#as if it’s anything but a drop in a huge fucking bucket

[hiddenstashart]

Space Coyotes Sticker 10-Pack:

• $15 / free shipping

• available at HiddenStashArt.Etsy.com (or just DM me)

• 3.5”-5” black & blue ink on multicolored vinyl

• comes with extras

Additional reading:

• $2581 left on the loan we took out to pay for my mother’s cremation in January (needs to be paid within 6 months or it starts accruing 24% interest)

• interesting fact: did you that in the state of Montana, if you can’t pay for burial or cremation within 1 week of the funeral home collecting it, they’ll keep your loved one’s body and refuse to tell you what they’re gonna do with it??

• I’m still a sad bitch and want to order some dumb stickers just for fun to cheer me up a little (my birthday is February 28th. It was also my mom’s birthday, so this one is going to suck emotionally)

• any shares of this post would be helpful

• that’s it. If you read this far, thanks for sticking around. Thanks either way, really, but I guess you wouldn’t see this thanks unless you read this far so

[cyb-by-lang]

remembering that Kei cleans when stressed:

Bruce comes home one day to find Tim in the main hall with his head tilted back to stare at the high ceiling, munching on some chips as he does so. A few towels are placed on the floor, and Tim moves them with his feet every few moments to catch falling dust and chips of old paint.

Muttered curses come from above, drawing Bruce's attention.

Their most recent guest has apparently raided the cleaning supplies, judging from the bucket of spray bottles, brushes, and dusters placed on the sill of a window only reachable by the tallest of their ladders (and one determined, ladder-less Dick Grayson). Kei, with bright yellow gloves, a flowery apron Bruce knows to be Alfred's, a bandana keeping her bangs out of her face and another wrapped around her mouth and nose, has stuck herself to the ceiling (again) and wields a push broom with the same ferocity and finesse as she does a blade. Her face is pink with the blood pooling there from however long she's been upside down, and her mouth is pressed into a grimace as she tackles the years of dust and cobwebs Alfred could never quite reach.

Bruce looks to Tim, raising a single brow.

Tim shrugs with a grin. "She's a little stressed." He moves a towel just in time to catch a bundle of withered cobweb that floats down.

Bruce glances back up at Kei. "I see," he says, lips twitching. He raised his voice to her, asking, "Alfred hasn't left anything else for you to clean, has he?"

"How the hell does he do it?" Kei asks, scrubbing at a corner near a window, and Tim rushes to move a towel. "This fucking place is huge and he's one guy, but no, the rest of the manor is fucking spotless at all times. Sneaky son of a--"

"You could just ask," Tim suggests. "He wouldn't mind sharing some chores, right?"

Kei snaps her head to glare at him, and Bruce almost laughs at the idea of Alfred willingly allowing a guest to do housework. But, judging from how Kei battles the dust bunnies into submission as though bearing a personal grudge, maybe Alfred would make an exception.

Apparently satisfied with this section of the ceiling, Kei holds the broom out in a gesture before dropping it into Bruce's waiting hand.

"Does he have any wood polish?" she asks, studying the aged wooden vaults and accents. "This could do with some touching-up."

Tim exchanges a look with Bruce, his face split in a grin. "I think Alfred's gonna miss her the most."

This is one of the cutest things I've ever laid eyes upon in my inbox. Ahhh, I love it when people remember and take note of these kinds of fun character quirks, especially for comedy. And for fun character interactions.

And coincidentally, I was just talking to Beta the other day about how Wayne Manor is way too big to have only one staff member and that the Bats had better all have chore lists a mile long to help their grandpa with the house. In every continuity.

Mind if I link to this when I post the next chapter?

EDIT: Permission was granted. :)

[scoops-aboy86]

Wear it like a Collar, like a Ring, like a Lock (and Toss the Key)

Happy birthday @steviewashere! This is kind of an homage to your Indulgence and Discovery steddie fic, which I love and everyone who appreciates weight gain kink should check out.

So yeah, have some fat Steve indulging himself and having a great time!

wc: 4166 | rated: m | cw: weight gain, overeating, stuffing, belly kink, masturbation, coming in pants, overstimulation, tearing clothes

Steve locks the front door behind himself and lets out a breath. It comes out as more of a groan, ragged from being pent up so long, but that’s between him and his parents’ empty house. He doesn’t sag—not any more than parts of him do naturally now, anyway—but carries on in a slow shuffle, transferring his keys to the console table on his way through the foyer and relieving his other hand of an extra-large Coke from McDonalds. Carries that and two grease-stained bags into the kitchen, sets it all down, and busies himself with getting a couple plates down from the cupboard. 

Not because he doesn’t want to dig right in. His mouth has been watering since he pulled into the drive-thru, wanting it is not the issue. Thing is, he kind of wants to see how long he can resist after so many weeks straight of hedonism, of pure round-the-clock indulgence with Eddie’s eager help. Wants to stretch it out, build up the anticipation until he’s aching for it, and then keep it going longer than he can usually sustain. That way, when his boyfriend gets back from a gig tonight they can both enjoy the stuffed-full, overstimulated reward. To that end, Steve hasn’t eaten anything in…

Ugh, several hours, and god he’s hungry. Pretty much all of that was spent at the DMV getting his drivers license renewed, his one errand for the day. Even though he’d gone there straight from a huge breakfast, barely able to fit in these pants. They’d creaked just as dangerously as the chair he’d sat in while getting his picture taken, and while the bloat from that has gone down since, they still bite into him. 

“Fuck,” Steve moans, reaching down to give himself a placating squeeze in his straining jeans. He’s spilling over the front of them, and at the sides where his love handles roll and bulge out. The last time he bothered to pull his shirt down was right before his photo was taken, and it’s long since ridden up over to reveal a sliver of his growling belly. 

Okay. Okay, so he’s reaching the end of his rope, but he’s almost ready. Turning to the fridge, he gets the bottle of Heinz and floods one plate hastily with ketchup. Dumps the fries from the first bag on top in a heap, something to sort out later. Next, he digs a stack of Big Macs from the other bag to drop on the second plate. And then, the piece de resistance: a large chocolate milkshake. 

The burgers are still warm enough that the milkshake has entirely melted, just the way he likes it. And though he’d intended to wait until he got off his aching feet to start, Steve can’t resist popping the top to the side and shoving the straw out of the way to drink deep. 

Just a few gulps, he tells himself, but yeah right. Just a few more…

Okay, I’ll stop at half. Except he doesn’t, squeezing himself again in time with the thick, creamy liquid traveling down his throat. 

Moaning, thinking, I should save some for later… Except it’s already all gone, empty air hitting his gullet and eliciting a gasp. And his tongue is already lolling out to lap up the last remaining dregs still creeping slowly down the insides of the cup. Maybe he should’ve ordered two. 

Steve stands there catching his breath for a moment, both annoyed and thrilled at not being able to make it just one room over before getting started. His belly gives a slow slosh as he moves, but it’s a drop in the bucket; he’s chugged more and faster before, but doing so all by himself is new. The novelty of it, the implication that he can’t control himself long enough to wait for it, sends an urgent shiver down his spine. 

“Fuck,” he moans again, hunching over a little to get in one hard grind against his palm. It’s getting harder to reach, but he can still manage when he’s not full to bursting… which is rare, these days. Almost as rare as getting off without something in his mouth. 

He needs to sit so he can eat. 

Steve tosses the empty cup in the sink and grabs his Coke, tucking it carefully between one thick arm and his chest so he can carry a plate in each hand, then shuffles his way to the living room. He’s nearly sweating by the time he gets to the couch—mostly because he’s kind of edging himself, but also because his jock days are long gone. The dampness at the edge of his hairline, just from walking from one room to the next, is a testament to how relaxed and easy his life has become, and there’s no denying the eager whine that bursts out of him when he drops heavily down onto the couch cushions. 

The impact jars his Coke just enough to dribble sugary soda out the straw hole, soaking into the fabric over his fleshy pec and spreading darkly down his front. Cursing under his breath, Steve is quick to put the plates down on the cushions to either side of him—doesn’t want to risk the coffee table and not being able to easily reach—and suck the sticky liquid off the top of the lid before any more can spill, but the damage is done. 

He looks down at himself, messy shirt riding up over his wide, hairy belly streaked with stretch-marks and old scars, bulging out over the sorely tested button on his jeans to rest heavily on his thighs. This is what he looks like empty now. 

It’s enough to make his cock pulse. Steve reaches to grab a first handful of fries, coming up with the backs of his fingers smeared in ketchup. 

He crams that first bite into his mouth, uncaring of how messy he’s being. After waiting so long, it tastes glorious, salt and grease lighting up his taste buds, and he’s lost to grabbing for more. 

~

Steve is panting by the time he finishes his last two Big Macs, one in each hand. There’s sauce and ketchup smeared around his mouth and dripped down the front of his shirt, which at this point is a lost cause… So much so that he only gives each of his messy fingers a few cursory sucks before reaching down to sooth his churning gut. He can’t remember how many burgers he just plowed through because they all blurred together in a kaleidoscope of flavor and texture, warm and juicy and filling. Maybe later he’ll count the number of wrappers littered around him and fallen to the floor at his feet, but right now he’s a burping, hiccuping mess, struggling to adjust himself into a comfortable position when his skin is stretched tight and hot to the touch. 

The button on his jeans is still hanging on though, squeezing him into two thick bulges at the middle, squeezing his leaking dick, and he’s so frustrated he could almost cry. It wasn’t enough, not to fill him up and not to pop the damn button and not to come. He needs more, but he’s so heavy. 

And Steve is used to overindulging. But he’s also used to being doted on, Eddie bringing him more food whenever he wants… forgetting the difference between want and need, because either is quickly and enthusiastically met. Now he’s out of food and he wants to pout and stomp his foot, but it won’t do any good. 

“Okay, I can—urrrp, mmmh—I can do this,” he mumbles to himself. Feels a little drunk off the tightness of his stomach and around his gut… which, as he gropes himself below the waistband, still seems surprisingly, fascinatingly doughy. Gets so lost in feeling that massive, denim-trapped roll of fat that for a long moment he briefly forgets about more, because he feels huge. He’d finished high school with a fucking six-pack and now he’s done all this to himself, struck dumb by overeating and feeling himself quiver with every burp. 

Then huge gives way, inevitably, to bigger, even bigger. Steve groans and starts trying to rock forward into standing, but, fuck. That feels good, so good that the electric shock through his system catches him by surprise. He convulses, feels a snap, then the surge of his belly set free, wonders how long it’ll be before he can’t get up on his own—and cries out as he comes hard into his briefs. 

For a moment, that’s enough. 

But then he thinks, more. Bigger. And he rocks himself to his feet, thrown off balance by how full he is yet somehow still hungry. He needs it. Has to feel totally full, has to make a pretty picture for Eddie to come home to. 

When he gets to his feet it’s with a clumsy stagger, sluggishly reevaluating his center of gravity. It sends another hot pulse through his body that makes him jiggle, but he gets the hang of it—clasps a hand beneath his freely hanging belly with a moan, because it’s a lot easier to palm than his dick right now. Laboriously gets the plates in his other hand and returns slowly to the kitchen, relishing the squelch of gross, cooling cum in his boxers with every… not step, waddle. He’s waddling now, full enough that it dominates his gait through the short walk. It makes him shudder with the still rolling aftershock of pleasure.

On a whim he starts the kitchen faucet running and reaches for the dish soap and sponge with his swollen paunch in the way, pressing unbearably into the lip of the counter until he lifts it and plops it down on top. Which makes it harder to see into the sink but takes a tantalizing amount of pressure off his lower back, and Steve bites his lip hard about that, squeezing his thighs together. His belly wobbles in front of him as he tries to scrub the dishes without losing his mind, pressing his now exposed crotch against the cabinet under the sink. 

There’s no going back, he knows. Everything that he’s doing to himself, the bulk he’s eagerly packing on and always touching, jiggling, massaging whenever he has a free moment—even at the fucking DMV, he’d caught himself a few times playing absentmindedly with himself like a stress ball. He’s not sure how he lived before this. The damage, the mindless ecstasy, is his new normal. 

He does a sub-par job on the dishes, he also knows. But whatever, he’s got a dishwasher, this was just an exercise in revving himself back up. After rinsing and drying his hands, Steve goes straight to the pantry for a couple boxes of mini donuts and bags of chips. Swings by the fridge and grabs a six-pack of cold Coke. Waddles his way back to the couch, where he plans on beaching himself until Eddie comes home, piles of after-meal snacks crammed into his stomach until he really can’t move, humping lazily into his own fat and still whimpering for more. Bigger. Make me huge, Eds. 

Make me so big I never have to go to the DMV again. Make me too big to drive, fucking steering wheel already catches on my gut, make it so I run out of room to even hope to wedge myself in. Make me too wide for doorways. Make me too huge and mindless to move except to eat and get fucked, make it impossible to tell the two apart, make, make—

Steve comes again as his soft, jiggly ass hits the couch, moaning decadently even as he scrambles to get one of the boxes open and cram three mini donuts into his mouth at once. He’s incapable of stopping himself now, even if he wanted to, because literally everything that happens to him these days is a turn-on. Moaning through a mouthful of sweet, empty calories, totally and visibly gone for it. He loves eating, loves Eddie for helping him explore this side of himself, for helping him become what he is finally free to be now that the Upside Down is gone and he doesn't have to be a hero anymore. 

A quivering fat mess, unable to close his legs with his sagging belly in the way, and loving every second. 

~

Steve wakes with a little snort and a jerk that puts pressure on his still tight stomach, makes him grunt. 

“There he iiis.” 

