#also so much dialogue. christ.

[steviewashere]

Want to Go Home With You (Bring Me a Home) Chp. 6

Rating:Teen and Up(May Change With Future Chapters)  CW: Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death Tags: Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Heavy, Took Canon Out Back And Pulled an Old Yeller, Mer!Steve Harrington, Fisherman!Eddie Munson, Packless Steve Harrington (kind of?), Soft Steve Harrington, Confused Steve Harrington, Lonely Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Wants to be Loved, Mermaids with Animal Like Instincts, Future Propositioning, Lowkey Might Involve Some Omegaverse Aspects in the Future (Not Sorry), Steve Harrington Has Powers (Like Starfire in Teen Titans), Good Parent Wayne Munson, Mer!Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson

Read the First Part Here

Also on AO3

🧜‍♂️—————🧜‍♂️ “Ed-die?”

He’s off the couch in a heartbeat at the sound of Steve’s soft, scared call. There’s the lay of a hand on his back as he rushes off, some sort of signifier from Wayne—a be careful, but go take care. The bedroom door is cracked open a few inches for him to see into; a sliver of Steve’s face just barely visible. Wide, worried, wet eyes and a pinched mouth. Gills—visible as indentations in the sweatshirt he’s still wearing—working fast and harsh as he takes in sucking breaths.

Eddie slips in without another word, closing the door behind himself. “What’s wrong, Stevie?” He asks as gently as possible, “what happened, sweetheart?”

“You, gone,” Steve warbles out, “I scared, wake up no Ed-die. Open my eyes from bad in head.” He raises his palms, unclenched from where they held tightly to the hem of that old sweatshirt, to his head. Fingers gripping to his hair, tugging at his temples. As if signifying where the bad is.

“Bad?”

Steve sniffles, cheeks beginning to redden. He sucks in a ragged, short breath and the indentations in his shirt flutter. Hands tugging hair with another hard pull. “Messy…messy thoughts. Blood and screaming and scary men. Bad men.” He crashes his palms into the sides of his thighs, shaking them out at his sides, then clenching at his sweatpants—marking the fabric with the short curls of his claw-like nails. “Hurt…hurt my friends. Family. You…you know, Ed-die.”

With easy steps, Eddie eases himself in front of Steve. Stopping when their feet touch. He reaches out, slow and careful, and takes Steve’s wrists under his palms. Squeezes over the rapid thrum of his pulse. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whisper-coos. “Just a nightmare. You’re here with me now, nothing can get you here.”

“Night-mare?”

“A bad dream. Bad thoughts when you’re sleeping.”

Steve sways into his space slightly, eyes shut and sadly whimpering. In a courageous moment of bravery, Eddie brings him in closer, stuffing Steve’s head in the crook of his neck, chin hooked on his shoulder. Quietly, “You…you have bad dream?” Steve asks.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie breathes. He wraps his arms around Steve’s hips, welcoming the weight and warmth of Steve’s own arms around his waist. With off-beat steps, Eddie sways them with more purpose. “I’ve had bad dreams about lots of things. ‘Bout grades and people dying and my parents arguing. I get scared when I wake up, but it goes away. Eventually, the icky feelings go away.”

A brush of something barely warm passes over Eddie’s neck. Something soft. Then, Steve releases a quiet breath—it blows cold over him. “You smell…sad,” he comments offhandedly. “Why are you sad, Ed-die?”

“Just got news about something, Stevie. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve hums. “About your mom,” he says, “how she died. Am I right?”

“How did you”—

“Mer know other mer, Ed-die. I am smarter than you think.”

Eddie takes a brief step back. He holds them apart, just at an arm’s length.

Steve’s eyeing him, his eyes wide and calculating and his lips stretched into a small, sad smile. There’s a steady rumble coming from him, almost a cat’s purr if Eddie were to try and place it. Reverberating between them, a soothing soft sound. He takes his hands and cups the sides of Steve’s face, fingers gently carding into his hairline, and he runs his thumbs over Steve’s jaw.

“You are, aren’t you?” Eddie quietly speaks, “but you’re a whole lot more than that to me, Stevie.”

The purr is disturbed by a low questioning hum, but then rumbles on immediately after. Steve’s eyes widen another fraction, his eyebrow raising with it. “What does Ed-die mean?”

He huffs a little chuckle. Almost incredulous. But it’s too fond, too…warm. Like soup.

Like love soup.

“You’re my friend, Steve,” he answers simply. But that doesn’t sound strong enough. There’s something between them, a new bond, a fresh flame that may have happened quickly, but it didn’t form without meaning. A lot is within his hands, Eddie understands that much. Steve is a lot more than just a friend. Not a lover, though. Not yet, at least. He takes a deep breath and whispers, enunciated enough that Steve could see the words if he needed to, “You’re a half to me, sweetheart. I feel…complete around you.”

At that, Steve positively trills. Bright and shiny—something caught between a bird’s call and the ringing of a bell. He sets his left cheek against Eddie’s right. Burrows, bumps, and rubs his face against Eddie’s. As if he could make them physically meld. 

It’s an odd gesture, one that he’s never personally seen. Reminds him, briefly, of a cat. Like Steve’s just an oversized cat—sans the obvious gills on his ribs and his tail in the water; if that tail still exists, that is. The physicality of this face-bump-burrow thing is grand and purposeful, whatever it is. And to accompany it, something fresh hits him; some sort salty-citrus scent like sea salt on an orange.

“You like that?” Eddie murmurs, chuckling around the words. “Never seen you like this before.”

Steve squeezes him in his arms. Pulling them impossibly closer. “Good thought,” he says nonsensically. Then, “You’re a good thought Ed-die.”

The salty-citrus scent gets stronger at those words.

A part of Eddie, something dormant and distant, wants to respond to it. He closes his eyes against Steve’s ongoing cheek rubbing. Whatever this scent stuff is, he can only grasp that it’s coming from Steve. As if buried under his gills are scent glands, some receptor type things that react to his emotions. With his eyes still shut, Eddie imagines what he’d waft back. Something sweet, sugary, possibly tart. He pictures a handful of ripe black cherries, the juice of them staining his palms.

The warm press of Steve’s nose against his neck is sudden, but not startling. What is surprising is the hefty, deep breath he takes. “Good,” he whispers against Eddie’s neck, “smell good. New.”

Eddie’s palms are pressing tight to Steve’s back. Keeping them pushed together. When he opens his mouth to respond, all that comes out of him is a soft, croaky rumble.

Something, he realizes, like a purr.

Just like Steve.

He jerks at the sound, at what he must be emitting from whatever scent gland type mer thing is happening to him, and tries to draw away. To skitter. To flee. However, he doesn’t get very far before he’s being held in place.

Steve is a lot stronger than he seemed. His muscles bulge around Eddie, hands gripping tight to the fabric of his shirt, fingers coiling. Claws digging gently, trying to not hurt him. “Safe,” Steve murmurs, “we are safe. You are safe.”

“Wh-what’s happening, Steve? What’s going on with me?”

“It is mer,” he responds, “you are you, but you are mer.” Steve noses against Eddie’s neck, then his jaw, back to his cheek. His breath steady and even, still rubbing his skin along Eddie’s. He’s soft and warm, careful in all the ways Eddie had been told that mer-folk couldn’t be.

It was all a lie, he sourly realizes, to keep me from this.

He can’t say anything.

“It is okay, Ed-die,” Steve whispers sweetly, almost coaxing, “you will grow in-to it. Safe. It is safe.” As if to comfort him now, Steve is swaying them the same way Eddie had. Clumsy and trying. He stumbles slightly, misplaced steps against each other. His scent quiets, though, the sharp citrus dying down to a mere murmur, a lick of what it was before. The saltiness is still there, though, like a permanent brine. “We take care?”

“Take…take care?”

“You are good thought. Keep the bad thoughts away,” Steve tries to explain, “and I show you new life. New you.”

Eddie swallows, breathing hard out his nose. He leans his cheek into Steve’s, still pressed against his face. And nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “yeah, Steve, we’ll take care of each other.”

“Good,” Steve rumbles, something dark around the edges. His arms tighten harder. Keeping. “I will take care of you. Pro-tect you. No hurt. Nobody hurt you.” He sighs against Eddie, relaxing slightly. Though, with that murk around his words, he breathes, “Mine.”

🧜‍♂️—————🧜‍♂️

Taglist (open for this work/ask to be removed):

@scoops-aboy86 @spectrum-spectre @loveryanax @emmabubbles @swimmingbirdrunningrock

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @azryl90 @starryeyedpoet17 @artofabookworm

[xxplastic-cubexx]

im not exaggerating when i say ive been staring at your newest twitter art for the past twenty minutes. i feel ill Why can i hear them

the thigh size difference, the codpiece, charles drooling and Shaking that man is Gone, mags' smug smile and uh. his uhm . Hes HUGE..... charles How do you take that thing and live to tell the tale... and mags' lil speech bubble, what filth could he be sayin..... much to think about, i think i hauve covid, THEY LOOK SO GOOD, apologies to your bro's sneakers but i for one am very happy with this outcome :3 as always thank you so much for your service 🫡🫡

thank you for the review on my doodles today!!!!! i looked deep into my soul and let it do the rest......

[mantisgodsdomain]

Anyways, to those who have been wondering what we've been doing during our impromptu Tumblr Vacation or whatever we're calling it, we've been trying to find a playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3 that is made by someone who doesn't annoy the shit out of us, and also tormenting Karlach Cliffgate (as you do)

[feastingonchrist]

overwhelmed trying to write a letter for my church staff because i'm so grateful and it's hard for me to even put into words/feel it all because God has been so good to me and so good to me through them

He's cooking so hard as i'm typing my fingers awayyyy

[thedevotionaltour]

even for period typical ableism it still drives me nuts for karen to go oh poor matt how can he deal and get around as if he hasn't been blind most of his life at this point and living on his own by himself as an adult for his entire adult life after college and has also lived in the city his whole life like girl use your damn brain he can get around by himself just fine. good god. like take five seconds to use your brain. literally adult man who lives by himself if nothing else that should tell you he is fine and when he needs assistance has the knowledge and ability to go get it you act as if he can't even walk on the sidewalk by himself. he literally shows up to work by himself. it drives me up the wall sometimes how she sees proof of him functioning fine independently literally witnesses it on the daily and still thinks these things. like again foggy isn't great either bc again the period typical ableism (and just general ableism in the world outside of this period as this is a common attitude of viewing disabled people as helpless and unable to function even if they are people who do live independently (and im not touching on people who do need extra support and caretaking in this context. as this post is about these characters in the context of a story. so im talking about what we see there instead of any truly meaningful nuanced way) but the writing here is like. Particularly this way due to the time) he has a modicum more of understanding that matt is literally a capable grown adult man. literally told karen matt is a big boy who can handle himself and then karen went b-b-but you forget he's blind as if foggy hasn't known him for years of his life and is his best friend like PLEASE SEE HIM AS AN ADULT. I AM GOING TO GO INSANE. PLEASE RESPECT HIM IF YOU LOVE HIM SO DEARLY. AND EVEN IF YOU DIDN'T. JUST RESPECT HIM AS A PERSON!!!!!!

