#couldn't sleep until 1 in the morning and i just found the poem i got back up at 12 to write to try and tire myself out/wind down

[vulpinesaint]

i’m secretly in love with you

wow... beautiful world... that's crazy cause you are ma chèrie mon ange mon cœur ma vie. t'es la plus jolie femme du monde et c'est simplement la verité...

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Crumpets and Closet Kisses

Part 1

Part two of The Way the Stars Love the Heavens series.

Contains: Fluff, discussion of shit parents, slow burn unresolved feelings. Not beta read.

Follow #the way the stars love the heavens for updates

2.6 K words

Price has terrible timing.

The drabble light coming through the gaps in the drapes drew you from your slumber. There was something warm and breathing under you and you opened your eyes to find Simon asleep beneath you. You took a minute to look over his unobscured face, he had a light dusting of stubble covering his strong jaw, his cheekbones framed his now closed eyes, and his short hair was a wonderful honey brown.

You reached out on instinct, drawing your fingertips across the scar on the apple of his cheeks, then down and along the edge of his hard jaw, you stopped short of his plump lips, they like looked like he would taste like mint and bourbon. "You having fun love?" You yanked your hand back like you had been burned but he chuckled and grabbed it, placing it on his chest then his hand on top of yours. "Did you sleep well?"

You nodded. "I did. What about you?"

You felt his laugh move through your body, if he wasn't so warm, you could have been lying on a boulder. "With you as a weight blanket? Like a baby."

You laughed and went to get up but he wrapped his arms around you and held you to him. "I need to have a shower and brush my teeth, I'm a mess."

"Just five more minutes love, please." He couldn't admit to himself why he asked you to stay, but your body on his was the best thing he had felt in months.

You rested back down, placing your head over his heart as its steady thump filled your ear. "Ok."

His hand stroked your face and let his mind wander. For a moment, the morning light turned into dancing candles and he pondered the thought of brushing your hair as he sat behind you in the bath. His mind went further, taking him through the image until he arrived at what other things you might ask him to do with his hands. He blinked the fantasy away, suddenly aware of what reaction it was about to cause and cleared his throat.

"What are you gonna do when we got home?" It was an easy subject, one that had been brought up so many times that he knew your answer by heart, but he was reaching for any distraction he could find.

"Go to the London museum and look at all the old stuff, then get an overpriced burger at the restaurant." He sighed and thought back to when the 141 raided a terrorist stronghold and found cases of stolen artifacts from the destroyed museum, how you spend hours upon hours pouring over the plastic-protected yellowing paper that must have been thousands of years old.

Maybe that was when he first realised he loved you, when he found you crying at your desk in the corner over a love poem from a soldier to his beloved. He had asked you what was wrong, and you looked up at him with a sad smile and shook your head. "He never made it home to her, he opened his chest and out spilled all these beautiful words and instead of her getting her to read them, they were locked up, rotting in some terrorist's basement." 

So he pulled up a chair, sat next to you and asked you to read it to him and you did. He watched you as you read words from a language he had never heard of, let alone understood, and for the briefest of moments, he was that soldier, writing away in his tent, asking for his lover to give an offering for his safe return so that he may hold her in his arms once again.

Your grumbling stomach brought Ghost's attention back to the present and you reefed yourself from his embrace as you hid your embarrassment behind your hands. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry. I must look like hell." 

He wouldn't say that, the collared shirt you were wearing was wrinkled and your pencil skirt was rucked up just a little too high on your thighs but you still looked like a dream. "You don't know what hell looks like love." 

Your stomach grumbled again and Ghost chuckled, you could still feel it move the bed even though you weren't touching him and you were abruptly aware of how close you were and how large he was. He looked different without his mask, it was disarming how handsome he was and without all his gear, his tattoos stood out even more. 

He shook his head and held out his hand. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." 

You took his hand and he pulled you up and another flash of insecurity came over you. "I'm going go clean up first, I can't show up to breakfast looking like this. Everyone will think we...You know?" You blinked, that was not the right thing to say. "Not that I would be ashamed if we did." The poor man looked like he was about to have an aneurysm with how hard he was holding back his laughter as you waved at the door. "I'm going to go now." 

You spun on your heel and all but raced out, Ghost's voice stopping you as you threw open the door. "I'll save you a crumpet." 

To make matters worse, just as you turned down the hallway, König was there, a piece of toast held stock still on the way to his mouth as he watched you leave the room. Your eyes went wide and you rushed to explain yourself. "Nothing happened. I fell asleep at my desk last night and LT couldn't get into my room so he let my bunk with him." 

König blinked and took a bite out of his toast. "Ok then. Are you coming to breakfast?" 

You nodded. "I am. I'm just going to have a shower first." He smiled and you walked further down the hall. "Maybe don't say anything to the guys, I don't want them getting the wrong impression." 

The rumours about what he looked like under his hood were wrong because the smile he gave you made him look like a teddy bear. "Of course, I know when to keep a secret." 

