as he leaned toward Steve. The distance between them gradually disappeared, their breaths mingling. And finally, Eddie’s lips brushed against Steve’s. It was a kiss that felt soft, gentle, and like the beginning of everything.

After the kiss, Eddie pulled back slightly and murmured with a smile, “I’ve been waiting for that for a long time.”

Steve, still looking slightly stunned and bashful, gazed at him with a wide smile on his face. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

Eddie couldn’t hold back his laughter, shaking his head. “Maybe now was the right time. But you know what, Harrington? This is a pretty good start.”

And in the dim light of the trailer, an old horror movie played in the background. But tonight, neither of them cared to watch. They were about to star in their own movie.

taglist: @t-folklore13 @multyfangirl @nicholaschavezslut69

[wexhappyxfew]

hey shannon!!!! from prompt list 3 & the action category - “intervene” with kennedy and bucky, but kennedy is the one doing the intervening/defending him????!!! HELP - @softspeirs

KATIEEEE!!!!!! @softspeirs i am *here* i am *back* and we are here with a kennedy x bucky prompt that had me lowkey losing my mind w/this piece half-written months ago and me now just finally having the time to finish it up. the pure EXCITEMENT of this prompt with kennedy and bucky, kennedy's reactions, bucky's reactions and their dialogue....oh i was absolutely losing it. definitely one of my longer ones i think, but it came out just as i was hoping (and probably better). also the scene inspo for this hit me even before your prompt and when you sent this in - oh i was SO EXCITED. so i sincerely hope you enjoy!!! :D

flak-happy

(a/n): kennedy x bucky (pre-stalag, pre-anything-that-happened-in-the-stalag lmao). i fear we enter bucky: the definition of yearning, and kennedy: the definition of miss-repressed-emotions and oh boy does it make for the absolutely perfect combination, especially in a moment of time where things are turning rather dark and dreary and sad. oh kennedy farley you are so seen!!!! please enjoy my-return installment in the silver bullets universe!!! <3333 (he'll make it up to her, he swears)

"5-0," Kennedy said quietly, the tiny bit of newspaper in her hands something she was half-way between scorning, ripping into a million pieces, and lighting on fire, "they're trying to kill me."

"It's a baseball team, Kenny," Margie said from beside her, "the only thing actually trying to kill you are the Germans."

"But I have a helluva lot more emotional involvement to this team than the Krauts, Margie, that's the difference." Kennedy said, flipping the paper over and grumbling under her breath, "Fucking Danny Doyle - at this point, just say he's in left field 24/7, even when he's actually in left field. Can't even hit the goddamn ball."

"Okay," Vivian Ratcliff said quietly from beside Kennedy, plucking the newspaper clipping that Lieutenant Montez had gotten for her this morning from her fingers and neatly folding it up, "you need a drink. A stiff one at that." Kennedy sighed and crossed her arms between the two as they continued walking forward towards the flying club and bit back her lip.

"And I'm going to have to hear all about how the Yankees won their game," Kennedy mumbled, "please say we can open a tab?"

"Or!" Margie butted in, "Better yet, someone will already have a tab started for us." Kennedy glanced at Margie, gaze burning into the side of Vivian's head, who was currently running a hand through her short, dark curls in the hand-held mirror she was carrying with her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kennedy asked her and Margie chuckled.

"Ev Blakely." Margie offered with a grin, "He's always putting his ViVi on his tab."

"Oh, screw off, Margie." murmured Vivian, brushing her bangs that lay wilted against her forehead, back a bit - the entirely noticeable blush that had sprung across the waist gunners cheeks and the smile poking at her lips evidently hard to ignore.

"I am not, and I repeat, not his 'ViVi', he's just a sweet thing, a gentleman," Vivian offered with a shrug of her shoulders, wiping at a smudge of her red lipstick at the corner of her mouth gently, "honestly." Margie chuckled as Kennedy sent her a glance.