[lewyn-martell]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[odin-den]

stumbles out of the google doc covered in blood. i hate dialogue so much.

[taintedcigs]

˚ · • . ° . 𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐓.

summary: you and your boyfriend eddie decide to have some fun in the living room, what you fail to notice is that your boyfriends roommate steve is also awake. and he can’t help himself.

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious), kinda pervy!steve, msturbation, degrading, praises, kind of a choking kink if u squint, VERY LIGHT dom/sub dynamics (like very very light), dom!eddie, sub!reader.

pairings: boyfriend!eddie munson x reader x roommate!steve harrington

author’s note: i just love steddie. if you see me repost this a few times no u didn't. not proof-read. ignore mistakes!!

Steve wasn't a morning person.

So it was no surprise when he tossed in the bed, groaning and whining at the noise coming outside of his room.

His pillow was smushed against his ears, attempting to cancel out the noise.

“F—fuck, s—shit, angel, take it, mmpf.” He barely had one eye open, and couldn't make up most of the dialogue, so he tried to make sense of the noise coming from the living room. 

He removed the pillow from his ear, face scrunched in annoyance as he listened in.

Grunts, whines, and the slapping of skin mixed together, with Steve’s hazed state, he could barely make sense of it. But once he heard your pretty whines his eyes shot open. 

Holy fucking shit. The two of you weren’t doing what he thought you were… Were you?

He sat up quickly, hand rubbing his eyes before he carefully situated himself on the bed to look through the gap where his door had opened slightly. 

“Fuuuuck, just like that, princess, take my cock, mhmm.” Another grunt from Eddie, his skin slapping into yours, head thrown back, his hold on your waist bruisingly rough. Or at least that’s what Steve imagined, hearing Eddie’s raspy voice mixed with your silenced grunts was enough to fuel his morning wood harder than imaginable. 

He was aching already, his cock painfully caged in his boxers, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t take a peek. He should just attempt to go to sleep again, he should give the two of you privacy. 

But, fuck, was it tempting. 

This is all he ever wanted, he knew how perverted that sounded, but this was his chance. 

The walls in the apartment were thin, so fucking thin that he would hear your mewls every night, and Eddie’s dirty talk. He would never admit to how many times he got off to the sound of the two of you going at it. It was embarrassing, outright disgusting, and he felt ashamed. 

A crimson red and disgust colored his cheeks the second he came all over his hand, sticky, always so much that it spurted all over his chest. But, god, did it feel so fucking good. 

He didn’t know what it was that drew him in this much, Eddie’s dominance, your pathetic whines, him degrading you while you begged for more, it was all of it. And he was begging to get a glimpse of it, a little taste.

“Yeah, baby, you like that don’t you?” More sounds coming from the two of you, Eddie’s cocky tone enough to have Steve feel himself against his boxers. 

He was hard, so achingly hard that he hissed, and his other hand immediately clamped down on his mouth to shut himself up, the skin slapping and the cursing didn’t falter a bit. 

He could totally get away with this. 

And he was about to burst in his pants, a little peek, wouldn’t hurt, would it? Jesus Christ, he knew it was wrong, but this was the perfect opportunity, he finally could see your fucked out face, Eddie’s cocky grins, he needed this. He deserved this.

Steve shifted quietly in his bed, concealing himself but still getting a good look at the two of you, his cock was needy, weeping, and he needed to give it attention soon. Just the look in your eyes, the way Eddie was all the way into you made him bite his lip to conceal the groans that slipped past his parted lips. 

“Ssshh, baby, I know, I know, but you gotta quiet down a little, yea?” Eddie cooed against your face, biting and nibbling a trail from your chin to your neck, a grin sitting on his lips. 

Fuck, Steve wished he could do that, have you sprawled on him on the couch, bare pussy on sight while he fucked himself into you, legs wrapped around him, while he left marks on your neck, truly owning you, like Eddie did.

Eddie squished your cheeks to quiet you down, his cock still hitting spots inside of your walls that you didn’t know existed, and you were quick to pout. “You don’t want our little roommate to wake up and see you like this, do you?”

Steve’s ears perked at that, bubblegum pink all over his cheeks, but it only encouraged him more and more, his cock engorged with blood and the need to fuck his hands was all he could think about. 

The two of you were talking about him, and he was more than intrigued. Slowly but surely, Steve pushed his boxers down his thighs, hissing quietly when his heavy erection bobbed out, plopping against his v-line, tip hot and angry, waiting to be attended. 

Eddie had you split in half, or at least that’s what it looked like to Steve, “Whinin’ like a bitch in heat, soakin’ my cock and still beggin’ for more.” Eddie grunted, Steve watched in awe, how hungrily you looked at Eddie, those doe-eyes looking so innocent yet you were anything but. Eddie was sliding in and out of your walls, harsh, quick, and making sure you could feel him fully. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the groan that dared the slip past his mouth, cock hot and pulsating in his hands, he spat on it with a shuddered breath, wishing that instead of his hands he could push his veiny cock into every single one of your holes. Drawing out those pleas and whines from you like Eddie did. 

Eddie’s cocky, domineering words also got him going, he didn’t know what was taking over him; he needed you under him, whining and begging for him, but he also wanted Eddie to dominate him as well, a fucked up dynamic that he would die to be a part of. You, submitting to both of them, while Eddie dominated both of you. And Steve in the middle, it would be perfect. 

Eddie’s hands were bruisingly all over you, cock pounding into you with such force that Steve watched open-mouthed, wishing he could get a taste of you, wishing he could feel the way your tight cunt took him in.

“Oh, shit, you’d like that, baby wouldn’t you? Such a little slut, you’d want Harrington to see you all pathetic like this?” Eddie grinned, mocking you further and further, causing you to mewl at him pathetically.

Steve smeared his spit all over his cock, using it as a lubricant while he desperately wrapped his palm around it, ungodly sounds escaping his lips, not able to help himself when the two of you started talking about him.

His sickly desires coming to life in the best fucking way possible.

“You’d want Steve to see you bein’ my personal cocksleeve?” Heat rushed to your cheeks quickly, face feeling hot both from desire and how filthy Eddie was being, and he knew you loved it. 

You shook your head shyly, gaze still on him with a pout. “Nuh—uh, don’t lie, baby, I know you like an audience.” Steve tugged at his cock feverishly, knuckles turning white with how much desire ran in his veins, his mouth hung open both from the pleasure and the words being uttered, would the two of you be into this as well?

God, he wanted nothing more than to have you underneath him as Eddie did, he wanted to get a taste of you, he wanted to feel your pussy squeezing him because he knew that’s what Eddie always blabbed about through those thin walls, how tight you were and how warm you felt.

Steve shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have jerked off to his roommate having sex with his girlfriend, but fucking Christ the two of you were so hot.

How was he supposed to help himself?

“Would you want him to take a turn with you?” Steve’s ears perked, and his desperate tugs at his cock almost halted, he sat up a bit straighter, hand still rubbing his aching cock but eyes searching for you, searching for that approval.

You nodded shyly, a grin appearing on Eddie’s face  “Mhmm, I know you would, such a fuckin’ slut aren’t ya?” Steve’s guttural groans were concealed by the harsh skin-on-skin provided by the two of you, Eddie’s loud rambling, and his even louder grunts.

Steve perfectly red in the face, fucked his fist harder, trying so hard not to finish himself off this early, but the desire pooling in his tummy was nearing.

That shy little nod, Eddie’s wicked grin, fuck, he was going to keep this memory in his brain forever. 

“Love you, pretty girl,” Eddie hummed, sloppy kisses peppered all over your perky tits, mouth latching onto one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling while his fingers drew small circles around your breasts, igniting more pleasure.

Overstimulating you in every way possible, and Steve watched with an open mouth.

Both of you could not resist the grunts that left their lips, your frail body becoming mushy at all of the sensations, looking pretty as ever. 

“You look s’perfect like this, honey, did you know that? Mhmm, this cunt made just for me, huh?” Eddie cooed, and Steve’s strokes against his dick were more sensual now, it’s like he wanted to feel you too.

You sank into the couch further every time he thrust himself into you, praises making your eyes roll all the way back to your head. 

“Takin’ it so well, sweetheart, look at all the sweet noises your pretty pussy makes when I’m fuckin’ you raw, huh? God I love it when you get all dumb like this on my cock, princess.” he praised. 

“Being the prettiest, good girl f’me, thinkin’ about nothing but my cock, perfect little fucktoy,” He groaned, voice getting coarse with need. Those chocolate hues you loved about Eddie were long gone now, replaced by something more sinister, fueled purely by hunger, and it made your nails dig deeper into his back, making him hiss.

“Ed—Eds…” Steve wanted to worship you, all of his thoughts being stripped away because of how fucked out you looked. Candy gloss smeared all over your needy lips, hair disheveled, eyes barely open, and spread out for Eddie like the good girl you were. 

“Yeah, honey? What d’ya need?” Tone saccharine sweet, his hand landed on your cheeks, smushing them together, making it harder for you to register anything, he was making you feel so hot, so much… And you couldn’t bear to talk.

“N—need to, uh—” Words died down your throat when he shoved himself deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot that made you go all dumb on him, just like he loved. 

“You wanna cum, doll? Huh? Can’t handle it anymore? Thought you were my tough girl?” He mocked with an ‘Aww’ sound, jutting out his bottom lip, making you nod vigorously. 

“I—I’m your good girl, sir,” you muttered. Steve was trying so hard not to tug at his poor cock harder, not to go completely feral because he so wanted to last. He wanted to hear the pretty whines that left your lips, the guttural groans that consumed Eddie. 

His hands landed on your clit now, he could feel your pussy nuzzling him, could feel that familiar feeling pooling in your tummy, and he wanted to get you into that space, where you could barely talk, where you whined and trashed for him to let you cum. “B—but ‘s t—too much, need to—” You whined, struggling.

Eddie breathed out a throaty chuckle, drawing circles around your sensitive spots to earn those breathy huffs from you. “Can barely speak, such a good fuckin’ cockslut for me, aren’t ya?” He mocked, all mean and filthy.  