A smile blooms across his round face, even while he’s still blinking and struggling through the food coma back to full consciousness. “Eds?”

“The one and only, at your service.” His boyfriend grins and offers an elaborate bow, standing close enough to end it with a kiss at the apex of his huge middle, just under the hem of his ruined shirt. “How’s my big boy doing?”

Yawning, Steve flexes his hands where they’re still cupped under his gut. He must have fallen asleep like this, donut crumbs and powdered sugar on his lips and cheeks. A burp, however, interrupts him from licking at the leftovers as best he can. “Gotta change,” he remembers in a vague mumble, and Eddie laughs. 

“Well, yeah. Looks like it was a messy eating day.” The other man swings around to drop onto the couch next to him, unbothered by the gravitational pull from how deep Steve has sunk into the cushions. Leaning his lanky form into it, Eddie starts feeling over him eagerly. “Damn, you’re like a fucking drum, sunshine. What’s you do all day?”

Steve hums and relaxes into the gentle hands splaying over, stroking, and cradling his bulk. “Woke up, had breakfast. Fried eggs and bacon with toast. I couldn’t keep my shirt pulled down enough, the pan kept spitting and getting grease on my belly, so I had to get an apron, but.” He pouts. “I couldn’t reach to tie it very well, so I couldn't make enough. Had to switch to something else. Hope you didn’t want any of those frozen hashbrowns, because I cleared out the entire big box.”

Eddie slaps mock-sternly at his gut, sending out ripples and forcing out a burp. “Greedy boy. And then what?”

So Steve tells him about wriggling and squirming to get into these jeans after his breakfast stuffing, laying on his back and trying to suck in (not that it made a difference) until he managed to button up. How he’d picked the longest shirt he has in the size he’s almost outgrown—news to Eddie, apparently, who reaches up to trace thoughtfully around where the sleeve squeezes Steve’s emerging arm and nods with a fond smile, because yeah. Just about. 

Steve tells him about going out on his errand, how he’d had to scoot the driver’s seat back again another notch. How tight the seatbelt felt. How he’d kept catching himself absently playing with his belly, noticed people watching, and pulled his shirt down but didn’t stop. And that, sitting for his picture, his love handles fought the armrests that squeezed deliciously around him for dominance. He thinks he might have been blushing, and can’t wait until the new license comes in the mail and they get to see if it shows on his fat face. 

Then they get to the part that Steve is most excited for: the part where Eddie asks him what he ate after the DMV, and he winks and says salaciously, “Nothing.”

At which Eddie simply raises a disbelieving eyebrow before glancing down at how round he’s gorged himself. Too heavy to get up on his own maybe, though he hasn’t yet bothered to try.

“I wanted to see how long I could hold out,” Steve explains breathlessly, eyes going a little unfocused as he relives it in his head. “See how out of control I really am, you know? Like, like that dream I had the other day, with the drive-thru? Where I, mm, I kept eating my food as soon as they handed it to me and then getting back in line because I was already hungry again.”

“Remember? Sweetheart, I woke up to you huffing and puffing and painting my ass untouched in your sleep.” Eddie leans in for a kiss, nipping as he pulls away with a growl. “It’s in my fantasy rotation for whenever I spend a night away from you.”

The flush that gives Steve is heady, yet comfortable. He knows his boyfriend is crazy about him, loves to hear little unprompted tidbits about Eddie daydreaming of him while on the road. It comes at the expense of knowing that sometimes Eddie holds up in the back of the van to stick a hand down his pants while his bandmates are up front headbanging to the radio, but, well… that’s kind of hot. 

Maybe, considering the effect that eyes on him at the DMV had had on him, Steve has a bit of an exhibition thing. Just a bit. 

“Good,” he says, half about the fantasy and half in response to Eddie’s fingers trailing up and down his sides, calluses just a little rough over his soft rolls. Almost tickling, but not quite. His cock stirs in the sticky mess he’s made of his briefs. “Well, I made it all the way home. I was fucking drooling for it man, my stomach was growling like crazy for it, but I made myself get plates. Can’t reach very well anymore without getting my belly up on the counter, m-made me feel so…”

“Huge?” Eddie suggests. “Tubby? Plump? Like a total beefcake, emphasis on the cake?” Snuggling up just a bit more, lips grazing Steve’s ear because this is doing it for both of them as he breathes, “Fat?”

Steve shudders, his half-chub growing to full mast so quickly it aches. “Yeah,” he moans. “Eddie, Eds, I gotta… These pants…”

He feels Eddie’s smile against his ear, sliding down to his neck, nuzzling at the side of his double chin. “Made a mess of yourself there, too?”

“Yes,” Steve whines. Multiple times. “Gotta change, I told you…”

“You’re going to need a lot more than that, big boy,” Eddie murmurs condescendingly. He reaches under Steve’s belly—quite a feat at this point, he has to shove under and the jostle of it makes Steve rip out another series of burps, still so full—to pat his clothed dick. “You need to wash up. Think you can get up from the couch?”

“I don’t—urp—I don’t know…”

“How about up the stairs?” Eddie is kneading over him now, and Steve feels so tender but it’s good, riding on the edge of too much that he loves. “Into your bathroom? That shower stall is a tight fit these days, sunshine. Can you make it all the way down the hall to your parents’ bathroom without needing to stop for a break?”

“M-maybe.” Steve isn’t sure. His head drops back, letting out another belch followed by a moan. He’s so oversensitive, despite the impromptu nap, that he’s ramping up fast.

“You’re too big to bend over and reach the faucet. You’ll need to sit in the tub while I fill it up, unless you want to flood the place getting in. If your wide ass even still fits.” Somehow Eddie always knows the exact right thing to say to strike him dumb with want, and that mental image definitely does it. “What do you think of that, baby? Getting so big and insatiably hungry you outgrow that big, luxurious tub? It’d be a shame if we had to start hosing you off in the driveway like a car, where everyone can see just how far you’ve let yourself go.”

Steve is leaking precome, sluggishly trying to roll his hips but all he can manage is a weak rocking motion. His hand has ended up fisted in Eddie’s band shirt, holding him close as if his boyfriend has ever shied away from him for a second in their relationship. No, Eddie is always all over him, can never get enough of more Steve any more than Steve can get enough of more. And maybe that exhibition thing isn’t news to Eddie, because the thought of all the neighbors coming out to point and gawk at him, spread out for them to see while Eddie soaps down all of his rolls and folds, remarking in shocked tones on how he probably still has food or drink in one or both hands…

It’s a fantasy. Just a fantasy, he couldn’t… he can’t… But god, what a way for his parents to find out. A phone call, a photo sent in the mail like a postcard of a landmark. Actually coming home, trying to pull in the driveway only to find their son is taking up more of it than should even be possible for a guy his age—

“Oh, you like that,” Eddie comments slyly. “Think you’ve got one more in you before we lever your ass up? Then I’ll get you upstairs and help you wash up, and we’ll talk more about that later.”

Steve nods shakily, not even knowing when his eyes had slid shut. He’s trying to hold his legs even further apart, but they’re so wide. “Y-yeah. Earlier I—urrrrrrp, oh fuck, Eds, mmm. I c-came trying to get up, before. Trying to rock forward. After my fast food, before… the rest.” He cracks his eyes open to plead, “Is there anything left?”

Which is how he ends up with a can of room temperature pop held to his lips, the sticky brown fizz of Coca Cola flooding over his tongue. He gulps at it, heedless of the carbonation and how it bullies at the insides of his stomach, swelling him up to capacity and then some until he aches. His hand grasps Eddie’s on the can, urging him to tip it further, pour more into him, make sure he never stops. 

The can goes away and chips are pushed into his mouth, almost more than will fit. He chews anyway, ravenous without the hunger part, insatiable. Has to finish, have all of it, all of it, he needs— The last of the Coke, this time in his own sweaty, ham-fisted grip, almost crumpling the can trying to force it out faster, and Eddie grips both flaps of his jeans still constricting his lower fat pad and pulls.

And because he’s worn these jeans out, seams strained and the material between his thighs rubbed thin by constant chafing whenever he walks, they rip. Easily. He explodes out of them, feeling it even more keenly than when he’d popped the button, and Eddie’s thumb gets through the fly of his gross, stiff underwear and barely, barely grazes over the weeping head.

Steve comes with a roaring belch, empty can dropping and bouncing down his belly towards the floor with one final dribble lost onto his shirt and skin. He comes so hard the couch seems to groan under him, shaking in the deep divot he’s pressed into it. When Eddie stands over him and jerks himself over the edge after, he doesn’t even react because he’s a drooling mess, still trying to catch his breath. 

It hadn’t even taken much more to get to this point, he’d still been so full. So out of control that he climaxed from exploding out of the same jeans twice. 

“Good boy,” Eddie pants. He cards a hand through Steve’s now limp, sweaty hair, then uses it as a handhold to pull his lolling head up for a fierce kiss, full of the energy and desire that have temporarily bled out of Steve’s thoroughly satiated body. “So sweet for me, Stevie… Now come on, let's get you cleaned up and ready for more.”

He’s tired. So tired. But he never says no to more these days, so he allows Eddie to haul him to his feet. Helps a little bit, even. As much as it doesn’t help that his limbs are all relaxed and noodly with lingering pleasure, he’s strangely used to it. 

Everything gives him pleasure now, not just eating until he’s about to burst or getting dressed in increasingly tight clothes or running his hands greedily over his swollen body. Everything. 

Every wobble as he scrubs a plate in the sink, doing a half-assed job because he’s thinking too much about food to concentrate.

Every time he stretches to get something from cabinets and bumps his belly, or glances down and can’t see his feet. 

Every step that turns into a waddle. 

Every time he sits on or leans against something only to hear it give a desperate creak.

Every wet dream that’s inching closer and closer to reality.

Every minute, all of it, that he exists in this ever expanding body makes the most innocent tasks lascivious and the mundane provocative. He’s living in an erotic dream where he just keeps growing and growing…

And Steve never, ever wants to wake up.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls

[taeyongsfemdom]

| An Unhinged Deep Dive of Taeyong's SuperM Trailer (aka me just loosing my mind) |

Hey bitches! In honor of SuperM's five year anniversary, I wanted to talk about the insanity of the individual teasers that SM dropped for each member of this group, but we're only gonna be talking about Taeyong’s obviously. I have been dying to talk about this video because it has fucked me up for the past four years of me being an tyongf 😮‍💨.

I'm not ready to do this.

Okay so for context, each member had a specific superpower (to match with the "avengers of kpop" nickname blah blah blah! We definitely will not be getting into that shit rn) some powers were easy to identify and some weren't. Before we talk about Taeyong, I have a quick side rant. An ex-friend and I were fascinated by these trailers for a solid month during 2020 and we were trying to figure what the fuck they meant. If anyone wants a thorough deep dive into each trailer watch this video by Bookish Theories ⬇️.

Last thing i'll say is that as much as I love Taeyong, I do not watch this video. I swear to god this video makes me tf black out and I don't remember what happened after I'm done watching it lmao. IT IS THAT WILD. Also I do apologies for anything inappropriate flies out of mouth, when it comes to Taeyong who knows wtf I'll say.

So the video opens up with my wife in a empty movie theater and is like where tf is everybody?

Quick question: why didn't Taeyong get popcorn? He's at the movies so it's necessary to get a large bucket of popcorn that's drowned in butter 🍿🧈 ....anywho.

In the movie, Taeyong wakes up in this greenhouse that gives off major witch vibes, it reminds me of the movie "The Love Witch". There's candles, neon lights and this huge altar with a sun sign that he blocks off with his big ass head. This shot is immaculate btw.

We get various shots of wifey like this.

Oh and then there’s this:

I'm starting to short circuit, but I'm good!

Oh wait then there’s these shots:

My eye is twitching.

FVCKFKDFGJDHGDKF oh god-

Ya'll, what was I saying? OH-

Back to the movie, this evil Taeyong clone shows up out of nowhere and holds him at GUNPOINT.

LIKE HELLO?!?!?!

We don't know if the clone gets shot because the screen goes black and guess who fucking pops up??? Fuckin' Taemin 🙃. Then the movie ends and the entire theater is filled with Taeyong clones, I think there was like 20 in there oh lord have mercy i'm-

I genuinely don't think I could get all of them pregnant, but a bitch can mf try.

The next thing we need to talk about is how good Taeyong looks in this video, very obsessed with his hair color and THIS JACKET! 😵😵😵 OMFG.

I want this jacket so bad! It's sauurrr beautiful! I honestly might recreate it one day tbh. Also enjoy this picture that has me foaming at the mouth and makes my dick twitch ⬇️

You guys understand why i'd sit on his face???

As I wrap this up, I'm very salty as SM for dropping these and not giving us a follow up on these videos. They left us HIGH AND DRY and made us all confused as shit, these trailers did pop up for like five seconds in the One (Monster and Infinity) MV and it gagged tf outta me. Turns out it was a teaser for Aespa 🤣

If anyone wanted to know what my favorite SuperM songs are: Tiger Inside, No Manners, ICSTR, Step Up, and Better Days.

That's it for me here! Love ya'll 💕💕

[trollprincess]

Do you have any dog daycare stories?

Ooo, yes! I have lots to stuff to share!

1. If your daycare gives you a report card after your dog’s stay, it will always say your dog is a precious angel who has never done anything in their entire lives, unless they’ve literally, like, committed genocide. We fucking LOVE dogs, even the pains in the ass.

2. I have worked at camp for about ten years give or take and have NEVER been bitten by a pitbull. Not once. Even the energetic ones who need to be individuals are usually just big goofballs who don’t know their own strength. And they give the BEST kisses.