"Whatever you say, Viv, but he's a real charmer that Ev Blakely," Margie said, grinning, "especially that you're ViVi to him, hm?" A small smile quirked onto Vivian's lips as she snapped the hand-held mirror shut and slid it into her pocket and offered them a slight smile.

"Shall we head in?" she asked them with a smile and a nod before stepping inside, cheeks still flaming, "It seems like we're all in need of a stiff drink." Kennedy watched as Vivian then stepped inside, nodding and smiling to a few pilots that had stepped passed her. Slowly, Kennedy glanced towards Margie who simply smiled.

"What?" Margie said with a chuckle, "It's clear Blakely's sweet on her."

Heading inside the flying club, the atmosphere was alive with both a gentle, slow song by Ella Fitzgerald, the quiet chatter of voices still about the place and the mixture of smells which combined two of the finest things on Thorpe Abbotts - cologne and alcohol.

"Beer?" Vivian offered glancing back at both Kennedy and Margie stood in the small opening between the bar area and the dance floor.

"Yeah." Kennedy said quietly, following behind Vivian with a sparing glance towards the dance floor where Judy was, more probable, to be forcing Carrie to dance than anything it seemed.

A large group of some of the pilots had gathered in front of the wooden bar, a few backs turned their way, with a few pairs of wandering eyes meeting her own. At the moment, she made rather quick and inherent eye contact with Bucky Egan. Who was staring down Colonel Harding in front of him.

Kennedy glanced at Margie and Vivian, who sent her sparing looks as she stepped closer, curious to both listen in and figure out why the look in Bucky's eyes made her stomach twist.

"Now-now who's flak happy?' Bucky asked, leaned up against the bar, a morose look drawn on to his features, eyes peering into Colonel Harding's persistent and demanding. Kennedy stepped closer, her eyes looking to Colonel Harding's face - it was a mixture of sadness, grief and evidently being somewhat drunk, but it was somewhat a sorry sight.

"Who?" Colonel Harding seemed to challenge.

"You are." Bucky said with a nod, his eyes frozen on the Colonel's gaze. There was something slightly unsettling in that split second of time - this almost far-too-large group surrounding a somewhat bitter conversation. Flak-happy; what a word. Enough to stir thoughts of death in all of them. How much it surrounded them, consumed them. Buck's half-crescent glance towards Bucky was enough for Kennedy to catch Buck's gaze and see the unfurling repent growing.

"You are." the Colonel said firmly back.

"No, you are," Bucky said, before giving a quick tap of the back of his hand on the Colonel's front pocket, "sir."

For a moment, the low drone of the music seemed to dim to a distant hum as they all stood there, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to see the reaction of the Colonel, to someone like Bucky. Notorious for his outbursts at this point, it seemed.

Kennedy watched for a moment longer, before she bit the bullet and stepped forward, directly placing herself in front of Bucky and looking right up at the Colonel, hands placed behind her back, heart pounding in her ears, praying to God above that she didn't look a fool in this moment. Whatever conversation it had been, friendly or foe or whatever other words could've been tossed around - she was having none of it.

This was for Captain Dye, to celebrate 25 missions, for people to relax a bit. Not to think about what tomorrow or the coming days could bring.

Then, the Colonel began to laugh, eyes not fully connected to the bright laughter from his lips, reaching up to place his cigar to his alcohol-laced lips. Kennedy mimicked her best impression of a laugh that she could muster in this moment without feeling in-genuine and watched as the Colonel's eyes brightened a bit.

"Good to see you, Sergeant Farley." he said and she nodded, saluting as well.

"And you, Colonel." she said and he grinned, before turning away and pointing to the guys - 'Single fillies!' he began to yell and point, people clambering and murmuring amongst one another as the rather large group began to slowly disperse.

She watched, predictable as it was, Blakely saunter up to Viv and Margie seemed to drop to her knees immediately at the sight of a tail-wagging Meatball.