“And, all fuckin’ mine,” He grunted, he wasn’t forgiving, and neither was his cock, slipping out of you entirely to drive you crazy. Dark chuckles left his lips when he enjoyed your little whines, that deeper dig your nails had on his back with anger.

Steve’s lips wrapped around his knuckles, biting on them to conceal the lewd noises daring to slip out. 

Eddie’s huge length, slightly bent to the left, facing upwards was slicked in both of your juices. Steve wanted nothing more than to have his tongue lapping up at him, taste both of you.

“Speak up, slut, what do you want, you wanna cum, huh?” Vicious, and bold, his hand had a hold on your throat now, harsh enough to draw both pain and pleasure out of you, making you cry out at the emptiness.

“S—so mean,” you murmured, you loved every fucking second of it. But his teasing was driving you crazy, and you so badly needed that sweet release, and to feel his warm load filling your hole.

He pouted at your words, releasing your throat as his palm stroked your cheeks, he knew you enjoyed his mean side, but he still couldn’t resist your pretty face and that addictingly gentle tone. 

You always knew how to break him, and to get him to do what you wanted. Which was to get completely fucked.

With a sticky sweet and delicate kiss on your lips, he was quick to thrust back into you. “‘M s—sorry, sweetheart, ‘m sorry but you’re just so pretty like this, can’t help it,” he breathed against your neck, his movements getting sloppier when your moans became more pathetic and needy, he wasn’t going to last if you came.

And it was okay because Steve was dying for a release, both knuckles white, one from tugging, the other from biting into it to stifle his loudness.

“Don’t worry, honey, you can cum for me,” He cooed, lips pressed into the shell of your ear, kissing a trail down to your cheekbones.

“S—shit, fuckin’ shit, sweetheart cum for me and I’ll give you what you need,” He fucked himself deeper, slower into you.

Steve’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, blurry vision only able to focus on the two of you.

“You want my cum don’t you, baby? Want me to fill you up?” You were gone, back arched with pleasure, trying to get more from him if that was even possible.

“P—please, Eds, need you to mark me, make me yours, all over again,” you moaned, craving him, feeling that tight coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter. 

“A—ahh, shit—shit, sweet girl, when you talk like that you know you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, his own voice failing him when he was all lost in you. 

“Need your cum, Eds, p—please, cum with me baby,” you begged, body frail beneath him, soft, mushy, and all ready.

“Shit, f—fuck, so fuckin’ tight when you cum, sweetheart, I don’t think I can—” His rambling got louder and louder, not caring if Steve could hear—hell Eddie wanted him to see this. See the way you were getting split open by Eddie, begging, while Steve fucked himself to the two of you, all so desperate, waiting for Eddie’s instructions. 

A newfound desire found Eddie at the thought of both you and Steve being so submissive to him, letting him take all of the control. “Fuckin’ fuck! Jesus—mmpf,” he grunted.

Steve was desperate now—as much as he was ashamed of it, he had jerked off to the two of you so many times before, he knew from the noises, that the two of you were close.

And he was more than ready to finally see your pretty face and Eddie’s mouth hung open when both of you came, his fantasies coming true. 

He fucked his fists harder, balls drawing up at the needy moans that slipped past your lips. “G—gonna fuck all of my load—fuck—into you, princess.” One final thrust rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

“Fuuuck, fuck fuck!” He yelled out, and that’s all it took, both of your eyes squeezed shut, melting into the couch, loud moans and groans filling the room while Steve watched with lulled eyes.

Your orgasm was quick to wash over your body, pussy convulsing around his cock deliciously, ropes of his warm cum spilling inside of you. All the while Steve squeezed his cock, spurting his cum all over his hand, white beads of his warm load covering his knuckles. 

Heavy breathing filled the living room, and Steve’s room. His mind hazed, and eyes remained shut. 

“Shitshitshit, take it, baby, take it all,” Eddie breathed out, his load sitting pretty inside of you, filling you nicely.

“Good girl,” he whispered, planting a nice kiss on your glossy lips, peppering your face with small ones, a wide grin sitting on his lips.

“Fuck,” Steve grunted out unintentionally, hand planting on his mouth with a loud smack, but it was too late. 

Eddie’s head snapped backward, a grin sitting on his lips before his dangerous gaze met Steve’s dilated pupils, blown out by pleasure, and the anxiety in his system slicking his forehead. 

“Did you enjoy that, Steve?” Eddie mocked from where he was standing, not moving an inch, eyeing the shocked look on his face, fully enjoying it. 

Steve, at a loss for words, couldn’t even blabber a simple response. How the fuck was he going to explain this? 

Eddie barked a mocking chuckle, pouting. “Your poor cock must be aching from those calloused hands, abusin’ it every night. You think we didn’t hear your pathetic groans every night? The walls are thin, Stevie,” he cooed, his tone so teasing that Steve gulped. 

What the fuck was going to happen now? 

Would Eddie beat him up for being a fucking pervert? 

Would the two of you move out as soon as possible? 

Endless possibilities ran through Steve’s mind, yet he couldn’t muster a single reply, cursing himself for even fucking doing this. 

Yet, much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie’s reply was his wildest dreams and fantasies bundled up into a full sentence. “Oh, don’t be shy now, Stevie, come out, let us help you.” You hummed quietly agreeing with Eddie, too fucked out to say anything else, yet still up for more. 

Without another word Steve got up, unashamedly walking into the living room with his junk out, hand still covered in his cum, Eddie’s gaze and grin were much more devilish up close, making Steve’s cock stir against the cold air hitting his tip. 

You were quick to sit up on your knees, dragging Steve closer to you, hand gently holding up his semen-covered knuckle, giggling at the sight before your gaze met his. 

The blood rushed to his cock in an instant, your doe-eyes still held that innocence, yet there was something filthy about it that had Steve wanting to melt into a puddle. You stuck out your tongue at him, mouth quick to wrap around his knuckles, lapping up his juices. 

Your gaze stuck on him, and Steve’s thighs shuddered with need, eyes drinking you in while you wiped him clean and released his hand with a pop sound of your velvety lips. 

A lewd noise escaped from Steve’s mouth, making him grow weak in his knees, still unable to find the words to speak. You were perfect. Just perfect. 

“Stevie tastes so good, Eds,” you hummed sweetly, gaze never leaving Steve’s, and Eddie watched the two of you with newfound hunger. 

“Do you want us to help you, Stevie?” You asked with a pout, plushy lips slickening with your candy gloss, and now with both Steve and Eddie’s juices. Steve nodded vigorously, head about to fall off his neck, gulping and almost groaning at you. 

Steve wasn’t a morning person, until now. 

[centrally-unplanned]

I was going through some archived scans of 90's otaku magazines, as is my sacred duty, and I stumbled on this ad for a Sega Saturn game I did not know:

The pitch of Roommate (as seen here) is that of a "real time" romance simulation:

What makes it real-time is that the game progresses in sync with the Saturn's internal clock. In that way [main girl] Ryoko is just like a real girl; she has her own daily habits and lives her life accordingly. So if you start the game in the afternoon, you might not be able to meet her because she's at school [...] The purpose is to enjoy living together with Ryoko in real time and communicating with her.

And this is exactly the kind of way-too-convoluted gimmick that sacrifices gameplay functionality on the altar of conceptual novelty based on random technology add-ons present in new-gen consoles of the era that I just love. Obviously the concept of starting a game and having the main girl not be present so you cannot play is completely asinine - but think of the realism!

Between that and the discount-Sadamoto 90's character designs, I wanted to see it for myself; so I spent way, way too long setting up a Sega Saturn emulator. In my experience early CD-ROM-based consoles often require much more bespoke set-ups to get working, in this case custom BIOS files in the emulator firmware directories, and JPN-language ones at that for this game. But I got it to work and oh yeah, this is some early "digital" console era crust:

Playing this game is just painful. The clock of course means that you essentially can't play it at all - looking at YouTube comments on the very few Let's Plays and such that exist, people are reminiscing about how they could never find Ryoko because their schedules didn't align. One person even comments:

This game is for NEETs and shut-ins

Which is a valid demo I guess! But it doesn't really stop there - your house is a "fully realized" 3D environment of bare walls which you navigate with clunky controls. Let me log in and take some screenshots...

Jesus Christ it's 10 pm and you are cooking dinner?! The one time I don't want this ghost popping out of the cracks in the floorboards, I swear...

Okay, got rid of her (She broke a plate -_- you moved in yesterday, girl):

You walk, in real time (step by step) through this pixel museum just...hoping that one of the rooms will contain Ryoko and proc a dialogue event based on the time of day. There is a little more to it than that but that is essentially the gameplay. This would, very obviously, be simply better as a straightforward visual novel.

But you see how that just isn't as cool in 1997, right? This is the era where the fidelity of graphics and the technology for simulation is progressing at a rapid clip, and everyone wants to see the boundaries pushed. Roommate isn't the first "real time simulation" game, but it is the most pure, the one fully committed to the bit. Your house is completely mapped out, the girl has her routine, you walk step by painful step through the rooms because this is "real", you are living it. They even use a live photo for the outside of the house to sell the aesthetic (and also save money):

Ryoko is waiting in the kitchen of that house when you come home from work, putting on an apron, ready to cook dinner. For you.

Assuming you get home at whatever fucking 30 minute window the game decided to gatekeep its gameplay behind! But of course I exaggerate - it wasn't that bad (there are little mechanics you can use to set some schedule times in the game for example), player tolerance for bullshit was way higher then, and you were expected to buy strategy guides for these things. So even though it was panned by critics on release...it was a sleeper hit with a devoted fanbase.

Which means it got a ton of sequels and ports! We don't have to go through them all, though I will share my favorite factoid about the first sequel - "ROOMMATE ~Ryoko in Summer Vacation~" from the wiki:

The character designs are significantly different from the previous game (especially Ryoko's brown hair and large breasts).

Priorities, baby. But some of the ports are interesting because of the changing tech. A version was ported to the PlayStation, which does not have the internal clock a Sega Saturn had. But coincidentally it did have the PocketStation, a handheld GameBoy/Tamagotchi hybrid expansion tool that did have an internal clock and could sync with the game. It also let you track Ryoko's schedule and play mini-games, with some very adorable animations as you can see in this ad for the product that featured Roommate:

This device absolutely reminds me of the Disc Fax system discussed in my Miho Nakayama essay - a very niche product biting off more than it can chew making games overly complex to play but allowing things that would otherwise be impossible (and this one was a good deal more successful at least). Here it allowed Roommate's central gimmick to function - and is super cute, honestly I would buy a standalone tamagotchi version of this game.