3. Dogs I have been bitten by: my boss’s boxy terrier who guards the front door; a golden who was a foster and got overwhelmed by some other other dogs; and this one brindle hound who loves everyone but me and ran at the back of my leg with her mouth open looking like the snakes from “Beetlejuice.” It left a bruise that looked like a baseball bat hit me and a big scratch that left a bit of a scar through part of my tattoo of my dog.

4. We have had dogs pass away at camp. Not because of anything we did, thankfully, but still awful. We used to have this huge lovely doodle who looked more like Scooby Doo with a perm and he LOVED staying at camp. He followed our boss everywhere and cried for her as he arrived on the van. He was staying at camp at the owner’s request when he was approaching the end (she and my boss discussed it) so we all got to go and say goodbye to him. It was a sad day, but hopefully he’s haunting my boss and following her all around camp for eternity.

5. We send vans to NYC to pick up and drop off dogs four days a week, so there have been clients of ours who’ve appeared on the Dogist. We’re always so happy for them when we see it. One of our VIPs was on there about a year ago and we got to find out how he got his name, which was cool!

6. We have a rescue related to the dog camp and y’all … you know when you work at someplace like a bookstore and you use your discount to buy a lot of books? It’s like that, but with adopting a bunch of the rescue dogs because you fall in love with them so easily. (There’s one foster who’s been there a couple of years, and the only reason none of us have taken her home yet is she doesn’t like other dogs. We keep trying to get relatives and friends to adopt her because she’s SO great.)

7. There are certain regulars we get SO happy to see. For example: the sweet chocolate lab and his big dopey Great Dane cousin who come for daycare all the time; that VIP husky who’s the snuggliest baby; the yellow lab named Ruckus who lives up to his name; the Klee Kai whose constant attitude is “HELLO I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK TO A MANAGER.” They’re like our best friends.

8. We have a pond that’s open as long as it’s warm and there’s nothing funnier than seeing the dogs who race down, launch themselves off the dock, and swim in circles until we literally have to go get them in canoes.

9. We deal with SO MUCH POOP. Like, SO much. At this point, I’d rather stick my hand in a bucket of dog poop than a bucket of maggots. Because I’ve accidentally done the first and … eh. Just hold your nose and scrub a LOT.

10. Some of the best dog names that have been at camp: Kittens the bulldog, Pants! (exclamation point included), Dr. Zizmo, Danny Devito (which was his foster name but he really did look like Danny Devito), Coco Pebbles Pumpernickel, Brown (which would have been fine on its own but he was black and also the family name was Weiner), Sir Butternut Squash, and Sir Hiro Batman Snugglepaw.

[a-little-bit-oddish]

i just. can't understand people here. we all agree factory farming is horrific. we all at least seem to know that poultry in particular is awful, the living conditions of the animals shouldn't be legal. or at least, i hope we agree, and i sure hope we would if any research was done about it at all.

but as soon as i say "hey, maybe don't support that industry directly as often" it's things like. "we live under capitalism and there's no way out of that". it's "we're disabled/poor/anything and not a single one of us have a choice ever and we simply must eat meat as often as we do, every single one of us." it's "it wouldn't make a difference anyway, the corporations are so huge."

okay. go buy a box set of harry potter books. if it's just a drop in the bucket. go buy from chick-fil-a. what, that's against your morals? well!

i'm not against eating meat as a whole, even if i don't do it myself. i recognize that for a lot of people, it's not all that feasible to reduce meat consumption. but i also know that americans get far more protein than they need, on average, and only 5% of americans get enough fibre. i know that meat alternatives are getting cheaper and more available.

i know that even if people ate less meat it would make a difference. that's all i want. just stop directly giving money to an extraordinarily inhumane practice all the fucking time. look into what you're spending your money on. yes, it's hard to look at. it's hard to see just how cruel poultry farming is. that doesn't mean you get to just look away.

[thewritingcoroner]

If there's anything that'll turn me into a toxic man-hating lesbian it's women's athletics.

Like okay yeah ball size in women's rugby is the problem and totally not the prevalent misogyny in the way women's sport is marketed, shown, and trained. Sincerely fuck all of you.

Like world rugby guidelines talking about "right brain" and "left brain" gender research old enough to vote but refusing to put any thought or nuance into trans player policies and just outright banning trans players altogether? Fuck you.

Sports institutions would rather the "problem" of women's sports to just go away rather than lean into the MASSIVE market there is for women athletics. I mean, Caitlin Clark in collegiate US athletics has made a bigger impact on the world of sports than any big name male international soccer player idgaf.

Like, shattering records and skyrocketing to fame as an athlete in men's sports is like a drop in the bucket of importance to sport than it is to be such a prolific athlete that viewership statistics stagger marketing experts around the world for singular women's games in tiny (comparatively) country specific sports.

What's more impressive, an international soccer superstar jumping viewership by 44% but not even topping number of viewers total from a game that happened 13 years ago, or a college-level basketball player drawing such a huge crowd that she eclipses viewership of the most popular sport in the world debuting the most popular athlete in the world in a new league by 18.5 million viewers?

Over and over and over again women's sports are proving that there's a huge audience here, and yet there's still shit stain men out here claiming women's sports are still "boring" like tell me you never have been and never will get laid without telling me you're a raging misogynist.

Women's MMA is floundering with lack of athletes, women's soccer athletes are struggling to pay their bills, the Dallas area of the US has lost 70% of their adult women's club rugby teams in the last five years. The problem is not that women's sports aren't interesting, it's that men are actively sabotaging women's sports. I'm tired of the distracting discoursers and the stupid rule changes and the insincere concern for athlete safety.

You want athlete safety? Fuck off about trans players and start ousting the sexual predators on coaching staffs and executive boards. Want a faster game? Invent one idgaf. Want advertising money? TELEVISE WOMENS SPORTS.

Women have been screaming into the void for decades about all the issues with women's sports and none of them involved trans athletes or rule changes. Talk about rule changes when you've handled the sexual harassment and assault, the pay disparities, the air time disparity, the funding disparity, the discrimination, the racism, the disregard for world class athletes thriving in their sport.

🖕🖕🖕🖕

[theheightofdishonor]

the last ep was so wholly mediocre that I don't even have anything to say about it so i'll skip forward to the rankings.

In reverse order from last time, the ships first.

Still Nithain and Nannam. Somehow they've miraculously made it unscathed even at the end. Despite being plagued by the same pacing issues that every plot in this show suffers from, the force of their great chemistry and equally excellent acting smooths over it all. Overall, they were excellent together and i'd love to see these two paired up again.

Kaewta and Nanfah jumps up a spot from last time. I choose to believe that the Kaewta in the finale was an actual ghost and that Nanfah can see her btw. Like I said last time, View and Nanon are one of my favourite pairs and they gave these characters a surprisingly fleshed out, compelling relationship in very, very little screentime.

Emmy and Hunter. They had all of five minutes together but were so fun. He buys a bar to impress her. She possibly stole from it. He sleeps with other girls. She burns down the bar and dies in it (listen, my initial understanding was that it was on purpose and i still stand by that no matter what the show says). He forces himself to be haunted by her ghost every fucking day 24/7 for an unknown amount of years. (we don't know when this thing happened, he could still be immortal though the vampire thing was ruled out by Hutner stepping into the sunlight- but he wears a bucket hat so still maybe-) Anyways they were fun and mutually toxic, even though the show tried to retroactively paint the whole situation as true love.

........... the rest are honestly irrelevant and mostly the same as before but

Nathee and Florence. Huge nosedive from last week's rankings because unlike mildnanon, they did NOT make it out unscathed. I can't believe their story was put on hold for two weeks only to end the way it did, honestly. There was absolutely no reason Posh had to become an evil little weirdo to make Nathee and Florence get together? And he kept making decisions for her which was annoying and now suddenly they both want a committed relationship and it was all so unnecessary. The beard situation would've been far more interesting

.....another pause because Florence and Nathee were atleast fun for part of the time and the rest of these are not

Irin and Hack. Were they fun? Not really. But were they messy and toxic and exactly the type of stuff that I wanted from this show? Yes. So points for that.

Nanfah and Pladao. They did end up officially together (presumably) in the finale and I really wanted that not to happen so they drop down a spot. The version on screen is awfully disappointing but in my head, they're the most fun by far. Sooo much potential

....................

...........

Gale and Wayu. The more I think about it, the more mad I am on Lee and especially Mook's behalf. She could do so much better! It is unfair that I was as bored and uninterested by them as I am when they were arguably one of the couples I was most looking towards.

.......

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Ok NOW we can talk about Pine and August. I love me some toxic characters but urgh. They got worse by the episode and their whole story is both infuriating and a total bore.

[erintoknow]

And what have i read this year?

a fuck ton of YA books to be frank - as a YA librarian, I kind of feel like it’s my job to focus my reading within my ‘field’ so to speak so I can try to provide better advisory to kids. It’s a fool’s errand of course, because like, the field is fucking huge as hell and anything i can read is a drop in the bucket but still!!

Of the YA titles I’ve read this year, I’d have to give a shout out to Andrew Joseph White’s Hell Followed With Us, a post-apocalyptic zombie survival story about a trans boy named Benji who may or may not be the foretold second coming that will finally end humankind’s existence on earth

Wendy Heard’s She’s Too Pretty to Burn is a fun sapphic thriller involving some avant garde activist art gone to far.

If you liked Malin Ryden’s Fallen Hero interactive fiction story, you might be down for Tess Sharpe’s The Girls I’ve Been, where the bisexual daughter of a serial con-artist is held up at a bank and forced to come clean about her past.

Special mention to Cristin Bishara’s Vial of Tears, Laura Sibson’s Edie In Between, and Mary McCoy’s Indestructible Object. All worth a look if you want something in the YA space to read.

I was able to fit in some quote unquote adult fiction as well. Robert Jackson Bennett’s Founders Trilogy staring a sapphic woman with the unique ability to ‘hear’ the spellwork writing that her world uses to do magic with was a fun read.

The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donaghue deserves special mention here too. Set in Ireland during the Spanish flu, a young woman working as a nurse and caretaker for her brother who suffers severe PTSD from the war meets and falls in love with another woman who shows up at the hospital one day as a volunteer. Equal parts heartwarming and tragic book, the ending broke my heart into a thousand pieces, 5 stars.

I also finally got to get started on the Locked Tomb series after bouncing off the first book hard a year ago. I’ve only read the first two and found them both extremely engaging, at times funny, in other parts heartbreaking. These two poor girls. I can see why the caught on in Tumblr so hard. Extremely homestuckian movements going on in there.

And of course Ryka Aoki’s Light from Uncommon Stars, a tale of a transgender runaway violinst, the legendary teacher who needs her to sell her soul to the devil in order to get own back, and the alien refugee running the doughnut store down the way said violin teacher falls in love with remains by far my favorite thing I’ve read this year. Please go read this, I beg you.

Finally I want to mention two ongoing serial fiction works I’ve been reading, one is Unjust Depths by Madiha Santana. What if Gundum, but under the ocean and also they’re communists? I’ve only read through the first arc so far – Arc 3 is currently under way as I type, I believe. It’s been a fun read and I intend to get back to it soon.

The other is a bit more unconventional, and that would be Nora [LastNameHere]’s Blood in the Bosphorus Paradox Megacampign Let’s Play. Which started as a let’s play following the eastern roman empire through an increasingly alternate history and has transformed into some kind of amazing communism versus fascism war epic. Nora’s writing and approaching LP updates through various in and out of universe textual perspectives have been extremely enjoyable to follow with over the years with a creativity, humor, and humanity I don’t often see even in published books never mind a screenshot let’s play and I consider it something of a personal victory to have gotten my partner, who has never touched the something awful forms (probably for the better on the whole) into reading it now too.

[colorisbyshe]

Do you think the slow but steady price increase in the world of streaming services could be streaming's downfall? I hope so, tbh. I hate what streaming has done to the film industry, but I hate corporate greed even more. Netflix and their password sharing bullshit was the last straw. Piracy is so inconvenient, though. I can watch some random film or show on my phone, but what about my disabled boomer parents? It sucks that they can't even get light entertainment now that Netflix tracks IPs.

Downfall? No.

Do I think they're fucking themselves over in the longterm? Potentially.

Honestly, I think we need to realize that like... none of the huge, massive, world-owning shit we hate are facing "downfalls" any time soon. Not Netflix, not twitter, not the MCU or whatever else. Too big to fail is a real concept.

The world is filled with people who will keep consuming content even when it's too expensive, too immoral, too whatever. There are people completely unaware of netflix's price hikes and are still subscribed to streaming services they haven't used since 2021. There are people who are going to cheer on the attack of shared accounts because "fuck moochers." There are people who will get kicked off the account they have been using for 1-10 years and will simply... pay for their own account or that "additiaonl user" charge.

I imagine there will be some money lost here but... password "sharing" being destroyed isn't going to be the thing to take netflix down.

Just like raising their prices like 3 times in one year didn't take them down. People crowed about a loss of subscribers but they ended up having like... one of their best quarters, iirc.

These companies calculate projected loss versus the monetary reward and... a lot of the time they are right. And a lot of the time, when they're wrong, they have enough cash on hand to weather the shit storm and either change the policy back or will... just stick to it until people forget they're mad about it.

Cause a lot of the people who canceled their accounts will come back for a new season of stranger things and then forget to cancel their account after.

And this is part of why I get pissy with people who pretend that because societal problems are PRIMARILY caused by large corporations, people have no personal responsibility.

When... a lot of the time, it's masses of people refusing to actually do anything about the companies fucking htem over that are enabling company suckage.