In the midst of this all, Kennedy seemed to only just remember now that she had stepped between the Colonel and Bucky in this very moment and that very same Bucky Egan was now stood just behind her.

And if anything, she knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face and would poke fun at her little heroic moment of relief. She really didn't know what had compelled her to do such a thing - to step in between people that had far higher ranking than she probably ever would. But there was something on his face, that look in his eyes. Like he was distant, in a completely different time zone and realm than where he actually was.

And she couldn't remember a time when Bucky had ever looked like that.

Kennedy found that she was bracing herself as she turned around, but by that moment, as she was turning, Bucky was already watching her. It looked like a mixture between an attempt to smile on his face, and the struggle of an onboarding cold front. And her heart sunk a bit.

Maybe she was a bit stupid for that.

They barely knew each other past their Yankees and Red Sox feud and those few times they'd had conversations together - about what, she wasn't sure - she had spent the greater part of the time noticing every bit about how his eyes lit when he laughed, the crinkle of his grin, the pure sound of his voice.

For what reason she was stockpiling those images and feelings in her brain, she'd never know.

But, standing here now, it felt completely different.

Bucky was different.

"Hi, Farley." he said, voice more exhausted sounding than intended it seemed.

"Hi." she said back, noticing their closeness to each other and the eager smell of his cologne, taking the opportunity to step back.

Then she stared at him - she had no clue what to say.

For the first time in months, she didn't have a clue what to say to him - to explain whatever that had been, to try and chalk it up.

Yeah, she had no clue.

"You alright?" she said him, before scratching the back of her neck.

"Doing the best I can, yourself?" He was bored of this conversation already, he was done with it - say something, say something. But when she took the chance to actually go to open her mouth, she noticed his eyes were far-off, looking past her shoulder.

Slowly, she took a glance and noticed all he was staring at were the people - the couples, the duos - dancing with each other. Kennedy looked back towards Bucky again and found his eyes trained on her again.

"You dance at all, Farley?" he asked her, leaning back up against the bar, the broad stretch of his shoulders enough to fill her entire birds-eye view, enough to make her cheeks tint to annoying pink.

"I regret to inform you that it is quite possibly the last thing you want me to do."

"Really?" Bucky asked with a wry chuckle, smirking at her, "Well, isn't this new. Thought Kennedy Farley was good at damn-near everything." Kennedy looked at him an tilted her head.

"Well, I don't know whether to take that as an insult or compliment, but I'm afraid that growing up my mother put me in ballet and in turned into a complete mess of me on stage - so no, I don't." she said, crossing her arms, suddenly wanting to get herself out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

"I'm intrigued," Bucky said, tilting his head slightly and nodding to her, "tell me more. Ballet, huh?"

"It was like a chicken on a balance beam, alright? I'm sure you could've done better than me-" Bucky chuckled at her mid-sentence.

"Were you really that bad?" he asked her, "I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't be the first time." she murmured and he raised a brow, "This typically would be the time where I ask the same question back, but I've seen you dance and well….clearly know you dance so…." Bucky let out a barking laugh and hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her.

"Well, Kennedy Farley, dancing is a whole lot more than just some stupid ballet classes your Mom put you in when you were a kid, alright?" he said, pushing off from the bar counter and stepping forward. Kennedy look up at him as he stepped closer and equally stepped back.

"What are you doing?" she asked him as he stepped in front of her, managing a small smile.

"Dancing." he said, "With you."

"You can't be serious-"

"Oh, I'm serious!" he said, reaching forward to take her right hand in his, adjusting his other hand to her waist. It was honestly a mixture of feelings, intoxication and his cologne that suddenly made her feel slightly insane.

"Bucky-"

"Nah, nah, you're fine, look at you," he said as they slowly started to sway back and forth, "you're a natural." Kennedy looked up at him, feeling every inch of her hand pressed into his, his other hand on her waist.

"Well, if we're doing this, then you oughta tell me what Colonel Harding was talking about when I came up to you all." she said, watching as his eyes darted to hers and his grip tightened.