You sighed as one thought filled your head. "Yeah right" 

****

It occurred to you how strange the morning was as the hot water ran over you. Your embrace with Simon was one of two lovers, but you weren't lovers, you were friends. Deep down, you knew the reason he asked you to stay, there were times when you went to look at him, and he was already looking at you, his eyes awash of emotions like he was lost in another world.

Your dreams the night before only worsened the situation, of gentle lips on your head and those three little words whispered so softly they sounded like a prayer to a long forgotten deity. For a moment, it felt so real that it may not have been a dream at all.

"You get your translation done?" Thank God for Gaz coming to knock you out of your thoughts, if there was any benefit to the small shared shower room, it was that there was never much time to dwell in silence.

"Almost. I think I'll be done by the end of the day." You climbed out when you heard Gaz's shower turned on and shouted over the rows of tiles and curtains. "I'll make sure there's still coffee in the pot when you come out."

He was already humming along to his little radio. "Thank y/n. you're an angel."

****

Ghost took his time picking out your breakfast, his plate already piled high and no one said anything about the second one of this tray, lest they catch a glare that would have frozen hell. 

He placed the plate next to him when he sat down, and the others shared a look as they waited for you to come out of the dorm area and into the common room. Soap cleared his throat when he saw you in the doorway and pointed to the spot next to Ghost. "Looks like your breakfast is already ready." 

You smiled and nodded before sitting down next to Ghost, his mask was pulled up just enough so he could eat as had positioned himself so he was slightly in your personal space. "Yes, it is. Thank you, Ghost." You looked over the plate, not only was there a crumpet with honey, but among other breakfast foods, he had picked you the best fruit bowl with hardly any melons and lots of strawberries. 

"Did you sleep well?" You looked at König, who gave you a look that told you your secret was still safe with him. 

"Yes Rudy, I did. Why do you ask?" You knew the answer, Rudy was your opposite door neighbour and your door made a squeaking sound that he wouldn't have heard last night. 

"I didn't hear you come in last night, I was worried you slept at your desk again." Oh shit. 

"What does he mean you fell sleep at your desk again?" You hadn't meant it to become a habit, but when Ghost was away on long ops, no one was nagging you to go to bed, so sometimes you overworked yourself and fell asleep at your desk. 

You rushed for an explanation, you really didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of Ghost's lectures. "It only happened twice. Like I keep saying, my main job here is to work on the old stuff you find, not enemy communications, and sometimes I get overwhelmed and overdo it. It won't happen again." 

You looked around the table, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die and everyone else was holding back laughter. Ghost didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you and you took a breath before pointing to your plate with your fork. "My fruit bowl is very nice, thank you for graabing it for me." 

Ghost looked you over and nodded and Soap let out a chuckle. "Gee I wished I had someone grabbing me the best fruit salad and making sure I went to bed on time." 

Alejandro kicked him under the table. "He's just looking after his friend Hermano. It must be hard being a civilian on such an elite base, not just a civilian but the only woman in our building." He paused and gave you a pointed look. "Why is that y/n? Why aren't you on the other side of the base bunking with the other women?" 

"My father, he was concerned that if I made too many friends I'd lose focus." You were shocked that in the months that the 141 had been working there alongside you, it had never come up. After the missile crisis, Price had worked his ass off to get the 141 back in the light, and with that came a mountain of bureaucracy.

"What does your father have to do with where you're working?" Gaz must not have read your personnel file. 

You took a deep breath and sighed. "My father's The Hammer." Ghost already knew, he had put it together after you had made one too many comments about familial expectations and how much you hated always having something to prove. 

Gaz's eyes went wide. "General Hammer Hardass is your father?" 

You nodded. "Yes." There was no point in lying, he would show up eventually, and it wasn't fair on them to be unprepared when he did. " After years of working my ass off in an unpaid internship at the London Museum, I had a job lined up in their authentications department. My father sent me here because it would have been an embarrassment for his only child to be doing something so useless."

The pressure was overwhelming sometimes, there were times when the only thing keeping you sane were the men at the table. "I went in to sign my contract, and he was there waiting for me. He told me if I didn't take the job here, he would make sure I never worked anywhere."

You could feel the anger rolling off Ghost as you continued. "He told me that if I did well here I could go back to the museum, but until then I'm not to make him look bad."

"Doesn't he tour all the bases once a year?" You knew Soap well enough to know what he was really asking, the thought of having your father meet the 141 was not a pleasant one.

"Yes he does, I can't imagine it's going to be fun when he lands." You could see it now, his empty tone telling you that you could be doing better.

"He'll want to give you the credit you deserve for all your hard work or he'll have a problem." The tone in Ghost's voice made your blood run cold.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket before you could address what he meant. "Speaking of, the next block of code's done. The translation should be almost finished now." You opened your mouth to say something but thought better of it, if you were wrong, it would only waste time.

"Say what you were going to say." Of course Ghost picked up on it, nothing ever got past him.