If everyone crying over canceled warrior nun or price hikes or "fuck sharing with your friends and family" policies ACTUALLY canceled their accounts PERMANENTLY or until MASSIVE change (and not JUST one issue), maybe netflix wouldn't be too big to fail and would have to consider consumers.

But like... no.

I canceled my account last year. A drop in the bucket to netflix. But many drops of water collected together have often been called lakes, rivers, fucking oceans. Soooo... idk... can we as a society get on that or are we forever going to channel "you can't even boycott chick fil a" energy?

[introvertbard]

I saw flashes of people calling to "UNFOLLOW X Y AND Z CELEBRITIES FOR NOT SPEAKING UP!!!", and then they were mentioning how those celebrities were now speaking their thoughts about Palestine, but THAT WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH ANYMORE, SO KEEP UNFOLLOWING THEM!!!

And even considering that "they're losing so many followers" could mean anything from "a huge percentage of their follower count" to "a couple hundred people which SOUNDS like a lot to everyday folks, but is really just a drop in the bucket for many A/B-Listers," I was like, "What the fuck are celebrities supposed to do??? You know that many if not all celebrities are PERFORMERS/ARTISTS, right? They have JOBS and those jobs do not tend to be in journalism, warfare, or politics. PROFESSIONAL ART IS A FUCKING JOB."

It IS great that some celebrities are speaking out about Palestine, but to hold them up as examples of how EVERY high-profile person should act regardless of their actual expertise is, well, performative. And really parasocial.

Loving the new counterpoint that not only is posting activism, not posting is complicity. Why doesn't everyone with any fame or internet presence immediately release a lengthy but perfectly-worded statement telling us where they stand on every issue? Is it because they're evil??? It must be because they're evil

And then the usual answer is "they don't post online very much". Which is all very suspicious, don't they know everything of importance is done by posts on social media now

[beelzlikes]

Like, listen... my parents are gonna buy me a new car for Christmas. How fucking privileged is that? Barely any strings attached. Sure they're probably not happy about it, and dad makes comments about saving up money for next time (And also how the money is gonna come out of my inheritance like that's some sort of threat? As if the money spent on a car isn't a drop in the bucket of the money I stand to gain. Which just proves even further how I have NO right to complain. About anything.).

And listen, I'm grateful. This will be a huge relief for me but also it's sad cause I was kinda hoping Schuberta would kill me. I have been literally holding her together with duct tape, yet I still go out for daily hours long drives. Not just to pass the time but to run up that ticker and increase the chances of an accident occurring. The more I'm on the road, statistically it's more likely to happen. And the more of a lemon my car is...

Anyway, getting a new car is actually a step towards not killing myself and thinking about the future. Who knows, maybe I'll even get new glasses next. Or clean up the house. Or at least finish the dishes. I went grocery shopping this week, which would be a bigger triumph if I hadn't slept all day today. And I'm even getting ready for bed now. I don't feel like watching a movie or playing a game or going out for a late night drive or reading a book or doing a puzzle... So I'm just gonna take a shower and go to bed.

I'll have been awake for around 7 hours now, not even long enough for a full day shift, and I'm going back to sleep within the next hour or so, I know it. Cause I don't care. I don't have a single care in the world. Life is just passing me by and I don't care. I'm squandering my present and my future and I don't care. Good things are happening to me and I don't... I don't care. It doesn't mean anything. None of it matters.

It doesn't matter. Nobody cares. Nothing matters. No one cares. It doesn't matter. It never has. It never will. I don't matter. I never have, I never will. Why not just piss it away? Sleep. Just sleep. Just go back to sleep and dread the coming dawn for it means you have lived to see another day.

[famwhy]

Deception

Yandere Delinquent

Word Count: 3,020

A grin manifested itself onto your face as your eyes lit up with excitement and anticipation. The contraption you made was impressive and very unnecessary at the same time. To think, you created a complicated work of art for such a small purpose. 

"Y/N! Whatcha doing?" 

You brought a finger up to your lips, hushing your classmate as though you were keeping a big secret despite the fact that your so-called 'secret' was so blatantly obvious. 

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm pranking Reema!" You somehow yelled while whispering.

"Ooh! What's going to happen?" 

"Well, she's gonna walk through those doors right there and that bucket of water will splash onto her. It's enough to irritate her but it shouldn't hurt her or anything."

Your eyes never left the bucket with only a string keeping it upright and keeping it from falling onto some poor random passerby.

"What are we waiting for?" You jumped, turning to your side and meeting eyes with the very friend you wished to prank.

"REEMA?!" You panicked. 

You had to hurry and put away the apparatus before it-.

Splash.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THE FUNNY GUY WHO SET THIS SHIT UP?!" 

Fingers pointed straight at you as your whole figure grew rigid, a chill running down your spine as a shadow gradually loomed over you. You watched your friend gulp, eliciting you to gulp too. 

You slowly turned around, mentally preparing yourself.

Unfortunately for you, no amount of preparation could help you with the sight you were met with.

There, stood with steam pouring out his eardrums, was the school's toughest delinquent - Zayn - and damn did he not look happy.

"You think you're funny?" His glare pierced through you, anger dripping off of him. 

"Nuh-no, sir, Mr Zayn sir." You were pretty sure everyone in the room at that exact moment was praying for you.

"Then why the fuck would you do that?" You flinched as he reached for your collar, clenching his hands into fists and lifting you up with ease. "Today, behind the school 3:30."

"Oof." You landed on your arse when he dropped you, Reema immediately rushing to your side in alarm.

"Y/N." You met eyes with her, both of you fearful towards your near future. "You are so going to die."

.

.

.

"Maybe he forgot?" You nervously smiled in your best friend's direction, chuckling as you scratched the back of your neck.

"Or maybe not." She pointed in the direction of the only entrance to the classroom, where a burly guy covered head-to-toe with tattoos stood with a glare on his face.

"Oh my God, I'm so dead." 

"Maybe if you comply, you'll get less of a beating?" The tan girl gave you a nervous smile of her own, sweat-dropping as she noticed the guy's eyes land directly on her before moving in your direction.

A huge lump formed in your throat as he stomped over to you, grabbing your arm harshly and pulling you along. 

This was it. This was the day you were going to die.

Damn, you hadn't even gotten rich yet and you were already gonna kick the bucket. Why was life so cruel?

Your mind didn't register the fact that you had arrived in front of Zayn until you were thrown to his feet, forced onto your knees. 

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't clobber you right now." 

You were finally able to gulp down the huge lump in your throat, pupils shrinking in fear as they refused to leave the built male's fists. You couldn't find words. You were so terrified.

When his fist moved closer, you shut your eyes tight, trembling with fear as you waited for the collision.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" One eye opened, relief flooding through you as you saw your best friend standing there, panting.

"Wait? Why?" Zayn's tone was filled with spite, he was clearly not willing to hear her out. "You wanna get beat too."

"On second thought..." 

Your mouth went agape as she backed down as quickly as she arrived to be 'hero'. Although, you couldn't blame her, you'd do the same in her position.

Luckily for you, she was providing a good enough distraction for you to escape. 

You slowly got up, getting ready to tip-toe away from the brute before you.

"Gah!"

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Damn delinquents and their dumb posses.

"Oh ho ho, trying to get away now, are we?" Zayn smirked your way, the malicious glint in his eyes sending you running for the hills (or, at least, wanting to).

You were held still as you thrashed about, having now found the strength in you to at least try to fight back. Your movements grew more vigorous as he approached you, panic overtaking you and adrenaline flooding through your veins. 

His fist came hurdling towards your direction and-.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!" 

He groaned. "What now?"

"The reason why I did that prank was so that I could get closer to you!" You spewed out, eyes trained on his fist that was a mere centimetre away from your face.

"Get closer to me?" His voice completely changed - going from a tough guy to a curious child.

"Yeah! Yeah! I always thought you were sort of cool and had this major crush on you but I never figured out a way to approach you so I set all of that up to get your attention!"

Reema stared at you with wide eyes, easily being able to identify your fib.

"You like me?" You felt the arms holding you grow looser and watched as Zayn lowered his fist, eyes swirling with a completely different emotion than before.

"Yeah!"

"Oh." Suddenly, his face erupted into a deep shade of red - completely throwing you off guard. "I-I've never had someone like me before."

"Wuh-well I do." The crazy hand movements Reema was making from behind the delinquent were barely registering in your mind that was still drunk on adrenaline.

"Oh." More surprise flooded you as a shy smile overtook his face. "Do you wanna... go on a date then?"

"Yes! A hundred percent! Totally!" You were quick to agree, nodding your head vigorously in, what he probably mistook as excitement, but was actually relief.

"I'll see you tomorrow after school then!"

Both you and Reema watched with astonishment as the girls in his little group squealed and gushed with him as he walked away, a heavy blush still decorating his face.

"Wow, who knew big bad Zayn was such a softie when it came to love?"

"You are so screwed when he finds out your feelings aren't genuine."

"Then I guess I'll have to make sure he doesn't find out."

"And forever be in a relationship you aren't happy with?" The brunette rose an eyebrow at you, crossing her arms sternly.

"Of course not, I'll find a way to break things off. For now though, I'm probably gonna have to go on that date tomorrow."

"You are unbelievable."

 .

.

.

Time flew by in a blur and the next day seemed to arrive within the blink of an eye, the end of the school day arriving faster.

You gazed through the window, staring straight at the awaiting figure just outside the door. He seemed completely different to how his lackey was the previous day, it really did amaze you.

"Y/N." You looked to your side, noticing the random classmate that stood beside you. "What's he doing here? Didn't he already beat you up yesterday? Hasn't he had his fill?"

You didn't bother answering, only shrugging and reverting your gaze back to the built male. Your body jerked forward as your classmate smacked you on the back, grinning at you before wishing you good luck.

You were definitely going to need it.

With a deep inhale, you left the classroom, bracing yourself for the interaction that was just waiting to occur.

"Uh, hey." A pause. "I- uh, I brought you uh- flowers. I didn't know which you liked so I uh- I just got you roses."

"Oh um, I'm allergic to roses."

"You are?! Shit, I'm sorry."

"No no, it's okay," You sent him a small smile. "There's no way you would've known."

"Shit, I just feel bad I guess." His hand made its way to the back of his neck as he rubbed it without making eye contact. "I mean, here you are, crushing majorly on me and yet, I don't even know a thing about you."

Ha, 'crushing majorly' on him. What a joke.

"It's okay, I didn't expect you to."

"It's just- this is my first date and-."

"First date?!" Your eyes widened as you cut him off. "But you're such a hot guy, how has no girl snatched you up before?!" Believe or not, you were actually being genuine when calling him hot.

It was quite amusing to watch his face explode into crimson merely due to you calling him 'hot'. God, he was such a virgin.

"Yeah, uh, not a lot of girls are into the whole 'I'll beat you up if you come within 10 metres of me' thing." The nervous chuckle that followed after held sad undertones within it, causing you to pity the male.

"Well I think you're a huge softie with just the appearance of a tough guy." You punched his shoulder with a playful smile. "They don't know what they're missing out on."

If it was even possible, his face flushed even deeper. 

He stared at you for a few moments, leaving you to awkwardly look from side-to-side, wondering if you said the wrong thing or not.

"Thank you..."

"Oh, uh, your wel- ack!"

Your lungs were restricted - his arms were wrapped around you so tightly, it was hard to breathe.

"Can't..... breathe...."

"Sorry! Sorry!" He let go of you, bringing his hand back up to his neck. "No one's ever said anything like that to me." 

The more he spoke, the more the sickening feelings of guilt and remorse flooded through you, pity eating you alive. 

No, Y/N, it's better him than you... right?

You cleared your throat, making a move to leave the campus. "Well uh, let's go on that date then."

.

.

.

"And then paint fell all over him and my brother was smirking the whole time before yelling at me to stop being mean. Can you believe the audacity?" 

As you ranted, Zayn's eyes never left your form, the look on his face screamed 'lovestruck' and you definitely noticed. 

Maybe you should stop talking? You were sure this little 'crush' he had on you was merely because of the fact that this was probably the first confession he'd ever received.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"Do you wanna- uh, I mean, do you mind if we could-? Nevermind actually."

Oh, you hate when people do this.

"No, you've got me curious now, what do you want?"

"Uh well, I don't know if you want to or not."

"Well, you'll never know if you never ask, right?"

"Do you mind if we... kiss..?"

One blink.

Two blinks.

Then, your blood suddenly grew warmer. 

Did he just ask if you wanted to kiss him?

Why was that... strangely cute?

"Uh, sure." One kiss wouldn't hurt.

His face grew closer to your own - slowly but surely, his lips found a place on your own. It almost didn't feel like anything, that was how gentle he was as he held your chin within his thumb and forefinger. Of course, the kiss reeked of inexperience but it held its own charm to it.

You almost found yourself wanting more when he pulled away. Almost.

The look in his eyes was now even more infatuated than ever.

You might have possibly made a huge mistake.

.

.

.

A few days passed since your first date and you were nowhere near able to break up with Zayn on your own.

You needed help.

"Reema!" You grabbed your best friend's hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"Y/N? Oh my God, I haven't seen you in days! Where have you been?!" Your mind barely registered the hug she gave you, too desperate to gain help as soon as possible.

"That's because he constantly takes up every single second of my life and I'm forced to go on dates with him constantly!" You pulled away from her, holding her by her shoulders and shaking her violently. "It was cute at first but now it's too much! Do you know how hard it was to get some alone time with you?! I need to break up with him!"

"Then do it!"

"I can't do it directly! I need your help!"

"How am I going to help you?"

"You're going to flirt with him and make him fall for you so that he breaks up with me!" You placed your fists onto your hips, smiling triumphantly at your genius idea. 