"Maybe another time." he said tilting his head to the side, to which she raised a brow.

"Oh, no, no, no, I saw that look on your face-"

"Farley-"

"Major Egan." she said, pausing and looking up at him expectantly. It seemed to work. Bucky watched her, his grip tight on her hand and pouted his lips a bit.

"The war. In the air." Bucky said quietly, tilting his head to the side, "Guess you can say it's making people go crazy."

"Quite the observation." Kennedy murmured and Bucky let out a huff, "Well, why was he addressing you. I mean….sorta front and center there-"

"He thinks it's starting to get to me." Bucky said quickly, pausing as she peered up at him again, watching his eyes under the dimmed yellow lights of the flying club.

Kennedy felt her heart stammer for a moment as she looked up at Bucky - there was still that distant look in his eye, but something else that craved and yearned for touch and connection and possibly something else she couldn't quite decipher. She believed that was all anyone in this war wanted - when the battle was done, when the flight crews were back at base, sweat and grease-stained faces, eyes hazy and glazed. All people wanted was someone else to get it, to understand them and hold them and tell them that maybe things were going to be okay.

But, with Bucky, with their separation of rank and about a million other things, she quite honestly, was at a loss for words.

"You?" she instead asked quietly. Bucky watched her, face unchanged.

"Yeah." he said quietly, almost ashamed, "A trip to London would probably do me some good, don't you think?" Kennedy watched him - he wanted this. He agreed with the Colonel. Bucky wanted this.

"If that's what you want-"

"I think the Colonel was really onto something, Farley." Bucky said, stopping her mid-sentence, "Doing those missions. Over and over. I feel like I'm going crazy." Kennedy felt like she couldn't even hear the music anymore, she didn't even realize how close they were into each other's hands and arms, she didn't even realize the tick of desperation in Bucky's voice. Like he was alone in the dark, trying to grasp onto something.

"Bucky." Kennedy said quietly, watching as he sighed and shook his head, dropping her hand, removing his, rather warm, hand from her waist and stepping back.

"Sorry." Bucky said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before turning back to the bar and finishing what was left of his drink, before looking at her again, "I shouldn't have said a damn thing. Freak you out when you're trying to relax. I'll…" Bucky watched her and sighed, before stepping around her, "I'll see you around."

Kennedy stood there, the flash of his body disappearing from in front of her, the hint of sweat, beer and cologne trailing as she turned to look over her shoulder and found him moving right out of the room.

Kennedy's heart was in her throat - a mixture of feelings of not knowing what Bucky would do next, especially being alone and if this was making her suddenly want to do anything she could to help him.

So, she did the only thing a Farley would do. She hurried after him. She kept her eye on his form as he hurried out and into the cool night air.

Stepping outside she looked over and found him stood at the edge of the road, against the lick of grass that spread between the barracks and looked towards the dark airfield.

"You know, it really isn't the nicest thing to leave a girl hanging on the dance floor," Kennedy started, walking towards him, a slight smile on her face, "especially if she just told you how much she really didn't like dancing." She tried to joke about it, but she just watched Bucky's shoulders drop the slightest bit instead as he ran his hand again over his hair to hang on his neck.

"Sorry, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "I just, I don't want to rope you into this, right now." Bucky said, motioning to himself. Kennedy raised a brow.

"Rope into what, Bucky, I'm right here." Kennedy said watching his back and crossing her arms, "Quite frankly, you just told me you think you're going crazy from it all and downed the rest of your drink. And probably are slightly buzzed. So. I will rope myself into this." Kennedy eyed the few newer airmen walking by them. "Sir." Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her and she simply stared back.

If he wanted her to be scared of this side of him, it would have to take a whole lot more for her to disappear, for her to run.

This Bucky she almost liked. Where he wasn't putting up the facade, the mask, the strong-front that showed he was fine.