"It's not important, I could be wrong anyway." He gave you a look and you sighed. "Judging by the communication style, I think one of them is American military." You gestured towards your office. "I really need to get a start, I want to get it done before Price gets back this afternoon."

Ghost placed his hand on your forearm to stop you from getting up. "Stay, finish your breakfast here and tell us about this American theory of yours."

They all looked so expectant, there was no way you were getting out of this. "Alright, but it's not on me anymore if I'm wrong."

****

Talking with the team had done wonders and by the afternoon, you were done decoding back to the real work, cleaning a centuries-old urn so you could read the words underneath all the dirt. The supply closet door swung open just as you reached the top shelf to get the cottons rounds and a huge arm came into view as Ghost grabbed it for you.

"You did good today, we're already actioning that intel you gave us. You should be proud of yourself." He was so close to that you could feel the warmth coming off his like a space heater.

"Thank you, that means a lot coming from you." You took a deep breath, now was as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room. He didn't give you a chance because you found yourself against the shelves with his hands on you, and he was looking back and forth between your eyes and lips and you reached up to pull his mask above his lips as you leaned towards each other.

You jumped as the door swung open, and Ghost tensed like he was about to start a flight. When you looked over his shoulder, Captain Price was standing there with a slight smile on his face and his arms across over his chest. "Am I interrupting?"

You blinked and yanked Ghost's mask back down over his face. "No. The Lieutenant was just helping me get some cotton off the top shelf."

He looked to Ghost with an eyebrow raised. "Is that true Simon?"

Ghost gave a curt nod. "It is sir."

Price smiled and shook his head. "You kids really have to talk about this. I'll be in the briefing room, meet me there in ten."

He closed the door as he left and silence filled the small room, Ghost cleared his throat and reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I think we should talk after the briefing."

You nodded. "Yeah, that would be good."

Part 3

@chaos-4baby

[justrandomfandomstm]

Blue Leather Book

This was from a prompt and I got that Steve does poetry on the brain today so I made a part 2. On today's menu we have a Steve POV with a side of Eddie panicking and a sprinkle of misocommunication (solved fairly quick i think) and sharing writing as a love language 4.7k word dump.

This one does stray away from the initial prompt which is why I made it the second part, but still.

Here is Pt. 1 and the full Ao3 link. Any and all comments and messages are apreciated, enjoyy

The notebook had come from a stupid idea to try to get a girl to like him.. 

One of his dates had mentioned how much they loved when guys wrote poetry and were ‘in tune with their feelings’ or whatever. It had started with that. They also started to work on poetry in English, and he started paying attention in class. He wrote some cheesy lines that rhymed, but had no feeling. Something his date told him when he showed her. 

The first time he wrote, really wrote in the notebook was the day his parents forgot his birthday. For the third time. When the words left the tip of the pen he didn't even get to enjoy it, only burst out crying. He felt gutted by his own words. He had never understood the phrase ‘pen is mightier than a sword’ until then. But that opened the beginning of something for him.

It was therapeutic putting his thoughts on paper. It made him feel open, like his thoughts were somehow more real when put in ink and paper. He wrote about his parents, his loneliness that he never quite filled. Insecurities and passions. Everything that came to mind. It really started to grow more when he met Nancy. When all those cheesy poems he read in class made sense. He never showed it to anybody. The moment he got close… Well, you know what happened. The world flipped upside down and he was left on unsteady ground with no gravity to hold him in place. 

He went through a really rough time, the only thing pulling him together was Nancy. And when that also ended, he was left afloat again. 

He found the notebook hidden away from when he drunkenly wrote a few lines when Nancy left. He opened it up and started writing again, and it was like a rope tied to his ankle. 

He wrote and wrote and wrote. He found love in it again. He found his voice, He found comfort and an escape and reassurance from it. So he kept it going.

He always left it on his nightstand, in a drawer behind other things but he could reach it with no hassle. Noone had thought to look there, and if they did, they didn't think anything of it. He wrote at night most times when he couldn't sleep. He sometimes climbed up to the roof from his window and sat there with the book until it was time to pick up Robin.

It never left his side for long, or his house. 

So now, he was panicking. 

He was pacing all over, his usually tidy room was disheveled. His thumb was red with the amount of stress biting he was doing. 

How could he lose it? Where could it have left it? He already searched the roof, the floor of his window, the forest, all his jeans and pants pockets, also the jackets. He looked in every nook and cranny of the house and his car. He was starting to go into full blown panic mode.

You see, these past few weeks he had been having… feelings… about someone. So the last things he had written were less monster-fighty and more Oh-no-I-have-feelings-again. Well, and a heap tone of other really personal things that anyone outside the party would have him sent to a mental facility. 

So now he’s here at four in the morning trying to figure out if he took it to Robin's house for their weekly spa and gossip day and if he could call about it with an incessant questioning about why he needs it back so bad.

And he loves Robin, he really does, but if she stole his notebook just because he was avoiding her incessant questioning about a certain metalhead… Her car rides were about to be cut short. 