"Uh huh. And if he doesn't fall for me?"

"He will."

"But he loves you."

"No, he loves the idea of someone liking him. Not me individually. Anyone could flirt him and I garauntee he'll be just as obsessed with them as he is with me."

She said nothing, choosing to stare straight at you with a deadpan expression instead. 

"Please! I'll buy you an ice cream!" 

"Done."

.

.

.

"You sure this'll work?"

"A hundred percent. Now go! Before his friends come to him."

You pushed her towards him, encouraging her to walk to him on her own when she looked back at you.

"Uh, hey there handsome." 

The palm of your hand fell directly on your face. This girl had no skill whatsoever.

"Uh, hey." You grinned as you witnessed the blush that crossed his face. You knew it! Although, it did hurt a little to know you weren't very special.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" She winked at him, twirling a strand of her hair as she fluttered her eyelashes.

You watched as Zayn rubbed his arm, the blush on his face deepening. "Uh."

"Let's get out of here and go on a date, what say you?"

'What say you', was this girl on crack or some shit?

"Uh, actually. I already have someone that I love."

"Well, you can forget about her, I'm sure I'm much better."

You snickered at the bitchy tone she was using, impressed by her finally pulling off the role.  

"Actually, she's so much better than you so you better scram." 

All of a sudden, Zayn reverted into his usual delinquent self.

"Uh..."

Shit, this was not going well. You had to think of something quickly!

Luckily for you, the perfect opportunity arose.

"Gah!"

You left your hiding spot, dramatically stomping over in the direction Reema was in. An exaggerated gasp left your lips. "ZAYN! HOW COULD YOU?! AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH!"

"Baby... it's not what it looks like!"

You sniffled. "NO! WE'RE THROUGH! I NEVER WANNA SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!"

What happened, exactly, to give you the perfect opportunity? Why, Reema tripped over something and landed straight into Zayn's arms. The perfect scenario for you to break off things with him. 

As you stomped away, you couldn't help the sly smirk that crossed your lips.

Mission success.

.

.

.

You were starting to worry, you had called Reema about 9 times already and not once had she picked up - which was strange considering the fact that you owed her ice cream and she never passed up free food.

"Y/N!" You jumped. That was Zayn's voice. "Y/N! Wait! Please!"

"Uh, Zayn, what are you uh- doing here?" You glanced around, trying to see if you could spot any of his underlings.

"Y/N, I know you don't wanna see me right now but please, please just come with me. I need to show you something."

"Can it wait? I'm kinda busy." You so badly wanted to brush him off.

When he grabbed your arm, though, you knew you couldn't. "Please."

"Fine." You rolled your eyes. "Make it quick."

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, whate-. Woah!"

He dragged you off with such strength, you felt like your arm was about to be ripped off your torso. Why did your ex have to be so damn strong?

With a huff, you refocused on your surroundings.

An alleyway.

He led you to an alleyway.

Oh God, was he going to beat you up for leaving him? Or worse, he found out you were lying this whole time and was about to give you the beating of a lifetime?!

"Come here." His tug was gentle now, but his grip stayed firm. The hand that wasn't holding yours moved to place itself over your eyes, obscuring your vision. 

"Wha-?"

"Shhh."

You walked along with him as he guided you to what you assumed to be the place of your doom.

Never, though, would you have guessed that it would be the place of your friend's doom.

And yet, there you stood - hand cupped over your mouth, eyes wide and whole figure trembling. The urge to vomit overtaking you as your vision grew blurry.

Reema's body was just laying there, her brain on full display, blood flowing out her head like water would a cracked dam. Bits of her skull were scattered everywhere, her blood staining the wall beside her.

"See, my love? That's the extent I'm willing to go to for you."

Fun fact! This oneshot was inspired by an episode of Sweet Life on Deck where Zach pranks a delinquent girl by accident and gets out of a beating by lying about having a crush on her.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

He Tastes Like the Blood in His Mouth

Summary: Steve and Eddie start weekly movie nights with Dustin. But Dustin starts bailing on them, leaving them alone together. One evening Eddie goes to get them a popcorn refill and doesn't come back.

Word Count: 5,547

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Jason's asshole friends beating up Eddie, one insinuation of homophobia.

Ao3

They're at the movies when it happens. Steve and Eddie. Dustin was supposed to come but he'd gotten into the habit of ditching them at the last second. It was a downright suspicious habit, Steve was definitely gonna have to question him about it soon. If he ever saw the kid again. The little brat. But, if Steve was being honest. He didn't mind. Spending time with Eddie had been... different. New. And kind of exciting.

He was weird. No doubt about that. And maybe the most hyper person Steve had ever met. He couldn't sit still to save his life. Even at the movies. His leg constantly bouncing. When they first started going he'd apologized to Steve and gotten up to move. Steve had grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, dismissing the apology with a nonchalant "It's fine dude you don't have to move." And so Eddie hadn't. And Steve had been granted the privilege of feeling Eddie's leg bouncing against his for an hour an a half about twice a week.

Eddie had gone to get them a refill about twenty minutes ago. More popcorn. More soda. Probably more candy even though Steve said he was fine. The movie had gotten slow, and Steve was pretty sure Eddie had already seen it. But Steve had suggested it and he'd agreed enthusiastically. But it had been too long. Something was wrong.

Steve left the theater, the movie on the screen the last thing on his mind. He turns the corner and his foot hits something, he looks down and his heart drops into his stomach. It's the popcorn bucket Eddie had gone to refill, their empty cups lie scattered a few feet away too. Steve is out of the theater in seconds, the setting sun blinding him as he looks up and down the street. No sign of Eddie. Or anyone. That's when he hears a yell, a yell of pain. His eyes jump to the mouth of the alley next to theater and his hands clench at his sides as he starts running.

He sees them as soon as he enters the alley. Three of them. Surrounding Eddie. Who is on the ground, curled in a ball, ringed fingers splayed out over the back of his head as he tries to deflect the blows being rained down upon him.

"Hey!" Steve yells, not slowing as he barrels toward them, it's Jason's friends, he knows that. They're still wearing their fucking letterman jackets. Jason had been locked up for assault, after attacking Lucas, his friends seemed to still be doing his bidding. They turn to look when Steve shouts. He throws himself between two of them and plants himself between them and Eddie.

"Steve?" Eddie's voice, from the ground, quiet.

"It's me. You're alright." He tells Eddie, not looking away from the assholes in front of him.

"Alright guys. It's over. You can fuck off now." He says, his fists raised, knowing they probably won't just leave. Not that easily. They laugh. Because of course they do. Steve feels Eddie uncurl at his feet, hears his feet scrape the concrete as he struggles to stand.

They're still laughing, one of them lunges forward and pushes Eddie back down before Steve can stop him. Steve grabs the guys shirt and shoves him backwards.

"Do you guys really not have anything better to do? Go see a movie or something." Steve says, giving Eddie his hand as he reaches up, Steve pulls him to his feet. Eddie wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand as he sways next to Steve.

"Oh hey! Would you look at that. There's a theater right there. What a coincidence, huh Steve?" Eddie slaps Steve's arm and points to the theater they'd just left.

"Huge coincidence. And so convenient." Steve deadpans, keeping himself in front of Eddie.

"Oh we know there's a theater. We saw you and your," jackass number one starts, his eyes move from Steve to Eddie as he pauses, looks him up and down, and then back to Steve,

"boyfriend. Walk in as we were coming out. That's how we knew you were there. Asshole." They all sneer and elbow each other. Clearly thinking they've said something clever. Steve feels Eddie move away from him, just a fraction, and bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to stop himself from saying something stupid.

"Yeah, no man we know. I was being..." Steve pauses, what a fucking great time to not know a fucking word, but Eddie's on it.

"Sarcastic." He supplies, swaying back into Steve's space to supply the word and then swaying back out again.

"Sarcastic. Yeah. That. I was being sarcastic." Steve agrees, nodding, but not dropping his fists.

"Yeah." Eddie echoes, and Steve's not sure he can help it. He does it so often, to everyone.

"Okay whatever man. We don't care. This freaks got a storm coming. And we're here to deliver." The guy spits in Eddie's direction.

"You're here to deliver a storm?" Eddie asks, ducking closer to Steve again as the guy who spit faints jumping forward, Steve moves back and into Eddie, feels his hands brush his shoulders like he was going to rest them there, and then feels them move down his back and away from him.

The boys laugh again, all of them roughing each other up a little, slapping each others backs. Steve narrows his eyes and leans further into Eddie, pressing his back to Eddie's chest and tilting his head so that Eddie can hear him.

"Get ready to run." He whispers. He feels Eddie's hesitant "ok" breathed against his neck and plants his feet.

"Ya know somethin?" Steve calls, interrupting their idiotic laughter. Their laughter dies down as they look at him, all of them still chuckling.

"What?" The guy asks, smiling smuggly at Steve.

"You talk too much." Steve says, shoving his fist into the guys face as hard as he can. The guy falls back as the other two catch him and Steve grabs Eddie's hand.

They run out of the alley and make it to Steve's car just in time. The other boys slamming their hands down onto the hood of the car as Steve backs out and floors it, speeding away from the theater. He waits for the boys to follow but they don't. He drives another mile before he looks over to check on Eddie.

His face is pinched in pain, his hand pressed to his ribs as he breathes through his nose.

"You good?" Steve asks, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he wants to do is look at Eddie.

"Oh yeahhh, totally good. Guess I should be used to getting the shit kicked out of me by now." He mumbles, sucking in air as he adjusts himself in the seat. But his words make Steve pause. He slows to a stop at a four way, the streets are empty, he looks at Eddie.

"Has this happened before? Since Jason went away I mean?" Steve looks at him, it's probably closer to a glare, he can't help it, the anger boiling in his chest is white hot. Eddie glances at him and then looks away, moving again so he's facing the window, hiding from Steve. But Steve sees it anyway, the guilt. He looks back to the road and starts driving, a heavy sigh leaving him.

"Why didn't you tell us man? We'd help you ya know?" Steve says, because it's true. And because he needs Eddie to know that.

"It doesn't matter." Eddie sighs, his head leaning further away to press against the window.

"It does so matter." Steve huffs, and he knows he shouldn't be mad. Not at Eddie.

"Guess I just figured... you guys have been through enough. Don't need you all worrying about poor little Eddie Munson. I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone's pitty." He grunts as he moves again.

"It's not about that. Hey." Steve stops the car, pulls to the side of the road. Eddie lets his head fall to the side to look at Steve, the guilt still swimming in his eyes.

"You don't have to take care of yourself. You're our friend. It's what we do. Ya know? We take care of each other. And that includes you now." Steve says, his knuckles reaching out, pressing gently to Eddie's thigh and then pulling back. Eddie's eyes move to Steve's hand and stay there.

"You just gotta tell us when stuff happens alright? So we can help you." He finishes, still looking at Eddie, who's still looking at Steve's hand.

"Yeah okay. Will do. Next time I'm getting chased by some jock assholes I'll let you know. Just stop at a pay phone and call the 1-800-Harrington-Help-Line." Eddie's eyes move finally, and when he looks at Steve that mischievous glint is back, and that blinding smile is easing onto his face and whatever it was that was constricting in Steve's chest relaxes. Steve snorts, and Eddie laughs before looking away, his head falling back on the headrest. Steve's eyes trail over Eddie's face, the blood on his lip and his temple making Steve frown. He puts the car in drive and pulls away.

They ride in silence for awhile. Steve pulls into his neighborhood and hears Eddie move again.

"Whoa. Where the hell are you taking me?" Eddie asks, his head snapping to look at Steve as he pulls into his driveway. He puts the car in park and takes the key out.

"I'm not taking you back to your house when a bunch of assholes just attacked you man. They know where you live. And it's a lot harder to break into a house in this neighborhood than it is your trailer." He gets out and walks to the other side of the car, opens Eddie's door and looks down at him, his brow furrowing.

"No offense." He tacks on, realizing how what he said sounded. Eddie sits there, not moving.

"And your parents are just gonna be okay with you bringing a murderer home?" Eddie asks, picking at the hole in his jeans.

"Hey. Alleged murderer." He smiles down at him.

"Besides they're on vacation. Come on man. We need to get those cuts taken care of." He slaps Eddie's shoulder and starts walking to the house. Giving him no choice but to follow. He climbs the steps to his porch and finally hears Eddie following, his feet scuffing the ground as he hesitantly moves closer to Steve's house. Steve holds the door open and gives him an encouraging smile, a little nod, motioning for Eddie to go inside with a wave of his hand. Eddie rolls his eyes but goes inside anyway.

~*~

He's in Steve Harrington's house. And that could be the weirdest thing that's happened to him during all this. But it gets worse. Because he's not just in his house. He's sitting on Steve Harrington's bathroom counter. And Steve Harrington himself is dressing his fucking wounds. Fuckin wild.

Eddie's fingers tap a rhythm on his knees as he tries to stay still. Steve's wetting a washcloth to clean the blood off Eddie's face. The cut on his temple doesn't hurt so bad. But the split lip is throbbing, which is almost definitely probably certainly being made worse by the fact that he can't keep his tongue off of it.

Steve moves into his space and he flinches, knows he does. Knows Steve sees it. He puts up one placating hand before he begins wiping at Eddie's head.

"Ow fuck!" Eddie yells, making Steve jump.

"Shit are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Steve asks, his fingers reaching out and gently touching Eddie's shoulder. Eddie smirks at him. Steve's face drops. He goes back to cleaning the cut.

"Asshole." He says, but his hands are gentle as he cleans the cut and tapes a square of gauze to Eddie's head. He takes a step back, looking at the bandage and then moving his eyes to Eddie's lip. He makes a few moves, like he's not sure how to get close to Eddie to get to it.