Because no one was fine when their job was trying to just beat the odds and survive.

"Farley-"

"Bucky." she said and she watched as he stared at her. He grew quiet.

Slowly, she stepped closer and moved to stand there beside him. Glancing upwards, she found him, looking far off again towards the darkened tarmacs with B-17s.

There was something about standing there in damn-near total silence with him. It was so unlike any other version of the Bucky Egan she'd met, but in this moment, she hoped that this was exactly what he needed.

Someone to be there, but to stand in this silence with him.

Away from the music and the drinks and the B-17s and the bullets.

Away from it all.

All to simply realize he was alive, and on the ground and standing on his own two feet.

"To get in one of those planes again," Bucky started quietly, "I can't….it's hard. To do that. Again and again." Kennedy looked up at him, her face drawn into one of concern and worry.

"I know." she said quietly, watching his eyes as he glanced at her, "It scares me. Every time without fail. After what had happened with Birdie and then Margie those few months ago. The thought? Jesus, I didn't want to have to leave solid ground." Bucky watched her for a moment.

"You don't give off the impression that you're scared, Farley," Bucky said quietly, "always thought you were one of the strongest we got." Kennedy managed a genuine smile up at him.

"Thanks, Bucky." she said - genuinely - she figured people didn't see that often, so she could appreciate when someone like Bucky told her that. He managed a slight smile at her words.

"Would you go to London?" he asked her and she felt her face change into one of slight surprise and near-joking. She offered him a look, one where she almost burst out laughing.

"Me?" she asked him and he nodded, "No, no….probably not." She looked at him again and almost nervously laughed.

"Silver Bullets needs me. And for the moment, despite everything, I'd rather let that trip go to someone else, who needs it more." Like you, she thought quietly. She looked at him and found his face saddened a bit and offered a shoulder bump.

"Go to London. Take the trip." she said softly, "Take some time to relax." Bucky looked at her, his eyes aching to watch hers it felt as she stared at him.

In another world, she would've said she'd loved to go to London - she always heard about London as a kid; Buckingham Palace, the guards in their uniforms, the city streets, all of it. But for now, she didn't need it. She was fine.

"Well….I only asked because…" Bucky cleared his throat, "Buck sorta denied my offer and I figured, well, since you and just about everyone else also need a break, figured I'd offer to come. With me." Kennedy looked up at him, her cheeks flamed in the darkness and she hoped the fact the moon was covered by clouds, covered her obvious shyness.

"Oh." Kennedy said quietly, her eyes wanting to leave Bucky's but whole-heartedly refusing. In her mind, she told herself that he could tell something was most definitely wrong with her, with her blubbering and lack of words and shock and nervousness. But instead he offered a slight smile her way.

"I mean," she started, a small laugh escaping her lips, "you're….you're a Major, Bucky, and I'm just, I'm a Sergeant. And we're from different planes. And it'd be…I don't know, people, they'd say stuff-"

"Farley," Bucky said, "we're…..friends, ya know, it'd just be us two. As….friends." And even she wasn't convinced of his words in that moment and suddenly she felt hot all over and the thoughts in her mind were enough to force her to look away from Bucky in an instant. She looked forward again over the field of B-17s in the darkness and swallowed her shaky breaths.

"Farley, I…" Bucky started, before clearing his throat, "I just…I think I'm drunk. Just, ignore me-"

"Okay." Kennedy said quickly, looking over at him and nervously meeting his gaze with a nod, swallowing sheepishly as she looked up again to his eyes, "I-"

She really couldn't get herself to speak properly at the thought. Of Bucky. Her head felt light, her cheeks hot, her body hot, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

He was drunk, she told herself, he was drunk and wouldn't remember this and she could go back to being brazen and bold and stubborn with him.

Not this mushy, genuine and sweet part of herself that she rarely showed a soul.

Looking at Bucky, suddenly her mind went into a frenzy at the thought of the two of them, in a room together, in London - how awkward it would be!