What was he going to do if she found his last few poems and ramblings? She knew he was bi a while ago, but if she found out he was not only hiding he had a crush on someone, but that someone was Eddie Munson. She was going to kill him.

God, now he was thinking of Eddie. How, they could always talk about nothing and everything. How he feels more comfortable than he ever has just in his presence. Eddie and how he looks when he's concentrating, with his hair up, or just in general. How animated he gets when he figures out a twist in his campaign evil enough to put Vecna to shame. Eddie and him playing his guitar, how his lyrics remind him of poetry. Eddie and his antics. He would probably be all over the place if his notebook was lost. Eddie and-

Oh shit Eddie

Last Saturday Eddie had called him early in the morning when he was out on the roof with the notebook in his jeans. He must've forgot to put it away and took it with him to the trailer. He sprinted to the phone and dialed the phone number he had memorized long ago. It rang a few times before he remembered what time it was. 

He was about to slam it down on the receiver when he heard Wayns gruff voice from the other side. 

“Munson residence, Wayne speaking.”

Steve was going to hit his head on the wall. “Hey Wayne, sorry to wake you.”

“Caught me right before so no problem, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, um, is Eddie awake?”

He heard Wayne grumble about Eddie's unruly sleep schedule and him yelling out for him. A few seconds and some shuffling later Eddie's voice rang out from the phone's speaker. 

“Hey Stevie, what's up?”

Steve involuntarily smiled at his voice, then shook himself out of his daydream. 

“Hey, Eds, sorry for calling so late.”

“No problemo, I was stuck on some campaign things anyway so you’re actually saving me.” He chuckles softly and I try to bite back a smile. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Did you by chance find a small blue leather notebook in your room? Or anywhere really.I think I left it there? I can't really find it anywhere here and I’m retracing my steps and that's the last time I remember having it.” He chuckles nervously and waits a few seconds but is met with silence. 

—

“-ddie? You okay?”

Eddie shakes himself out of his head and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears that started the second he heard those words. The blue leather notebook. Steve's blue leather notebook. Jesus H Christ.

“Yeah, yeah Stevie. I’m here.”

“Could you look for it? If you want I could come over and help-”

“No, no. I have it.” He blurts out. He doesn't really want Steve here right now. Or he does but not right now. Or ever. Or- Shit Steve is still on the phone. “I know where it is.”

“Oh thank god, I did not want to call Robin's house, her parents hate me.” They laugh. “So, I could come by this afternoon? If that's okay with you.”

“Y-yeah. That's perfect Stevie. See you then.” 

He hangs up the phone before Steve can answer and slumps to the wall the phone is on. Then slides down until he’s sprawled out on the floor. Then, finally, he lets out a sound of a wounded dog mixed with a stressed Eddie.

“What’re you on about now boy?” Wayne draws out from where he's getting ready for bed. 

“It's Steve’s notebook.” he whines, not moving from the floor. 

“... Okay?”

“It's Steves. Notebook.”

Eddie can see the second Wayne chooses to sleep instead of paying attention to him. He whines again and when Wayne still ignores him, he rolls his eyes and gies to lay on the floor next to him. Eddie is a lot of things, but a quitter is not one of them. 

“He’s the writing genius who left his notebook here. The one that has been plaguing my mind for days. He’s the mystery writer that puts my and everyone else's writing to shame.” 

Wayne gruffs and rolls to his other side, facing away from Eddie. Eddie rolls his eyes and ups his dramatics for old times sake. He gets up loudly, whining about how he's not appreciated in this house, and goes to be unable to sleep for the next hours. 

 —

Steve goes for a run.

He usually does so it's not a surprise, but his reasons have shifted slightly. He usually does it to shake off the remains of a nightmare, to burn off the remains of fear and dread from his system. Fear and dread are still what he is trying to shake off, but not from a nightmare. 

He hopes Eddie didn't read his notebook. He really does. If he’s honest, he doesn't remember most of what he has written, all midnight fed deliriums he had to get out of his system. But he does  remember the newer additions he has made. Most of his annoyingly persistent crush on the metalhead. 

Like the rest, he doesn't remember what exactly they say, but he was never one to shy away from his feelings towards people. He thinks he remembers writing something about getting  on his knees for the guy.  

He blushes at that and hopes no one is around. Jesus he was hopeless. 

But can you blame him? Eddie was so… just… everything. He could fill journals of what his eyes and dimpled hands and goddamn presence made him feel.

He thought his feelings for Nancy were strong, but this was rivaling strong. The months he slowly got to know him in the hospital, mixed with his visits just to hang out, it is clear he never had a chance not to fall for him.

It was a lot simpler than he thought it was going to be like, falling for someone else. Eddie was just… Eddie. Not only him, but Wayne too had snaked into his heart and filled the gaping hole his parents had left. 

And now he didn't know where he stood with Eddie. 

He had sounded so… something on the phone. When Steve mentioned the notebook, he was met with dead silence for a good few seconds. He got that worried nagging in the back of his head that never leaves him since Vecna when his friends get quiet. If he's talking to someone and they zone out he has to school down panic attacks. And they are getting old. 