The PS1 also couldn't quite handle how the game was built for the Sega Saturn graphics-wise, and as such a bunch of the 3D elements were sanded off into 2D simulacrums - most notably the house:

Which, despite this being a technological downgrade, is way better! It looks adorable, you can actually see what is going on and where Ryoko is, and you can navigate it way more cleanly. God, did...hold on let me tab back to the game...yeah, is there no clock in the original game on screen. That is insane. Anyway the PS1 version had a lot of these cute little graphical additions, even right on the title screen:

It is definitely the better looking version, which is a classic tale - in 1997 the "bleeding edge" of 3D graphics were impressive to players, even through their roughness. Now they just aren't, and so the retro charm of designs that are optimized what the mediums of the time could reliably handle have a lot more appeal.

There was also a PC port in 1998, which did exactly what I suggested and added an "adventure" mode where you could ignore the clock system. They definitely learned over time what worked and what didn't; but the appeal of the gimmick is what first sold it to players in the end.

All of this is to say, don't play Roommate, and if you do just emulate the PS1 game instead of torturing yourself with the Sega Saturn version. Oh...you weren't gonna play a Japanese-only abandonware 90's not-even-eroge dating sim to begin with? Ah, well, yeah, I guess that makes sense.

Man I should translate it shouldn't I? So people can play it...

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter three

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

A confrontation, secrets are revealed.

Chapter Warnings:

Language, drinking, secret baby

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N:

Thank you guys so much for the support on this story ❤️ You’re the best! And thank you to @floredaqueen for being amazing and helping with some dialogue!

—

The world stopped in that moment.

Somewhere deep inside him, Eddie knew. He knew who the child in the photo was. He just didn’t want to believe it or admit it to himself.

He repeated your name, his voice shaking. It felt like you were locked in a stare down with him and Steve, who was frozen in the doorway, ready to back you up however you needed.

The look on your face only confirmed Eddie’s fears. His expression twisted into one of horror. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He was going to be sick.

He dropped the frame back on the counter and sprinted into the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. The hangover did nothing to help the situation, only making him feel even worse.

You looked to Steve, who placed a hand on your shoulder in support. When Eddie returned, looking like absolute hell, you knew you couldn’t avoid the conversation any longer.

“Maybe we should sit down,” you finally managed to say, indicating the sofa.

Eddie nodded weakly, collapsing into the recliner close to him. You took a seat on the couch, sitting facing him. Steve hovered awkwardly by the door.

“Uh…should I leave?”

You knew this was a conversation you should be able to have alone, but you didn’t want Steve to go. The idea of being alone with Eddie again was overwhelming. Especially with the conversation you were about to have.

“No. Please stay.”

That’s all he needed to hear before he was nodding and taking a seat on the couch next to you. Eddie’s eyes were locked on yours, his emotions swimming through them like the crashing tides.

“Please,” Eddie said, his voice small and pleading. “I need you to say it.”

You took a shaky breath. “Eddie…”

“Just say it.”

His tone was harsher that time, and you flinched slightly. Not that you ever thought Eddie would ever hurt you, but you had gotten yourself into a situation that was far more serious than you had ever admitted to yourself.

“His name is Asher,” you started slowly, watching Eddie’s face intently for every reaction. “He’s almost 2.”

“Is he mine?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. But you couldn’t run from the truth anymore. “Yes.”

Eddie let out a rush of air, leaning back in the chair and looking up at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.” His hands were shaking as he rubbed them over his face.

What now? Where do you go from here? You had found yourself in some seriously deep shit. Face to face with the ex boyfriend you hated for years, after drunkenly sleeping with him, now having to admit the existence of the son you hid from him. You could kick your own ass for being so stupid.

“I just…” Eddie finally started, looking like he couldn’t organize his thoughts. He laughed humorlessly. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Because you were finally going to live your life!” you said, finding your voice. You knew you were in the wrong to not tell him about the pregnancy, but you also felt he had no room to be upset with the way he had treated you and your friends. The way he had thrown you all away like trash. “Eddie, you left.”

“So because I left, for the band, that means I didn’t deserve to know about my kid?” He huffed another disbelieving laugh. He was getting angry now.

“You didn’t just leave, you abandoned us! You abandoned me! You said you loved me!” You hadn’t noticed when they started, but tears were rolling down your face now. You wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand. Steve gently squeezed your thigh.

“This is…” Eddie stood up, beginning to pace around the room, running a hand through his hair, which was even wilder and more disheveled than usual. “That’s fucking bullshit. It’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Is it? Because you never called. Why didn’t you fucking call?” You were fully crying now. Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, wanting to support you in whatever small way he could.

Eddie stopped pacing and looked at you then. His expression softened. “Baby…”

“I’m not your baby anymore, though, am I?”

He looked as if he’d been struck. “You just…I…you don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?” You stood, too, sadness flipping back to anger like a switch. “How hard is it to pick up a fucking phone in two years?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like on the road!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I had no time to myself. And we broke up, I thought…I thought you didn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You yelled back. “You promised. You fucking promised!”

Eddie was pained. He looked at you with his heart breaking in his chest with your every word. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I never forgot about you. You don’t even comprehend what you mean to me. The moment I let go of your hand that day in front of the tour bus, I realized the magnitude of what I had lost.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” It was your turn to laugh. “I waited, you know. I loved you.”

Eddie flinched. “Loved?”

You both stood in silence, staring at each other. You took another deep breath.

“Yeah, loved. And you know, the saddest part is that I’d always let you break my heart. I would have let you do it again and again. But not anymore.”

Eddie shook his head. He muttered your name. “I never meant to hurt you. I just…the band-“

“Was it worth it?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Was it worth it? He couldn’t say. He was living his dream, what he had always wanted. Corroded Coffin was famous, a real band. He was a real rockstar. But at what cost? He had spent the last 2 years living it up, loving his life, but face to face with what he’d given up for it, what he’d left behind - he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You should have told me,” Eddie said, ignoring your question instead. “About the baby. You should have told me.”

“Would it have changed anything?” You questioned. “Would you have turned around, come home, gave it all up?”

He was lost for words once again. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he would have done. He would like to think he would have stepped up to be a father, not knowingly leaving you to do it alone. But would he have been strong enough to do it?

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s a valid question.”

Eddie shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I have a fucking son you didn’t tell me about, who I’ve never met. And that is so fucked up.”

“Don’t even get me started on what’s fucked up, Eddie Munson.”

“This whole situation is fucked up! And if you think you’re not to blame at all here,” Eddie stepped closer, pointing a finger at you, “you’re dead fucking wrong. You had no right to keep this from me.”

Steve stood up then, stepping between you and Eddie. “Okay, let’s calm down-“

“Fuck you, Eddie!”

“Yeah, fuck me.” Eddie laughed again.

“You know what,” you said, looking away from Eddie. You couldn’t stand to see his face anymore. “I’m not ready to have this conversation. I think you should leave.”

Eddie just watched you for a moment. Then, “Fine. But this isn’t over. If that’s my fucking son, I deserve to know about him. I deserve to know him.”

You stood behind Steve as Eddie stormed back into the bedroom, dressing back in his clothes from the night before. He stomped back into the living room and pulled the front door open. He paused, turning back to look at you one more time.

“You’ll hear from me,” he said. Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

You and Steve stood in silence for a minute after Eddie left. The adrenaline flowing through your body began to fade, and you realized all you were left with was the aching in your chest and the tears falling down your face again. Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled against your hair. “It’s going to be alright.”

As you let the tears flow, crying into his strong chest, you wished you could believe him.

—

Eddie didn’t know where he was going. As he walked down the street your apartment complex sat on, dressed in his dirty, sweaty clothes from the night before and simultaneously seething and hurting, he felt for the first time in years like he didn’t know what he was doing.

He had a kid. A son. With you. A real kid existed out there with his DNA and his eyes and his hair and who knows what else he could have inherited. Did he like music? Was he wild like Eddie was as a child? The thought nearly made him smile to himself.

There was only one thing he could think to do, only one person he wanted to talk to right now.

As he reached a payphone, he dialed the familiar number. He held his breath as he listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Wayne,” Eddie breathed out, feeling like a teenager again. “Can you come get me?”

—

“So you went home with her after the show,” Wayne clarified as Eddie finished talking. He sat in his recliner, a beer in hand as he listened to Eddie like he had so many times as he was growing up. Wayne could be counted on for a lot of things, but one of them was to listen to Eddie without judgement.

“Yeah…” Eddie said, knowing he was avoiding voicing the worst part of the situation. He sat on the couch, arms on his knees and fingers nervously playing with his rings.

“Well, that’s not so bad, is it?” the older man said, taking a swig of his beer. “There’s a lot of history between you two, it only makes sense that something like…that could happen.”

“Yeah,” Eddie repeated. It didn’t escape Wayne’s notice that he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Is there something else?” he asked, and Eddie hated how well the old man could read him.

“I, uh,” Eddie began, scratching the back of his neck nervously. This would be his first time telling someone, the first time admitting it out loud.

Wayne looked at him concerned, sensing something big was coming. “You know you can tell me anything, Ed.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He let out a long breath before finally looking at his uncle. “This is, uh…well, it’s good you’re sitting down.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raised as he took another swig. He waited for Eddie to continue, but his concern was building.

“I, uh…” Eddie watched Wayne’s face intently. “I have a…a son.”

Whatever Wayne Munson was expecting to hear from his nephew, it certainly wasn’t that. He nearly choked on his beer. “You have a what?”

Eddie winced. He knew how it sounded. He knew how it was. “She was pregnant when I left,” Eddie continued. “I didn’t know, I swear. I didn’t abandon my kid or anything like that.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, muttering under his breath, “Christ.”

Wayne’s expression softened. “She didn’t tell you?”

Eddie shook his head. “No.”

“Well…that wasn’t right.”

Eddie felt sick to his stomach again. “Well I, uh…I haven’t exactly talked to her at all since we left.”

Wayne’s look turned to one of disapproval, one Eddie had seen many a time when he had fucked up royally. “Ed.”

“Yeah, I…I know.”

“Jesus, Ed, why would you do that? I thought you loved that girl.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. The truth was that he didn’t know. “I don’t know. I did love her. I do love her. I guess I got so caught up in life on the road. And we broke up, I guess I didn’t think…”

The words hung in the air for a while as the two men sat there, as if waiting to see if Eddie had anything else to say on the matter. It wasn’t a good excuse, he knew it. He knew he had been a dick. Eventually he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “God, Wayne, I fucked up bad.”