She'd take the bed closest to the window, he'd take the one closest to the door and she'd have to hear his every breath as he fell asleep and his snores through the night.

And she'd have to wake up and he'd see her exhausted and barely awake and exceptionally grumpy.

And then he'd say something about how she reminds him of the pigeons on the streets in the city and she'd launch her shoe at him.

And then she'd feel embarrassed having to get ready and knowing he's right in the other room.

And - no, it was too much. Because what if they just happened to ignore it all and she allowed herself to feel these feelings that made her feel sick to her stomach - no. She looked away from him and suddenly wanted to be alone.

No, let him go to London - get the drinks, get the girls, and she'll keep her mouth shut.

Because he was right - they were just two people, barely even friends, who happened to know each other and have strong opinions about baseball. No, she wasn't going to say a thing.

"I'll make it up to you then someday, Farley - the dancing," Bucky said before patting her shoulder gently and letting out a low whistle, "I'm off to barracks. Figured I need to shut up before I keep letting my mouth yap, ya know?" Kennedy slowly looked over at him, sticking his hands in his pockets and giving her a wide smile - one between a forced and slightly buzzed grin and a genuine one.

"I'll let you know how London is, okay?" he said and she nodded, tying herself directly to where she was standing so she wouldn't convince herself to follow him again.

"Okay." she said and he smiled wider and then mock-saluted to her before turning away.

"I'll be seeing you, Farley." he said and as he staggered down the path, her own heart thumping inside her chest she shut her eyes and let out a breath before crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

She couldn't have said anything better? Come up with better words? A better send-off and good-bye? Should she have taken the offer?

No, no, no, no. Nope.

And with that, Kennedy turned and moved right back into the flying club and ordered as strong a drink she could get at this time of night.

[neep-neep-neep]

PLAY FROG DETECTIVE

PLAY IT RIGHT NOW

IM GONNA BITE OFFD YOUR NOSE IF YOU DO NOT PLAY FROG DETECTIVE RIGHT NOW

[svtskneecaps]

i'm still stuck on the purgatories so here's a list of purgatory 2 moments simply off the top of my head that deserve to be remembered:

aimsey ducking all of axolotl team alone in a cave with literally half a heart

goose gang fucking descending on the raccoon base and absolutely wrecking shop

ethan crankgameplays clutching up for team panda during the capture the flag game by being the only one hanging out in the center and periodically checking the chests, earning them a shitton of flags and clutching multiple rounds

crow team's egg taking 0 damage

pac doxxing goose gang's egg in the last second

shelby shubble as the last member of her team online writing a letter to aimsey and sharing the world's most devastating ten minutes before her team was eliminated with one of the eye creatures (coco? i forgot lol)

badboyhalo absolutely fucking DEMOLISHING the battleship event on like 2 hours of sleep and a dream

wuant(?) stealing a tv from the battleship event and then playing portuguese ice age on it for the crows lmfao

tubbo djing for his team while waiting for the time for a goose gambit

theguill CRASHING THROUGH THE FUCKING CEILING of the raccoon team's hidey hole like the fucking kool aid man in a last effort to save his team and 4v1 or 5v1 ing team raccoon; he lost but that was such an epic fucking moment

theguill and etoiles pvping and each hyping the other's skills the entire time

seapeekay escaping cellbit and baghera and then stealing their boats and rocketing past to tease them about it; that shit was iconic

kenny going mad with power collecting sand on literally day 1

the english speaking squirrels taking actual physical notes on portuguese phrases (i think)

lgbtiba

i may add more this is an off the top of my head list but like got DAMN i like these events :D i like them a lot

[vee-lociraptor]

bad and useless forever. incurable

[kimmkitsuragi]

alright this is so annoying and disappointing because -obviously i cant know for sure, but- it feels like something happened to change their minds :/ which would be just sad