He was probably looking around the room for it, he did find it, so that's good. He would hate to lose what he has written. Even if he doesn't revisit them often, he does like to read back occasionally. Looking at his old thoughts made him smile and grimace at the same time. But it was like reading a poetry book made just for him, which it was but it was nice anyways. 

He grimaced at the old things he wrote for Nancy (now changing who they are meant for in his mind), and he always felt a deep kind of desperation and sadness for little him. He wishes he could go and talk to him, give him hope (another of the things he has written about).

He finally got back to the house and got himself some water. He didn't have anything to do today other than go to Eddies for it. So he went upstairs to take a shower and got in bed. 

He thought more of Eddie, a normal occurrence really. What if Eddie did read his notebook? He probably thought it was just something stupid, like some of his favorite teams and stuff. Eddie despised all that had to do with sports so there was no reason for him to look. Eddie was a snooper though. Could he have found his writings intriguing? Interesting?

He smiled at the thought. He knew Eddie wrote for his band, but maybe now that Eddie knew he liked to write, they could write together. Well, his old ones were not entirely great, he was just an angry kid writing his thoughts down. But maybe,

Maybe he read the new ones. The ones about him.

That worried Steve more than he cared to admit. His thoughts jumbled at that, what would Eddie think of them? Would he hate him? Would he think it was for someone else? That may not be possible because of the blatant things he wrote, but hey, who knew? He could play it off if he needed to. 

But… What if he didnt?

He blushed at that thought.

Look, he had eyes okay? Robin kept insisting that he was very obvious of his crush, but she has also made some non-hidden comments about how it may not be entirely unrequited. He knew he was attractive, and what things he could do to make that more so. And he had been doing that constantly with Eddie. And he can't deny it had worked to some degree, catching Eddie's eyes linger a bit longer than they should, looking at him as if he was something he wanted, something to be desired.

God, that thought made something light up inside him. 

Maybe this night could end better than he had hoped? Well, hope was hope after all, and he didn't know what Eddie was thinking at all times. Though he wished he did. Maybe Eddie's lyrics are his thoughts too? Maybe… Eddie wrote about him?

Now he was giggling like a schoolgirl. He needed to get it together, these thoughts were going to get him nowhere. 

He got up and walked around the room, a plan forming in his mind. His thoughts jubling so he went and got his backup notebook and started drawing up a game plan to sweep Eddie off his feet. After a thought dump, he finally had the semblance of a plan ready to go.

All he had to do now was go that afternoon to get his notebook back. He could deal with what could happen, right? 

What could go wrong?

—

He got there a little later than 3, he knew Eddie liked to sleep in so he gave him time. He brought some drinks he knew Eddie liked as a ‘thank you’. And maybe possibly an excuse to spend time with him. But that's neither here nor there. 

He walked up to the door and knocked. After a few seconds, Eddie opened the door and shoved the notebook in his face. Steve fumbled for the book for a second and before he could look up, Eddie had  closed the door in his face. 

“... Eddie?”

“Yep, thanks. Bye” He heard Eddie say, muffled by the door.

“... Is this a bad time?” He heard a soft groaning from behind the door. “I can leave if you want too.” He said quickly after. 

Eddie opened the door with a sort of smile and grimace. “Nope, all clear Stevie.” 

Steve finally was able to look at him. He looked nervous? “You good man?”

“Yep, yep, yeppers. Perfectly a-okay.” Eddie smiled more broadly, but Steve knew a fake smile when he saw one.

He just looked at Eddie with a quirked brow and Eddie relented, letting put a big breath. “Just… come in.” He moved away, motioning for Steve to come in. 

Moved forward, putting the notebook in his pocket. He remembered the drinks in his hand and motioned to them. “I brought you something as a thank you for the trouble.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but a small smile fought his way onto his lips. “Of course you did.” He looked at the drinks and brightened. He made grabby hands and now it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes. He gave them to Eddie and followed him as he walked to the kitchen to put the drinks away. “You really didn't need to dude, just a notebook.” Eddie murmured.

Steve leaned forward, putting his elbows on the elevated kitchen nook. “Well yeah, but it's kind of important to me.” Eddie froze for a second, his body turned away from Steve. “Besides, maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Eddie continued moving. He turned to face Steve, leaning his hip on the counter and God did he look hot.  He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Is that so?”

Steve bit back a smile and shrugged. He moved up and walked to the other side of the counter where Eddie was. He leaned on it with Eddie, but he faced forward. Eddie's eyes followed him while he did so, and Eddie bit his lower lip, this made Steve brave. He looked forward, at the fridge, and started to speak. “So, what-”

“I read your notebook.” Eddie interrupts quickly. Steve guessed that much, he bit back a smile. 

“Oh?” he asked softly. But Eddie didn't answer. He looked at Eddie now. He had his eyes shut tightly closed, like he was nervous. Weird. 

When Eddie cracked one of his eyes open slightly, it was a bucket of cold water on him. 