Wayne considered his words for a moment as he took another few sips of his beer. “It’s not too late to make it right.”

Eddie slowly looked up at him. “It’s not?”

“Of course not.” He gave his nephew a stern look. “But you’re a father now, Ed. It may be late, but you owe that little boy a father.”

A father. He was a father. The thought alone made his head spin.

“How am I supposed to be a father when we’re on the road? When I’m back in California?” Eddie felt hopeless about the situation. The band would be in Hawkins for a while visiting since the tour was over now, but eventually they’d have to get back to it. Back in the studio and eventually another tour. He had a home in California and everything.

“I guess you’re going to have to think over your priorities, Ed,” Wayne said. “I don’t think you need to quit the band or anything like that, but some things will have to change.”

Eddie felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t had a moment of peace in his own brain since seeing that photo on the floor. The second he had seen it, he had known deep down. The kid looked just like him. It almost made him feel a little warm inside.

“I’d like to meet him,” Wayne added. “My great nephew.”

Eddie looked up at him. He hadn’t even thought of that. He’d barely thought about meeting the kid himself. That terrified him. He didn’t have much experience with kids at all, and he didn’t know the first thing about toddlers. And he had missed so much already. He felt like just as shitty of a father as his own, and he hadn’t even started yet. He never wanted to be like his own father.

“Pretty much your grandson,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, but Wayne heard and a faint smile spread across his lips.

“What’s the kid’s name?”

“Asher,” Eddie answered. “He…he looks just like me, Wayne. It was fucking crazy. Surreal.”

Wayne’s face softened at that. He remembered perfectly well how Eddie was at that age. How he looked, with those same wild curls, how he was absolutely wild, climbing on everything and making a run for it when they’d be in public. He was a handful, and he could only imagine his son being the same. The thought brought a warmth to his chest.

“I’d like to meet him,” Wayne said again. It made Eddie feel a little bit better.

“If she’ll even let me be involved,” Eddie admitted, not even sure where he stood with you anymore. Did you never want to see him again? He wouldn’t blame you. He’d deserve that.

“It’s about more than just the two of you now, son,” Wayne pointed out. “This is about that little boy, and he needs a father. He deserves that much.”

Eddie knew he was right. He didn’t know if you would even accept his calls at this point, or answer the door for him if he showed up again, but he had to try. He wasn’t going to be a deadbeat like his father was. He was going to step up.

He was going to figure this out.

—

When you picked up Asher from your mom’s, he was thrilled to see you. You were excited to see him, too, but he reminded you of Eddie even harder than he usually did today.

“Hey, Ash,” you said as the toddler ran to you, wrapping his arms around your legs. You scooped him up, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“We had a great time, didn’t we?” Your mother said with a smile, the family cat, Mews, in her arms.

“Gamma,” Asher told you, pointing to Claudia.

“That’s right,” she cooed, leaning forwards to place a kiss on his soft chubby cheek.

“Where’s Dusty?” you asked, placing Asher back down on the ground as he started wiggling to escape. He ran back to the toys he’d been playing with.

“Oh, he’s in his room.” She sat back in her chair, watching Asher play.

You made your way through your childhood home, down the hallway and to Dustin’s room. You knocked and were greeted with a “Come in!”

“Hey, Dusty,” you said as you walked in. Your brother was at his desk, working on something on his new computer. It was still sometimes hard to believe your little brother was growing up, in 11th grade now.

“Hey,” he greeted, turning around in his chair as you sat on his bed. “How was the show?”

You leaned forward, burying your face in your hands in answer.

“Oh,” he said. “That bad?”

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed, pushing some of his curls out of his face. “But why this time?”

“He saw a photo of Asher. He figured it out,” you admitted, finally looking up to meet Dustin’s gaze. His eyes widened.

“Eddie? How did he-“ Dustin’s eyes somehow became even wider as he realized. “Oh, no. No. You took him home?”

You groaned, flopping back on the bed. That was answer enough.

“You really are a fucking idiot,” he said.

You chucked a pillow at his face. “Yeah, thanks.”

He let out an “Oof” as the pillow hit him. “Well, what happened?”

You recounted the whole morning to him. Steve coming over, Eddie finding the photo, the fight, kicking him out. Dustin listened intently, without judgement despite his teasing.

“So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him again?” Dustin asked.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I guess I have to. If he wants to be in Ash’s life, I can’t exactly tell him no.”

“Does he want to be?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I think he was still dealing with the shock of it when we talked. I guess we need to talk again.”

“Eddie’s a good guy,” Dustin said, his expression soft. “He’ll do the right thing. Even if it takes him some time. I know he cared about you.”

Your brother could be perceptive, and if you’d ever hoped he was right, it was now. Truthfully, you had never moved on from Eddie. There had been no one else. You suspected he couldn’t say the same, and the thought made you sick. All the time you had known him, you had felt you could rely on Eddie. You weren’t so sure now, but you hoped Dustin was right.

At the end of the day, you just wanted the best for your son. And maybe to be happy, too, finally.

tag list

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @avalon-wolf @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99 @richardsamboramylove55 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @allhailtheslothoverlord @micheledawn1975

[brooke121000]

hello! i love love love your writing, the style, the detail, the dialogues, everything! can i request spencer and reader sleeping together for the first time but it’s set in season 5 and spencer’s leg is recovering? the tension they’d have because reader doesn’t want to hurt spencer but he needs reader so badly

a/n: omg tysm!! I LOVE this prompt. I went a LITTLEE crazy with this but anyway! none of my stuff is proofread so apologies for any typos or mistakes!! 🫶

the healing part • s. reid

warnings: p in v, p0rn with plot, switch!spence if you squint, do a backflip and take your glasses off, quick escalation, no pr0tection (bad idea!)

———————————౨ৎ———————————

A GSW to the patella.

That’s the phrase you had heard shouted out from the trauma room in the hospital- after a particularly rude nurse had steered you out into the waiting room to “let the doctors work”. It didn’t help that Spencer was so pro-healthcare, he wouldn’t listen to any of your protestations. 

It also didn’t help that the rest of the team was so flippant about his injury- in comparison, you looked nearly obsessive. “Are, um.. are you the girlfriend?” A very nervous and very confused nursing student had once asked you, earning a chorus of giggles from everybody on the team.

But it was better now. At least, a little better. He could walk on crutches, and he wasn’t so groggy all the time. You wanted to help. You wanted to care for him. So, you asked to come over. 

“This is all really nice, you know-“ Spencer began, listening helplessly to the boiling sound of the kettle.

“It’s alright, really, Spence.“ you rebutted. “For christs sake, you were shot. The whole team should be over here right now.”

He sighed, watching as you poured the kettle and dropped in the aromatic tea bag. “The whole team is busy.” 

“Yeah, well I’m not. So drink your damn tea.” You grinned, walking over and handing him the mug. “Careful, it’s-“

“Hot?” He beamed, sitting up in his spot and taking a careful sip.

That caused you to crack a smile. “Oh, cut it out.” You replied, reaching out your own mug and clinking it with his.

“Can I try yours? I couldn’t help but notice you picked a better flavor.” He murmured.

You begrudgingly handed him your mug, which he accepted- placing his own on the bedside table. Then, you two fell into a silence as he sipped, full eyes locking with yours.

You smiled, sitting beside him. “…do you like it?”

“..ehh, so so.” He handed you back your mug.

You looked down, watching the swirling steam. You felt a little pathetic, running around attempting to care for a man who’d probably rather be alone. “..look.” You began.

 “I know I can be obnoxious. And I guess I’m.. invading your space, or whatever- but, I just care.. entirely too much. I can’t leave you here to- hobble around your apartment on a bad leg. I just can’t.”

“..is that what you assume I think of you?”

Your face got hot. Oh, Jesus. Had you just made tonight all about you? “No, no, I just-“

He placed his mug down. “Because I’ll tell you what I think of you. You’re kind. You’re profoundly empathic, about everything. It’s.. admirable. And I don’t mind tea, or hugs, or extra blankets. If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve said so.”

“..really?”

He nodded, his eyes flickering down your form.

A little bit of silence fell over you two, your faces close. And then, catching you completely off guard, he.. kissed you. He placed a gentle hand to the back of your head to pull you closer, and kissed you, sure and patient.

Heat rose within you, caught completely off gaurd.

“Spencer, I..” 

You wanted an explanation. You wanted a talk, anything- but Spencer wanted anything but. He knew you, and he didn’t want you to get the chance to second guess yourself.

“Don’t say anything. Please?”

Your heart racing, all you could conjure up was a stupid nod, leaning in to meet his waiting lips. Butterflies beat their wings inside your stomach, his lips tasting of the autumnal tea you had given him. 

The kiss felt so utterly familiar it hurt. 

His hand tightened in your hair, a tiny whine evident in his quick breathing. You fumbled on the mattress, nearer to his chest- and everything caught momentum, like a boulder flying down a hill- no way to stop what was happening, or where this was going. 

You moved, and he guided you, to sit on his lap, his hands on either side of your face.

You trembled with need, shaking hands going to the buttons of his shirt. When his hands fell to your waist and you had pulled the fabric off of him, you leaned closer on his lap- and that’s when it happened.

“Ah-“ he winced, moving his affected leg.

fuck. You thought. The leg!

Suddenly, guilt rose in your chest. You suddenly felt intensely guilty, like a negligent nurse trying to bang their sickly patient. Had you really hurt him?

“Ohmygod, Spencer, did I hurt you? I totally forgot about your leg-“

“No, no- it’s fine, just ignore it.” He breathed.

Your brows furrowed at the thought. “I.. I can’t just ignore it, I’ll.. I’ll hurt you.”

“..” he paused, his hands on your waist tightening as he looked up at you with big oaken eyes, warm enough to melt butter. 

“please?”

“Spencer, I can’t.”

“No, no- I need this, I need you, just.. please?” He practically whined.

at times, Spencer was a force. Usually in the interrogation room, or hunched over a chess board, but this was a very different kind of persuasion. And who could say no to those eyes?

Fuck. Guess I’ll just have to make it work. You thought.

He pulled you into another rushed kiss, heat pooling in your core as you practically tore his clothes off- his own firm hands making quick work of your blouse. Only when the last article had been kicked off and tossed to the floor and you two were bare, panting and blushed in front of each other did it start to set in. Was this really happening? Two coworkers- Jesus, this was scandalous.

With his eyes on yours and his hands on your waist, you didn’t really care.

“need you, god- I’ve been waiting,”He spoke, his voice weary with desire.