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so ive been this reading this manga called "ojisama to neko" ( eng: "a man and his cat" ) and its sosososo cute so sweet 10/10 would recommend also THE MAIN MAN LOOKS. KINDA LIKE SAWASHIRO EVEN IF THEIR PERSONALITIES COULDNT BE MORE FAR APART. His name is Fuyuki Kanda and he is very dear to me just thought to share hope u have a wonderful day

NOOOO I LOVE OJISAMA TO NEKO SO MUCH !!!! I REMEMBER WHEN IT FIRST CAME OUT YEARS AGO AND I REALLY WANTED PHYSICAL COPIES OF IT DESPITE IT BEING ONLY IN JAPANESE AT THE TIME AAAAAA SUCH A GOOD SERIES I LOVE FUKUMARU SO MUCH….

[omegapheromone]

Listen I don't normally post anything not safe for work/tumblr but I apparently just. Am having a really strong heat for seemingly no reason and basically my brain isn't working right and it's like... my own skin feels uncomfortable and my body is just. A mess really.

[ervotica]

Imagine this: youre in college, and after all those boring classes you come to your job at the donaldsons that includes riding him in the couch for as long as your legs allow you.

Tashi just coming home to thats sight and just making herself a afternoon drink unbotherd.

Dbsnhxhsb

omg shut up???🥲

warnings; all smut not much plot, older!art, so much potential for this series aghhh

a/n; art is an ear freak i literally feel it in my balls he loves it when u suck on them ears (he did it to tashi so he likes doing it to others too <3)

the front door clicks and you wander through, in this teensy little white tennis dress that art told - no, commanded - you to wear when you came to work. the dress that shows the strain of your hard nipples through the fabric, swollen into points like diamonds, the one that slips upward and reveals the perky swells of your ass, the barely covered seam of your pussy when you trounce up to him, chirruping nonsense and smiling at him like he’s the only man in the world.

he murmurs something indiscernible - a pleased noise that reverberates at the back of his throat - and you lean over the back of the couch, sliding your manicured fingers across the expanse of his chest, chin tucked to his neck.

“hi.”

“hi, baby,” he murmurs in that low, rasping way that turns your insides molten.

fast forward no more than ten minutes, and you’re both bare, art’s thick fingers curled round your waist as he uses you as a fleshlight, lifting you up and down like a ragdoll and watching, entranced, as your cunt flares and parts for his thick cock; you sob and babble, slumped forward against his chest, nails digging into porcelain skin, teeth scraping along art’s cheekbone.

“i know, baby. i know,” he grunts, and you’ve never heard a sound like it. your cunt clenches, a soft silk wrap around his cock, and he’s turning his head to suck at the corner of your mouth, all spit and drool and tongue, so much of it that it drips from your chin, globs of it pooling between your tits.

the front door clicks and you’re both too lost in each other to care as tashi comes through the living room and enters the kitchen; art hooks one of his huge hands under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg until it’s draped over his forearm, bracing his feet against the leather of the couch as he jackrabbits up into you. you make a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, and then tashi’s figure is crossing by you once more, drink in hand, lithe fingers nudging at your jaw to examine your expression. she bends at the waist, pinches your pert little nipple and rolls the bud between her fingertips, and smirks - fucking smirks - as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice; art lets out a stuttered breath, pulls you down onto him, and cums on the spot.

neither of you quit writhing against each other; he has at least another load in him, cock already chubbing back up encased in your spasming walls, no doubt an angry red and drooling precum. tashi settles herself on the armchair opposite you, already disinterestedly flicking through tv channels.

“want my mouth on you,” you whisper, face pressed just below his jaw, breathing hot air onto his neck.

“in a minute, baby,” he supplicates, grunting as he sheathes himself further into your tight warmth, balls heavy and swollen and slapping against your ass with every filthy rock of his hips.

tashi crosses one leg over the other, the picture of boredom, and says, “bite his ear. he loves that shit.”

you do just that, teeth rolling over his lobe as you suck the sensitive skin into your mouth.

he almost cums again, hands sliding up and over your back to still your movements so he doesn’t blow his load right there.

oh, tashi’s going to have fun with you. mould you into a perfect little toy for her husband, take some of his intense, fervent pining off of her, let you be the center of his world so she can focus on improving his game.

she might even keep you if you’re lucky.