Eddie looked, what, scared? Embarrassed? Shameful? Disgusted? Whatever it was, it was definitely not good. 

Steve shifted and looked down, his confidence down now. 

“What did you think?” He asked quietly.

“I'm so sorry Steve.” Eddie said, equally as quiet.

All the blood from Steve's face drains from his face. Now Eddie not wanting to talk to him at the door, reluctance to let him in, was all making sense. He felt lightheaded, a single thought attacking his mind. 

Eddie didn't want him. 

Eddie wanted him to leave. All those things he thought were flirtatious, the nervousness, it was all because he wanted him gone, not around.  Were his feelings such a curse that Eddie didn't even want him around anymore? Did what he write gross him out? Oh god, thinking about it now, it was definitely creepy. He knew he didn't deserve Eddie, too perfect for his own good, of course he didn't want him. Worst part, he was apologizing for not liking Steve back.

Tears pricked in his eyes. “I'm gonna go now.” He says, barely a whisper. 

“Stevie, I'm so sorry.” Eddie reached for his arm, but it hovered over his skin. Burning the air there. Steve wanted to get closer, feel his touch one last time, selfish for all Eddie was willing to give him. “I didn't mean to, It was an accident, and I just… I kept reading and-”

“Please stop.” He said, looking at the ceiling and willing the tears away. “Don't. It's fine.” He looked at the floor, anywhere than the dark brown eyes he wanted to drown in. “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Eddie finally touched him, moving in front of him and touching his shoulder as well. “Steve, it's fine. I mean, it's bound to happen with how many times you faced death in the face.”

He choked out a humorless laugh. “The end of the world didn't make me feel this way.” 

Eddie looked more heartbroken with this confession and Steve wished they hadn't closed the Upside down for a second, just for the ground to swallow him right now. He0d take a demogorgon to this conversation currently.

“Stevie,” Eddie said softly, “Have you gone for help? Talk to anyone?”

Ok, what the fuck? He really read Eddie wrong. He looked at him with confusion and hurt. He pushed himself from the counter and walked to the living room. His emotions are still swirling around him.. “I- No? I mean, I talk to Robin but- what the fuck man?!”

“Im sorry Stevie-”

“You don't get to call me that right now.” 

“Steve, Please. Robin can’t help you with that.”

“Help? I don't need help.” 

“Steve-” 

“You know what, rejecting me is fine, but telling me something is wrong and I need help? That's low, Munson, even from you.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to stay frozen, Hands up as if he was nearing a dangerous animal. Wow, alright. He didn't want to hear this, not now, he needed Robin, to talk maybe, to cry probably. He needed to leave. 

“Steve, wait! What are you talking about? What ‘rejecting’?”

He threw his head to the ceiling and turned around to face Eddie. Crossing his arms in front of him. “Look, it's fine, you’ve said enough. You didn't like what I wrote about you and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. But if you’re gonna be a homophobe about it-”

“Steve, baby, I need you to go back three pages. What are you talking about?”

Oh so he was really going to play this? Fine “The last poems. You read them.” 

It wasn't a question but Eddie answered as it was. 

“I don't know, maybe? I stopped about halfway through the notebook.”

Now Steve was a little lost. Halfway? He was almost done with the book, he had been looking for others even. If he was halfway then that was…

Relaxation dawned over his face. “Oh shit. Oh fuck no.” He took out the book and shoved it into Eddie's hands. “Where did you read it?”

Eddie grabs the book while looking confused at Steve. He opened to the middle.

Oh this was worse than he thought. He groaned and went to the couch and buried his face in his hands. 

“Im, like, really lost right now.”

Steve started to laugh and looked to see Eddie still in the same position as before, looking at Steve like he was crazy. And fair to be honest. 

Steve motions for Eddie to come closer. When he did, he grabbed the book and eyes the poem. He scoffed at his younger self and his dramatics.

“You know why I wrote this? My parents were home for the first time in months and the first thing they did was complain what a mess the living room was. They made me clean it all up. It was after Hargrove bashed my head in and I had been staying on the couch because of my concussion.” He saw Eddie looking at him with a kind of sad/confused/smile. He looked back at his writing. “I was such a dramatic, Jesus.” He laughed softly. 

“But… You…”

“I know what it says and how it may look, and I won't lie, it was like that for a long time. So I did get some actual help, and I did get better.” He looked back at Eddie and smiled. 

Eddie let out a breath of relief. “Good. That's… good.”

They stayed quiet for a beat, just staring at each other. The concern on Eddie's face moved to relief. Steve bumped his shoulder with his. “Thank you though.” Eddie furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head in a way that reminded him of a puppy. “For caring, that is. Not many people do.”

Eddie scrunched his nose in anger as if he wanted to hurt everyone that dared to hurt him. He wanted to kiss it. “That's… wrong. It's wrong. You deserve so much care. All the care, even.” He said, waving his arms that got a smile out of Steve. His dramatics always did.

“In everyone's defense, no one has ever read this.”