“mhm, I know, just-“

He pulled you closer to him with the sole purpose of placing more kisses to your neck, leaving a trail of flushed skin. You were just focused on regaining your breath.

When his gripped slipped lower on you, he looked to you for confirmation. “is- is this okay?”

Lost for words, or breath, or patience, you managed a stupid nod.

He slipped a hand between your two bodies, his fingers grazing your clit and sending fireworks up your whole body, causing you to shift on top of him. 

“oh, Jesus- you can’t move like that.” He breathed, one hand holding your hips firmly in place as he aligned himself with your entrance, heat already pooling between you two.

When you lowered yourself onto him, you both gasped. he hissed, grabbing control of your hips.

You managed a shaky nod as he stretched you farther- lowering you down onto him. He threw his head back, brown curls rustling against the pillow as another gasp slipped.

“spence!”

“god, I know, baby..”

You smiled at the nickname. Your hips connected, and a shudder ran though you. He seemed impossibly deep. Eager to remove the pressure and no longer holding any patience, he helped you in raising your hips. 

a string of moans fell from your lips, eager noises filling the dimly lit room as your hips connected once again. You were conscious of his injury- but no longer terrified. Especially when you saw the look on his face- flushed and pleading.

He continued to pull your hips up and push them down, helping you ride him. A string of whimpers and gasps filled the room as the tension in your stomach only intensified-

“ah!-“

He guided your trembling hands to his chest, and you balanced yourself, your nails pressing into the skin.

Desperate for your own release, you took control- pushing your hips up and down on him and hitting a spot that sent fireworks through your core.

“god-“ he gasped, his hands tightening on you. “don’t stop,”

Your knees pressed into the mattress, and it feels like everything got too much all at once. It felt too good, you were too close. Suddenly, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back.

“wha- spence, your- your knee,” you babbled.

“Don’t.” He said simply, entirely focused on you, and that was enough for you to shut up entirely. He lifted your knees to press up against him, and you swear your vision nearly went white at the feeling.

He was insatiable, and so were you. Hand planted on the headboard, he was pushing into you at a punishing speed, pulling ribbons of whines and moans out from you. 

“fuck, spence- ‘m so close, cmon,”

You fluttered around him and he groaned, deciding to pay you back with his hand, which was promptly slipped under your body and between your legs to circle your clit-

oh.

god.

And you were done. The chord inside you snapped, sending you hurtling over the edge. You damn near screamed, head pushing into the pillow as your thighs clenched around him.

“thhaaats it,”he breathed, grabbing your thighs for purchase. With one last push, one last circle of your hips, he flew over the edge as well- warmth pooling between your legs as he gasped, his gaze never leaving you.

He pulled out and took his spot next to you, pulling your head to his chest.

“god, I didn’t break you, did I?” You asked nervously, trying to shift your weight off his leg.

He grinned.

“I should be asking you that right now, y’know.”

———————————౨ৎ———————————

[deansbeer]

like father, like daughter!

୨୧ warning(s). domestic fluff | toddler swearing | ben being a menace & bad influence on ur child | affectionate teasing (?) | light humor.

୨୧ kari notes. i wrote this yesterday in my car while i was running errands for my baby sister's birthday LMAO and this sounded funnier in my head but (in bree's words) fuck it we ball. i also missed writing for mr. soldier boy <3

saturdays are sacred.

it's the one day of the week where you don't have to rush out of bed, don't have to fight through traffic or sit through meetings or deal with deadlines. it's the one day you get to just be—with ben, with your daughter, with the small, messy, ridiculous family you somehow built together.

today had been a good one.

you'd all gone to the park, let your daughter run wild for a few hours, watched her climb the jungle gym with the reckless confidence of a toddler who thinks she's invincible. ben had trailed after her the whole time, grumbling about little shits not watching where they're going when other kids ran too close, but you caught the way he smiled every time she threw her head back and laughed.

now, the three of you are home, settled in the living room. your daughter sits on the floor, surrounded by a mess of her stuffed animals and plastic dolls, while you and ben take up the couch, curled into each other as an old '80s movie plays on the tv.

it's one of ben's favorites—something with big explosions, bad one-liners, and way too much synth in the background music. he's been mouthing along to half the dialogue, grinning whenever a fight scene starts.

"god, movies were so much better back then," he mutters, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

you snort. "you just like them because they're all violence and tits."

"yeah, and? what's your point?"

you roll your eyes, but you're smiling.

it's nice—the warmth of his body beside you, the steady hum of the tv, the quiet sounds of your daughter mumbling to herself as she plays. it's one of those rare, perfect moments where everything just feels right.

but sometimes… those moments aren't always forever, are they?

"oh, for fuck's sake."

your daughter's tiny voice rings out clear as day, full of frustration as she glares down at one of her toys like it's personally offended her.

your head snaps toward her so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.

ben stiffens beside you.

"what," you say slowly, "did you just say?"

your daughter huffs, still frowning at the plastic dinosaur in her hands. "i said, 'for fuck's sake.'"

you stare at her.

then, just as slowly, you turn to ben.

he's sitting completely still, eyes locked on the tv, expression carefully blank—like if he doesn't move, maybe you won't notice he's there.

you narrow your eyes. "ben."

"hmm?"

"benjamin."

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "look, before you start bitching—"

"are you fucking kidding me?"

the man smirks. "oh, now who's teaching her bad words?"

you elbow him hard in the ribs.

he grunts, but he's still grinning, the asshole.

meanwhile, your daughter is just looking between the two of you, completely unfazed, like she hasn't just dropped a full-blown curse word like it's nothing.

"baby," you say, rubbing your temples, "we don't say that."

she tilts her head. "but dada says it allll the time."

ben immediately turns away, suddenly very interested in the movie again.

you shoot him a glare. "unbelievable."

he shrugs. "what? she spends all day with me, she's bound to pick up some things."

"yeah, like a sailor’s vocabulary."

he smirks, leaning in, voice dropping low. "c'mon, sweetheart, you didn't exactly marry me for my clean mouth."

you swat at him, fighting back a laugh. again asshole.

your daughter, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, lets out a little put-upon sigh and mutters, "jesus christ."

ben loses it.

he throws his head back, laughing so hard his shoulders shake, like this is the funniest thing in the goddamn world.

you groan, flopping back against the couch.

this is your life now.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 8 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7

Chapter Summary: A Tsunami hits LA, leaving more than a few tragedies in its wake.

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“How’s Buck doing?”

You look up from your afternoon cup of tea. Normally, you’d drink coffee, but you’re trying to reduce your caffeine consumption. There’s a lull, so you’re sitting in the loft, trying to catch up on charting. One simple question from Eddie, though, and charting be damned.

“He’s… Buck,” you say. It’s not much of an explanation, but you hope it makes sense anyway. “He was really excited to come back, and this definitely threw a wrench in things.”

Eddie shrugs in contemplation. “Maybe he’s not as ready as he thought he was.”

“No, he’s plenty ready,” you disagree with a chuckle. “I just think maybe his body isn’t. Like, maybe this is a sign for him to take things slower. I don’t know.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgment. “Everything okay between you two?”

“Yeah,” you say almost immediately. “I mean, sometimes it sucks being the optimistic one all the time. But other than that, we’re okay.”

“‘The optimistic one’?”

“Buck gets down on himself sometimes,” you explain. “Like, sometimes I think he doesn’t get out of bed until I get home from work. I keep reminding him that everything happens for a reason, but… honestly, even I’m starting to have trouble believing that.”

“Sounds like things maybe… aren’t okay,” Eddie observes.

You can’t help but laugh. So much of your internal dialogue is you convincing yourself that everything is fine. When you say it aloud, it definitely doesn’t sound fine.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you say quietly, propping your elbow on the table. You rest your cheek on your palm.

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Eddie agrees with a bittersweet smile.

Jesus Christ, you’re a terrible friend. Eddie lost his wife a few weeks ago, and here you are, bitching about boyfriend problems.

“How are you and Christopher doing?” You ask softly.

“How you’d expect,” Eddie answers with another sad grin. “It’s hard getting him interested in anything. He just goes to school and sits in his room until he sleeps.”

Your heart aches at the thought. You know what it’s like to grow up without a mother, but you never had to deal with the pain of losing one, not to the same extent as Christopher. You lost her, but you didn’t love her before you lost her.

“You should bring Christopher over some time,” you suggest. “I mean, Buck has nothing better to do all day; he’ll tell you that himself.”

Eddie nods, slowly at first, then quicker. “Good idea.”

Bobby crosses the loft. While you don’t want to end your conversation with Eddie, you also don’t want to waste the opportunity in front of you.

You close your laptop. “Hey, Cap? Can I talk to you?”

The last time you were in Cap’s office, you were being reprimanded for pushing Buck against an ambulance. Now, you’re bargaining on his behalf. It's funny how things change.

“What can I do for you?” Bobby asks after you take a seat across from him.

You take in a deep breath. “I’m here to talk about Buck.”

“About how you’re dating him?”

You blink. “Cool, so now everyone knows.”

“Eh, I’m not sure Chimney does.”

“Oh please, I’m sure him and Hen talk about it all the time,” you laugh. “How’d you figure it out?”

Bobby shifts in his seat. “I saw you kiss him in the hospital.”

Your face flushes. “You’ve known since the start, then. That’s… fun.”

“Honestly, I thought it was going on longer than that,” Bobby explains. “Since the two of you started getting along, you’ve had a connection. I knew it was only a matter of time before you both figured it out.”

“So… what happens now?” You ask. “Does one of us have to transfer?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Nothing like that. When Buck returns to work, you’ll each have a disclosure form to fill out. It gets sent to HR. Not much to it.”

“Is he ever coming back?”

“What?”

You clear your throat. “That’s what I actually came here to talk about. Are you ever gonna let him come back?”

“Of course. As soon as he’s medically clear, he can return to light duty.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

You rub your hands together. “Buck has two settings: 0 and 100. In the last few months, all he’s talked about is getting back to 100. If he can’t be himself here, he doesn’t have a place here.”

Bobby looks at you. “Aren’t you afraid for him? Afraid that him always being at 100 will just get him hurt again? Afraid that he’ll never learn?”

“Of course I am,” you laugh softly. “But those are the things that make him Buck. And, god help me, I love him, even if those things scare the hell out of me.”

“He needs someone like you in his life,” Bobby says softly. “I’m glad he has you.”

“I’m glad I have him,” you agree. You pause. “Listen, Bobby: that man will sign whatever liability waiver this department throws at him. If you’re not ready, I understand that. But if that’s the case, you need to do him a favor and cut him loose. Because he’s ready, with or without the 118. So you should either let him come back at 100 or let him find somewhere that will."