[vaamins]

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who just couldn’t stop turning his eyes towards you during class. watching your furrowed bros in thought of something Yaga said. he couldn’t care less though. he thinks you look beautiful deep in thought.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who constantly yaps about you to suguru and shoko who tell him to shut up whenever ( he never listens though ) but he continues to go on a rant about how your the most perfect person he’s ever seen, he’s ever known.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who is somehow stuttering mess whenever you speak to him. finding himself tripping over his words like a lovesick Highschool girl. his mind races in thought of trying to impress you with witty jokes.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who later regrets ever saying anything when he revisits your conversations. groaning into his pillow as a light blush dusts his cheeks at the image of you laughing at his joke.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who personally helps you in mastering your CT. who can’t bare to watch suguru try help you. ever since he found you training with suguru, he finds himself annoyed at the very thought of someone else touching you. his fists clenching as he sees suguru swiftly save you from falling, a dashing smile on his face.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who subtly tries to show you his feelings through heartfelt gifts. an expensive bouquet of pink roses ( your favourite, though you never told him, he found out through shoko but insisted he just guessed correctly to further impress you ) or even small treats after a mission.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who loves seeing you happy after beating him in a game at the arcade you and your friends usually go to after school ( even though your horrible bad at the game, he doesn’t ever want to see you sad over losing )

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who only ever realises he likes you when Yaga brings it up. his teacher commenting that he bets you’ve taken up satoru’s mind from the amount of times he’s caught him staring at you.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who rushes out the class at his newfound discovery, his heart beating aggressively against the cage of bones in his chest.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who promises to tell you the next day. planning a great confession. he has what he says noted down on pen and paper, perfecting it so he won’t mess up ( but he has a slight inking he will. you’ve only ever been the one person to make satoru stumble over his words and forget them mid sentence )

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who stays up that night. unable to find respite in sleep, he stares at the ceiling mulling over thoughts of what may happen tomorrow after he does what he plans.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who prays that you feel the same for him all throughout the night and through the morning classes. so much so that suguru is cackling in laughter after satoru tells him what he’s been doing for the last few hours.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who waits for you after your mission at the steps to the school his feet aimlessly kicking at stray rocks on the ground, his white hair flying in the breeze.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who finally lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in when he sees you emerge from the many steps, your feet light on the ground so much so that if anyone were not blessed with the six eyes like him, they wouldn’t have even heard you.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who is silent for s long time, studying the face he’s come to adore and love so much. you stare up at him, confused and waiting, a stray hair lies on your cheek and he thinks he’s never seen you more beautiful looking than now.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who blurts out his feelings in one go, blushing red by the end of it, his eyes burning behind his black sunglasses.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who waits for what you say, only to be taken aback when he finds you laughing at him. endless amount of giggles escaping your pretty lips, hes beyond confused ( he didn’t expect you to start laughing )

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who turns away, slightly saddened that you didn’t return his feelings before you pull him into you, leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips. your soft lips slightly grazing his cheek as you pulls away, he sees the blush rising from your neck to your face.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who is shocked when you admit to liking him back before you run away, further into the school and to the dorms he presumes.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who’s feet are stuck to ground. he is in shock, he thinks. beyond bewildered and oh so so ecstatic.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who’s fingers lightly graze his keeps, wishing he could stand in this moment forever. to forever ingrain the feeling of the almost bursting of his heart and the rush through his veins.

LOVESICK SATORU GOJO! who finally realises how lovesick he is for you.

© VAAMINS 24  .ᐟ  do not copy, repost or plagiarise my works.

[fujii-draws]

Pt 2 (getting into more positives!!)

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.