That seemed to startle Eddie back from his plot of revenge.

“No one?” Steve shook his head and Eddie looked as if he just told him the most confusing thing in the world. “But-” Here it was “...It's so good.”

Steve burst out laughing, doubling over as Eddie kept protesting. “I'm serious Stevie! You have some truly good shit in there. Like actual good stuff. Scouts honor.” He looked up from where he had hid his face and looked at him from the side to see Eddie holding up three fingers in a fake salute. 

“I know for a fact you weren't a scout.” He says, shoving Eddie's hand away. “Wayne would have shown me the pictures.”

Now Eddie was laughing, a truly incredible sound. 

“The point still stands sweetheart. It was really good.”

Steve felt a blush spreading and he looked away. “It's really not. I don't even remember writing most of it, Insomnia makes me a new kind of man.”

Eddie nudged his knee with his. “Well, they were good rambles.” Steve looked back to see a fond smile on Eddie's face. He then smiled ridiculously. “As a master of the haunting hour writing, that was the best ones I have ever read.” 

Steve giggled and hid his face in Eddie's shoulder as he also shook with a small laughter. When it stopped a little suddenly, he moved back a little to see Eddie biting his lip in worry. The urge to kiss it came up but was ignored. 

“What?” He asked, moving back further.

“Well… I was just wondering… What exactly were you talking about before?”

Steve blushed immediately at his outburst. Ridiculous now, but there really was no use in hiding from the truth. He wanted Eddie to read his things, maybe that's why he left the book subconsciously, but he didn't want to be here when he read it. 

“Well… It's just… You got stuck in a really dark time of my writing. The new ones are… not that.”

Eddie tilted his head again. “Oh?”

He smiled. “It may or may not be little cheesy, crush-y ones.”

Eddie laughed again, a full laugh this time. The one that made his knees weak. He couldn't resist laughing a little again. 

“Oh I was waaaay off, wasn't I?”

“Only a smidge. But so was I.” They giggled for a second. “Would you- Like to read them?”

Eddie searched his face. Steve was nervous, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and a steady blush still on his cheeks. But he wanted Eddie to read it. It was kind of all he could think about all morning. 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded his head. “I wouldn't offer something I didn't mean Ed’s.” 

Eddie smiled and took the book he offered timidly. He skipped forward until Steve stopped him. He looked away as Eddie read. Eddie didn't make any noise so he finally relented and found Eddie looking down at the writings with a slack jaw and eyes wide. Steve made to grab the book back but Eddie hugged close to his chest.

“Holy shit Stevie.” He said, grinning so big his dimples popped out. His face went from awe to a twinge of nervousness. “D-do you really feel this? About me?”

Words were now impossible so Steve fought his extremely red face and nodded.

Eddie moved fast. He dropped the book on his lap as he grabbed Steve's face in his hands and pushed him in for a breathtaking kiss. 

Steve liked to write, he thought he was good too, but no words he could ever have the ability to think of could ever be strung together in a way that could say how kissing Eddie Munson feels like. They pulled away after seconds, minutes, hours. Steve couldn't tell. Panting slightly and smiling until their faces hurt. 

Eddie's smile turned into a smirk and Steve rolled his eyes in fake annoyance as Eddie startet to poke his side. 

“So, devilish looks and curly hair are your thing.”

He groaned and his face in his hands. “Shut up.”

Eddie's grin became wilder. “Oh ho ho no baby. I'm gonna milk the hell out of this.” He looked back down. “Are you giving up your kingdom for little ol’ me?” He bats his eyes and Steve shoves his face again.

“Shut up” 

Eddie, in fact, did not shut up. They kept pushing and shoving and reading until one of them leaned in for a playful kiss. That led to another. Then another. Then another make out session. 

Now this is how Steve hoped the evening would go. 

They ended up going to Eddies bedroom, kissing and teasing and smiling the whole way through. Finally, months of pining endlessly fixed with simple revelations. When they were done, wrung out and tired, they layed there just basking in eachothers company. 

Steve layed his head on Eddies chest, tracing over the scars and tattoos. Eddie giggled above him and Steve looked up in question. He regretted it the second he did when he saw the mischievous look on Eddie's face. 

“So, how many Steve Munson’s am i gonna find written in the margins?”

Steve shoved a pillow into his face as the other man cackled.

The end <3

I did finish and post this at 4.30 am so I will not say much, might edit later idk. Lots of thoughts but cant verbalize them rn soooo bye :)

[bemyhurricanexwriting]

|| Part One ||

Entry #1 June 6th

the news of the world ending didn't come to a shock to me, I noticed all of the signs, All i was worried about was how my son and I were going to survive mentally from here on out into the next few seasons.

Holy crap all of the questions I'll have to answer in the upcoming waking hours when he realizes that there's no school ever again., and can we hope that one day we will cross paths with our loved ones someday.

My eye are overwhelmed with the constant tears that flow down my cheeks. We don't know what caused everything to shutdown, but everyone in out community stuck together and we worked together to make sure our kids were fed and we even started a survival camp within the neighborhood.