“Seriously, man? A fucking tsunami ?”

“And only one wave wiped out miles of the city,” Eddie adds. “We’ll probably be looking at four or five more before it starts to recede.”

“It’s a good thing you left Christopher with Buck today,” you continue.

A natural disaster means you get to work rescue and paramedicine. You spend hours on a rescue raft, tagging DOAs and helping victims where you can. Eventually, you make it to the Santa Monica Pier. You’ve only been to it a few times since moving, but it’s nothing like you remember it. The Ferris wheel, which is normally on a platform sitting above the shoreline, is partially submerged underwater. Actually, the entire bottom half is submerged, and passengers are still in each gondola.

You quickly evacuate the people standing on the spokes, as they’re the most accessible and have only minor injuries.

“Grab a harness, rope, pulleys, and figure eight plates,” Bobby instructs.

“Times that by two,” you say as you click your helmet on.

Both the men stare at you.

“What? That woman at the top said her husband can’t move. You’re gonna need me.”

“It’s not safe,” Eddie protests.

You scoff. “Oh, it’s safe enough for you, but not for me?”

“It’s… I’m not…” Eddie fumbles.

“Alright, make it two of everything,” Bobby corrects.

Climbing the side of the Ferris wheel is surprisingly easy; it’s like a harder version of rock wall climbing but easier than actual rock climbing. You occasionally have trouble finding your footing but quickly correct it without a hitch. You and Eddie make it to either side of the gondola in no time.

“Oh, thank God you're here!” The woman exclaims.

You sling your bag into the gondola. “What happened here, ma’am?”

“Name’s Stacy. My husband, Max, hit his neck when the wave came, and now he can't feel his fingers.”

“My arms went numb. A couple of minutes later, my legs gave out. Am I paralyzed?” The man asks.

“It’s too soon to tell,” you say, climbing over the side. “You said you lost sensation in your arms first and then your legs?”

“Well, that might be a sign of swelling, which means you bruised your neck instead of breaking it,” Eddie explains.

You look over the side. “Hey, Cap, we can get one down to you, but the other one's a possible spinal. We're gonna need a Hail Mary.”

“I’ll order one up for you,” he calls back.

You hear a helicopter moving in as you and Eddie place a C-collar on Max. You quickly strap him into the rescue basket that the helicopter lowers down. Within minutes, Eddie gives the pilot a thumbs-up, and Max is airlifted into the sky. After taking care of Max, you place Stacy into a harness and help lower her to a rescue raft.

The Ferris wheel shifts. You grab the closest bar and hold on for dear life.

“Incoming debris!” Bobby shouts from below.

Eddie reaches out for you. You reach back. One of the spokes disconnects from the Hub, and it cuts the rope keeping you upright. Another sudden shift, and it’s too much — you’re knocked off the side. You hear Eddie screaming your name on your way down.

The first thing you feel is hot, searing pain in your side, like someone is jabbing a hot iron rod into it. The pain makes you gasp instinctually, but instead of air filling your lungs, it’s water. The feeling makes your head feel light and the rest of your body heavy. You feel a sudden shift in the water, like a heavy object dropped right next to you.

Then, you feel nothing.

You wake up sputtering. The water that took residence in your lungs is evicting itself, whether you want it to or not. You turn your head to the side, your coughs quickly turning into gags.

“Oh, thank god!” A familiar voice exclaims.

There’s some happy laughter in your ears, past the ringing sound. As you continue to heave, a gentle hand settles on your cheek. When you finally cough up or vomit all the water, the hand on your cheek straightens your neck. You feel a sudden warmth on your forehead: a pair of lips.

“What happened?” You ask. It’s barely audible, yet it feels like you’re shouting.

“When you hit the water, you aspirated. You went into respiratory arrest, then cardiac arrest. You were down for 7 minutes.”

The familiar voice… it’s Eddie. You blink your eyes open slowly. He’s hovering over you. There are tear tracks on his face.

“Good work,” you praise, somehow mustering the strength to pat his arm.

He laughs again, and some fresh tears spill onto his face. You smile faintly, a gust of cold air making the expression fade. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that your top half is bare. Thankfully, they left your bra on.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Can I borrow your shirt?”

“This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid — you need a hospital.”

“Yeah, a real hospital, not some makeshift disaster hospital,” you argue.

Eddie hasn’t let you walk since the beach; he barely let you stand up for transport. Now, you’re being pushed in a gurney. It’s humiliating,

“They need to make sure you’re okay,” Eddie says.

“I’m okay — ABCs are intact! My airway is patent, I’m breathing on my own, and my circulation is fine. I need a course of prophylactic antibiotics to prevent bacterial pneumonia, but other than that, I’m solid.”

You’re backed up into an open spot under a tent. A doctor begins listening to you while a nurse sticks telemetry patches to your chest.

“I’m gonna go help with triage; you better still be here when I get back,” Eddie orders, pointing a finger at you.

You collapse into the gurney with an annoyed groan. The groan turns into one of pain when the doctor starts prodding at your ribs.

“Definitely broken,” he observes. “Pneumothorax unlikely. We’ll get you something for the pain.”

You shake your head. “Just stop touching it and I’ll be fine.”

“You need something, or your breathing will become ineffective.”

“Something oral, then,” you bargain. “I don’t want to be doped up on Fentanyl.”

“Get her two 5 and 325 of Vicodin,” The doctor orders.

The nurse nods and goes to get the pills while the doctor attends to other patients.

You survey the crowd. There are a lot of ‘walkie-talkie’ patients, which is a good sign. Everyone is dirty and at least a little bit beat up, but from what you can see, nothing too serious is going on. You look to your right, and your eyes fall on the black tent. At least 15 covered bodies are lying on a tarp.

Your vision dances back over the crowd. A man in a white shirt with glasses strapped around his neck is stumbling around. His face has some scratches, and one of his arms is bloody. Weird, he kind of looks like Buck. You squint your eyes, and they widen.

It is Buck.

“Buck!” You shout, already scrambling out of the gurney. You pull off the telemetry leads, leaving only the stickers on your chest. You see a table with folded scrubs and grab a top. You slip it on, jogging slightly to catch up.

“Buck!” you shout again.

This time, he sees you. His eyes widen as he rushes towards you, scooping you into a hug.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” you rasp out.

He holds you tighter. The pressure makes your broken ribs dig in further, making you gasp with pain. Buck quickly pulls away.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asks, setting a hand on your face.

You set your hand over his. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Your hand trails down his arm, making contact with a wet piece of fabric. You frown, pulling it away. Even in the dark, your fingers are shining bright red with blood.

“Baby, you’re hurt,” you say, taking his arm into both of your hands.

“It’s nothing,” Buck brushes it off.

“You’re on blood thinners,” you remind. “If a cut is even a little deep, it bleeds for a long time. You might need stitches.”

“I can’t worry about that now. I need to find him first.”

“Find who?”

You look him up and down, eventually settling on the glasses around his neck. They’re Christopher’s glasses.

“Hey, what did I say?!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away.

All the color drains from Buck’s face.

“I told you to stay—” Eddie starts lecturing, making his way through the crowd. He cuts himself off when he sees that Buck is with you. “Buck? What are you doing here?”

“Eddie…” Buck lets out slowly.

“Are you okay? Wait, where's Christopher?” He asks. The expression on his face flattens. “Why do you have his glasses?”

“We, um... me and Christopher, we were...at the beach, and… um...and listen to me, okay? I swear to you... okay, I tried… And I just...”

A few involuntary tears run down your face. Your heart is breaking listening to Buck’s shaky voice and watching the realization on Eddie’s face.

“Christopher?” Eddie asks, his expression changing.

He rushes forward. You and Eddie watch as a random woman sets Christopher down, just for Eddie to hug him tightly.

“You’re Buck?” the woman asks.

“What? No, I’m his father, Eddie.”

“He was looking for Buck.”

You put a hand on your boyfriend’s arm, watching him take in a few quick breaths.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah… I’m great,” Buck says.

His body disagrees. His legs give way, and he starts to fall forward. Using all of your body weight, you push him back onto a makeshift gurney a few feet away.

“I got you,” you promise, keeping your arms around him.

He grips the arm you have around his chest, leaning into it for support.

You kiss the top of his head. “I got you.”

“So what really happened to you?”

You smile sadly, taking a sip of your water.

You and Buck have been up all night, sitting at his kitchen table. He went through everything that happened to him and Chris during the tsunami. At some point, it became morning. Normally, you’d be drinking coffee by now, but you thought it best not to put extra stress on your heart until you see a cardiologist.

“Eddie and I were on top of the Ferris wheel — ironically, the one at Santa Monica Pier. We were helping clear victims from it, and then the tide shifted. He reached out for me, I reached out for him, but a piece of the Ferris wheel broke and cut my rope. I fell into the water on my side, which is how I broke a few ribs. I aspirated, went into respiratory arrest, and… my heart stopped. They coded me for 7 minutes.”

Buck shakes his head as he runs a hand down his face.

“All I remember is hitting the water, then waking up on the shore,” you continue. “In between that, there’s… nothing.”

Buck takes a sip of his beer. “That’s probably for the better.”

You laugh. You can’t help it — it’s always been one of your coping mechanisms. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, I’m glad it was Eddie there,” Buck says. “I mean, Hen and Chim would’ve fought like hell, but he’d move the earth for you. Just like I would.”

That funny feeling settles back into your stomach. Eddie cares about you in the same way Buck does; at least, that’s how Buck sees it. Some day, that’s bound to cause trouble. But for now, you’re grateful for Buck’s gratitude.

There’s a knock on the door. Buck frowns but gets up to answer it.

It’s Eddie and Christopher. Christopher is the first to enter, hugging Buck.

“There's a morning snack and midday snack, two coloring books and a bunch of Legos,” Eddie says as he walks in. He sets Chris’s backpack on the table, then looks at you. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you return with a smile.

“Between us, he's never built anything that kinda looks like anything. He just likes sticking things together,” Eddie continues in a low voice.

Christopher is blissfully unaware, making his way to Buck’s couch.

“There's 20 bucks for pizza, and if I were you, I'd eat a couple extra slices. You look like you're wasting away to nothing.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, voice flat.

“ I will say, honestly, you being laid up is working out for me.”

“You want me to watch Christopher?” Buck says, approaching Eddie. “After everything that happened?”

“A natural disaster happened, Buck.”

“I lost him, Eddie.”

“No, you saved him,” Eddie argues, pointing at his son. “That's how he remembers it. And now, it's his turn to do the same for you.”