And Eddie. In all his goddamn wisdom. He fucking looks Steve right in eyes and fucking spreads his legs, making space for Steve. He'd love to say he did it to be cheeky, to be flirty, love to say he has that much fucking forethought about anything in his life. But the truth is, he just did it. Thought it would be the best way for Steve to reach him. For Steve to help him.

He can see in Steve's eyes he was wrong. That the gesture was maybe more than a little suggestive. He curls his fingers agaisnt his thighs, is about to apologize when Steve steps into the space he's made. Eddie goes to bite his lip to stop himself from gasping and ends up gasping anyway, his teeth sinking right into the cut on his lip. He grimaces and hisses in pain.

"That was smooth." Steve comments, and Eddie's heart jumps in his chest but then Steve's fingers are on his chin and he figures it out. Steve meant 'smooth. You hurt yourself way to go' and not 'smooth move, the way you literally spread your legs for me'. Eddie says nothing, just closes his eyes so he isn't looking at Steve fucking Harrington so close up. Closes his eyes so he doesn't do something stupid.

It doesn't take long for Steve  to clean his cuts. Maybe five minutes, total. But it feels like forever. Steve's thigh bumps the inside of Eddie's at one point and he knows his whole body twitches, he can't help it. Steve graciously says nothing. Just keeps cleaning the cut on Eddie's lip. He taps Eddie's arm when he's done, Eddie opens his eyes and sees Steve offering him some aspirin. He takes them, hopping off the counter as Steve takes the first aid kit away, tucking it back into the hall closet as Eddie pops the pills in his mouth and fills his hand with water, swallowing them as Steve pops his head back into the room.

"Come on." He nods his head and walks down the hall. Eddie follows, his fingertips reaching out, moving over the walls as he goes. He follows Steve into his room and stops, standing in the middle, looking around, at all the posters, and the trophies.

"Here." Eddie turns just in time to catch the clothes Steve has thrown at him. A pair of sweatpants and the softest shirt Eddie has ever fucking felt in his life. He opens his mouth, takes a step back, about to go back to the bathroom to change when Steve pulls his shirt over his head.

"Oookaaay." Eddie breathes, quietly, Steve doesn't hear him, or ignores him if he does. Eddie turns around, his back to Steve, mainly so Steve can't see... all of him? He's not sure why. Steve plays sports. He does this all the time. Eddie on the otherhand, always found the locker room to be a goddamn nightmare. His eyes wander the wrong way once and he's a fucking dead man. So he turns his back to Steve, toes his shoes off and then wiggles out of his jeans. Tucking the shirt between his teeth as he goes.

He steps into the sweatpants and yanks them up before he shrugs off his jacket and vest, he fights off the urge to glance over his shoulder. Eddie rolls his eyes at himself and then yanks his shirt up over his head. He drops it on the floor and grabs the shirt from his mouth, and drops that one too. He bends to get it and yelps, the pain shooting through his rips suprising him. He manages to grab the shirt but not in time. Steve had heard him, and immediately come to help.

"What happ- jesus christ Eddie." Steve breathed, coming to a stop in front of him, his eyes glued to Eddie's stomach. Eddie immediately moves his arms to cover himself, knowing Steve is looking at the bruises, and not at him. But it's hard to separate the too currently, standing half naked in Steve Harrington's room with Steve fucking Harrington staring at him.

"Lemme see." Steve says softly, his fingers curling gently around Eddie's wrist where he's hugging himself, tugging his arms away slowly, letting Eddie decide if wants Steve to see or not. Eddie sighs and lowers his arms awkwardly to his sides, his fingers latching onto the sweatpants and worrying at them, his eyes on the ground as Steve's eyes are on him.

"It's not a big deal Harrington." He huffs, feeling defensive. Not sure why. He knows he doesn't need to feel like that around Steve. He knows Steve knows about Robin. But he also knows Steve doesn't know about the huge fucking crush Eddie has been harboring for him. And it's different, with Robin. It just is. He looks up from the floor when he hears Steve scoff at him. The look he's giving Eddie. Eddie can't read it.

"Not that bad? Eddie there are bruises here that look almost two weeks old. These right here?" Steve moves his hand, presses his palm flat agaisnt Eddie's side and he almost yelps again, but not from pain. He bites his lip instead, another mistake. He groans in pain, shrinks away from Steve's touch, and rubs his hands over his face.

"Look can we not do this? I know when the bruises are from man. I was actually there when they happened." He says, words falling out of him in a frustrated rush as he struggles to find the hole in the shirt that he needs so he can pull it on and cover the bruises so Steve will leave him alone. He drops the shirt again and makes a frustrated noise low in his throat. He moves to bend down again but Steve rushes forward.

"Hey hey hey I got it. Don't- just let me." He stands slowly, the shirt in his hands. He juggles it around and finds the opening easily, then he holds it out for Eddie. And he can't be fucking serious. This guys is literally offering to fucking help dress him. Eddie narrows his eyes. Steve rolls his.

"Come on man. You're clearly in pain. Can you just let this happen so we can get this over with?" Steve huffs now, taking another step forward. Eddie licks his lips, carefully, and nods. He ducks his head a bit as Steve moves the shirts onto him, sliding his arms up through the holes Steve has his hands through. Eddie's arms brush Steve's all the way up to his elbows before Steve pulls back and lets the shirt fall onto him. Before Eddie can move to do it, Steve moves closer and pulls Eddie's hair up and out from where it's tucked under the collar. Eddie is sure he has to notice the shiver this time. But he still says nothing.

"Umm... thank you?" Eddie says, because he can't say nothing. Never learned how.

"Sure man." Steve says, nods, and then walks to his bed and jumps in, scooting to the far side, next to the wall, leaving the covers pushed back. Eddie just stands where he is, looking like an idiot no doubt. And this was a bad idea. He should have just made Steve take him home. His hands shake at his sides, he fists them in the sweatpants to make them stop.

"Am I..." Eddie starts, trailing off and just pointing to the bed instead. More of a strange wobbly wave of his hand to be honest, but it gets the point across.

"Anytime you're ready, yeah." Steve sounds amused. And Eddie really wishes he could feel the same way. His heart pounds in his chest as he shuffles across the floor and crawls into the bed, tucking the sheets under his arm as he lays back and stares at the ceiling.

~*~

It's been at least an hour. And they're both just laying there. Eddie swears he can feel his heart beating in his toes. He hears Steve move finally, hears him turn over. He closes his eyes, praying and hoping and wishing he's turned to face the wall.

"Hey, I know you're awake." Steve's whisper is close. Eddie grimaces, definitely not facing the wall. He opens his eyes and glances to his right, Steve is laying on his side, hands tucked beneath his head, looking at Eddie in the dark. Eddie moves his eyes away and clears his throat awkwardly, sighing and gathering courage before he turns as well. Rotating under the sheet to face Steve, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other lying between them, picking at a stray thread in the sheet.

"Good observational skills ya got there Steve." He says, quietly. Both of them are whispering though there's no one else in the house. Steve snorts, tells him to shut up. But, unless Eddie's eyes are deceiving him, he looks... fond. Eddie can't take it. Can't take Steve fucking Harrington looking at him like that after having saved his ass, and patched his wounds, and giving him fucking clothes to sleep in.

"Hey Steve." He starts, drawing his attention, making sure he's listening.

"Yeah?" Steve's eyes are on him, twinkling in the dark with something Eddie can't identify.

"Thanks for not leaving me this time." Eddie says, not looking away from Steve, he needs to see this. Needs to know if he remembers. He watches Steve stare at him. Watches his face change. And then he sees it, the guilt seeps onto his features as Eddie watches him in the dark. Steve swallows, hard, and clears his throat awkwardly. Eddie swears he sees him wiggling a bit further away from Eddie.

"I um... I didn't know you remembered that." He says finally, and Eddie nods, slowly.

"You didn't think I remembered getting beat up at school, by my old friends' new friends? My old friend just letting it happen, and then leaving with them while they laughed. You didn't think I'd remember that?" There's no malice in his voice. He's not angry.

But they've never talked about it. Not when Steve showed up at the boat house with Dustin. Not in the upside down when Steve was thanking him for saving his ass. And at no point since everything had been over. They'd never once talked about what happened when they were kids. And this was a nice moment, so Eddie figured, perfect time to ruin that. He'd never admit it, but he prided himself on his terrible decision making sometimes. If he was good at one thing, it was putting his fucking foot in his mouth and syaing the exact wrong thing at the exact right time.

"I'm so sorry-" Steve starts, his voice edging into panic far too quick for Eddie's liking.

"Hey it's okay. We were kids. It's not. I'm not... I'm not mad. Anymore. Never really was I don't think. I don't remember being mad about it..." he isn't lying. He doesn't remember being mad. He was sad, for awhile. But that had passed too, eventually.

"I don't really know why I brought it up." And that's a lie. Sort of. Steve just looks at him. Clearly trying to figure out if Eddie is fucking with him. And to be fair, Eddie does do that, a lot. But he's not right now. So he gives Steve an akward smile and he he waits.

"Because we never talked about it. And we should have. I should have. Should have said something." Steve sighs, and Eddie watches him move closer in the dark.

"I've been thinking about it. Off an on, since we found you. That day at Reefer Rick's." Steve says, one hand moving from beneath his head to push through his hair. Eddie's fingers twitch with longing against his ribs as he watches.

"Oh yeah? What were you thinking about it?" Eddie asks, his teeth worrying into his lip despite the pain. Steve smiles a little, shakes his head, his arm now resting on his head as he talks to the ceiling.

"I don't know. You uh, you mentioned running away, when Chrissy died. And I don't know, I was standing there thinking, 'he's gonna make a comment about running away to me. I know he is. Cuz I ran away from him.' But you didn't." Steve looks back to Eddie. Eddie's breath catches in his throat at the look Steve is giving him.

"You never said anything about it. Never made a mean comment. But that's just you, isn't it?" Steve asks, his voice is different now, soft in a way Eddie's never heard it.

"What is?" His brow furrows, he's confused. This conversation is not going at all how he'd expected it.

"You're not mean. Like, even when you're angry, you don't like... take it out on people. I mean hell, I don't know that I've even actually seen you genuinely angry. Not about anything that's happened to you." He's moved closer again. Eddie swears he can feel his breath on his face. He definitely just felt Steve's knee bump his, and had to inwardly congratulate himself for not jumping out of the bed and across the room, the way it made his heart flutter he may as well have done all that.

"I've seen you get mad on other people's behalf. But that's like, just you being protective. Which is... attractive." The last word out of his mouth is barely audible. He can't have said what Eddie heard him say.

"It's what?" His hands are shaking, his heart is beating so loud he can hear it, and Steve Harrington is looking at him softly. And then he smiles. Steve fucking smiles. He moves fucking closer. Again. And then reaches out, his hand moving to Eddie's face, fingers moving gently to his lip.

"I said it's attractive. Does that still hurt?" He says it nonchalantly, and then fucking covers it with a question, that fucking smile still on his goddamn lips. Eddie's brain is sinking into some kind of fog, he's been in Steve's presence for too long. That's what's happening. It really doesn't help that all he can fucking smell is Steve. His clothes, the sheets, fucking Steve himself, being so goddamn close. He feels like he's drowning in him.

"No, it's not bad. Did you say you think I'm attractive?" He can't believe he gets the words out. Shocked they don't get stuck in his throat. Steve nods, his fingers moving over Eddie's cheek now, and he knows the skin there must be burning.

"Good. Glad it feels better. And yes. Yes I did." He cups Eddie's cheek then and Eddie can't stop his own hand from moving to Steve's wrist.

"Yeah. Me too." He says, voice shaking. He doesn't address the second comment. Has no idea what he'd even say.

"I've been thinking." Steve says, his thumb soothing over Eddie's hot skin.

"That's dangerous." Eddie tries, tries to joke, tries to lighten this up, not sure he can take this.

"Mhm. 'Specially what I've been thinking." Steve nods, and then he presses his knee between Eddie's, just slots it there like that's where it belongs. Eddie's entire body is shaking now, he's sure he's going to vibrate out of his skin.

"What uh.. what have you been thinking?" He manages to ask, his fingers tightening on Steve's wrist, trying to ground himself. Steve sighs, keeps moving his thumb.

"I've been wondering if your split lip would hurt too much if I kissed you. Cuz I don't wanna hurt you." Steve's eyes drop to Eddie's lips as he licks his own.

"Don't wanna hurt me." Eddie echos.

"Nuh uh." Steve shakes his head, once.

"But you wanna kiss me." Eddie says. Statement. Not a question.

"Yeah. I really do. Is that-" he licks his lips again.

"Is that okay?" There is the smallest amount of self doubt in his voice and that's all Eddie needs to hear before he's nodding, enthusiastically, nearly knocking Steve's hand off of him. Steve laughs then, it's loud in the dark but it's fine, because when the laugh stops he's looking at Eddie with hopeful eyes, and he's pulling Eddie toward him with that dumb smile on his lips and Eddie thinks he might faint.

Steve's lips are soft, and warm, and sweet. Eddie knows he moans into Steve's mouth the second their lips touch, he can't help it. He feels Steve smile agaisnt his mouth and knows he doesn't care. Steve's tongue runs along his bottom lip gently, dragging another moan from him and Steve's hand moves into his hair. His fingers clench around Eddie's hair and hold him still as Steve pulls back to look at Eddie. He just looks at him. Says nothing.

"What? Is everything okay?" Eddie asks, getting worried. Maybe the moaning had been too much, but he's not sure how the fuck he's supposed to control that when Steve is licking into his mouth. Steve pulls his hand from Eddie's hair and moves his thumb over Eddie's lip again.