You feel like you’re intruding on the conversation, but you don’t dare look away.

“I was supposed to look out for him.”

“And what, you think you failed? I failed that kid more times than I care to count, and I'm his father. But I love him enough to never stop trying, and I know you do too.” Eddie sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck...there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you.”

Eddie looks at you, then back at Buck. “Except for her, maybe. It’s the whole paramedic thing.”

“Which, speaking of…” Buck brushes Eddie’s hand off his shoulder, but it’s to pull him into a hug. “Thanks for saving her.”

They clap each other’s backs a few times, pulling away after a few seconds. Buck keeps his hands on Eddie’s arms while Eddie keeps his hands on Buck’s waist.

“She saved us first,” Eddie remarks.

He makes his way back to the door. He opens it and is about to walk out. Before he does, though, he turns around and points at you.

“You’re officially not allowed to work rescue anymore,” he declares.

Buck nods. “Agreed.”

Ch 9

[alpaca-clouds]

Let me talk about Mizrak

Yeah, this with all the entire Nocturne brainrot is going to continue for a couple more days at least. But the show has so many interesting themes and characters and I just love it so much. And after getting all my friends to watch the show, I got surprised by one of them being super angry about Mizrak.

Why? Well, because of the last scene with him and Olrox in the season and his words of: "You are just an animal that lost its soul centuries ago." And the friend considered that "being an asshole" and "cruel".

To which I say: Cruel? Yes. Asshole? No.

Let me explain.

First, let me make one thing clear: No, Mizrak is not a templar. I have seen that one too many times. He is not a templar. He is a monk knight of the order of St. John, so the Knights Hospitaller. Like the templars they were very much tied to the crusades originally, but they are not the same thing. There were a lot of orders and types of knights associated with the crusades. Templars were just one of them. (Do you guys wanna hear more about the templars? I can talk more about them.)

We know from bits and pieces of dialogue that Mizrak originates in Jerusalem (which is also where the order was founded). This is a gentle reminder: Israel as we know it today was not a thing back then. But Jerusalem was always a place of religious conflict as it holds importance in all three Abrahamic religions. Which was, what the crusades were all about after all. Before the time of the French Revolution, though, there was mostly some a conflict between the Ottomans and some Arab forces over Palestine. There were some Christian orders accepted within the city though.

Now, the Knights Hospitaller, who were accepted in Jerusalem, had a strong connection to France. Which... lead to problems, when some of the Arabs and the French got into problems. Which let to the Knights Hospitaller leaving for Malta. This too is referenced in the dialogue. (If you guys cannot tell: I am very happy with the amount of historical research put into this show!)

Mizrak looks to be in his early 30s. So I assume he entered the order in his mid-teens (which was a usual age to enter an order like that) and then probably left for Malta within a couple of years after that when the political situation got more charged. And then from Malta to France.

The Knights Hospitaller back then for all intent and purposes lived as militarized monks. That means they made vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. And this very much shines through with his character in so many scenes.

Of course we see that the entire "chastity" thing does not work out that well for him. But that is also why he clearly is shown to be conflicted about that entire thing. What he tries to uphold, though, is the obedience aspect of his vows. And that is, what his entire conflict is about.

See, what I love about this character is that there is all this delicious conflict.

I will iterate again: I grew up in a very, very conservative, strict, catholic household. Other kids got read fairytales for bedtime. My mother read me the bible. Priests and monks were people we intermingled with a lot. (Heck, the last pope? I met him when he was still a bishop.) And hence I got to make one very clear experience: There are three types of Catholics: Those, who focus on all the horrible things. Those, who focus on the literal stuff written in the bible. And those, who focus on the positive stuff. You know, the stuff with helping people, and being poor, and sharing, and being in general a good person. (Though the three types are not always mutually exclusive.)

And it is pretty clear that Mizrak is of the latter kind. He believes in the good he can do through his faith in God and Christ. But he has also grown up in an Order and a Church that puts a lot of focus on the idea of sin, on the idea of obedience, and the idea of the "natural order".

But there he is, with his Abbot collaborating with demons and vampires to enforce that "natural order", which among other things goes against their own vow of poverty. This is so clearly against Mizrak's believes. Because in his very core, Mizrak is a good fucking man. He is one of the good guys. Who wants to do good through his faith in God. And this conflicts for him.

So by the end of episode 7 he reached the point to go against his vow of obedience, because his faith in doing good was stronger, than his dedication to his vows. He very actively broke his vows in the eyes of his order, standing against his order, to protect those darn kids. Because it was the right thing to do. He is absolutely willing to do the noble sacrifice if that is what it takes to save those kids. And in comes that weird dude and takes this chance from him.

And his entire thing with Olrox... It seems very much that Mizrak is indeed gay. As the series so helpfully points out: Yeah, priests, monks, other clergy, and their vows of chastity were always a thing that rarely worked out. Again, as someone who grew up with close ties to the church: The fact that everyone is secretly fucking is... well known. As well as the fact that yeah, there are a lot of gay clergy. Mostly for the reason that they are shamed for their sexuality and then take the vows to not be tempted into homosexuality. Only to find that a priest school with a lot of other queer supressed men is exactly the place you do not want to be to not be tempted. (And that is all without going into all the non-con, pedophilia and what not. Things that were also already happening back then, I guarantee you.)

So, try to imagine that entire thing from Mizrak's perspective. There he is, already ashamed and suppressed about all of that and in comes this very, very seductive vampire man, who kinda seems to align with some of his values, but not with others. And who is emotionally unavailable as fuck, outright telling him that he does not love our dear Mizrak. Someone, who clearly is not for the vampires and your abbot, but also clearly not willing to take the other side. The side that you in your heart (even though it means standing against your order) know to be right. And this man, who claims to not love you, then comes in and tries to stop you from doing what is right.

Yeah, no fuck, Mizrak is a bit pissed at him. Especially as in that moment Olrox very clearly goes against Mizrak's ideals, that are all about self-sacrificially doing the right thing.

And I do think that Mizrak is right in one regard: Olrox lost his soul. He lost a part of himself. Through the trauma of colonialism, but he lost it never the less.

So, once more: Thanks the team for giving us another interesting, well-rounded religious character! CV already did so well with Isaac and Mizrak is sofar extremely promising in that regard.

[butchhamlet]

do you have any good shakespeare retelling book recs?

what a beautiful time to ask this, says guy who has left this ask collecting cobwebs in his inbox for months! because guess who has two thumbs and just finished queen goneril by erin shields! WHAT a fucking play, holy SHIT, this is some of the best characterization of the lear sisters that i've ever read and the exploration of womanhood as filtered through class + race + shitty families + political maneuvering is so so so good. also the things shields does with the og playtext... chef's fucking KISS

anyway, recency bias aside, i've been meaning to make a post about my favorite shakespeare retellings for a while, and i think i never actually did it because i wanted to make a lear retelling ranking list and then i never read some of the ones on my TBR. so whatever. the learlist will happen someday. here are my favorites in general. (here is my goodreads shelf for the retellings i've read, good and bad, and here is the shelf for the ones i have yet to read.)

in no particular order:

a thousand acres by jane smiley: outsold. epitome of what makes an effective retelling--a book that clearly has something to say about and to the original text, but that also isn't afraid to diverge, to exclude here and zoom in there. ungraciously, this is "lear on a farm" and it starts a little slow, but holy fucking shit, i can't do justice in a paragraph to the way this book unraveled me. one of the best books of all time mayhaps. also, introduced the edmund character by describing his ass. 10/10

the last true poets of the sea by julia drake: i don't read that much YA anymore but jesus fucking christ. books tailored for me specifically. twelfth night retelling about siblings + mental illness + being bisexual + love triangles that actually make sense (emotions are confusing!) instead of being contrived + beautiful description + excellent dialogue + THE MENTAL ILLNESS. books that made me start crying in zoom class in 2020

rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead by tom stoppard: kind of a cop-out answer because we all know this one. but that does not detract from how good it is. this is one of those plays, at least for me, that makes me think, "ohhhhhh, THIS is what theater can do. this is using its medium to the absolute utmost." it is so clever and it makes me want to cry. i think about "i don't know. it's the same sky" more often than i can say

american moor by keith hamilton cobb: not exactly a retelling, but a one-man play about a Black man auditioning for the lead role in Othello, tangling as he does with his relationship with shakespeare's work and cultural dominance. suuuuuch a good fucking play even beyond the analysis of othello (which is excellent); the language is so fucking incredible. everyone who likes shakespeare should read this.

teenage dick by mike lew: modern teenage richard iii; this one's more reimagining than retelling, because it diverges pretty sharply from the plot of richard iii, but god, it's so fucking fun. and upsetting! really upsetting also.

foul is fair by hannah capin: i will be so real. i read this in high school and some of the YA books i've revisited since did not hold up for me. so idk if i can tell you this is "good" with my full chest. but the pitch is "lady macbeth gets sexually assaulted at a party and decides to fucking kill the boys who did it" and i stayed up until like 1am to finish it because it was such a vicious gleaming wild ride

the stars undying by emery robin: does this count? hard to say, because it's just as much a retelling of roman history than shakespeare's antony and cleopatra (honestly, more, since it focuses on the era where caesar and cleopatra were lovers, which is before shakespeare's play). but i'm counting it anyway because it's bisexual space opera cleopatra and it's the best book i've read so far in 2024 and it's making me crazy and i'm writing a thesis on it < genuinely

peerless by jihae park: macbeth, but college applications, featuring asian macbeths (they're twin sisters >:3) who think their classmate has taken their place in their dream school because of affirmative action/DEI. this play is absolutely VICIOUS. it's macbeth x heathers. think it mirrors macbeth in faltering a little in its final stretch, but it still fucks hard

the wednesday wars by gary d. schmidt: okay, not a retelling; this is about a preteen boy in the 60s. but it's one of the best most genuine and heartwarming books i've ever read and it manages to be hilarious while also foregoing cheap slapstick punching-low humor for a hell of a lot of warmth and passion. and the main character interacts with shakespeare a lot as a running theme so i can justify putting it on this list. #evangelizing

of course, i would be remiss not to mention that @suits-of-woe / @mjulianwrites has written the best take on Two Gentlemen of Verona to ever exist, and i mean that quite seriously. unfortunately it hasn't been published yet so we'll all just have to prayer-circle about it. i would also be remiss not to take the opportunity to. uh. coughs. do a bit of casual self-promo. if you 1. have ocd 2. have gender or 3. think about malvolio a lot. boy do i have the novella for you

will definitely add to this when i read more retellings; feel free to drop recs in the tags/replies/reblogs/my askbox!