"You taste like blood." He whispers, and it doesn't sound like a complaint. Eddie licks his lips, his eyes moving over Steve's face.

"You don't." He breathes, he's nearly panting now, this is ridiculous. Steve breathes a laugh, ducks down and presses his lips to Eddie's, moves back again.

"What do I taste like?" He asks, proping himself up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand as he looks down at Eddie.

"Good." Eddie says dumbly, all descriptive words having left his brain the moment Steve Harrington said he wanted to kiss him.

"Good huh?" Steve says, clearly mocking him.

"Really good? I don't know man I'm kind of at a loss for words here." Eddie huffs, shrugging against the sheets. Steve smiles again, leaning down, his lips brushing Eddie's.

"Should've kissed you sooner." He whispers, smiling into the kiss as he deepens it. Eddie whines this time as Steve's leg presses further between his, moving dangerously close. And then Steve's words register in his kiss foggy brain.

"Hey!" He shoves Steve back a little, but not too far.

And steve is laughing, and then pulling Eddie close and kissing his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. He moves the kisses down his neck until Eddie is moaning again when Steve drags his teeth over Eddie's collar bone and then Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, settling on his chest as he looks up at him.

"We should get some sleep. You need rest." His hand is cupping Eddie's cheek again, and then pushing his hair out of his face and behind his ear. Eddie nods. And lets himself fall onto Steve's chest, his head resting above his heart. Steve's hand moves into his hair, his fingers moving over Eddie's scalp gently. Eddie's uncle had once called him a cat, because, he'd said, all you had to do was pet Eddie's hair and he'd fall alseep anywhere, turns out he was right. Eddie drifts off to sleep as Steve's fingers move against him, the gentle touches sending him into the dark.

~*~

Eddie wakes to sun in his eyes and Steve Harrington's hand in his hair. He groans as he stretches his leg and rolls off of Steve to stretch his back. Another low groan pulling out of him.

"Jesus Christ. The noises you make are obscene Munson." Steve's groggy voice says, even as he chases after Eddie's warmth, cuddling into his side, his arm gently wrapping around Eddie's middle. Eddie lets out a shaky laugh and moves his hand into Steve's hair, the itch in his fingers finally, finally, sated.

"Am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, his chest suddenly filled with pressure, maybe it was worry, maybe it was happiness, he wasn't sure. So he figured he should ask. And Steve must hear it in his voice because he shifts to look at him, pressing himself up on his hand, so he can look down at Eddie.

"You're not dreaming. This is real." He moves his hand to Eddie's cheek, presses his lips gently to his and then pulls back.

"I'm gonna do that all the time now." Steve says. Matter of fact. And then he lowers himself back to Eddie's chest.

"You make a lot of noises when I kiss you. It's nice." Steve says, his fingers dancing along the waistband of the sweatpants on Eddie's hips. Eddie chuckles and moves his hand back into Steve's hair.

"You caught me off guard. You just wait til I have my wits about me. Then we'll see who's making noises." He says it like a promise, giving Steve's hair a gentle tug. He can feel Steve smiling against his chest, he snuggles closer the harder Eddie pulls on his hair, and that's a good know, Eddie tucks that away as he soothes his hand over the hair he's tousled.

"Can't fucking wait." And the way Steve says it, mumbled sleepily into Eddie's chest, well, that sounds like a promise too.

[lastoneout]

I wrote a big long thing to add to this but my main point is simple so like @ the people blaming audiences for this, this is not the consumer's fault. Disney basically spent the last half a decade Treasure Planet-ing every release aside from like Encanto and Frozen 2, and even the ones that did get promoted had huge story issues that, based on the absolute mess of a production that Frozen 2 was revealed to be, mostly has to do with the way the studios are run than the people making the movies being bad at making films. They kept kneecapping their interesting stuff and promoting things that had major issues or that no one really wanted(cough Lightyear cough) and it culminated in Wish, which could only exist in it's current form if the people in charge were holding the team's head underwater and demanding a formulaic story that doesn't try anything interesting or new while somehow still making buckets of money and when that also failed they sat back and went "Oh well, guess people hate originality and diversity! Let's switch to making sequels that are almost entirely about white people forever!" which is the wrong fucking response to a series of shaky films that didn't do as well as they could have or clearly just needed some goddamn help or for the team to be left alone to try something new.

Disney's latest movies are the way they are because something inside Disney is broken that they are wholly uninterested in fixing. Audiences like new stuff and diversity, Encanto was the only thing anyone talked about for like a year, but Disney just wants to take the easy path and sell formulaic nostalgia, and they sacrificed their own creative teams to make that happen. I was not kidding when I said Disney has the potential to make amazing, new, diverse films, all of their recent films had potential and it's not like they're hurting for money. If they stopped caring so much about mass marketability and actually treated their employees well and fixed whatever nightmare shit is going on behind the scenes where your writers and directors don't even know what the main driving force of their narrative is until they're almost done with the film, then I am 100% certain every single movie they've put out could have been just as good and beloved as what came before.

The audiences are just responding to what Disney is doing, how else do you react to this? A movie doesn't get marketing, then people don't see it. A movie gets dropped on Disney+? It's not gonna make money or reach as many people as it could. A film has major story issues everyone was too stressed to properly work out? It's gonna get mixed reviews. And it's not the employee's fault either(except maybe in the case of Frozen 2 because the directors were clearly asleep at the wheel, honestly what the fuck), how do you make a good movie when you're underpaid and exhausted and the studio execs are breathing down your neck demanding you get rid of all the cool and interesting stuff you want to do because they just want to keep making Frozen and Tangled clones and you know there's a good chance they'll fuck up the marketing or shove it onto streaming and then blame you when it does badly? You don't. Any successes are a lucky outlier, not the norm.

Disney leadership is the problem. And I do not think switching to an 'oops all sequels' model is going to fix anything. These movies will probably be a little more coherent and polished(except Frozen 3 sorry I am calling it now that thing is going to be unwatchable) but changing what movies you're making doesn't fix the real problem: the conditions the films are made under in the first place. I don't think this is the end of Disney, but I don't think this is going to drag them out of the pit they've dug themselves into either. And it's really fucking sad to see a studio that has potential to make great films completely fucking give up in the name of making more money.

(Also bringing back 2D animation will not fix the problem either, I cannot stress enough the issue is not the movies themselves or the medium, they could bring back 2D and still release flops. 2D films are not inherently better than 3D ones ffs.)

No shade to OP as a person but believe me, this is a sign that something is DEEPLY fucking broken. Like they announced ONE new IP out of like eight films. I genuinely think within the decade they're just gonna stop making original films all together. That's what they learned from Elemental and Wish, just don't make anything new if you can help it.

Like they've unironically turned into what people pretend Dreamworks is, a sequel mill. The real downside is that Dreamworks actually knows how to make a good sequel, Disney never really figured that one out, bar a couple of outliers, and I have no faith in them pulling any of these off. Absolutely soul-crushingly pathetic. Thank god other animation studios exist.

This is the saddest shit I've ever seen, truly.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Second Best

Past!Moon Knight Trio X Reader Santiago Garcia X Reader Past!MK Trio X Layla El-Faouly If Marc had been paying closer attention, he’d have noticed you about to collide with him. The box of cereal you were carrying dropped to the floor, along with his plastic basket. Steven immediately fronted, unsure if Marc had slipped into the headspace due to shock or not. a/n:this is strictly angst fueled by my friend @gaylemonshark feedback is highly appreciated!

You had noticed Marc starting to pull away, seeming to do more missions for Khonshu more often than anything. He’d be gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time with no updates on if he were alive. It hadn’t bothered you at first, Steven would send a message letting you know how things were going, no matter how brief, they always helped put you at ease.

There were some nights you met the third alter, Jake Lockley. He’d nearly begged you not to tell the other two, and that he would in due time. So you kept your mouth shut and kept going about your daily life. But when Marc hadn’t been home for nearly two months, Steven stepping through with his phone pressed to his ear, you could feel things falling apart.

Until one day, they finally did.

“It doesn’t fucking matter! It’s not the first time I’ve had to leave in the middle of the night, why is tonight so different?” Marc was seething, hands clenched into fists by his side.

“You can’t be serious, you know exactly why tonight is different!” It’d been your anniversary, one year with the man who had two different alters.

You’re still not sure either of them know about Jake, neither Steven or Marc have said anything about him.

“You know what? I didn’t want to say this, but this? This means nothing to me,” Marc gestured between the pair of you, brow still furrowed as he stared at you.

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, unfortunately that did little to deter Marc.

“I’m still in love with Layla, hell so is Steven! This wasn’t supposed to last, you were just filling a hole until we could figure things out with her. But instead of that, you’ve practically moved yourself in, how fucking blind are you?” Marc’s words cut deep, deeper than any knife ever could.

Your eyes slowly filled with tears, the realization that you truly were not loved like you’d hoped, washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water.

Marc! What the bloody hell are you doing?!

“It’s always been Layla for me, I’ve seen the way Steven looks at her, he’s never looked at you the way he does for her. We love her,” Marc continued to ignore Steven’s angry protests, his hands shaking by his sides. “Why would I marry someone I’ve never loved? With Layla things were different, we loved one another. You? You were nothing more than a body to warm my bed at night, filling a hole until things worked out between her and I. You really think Steven loved you, with the way he’d look at her? I’d never marry someone as stupid and blindly ignorant as you. I deserve better than that.”

“Okay,” Your voice was devoid of any, and all emotion.

The tears had begun to slide down your face, dripping onto the collar of your shirt as you begged to pack the few things you’d moved into Steven’s flat.

Marc had expected you to scream, to hurl insults at him as if it were as easy as breathing. This truly terrified him. Layla would have screamed at him, demanded answers he’d refuse to give.

Give me the goddamn body! I can’t fucking believe you!

Once you had everything packed into your bag you turned back to face Marc, your eyes were blank, almost hollow as you stared at the other man. The smile that pulled up your lips didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“I’ve never been anyone's first choice, and I’ve come to terms with it. So I’m sorry for wasting your time,” You turned towards the way, gripping the bag tighter as you walked out of the flat.

Steven was still screaming at Marc, desperate to speak to you even if for only a moment. Marc was still dumbstruck, feet planted on the floor. He’d made a huge mistake. 2 Years Later Marc wasn’t entirely sure when things between him and Layla had changed, when she started to spend more time away than at home. Sure, they weren’t living together anymore, and he’d left behind the life he had with you. “I met someone, it’s been going surprisingly well for us, he makes me really happy,” Layla’s voice sounded faraway to Marc’s ears. When had his life managed to fall apart this badly? “Oh, that’s great, I’m really happy for you,” Marc had assumed things were going great between them, they’d spent nearly everyday that neither of them were busy together.

It’d been nothing but a pipe dream, a hopeful idea that Marc was worthy of being happy for once, that the things his mother said were all lies.

“I’ve already signed the papers, so you’ll need to find a lawyer,” Layla seemed almost nervous as she sipped her wine, glancing over at Marc.

“That’s fine, I’ll take a look tonight and see what I can do on short notice,” Marc’s voice had an edge of pain, and guilt.

You had always been on the back of his mind, Steven refusing to front for nearly three months while Marc picked up the pieces, lied to Layla about where he’d truly been. Gods, you both deserved so much better than Marc could ever give you.

“I’m sorry things ended this way, Marc, you know I want nothing but the best for you,” Layla frowned, placing her hand atop of his own.

Nothing mattered anymore, he’d lost everything.

Marc had nearly wanted to let Steven front, let himself be hidden from the pain and suffering he’d have to endure every time they met with their lawyers. Unfortunately Steven’s handwriting was too nice compared to Marc’s chicken scratch of a signature. So he toughed it out, met with Layla and her lawyer, Matt, each week until the decision was final. They were officially divorced in a little over six months, Layla getting the house they’d bought together while Marc packed up his things and left.

Steven didn’t mention that he’d miss working at the museum, even if Donna would get on his case over the smallest inconveniences. Marc sure as hell wasn’t going to miss it, not when he’d accidentally front during one of Steven’s shifts and have to finish the day for him.

They were working in tandem most days, switching much easier than before. They still had the occasional blackout, unsure of what was happening to the other. Knuckles bruised, skin torn enough to show the tendons and muscle beneath the layers.

“Maybe I should see a therapist, then again they’d probably think I was insane for even trying to mention you,” Marc muttered to his reflection.

Steven stared back at him, a frown pulling down his face as he struggled to figure out how to approach the subject. How did someone who couldn’t physically comfort someone, truly comfort them?

“People suffer from our condition Marc, they wouldn’t think you’re crazy at all,” Steven said, shrugging his shoulders as he watched Marc pace around the apartment.

“Steven, just drop it for now, I have to go grocery shopping since someone didn’t do it when I asked,” Marc glared over at the mirror once more.

The duo had a schedule they stuck to almost religiously, it was easier than fighting over who took care of what chore. Well that was before Jake showed up, that threw a wrench in their plans before either alter could blink.

“I said I was going to do it tomorrow, we have plenty of food to last the night anyway,” Steven didn’t want to argue with Marc, lord knows the man was too hot headed for his own good.

Ignoring Steven entirely, Marc grabbed his coat and wallet, trudging out of the apartment with an annoyed huff.

The shop was thankfully quiet, barely anyone walking around as Marc perused the different aisles. He obviously wanted to get more vegan options for Steven, even if he himself was still eating meat. 

If Marc had been paying closer attention, he’d have noticed you about to collide with him. The box of cereal you were carrying dropped to the floor along with the plastic basket he’d been carrying. Steven immediately fronted, unsure if Marc had slipped into the headspace due to shock or not. You timidly reached down, picking up the box before someone could kick it away.

“Y/N?” Steven’s jaw dropped open, how the hell were you here? Hadn’t you gone back home to be with your family after the breakup?

“Oh, hey,” You bit your lip gently, looking over your shoulder for a brief moment before catching Steven’s gaze.

Marc had forced himself to front, to prove to himself that he could face you once more. Steven wasn’t too pleased to be put on the back burner during one of your conversations again.

“Hi, long time no see,” Marc mentally kicked himself, gods he sounded so dumb.

“That was the point, Marc, you told me I meant nothing to you, so why would I stick around?” Your voice sounded harsh even to you, it was all due to Marc’s ignorance.

“Look, I messed up, I know that now. Is there anywhere we could talk?” It was a shot in the dark, a sliver of hope that he’d hold onto for the rest of his life.

You went to open your mouth, to tell him you’d moved on and found someone else to spend your life with that wasn’t him. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on whom you asked, the answers would differ.

A man walked up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist in a tight embrace, lips pressed against your cheek. Marc had no right to be upset, he’d been the one to break your heart, to say those awful things like you’d never truly meant anything to him. Yet, standing here watching this man embrace you cut even deeper.

“Hola mi amor, ¿de quién es tu amigo?” The man glanced over to Marc, brow raised as he looked him over.

“Behave yourself, this is an old friend of mine, Marc Spector,” So you never told him the truth, or maybe you were ashamed of how things ended.

Marc held out a hand to the other man, though he wanted nothing more than to run off like a dog with his tail between his legs. The man, whom Marc had presumed was your boyfriend, took his hand in a tight handshake.

“Santiago, it’s nice to finally meet you,” His smile was friendly enough, but Marc could see the fire deep down in his gaze.

He was a protector, ready to throw Marc back if it meant keeping you safe.

“Marc and I were just catching up, if you want to finish getting the rest of the stuff we need?” You pouted your lip at Santiago, a brightness in your eyes Marc had never seen before.

Is that what you actually looked like when you were happy? Without a care in the world to your surroundings.

“si por supuesto mi amor,” Santiago pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling your bodies flush together for a brief moment.

You giggled when he pulled away, grabbing the cart to head off to a different part of the store. If Marc had paid any more attention he’d have noticed the ring sitting on your left hand. It wasn’t until Steven forced himself to front that he took notice, the diamonds shining even in the dimly lit store.

“You’re engaged?” Steven hadn’t meant for it to sound too rude, as if you had no right to marry anyone besides himself.

“Yes, our engagement parties this weekend, you should come,” You knew you were goading him, waiting to see what he’d finally spill free.

Steven wanted to scream, to beg for you to come back into their lives, that he did indeed still truly love you. It was too late though, he’d made his bed and now he had to lie in it like a big boy.

“I’m not sure how much Marc would like that,” Steven fidgeted with the jacket Marc had thrown on before leaving the apartment. It was a habit he couldn’t quite break.

“I’m not asking for Marc to be there, Steven,” It was never subtle that you were closer to Steven than Marc. That didn’t mean you treated them any differently, you just had an easier time with the Brit than the army brat.

“Y/N, you know we’re part of the same body, I can’t do that to him,” Steven would do anything you asked of him, no matter the consequences.

“If you end up changing your mind, here’s the invite,” You reached into your bag, handing him a small envelope.

Both their names were written across the slightly aged paper, had you planned on inviting them, after all that had happened? You truly were too good for them.

“I have to go, Santi and I are babysitting tonight and need to be home before the kids get there,” Steven could only nod and watch as you went in search of your fiance.  ~~~~~

Santi had been watching you all night, the way you talked with his friends so easily, Frankie’s daughter Lilly hanging off your hip like it came so naturally to you. You’d told him about the invite, and that you weren’t entirely sure Marc would even show up. He’d helped calm you down before the kids were due to show up, holding you tight to his chest as you cried.

That was the night he learned the truth about Marc, about the horrific things he’d spewed as if he were talking to someone he truly despised, rather than you. Santiago knew deep down that you were still hurting, trauma like that takes years to overcome, and he was determined to help you through it all.

“Uncle Santi! Lilly’s calling for you!” You sing-songed as you walk over to him, hands cradling the nearly ten month old.

Santi opened his arms, taking the squirming baby from your arms with a smile.

“Well hello there gorgeous, did you miss your Uncle that much?” Lilly had clung to Santi like a bee to a flower.

There had been times people mistook the pair of you as her parents, though you always corrected them and said you were simply the Aunt and Uncle of the little bundle.

It was something he’d never given much thought to, considering what he used to do for work he couldn’t imagine putting that pressure on you. So he pushed it to the farthest corner of his mind and babysat whenever he could.

“You look good with a baby in your arms,” Your smirk was downright devilish, sending a shiver up his spine.

“As do you, mi amor,” You could never get over whenever Santi spoke Spanish to you.

It would be playful when you were in public, or with friends, mainly because Frankie also spoke Spanish and didn’t want to hear your gross thoughts.

The bedroom however was a different story, the filthy things he’d whisper in your ear as you laid between the sheets, bodies pressed flush together.

“Well, we’re getting married in a few weeks, you change your mind on kids?” It was a mutual decision between the two of you to not have children until you were ultimately ready. If the time never felt right, you’d still be happy together.

“Maybe I did, I want nothing more than to put a baby in you,” Gods, who let Santiago out in public with a mouth like that? As soon as you went to retort, the door opening caught your attention. Unfortunately the person stepping inside was neither Marc, nor Steven.

“I didn’t think you were going to show, but I guess you proved me wrong,” You turned to face him, hands on your hips almost defiantly.

Jake raised a brow, staring you down.

“Bueno, hola a ti también, me diste una invitación, ¿recuerdas?” So that’s how things were going to be?

“No, I gave Marc the invitation, I didn’t give it to you Jake,” You wanted nothing more than to slap the other man. It was clear neither Marc, nor Steven wanted to come.

“You can’t be serious, you’re actually upset with me right now?” Jake could see your fiance watching from where you’d left him.

“Yes! This is my engagement party Jake, if the other two didn’t feel comfortable coming at all, you shouldn’t have done this to them,” It nearly pissed you off, but you weren’t going to let him ruin your day.

“Sabes que esto te extraño, ¿verdad? Eres todo lo que pueden hablar,” That truly wasn’t what you needed to hear. “I moved on, Jake, they don’t get to decide things for me anymore,” You were tempted to get Santi to throw him out, or maybe even Frankie and Benny.

“Layla asked for a divorce, Marc’s been blaming himself since that night, no matter how much Steven and I tell him you won’t take us back,” Jake looked uncomfortable now, as if he was spilling his darkest secrets.

And maybe he was, because you’d always assumed things between him and Layla worked out, and that they were happy again.

“That’s not my problem, Jake, Marc was the one who pushed me away, he doesn’t get to have his cake and eat it too,” Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, you never wanted to hurt any of the boys, but goddamnit you were hurting!

Jake opened his mouth to reply, closing it instantly as Santi walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Is there a problem?” Santi leveled Jake with one look, arm kept tight around your body.

Jake looked nervous, something you’d never seen on his face ever in your life. He was the strong one, the alter that took over whenever the other two were overwhelmed.

“Not at all, just talking about the past is all,” Jake smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets without a second thought.

“You alright babe?” Santi looked at you, to truly assess the situation. You’d always tell him if you’d been uncomfortable. “Yeah, just a misunderstanding, parties almost over anyway,” Everyone had started to pack up their things, getting ready to head out for the night.

“I’m gonna help clean up, call if you need anything,” Santi pressed a kiss to your cheek, heading off to help clean up.

Jake watched as Santiago walked away, hands balled into fists in his pockets. He’d always dreamt of coming in and sweeping you off your feet. That wouldn’t happen though, not with this newcomer in his way.

“I love him, Jake, he treats me like an actual person. Please don’t ruin this for me,” You’d hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, that tears wouldn’t spill down your cheeks anymore for the man standing across from you.

“Just, don't tell the other two when you get married, okay? I’m not sure how well Marc would handle it,” Jake knew that if Marc found out how soon you were getting married he’d do something reckless.

“Alright, I won’t tell them,” You muttered, turning back towards Santi.

“If you want me there, I’ll go, but I don’t want to upset them. You deserve better than Marc’s anger,” You scoffed, where had that mentality been when Marc was berating you in the old apartment?

“Don’t do this to me, I didn’t deserve any of what he did to me, but here we are,” You crossed your arms over your chest.

This would just delve into another argument, neither of you winning what seemed to be a dick measuring contest. Jake had always been the absolute worst when it came to seeing reason, worse off than Marc when it came to actually talking about any issues.

“Look, I’m going to leave so I don’t ruin the rest of your night, okay?” Jake pulled you into a hug, tightening his arms as yours wrapped around his waist.

“Siempre seras mi favorita,” Jake’s words cut deep, how could they do this to you? 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, make sure to wear something nice,” You patted his side, stepping back to give you a few feet of space.

Jake waited for Santiago to swoop back in, to show everyone that you were with him, it made him feel uneasy for a brief moment.

“I’ll wear my best suit,” Jake nodded before turning to leave.

To your surprise Santi gave you space, knowing full well that something had happened and he hadn’t wanted to upset you further. This was a sensitive time for the both of you, and the last thing he needed was an argument, especially one fueled by an ex.

Things were going to be just fine.

Wedding Day

If anyone had asked how you felt the day you married Santiago, you’d smile to yourself and tell them you felt truly happy. Butterflies were swarming your stomach, fluttering around like crazy as you had your hair and makeup done.

Your bridesmaids and maid of honor had already gotten ready, putting all the focus on you, taking as many photos as they were allowed to. Santi wasn’t allowed to see you at all until first looks, breaking the ice that would hover over the two of you until you each walked down the aisle.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you look, he’s going to cry the moment he sees you,” Your bridesmaid, Kait, was rushing around you to get all the finishing touches done.

You’d already shed a few tears, taking pictures to remember for the rest of your days alongside your husband. What would your children think when they saw the photos?

“He better, I’ve been up since six,” You laughed as she placed the “something blue” in your updo.

It had been a gift from Frankie, something his wife had worn for their own wedding. He’d mentioned how Santi had bought it to give to Frankie, and said she deserved something nice on their wedding day. It was a playful dig at his friend, and now you were adorning the same piece.

It felt like you were rushed through the first looks, Santi’s eyes misting over as he took you in fully, hands sliding over your arms as he pulled you tight against him. Too soon though, your maid of honor was rushing you off to get ready to walk down the aisle.

Frankie was walking you down, seeing as your own father wasn’t in your life and Frankie stepped right up to the plate. It was nothing short of an honor to have one of Santiago’s best friends walk you down the aisle.

You’d each cried, facing one another as the justice of the peace declared you husband, and wife. Santi pulled you close, kissing you so passionately you felt almost faint.

There was no one else in the world except for the two of you, held tight in an embrace of love and passion.

“I love you, so much,” You pressed your lips to his once more, grabbing his hand as you ran down the aisle.

Santiago kept a tight grip on your hand, following close behind as he stopped you both, picking you up bridal style.

You’d both agreed to have photos done somewhere else while everyone had cocktail hour at the venue you chose. It was the smartest choice, and thankfully everyone else seemed on board. You didn’t go too far from the venue, choosing the closest, and nicest, park to commit photos to memory.

“You look gorgeous, Mrs. Garcia,” Santi smirked, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck.

“As do you, Mr. Garcia,” You gripped the lapels of his tux, leaning your head back slightly.

“Let’s head inside, gotta keep showing off my gorgeous wife,” Santi pulled you flush to his side, waiting as the Dj announced the wedding party first.

Once your names were called you made your way inside, laughing as people wolf whistled, cheered, and clapped.

This was a day you’d dreamt about for years, planning it in your head since you were a little girl, how things would go.

You refused to let the thought of Marc ruin your day. If he’d truly loved you he wouldn’t have pushed you away, he wouldn’t have made you feel so worthless. Today was about you, and the man you were hopelessly in love with.

Of course making your rounds went by faster than you expected, you hadn’t had much in the way of family or friends to invite, and those that did come you’d already seen earlier in the day. Once your eyes landed on Jake you frowned, you weren’t sure he’d actually show up, yet here he was, watching you closely.

He stood up and made his way over to where you were, Santi in a deep conversation with Frankie about something you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Jake told us, I’m sure you weren’t expecting me,” Your eyes widened, Marc had come in Jake’s place?

“No, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you Marc, though I’m glad you came,” You just hoped he wouldn’t cause a scene.

He pulled you into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

“You do look gorgeous, I can’t deny that,” Marc sighed, holding your shoulders as you pulled back.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me,” Things would work themselves out, you were sure of it.

“Just promise me I can get at least one dance?” Marc looked so hopeful, brown eyes shimmering in the dim light.

“One dance, later though, I need to go eat,” You didn’t want to pull away from him, but you knew deep down had you stayed, you’d have been upset the rest of the night.

Dinner, and the cake cutting went off without a hitch, both you and Santi feeding one another gently. He’d refused to shove any cake in your face, claiming your makeup looked too pretty to be ruined.

“I’ll ruin it later tonight, that’s a promise,” Santi’s whisper sent shivers through your entire body.

Gods you were so thankful you managed to bag that man.

Before the end of the night you searched for Marc, promising him one dance before you left for your honeymoon.

He was nowhere to be found inside, or outside of the venue.

The hooded crusader watched from atop the building, a crushing weight on his chest as he watched you leave with your new husband. He’d brought this on himself, he’d learn to live with the consequences.