Entry #2 June 7th

We ventured up north, we found and stocked the car up with as many spagetti o's as we could fit along the way, but we were only able to survive for a few more weeks, before we were completely out of supplies; so we packed up and left for supply hunting before venturing to our next destination in search of any chosen family may have survived, We gave our pets their best chance, I couldn't change my mind. I just couldn't It wasn't fair to them and they know that they were loved for their whole lives, and that we will always love them no matter what, and believe that we will meet again in another life.

Entry #3 Juneteenth; tent

Every millennial's dream has come true.. if only tiktok worked. The Walking Dead memes I could share. oh, social media how I miss you. I have to be strong for him though. If you're okay, he's okay, and if he's okay, you're still on your guard because you'll always protect him.

Entry #4 Juneteenth; tent #2

I finally got my road trip; We're halfway past Nashville, 21 miles past it in a town call Franklin. It was quite the place. I could have seen myself settling there before the world ended, now I have no idea where I see myself while I'm constantly feeling anxious about missing appts that we no longer have. We stopped at some diner that seemed to be opened as a pit stop for survivors and some of them lived in tents outside. Despite the world basically shutting down and ending and all, I was still healing from my previous trauma, and I didn't have my resources to help. There was no DV advocate to call me back in ten minutes when I decided to reach for help. I wish I used those as much as I wanted, I was so grateful for everyone and I wish I told them one last time. In the next life I suppose.

Entry #5 Father's Day; shower stall.

We weren't going to stay, that was until Jax asked me to stay for 1 night. We were staying for one night. We got a hot meal and washed up for bed, it was just one night.

I felt the hot water burn the back of my neck while massaging the soap throughout my hair, completely zoning out.

I forgot where I was when I heard a familiar voice, the sound of his voice, the voice that I had so wanted to wake up and go to sleep to every morning for the last eight years. The voice that came back into her life a million times just to disappear the next morning not sure if we would have another secret moment to ourselves.

I turned off the water and wrapped myself in my towel while I dried my hair with another one before brushing my hair. Once I was decent I went out seeing the love of my life standing there helping his daughter brush her teeth while I did the same.

Entry #6 Father's Day; back at tent.

"You're really not going to acknowledge that we know each other?" I looked at him still in a state of shock that he was even standing in front of me. "I'm glad you survived.." I told him spitting the toothpaste into the sink before I looked at him and smiled soaking in the energy between the two of them.

He either found me, or I found him. we always do this, have I learned nothing? Should I pretend not to know who he is to be polite? I quickly smiled grabbing some paper towels before leaving the bathroom and settled in the tent with poems of Longfellow before drifting off to a sleep.

[speedypandaweasel]

Change of Plans - A Yancy x Neutral! Reader

❤ REBLOGS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 MASTERLIST

Where we left off:

So much for a lie in. You slowly rose from the cocoon of warmth you had made for yourself and you felt your toes wriggle up the bed and hiss at the exposed coldness of the room. Dragging yourself out of subconsciousness, your eyes finally decided to greet the grey interior and the black-barred window that perched just out of your arms reach. Why would they put such a tiny window if they didn’t want anyone to look out of it? Pretty pathetic actually. The Penitentiary really needed to repaint the bars, some of the black paint had flaked onto your pillow whilst you were sleeping.

You sat up, a little too quickly, and a cold, hard sensation hit the top of your body. Well good morning to you too World.

The unbearable ringing continued as you brought your arm down onto the squawking alarm clock. The room fell into a comfortable silence once more. 7:30am, not too bad, yet it could have been a little longer. Yet it was as if someone decided to balance a massive book on “how to not have a headache” on your already sore head. You’d ask Boggs for some paracetamol, or maybe some Ibuprofen as you tried to ponder on what did you do to deserve this...

~ Chapter 5 ~

MatchBox Analysis - 2.3K Words

"I'm here to speak to Officer Boggs." You timidly spoke, playing with the hem of your shirt. The man that towered in the small door frame in front of you was the most intimidating of all: Officer Rexx.

There were rumours about him that were too obscure and dangerous to mention twice, You only happen to hear about them when you overheard a couple of prisoners talking about "the anniversary" of how he lost his previous job, whatever that meant. To be frank, you didn't want to know about whatever hell hole he wriggled out of and treaded on eggshells around him, even if you weren't speaking to him. Something about that man caused you to feel insecure about something that you couldn't point your finger at, but there was no doubt that it was there.

"Yeah, he's in here." He paused for a moment. "You're one of the newer ones around here, aren't you? I've seen you around but never had the pleasure to meet."

He stuck out his grubby hand, his sausage fingers extended shortly at you, waiting for you to touch them. You grimaced before wiping that expression off your face. Rule 1: Never acknowledge the fingers.

You stuck out your hand bravely and shook his greasy one. His strong grip tightened around your knuckles as he shook hard, almost breaking your frail fingers.

"Well, I'll just go get him. Stay there." He spat. The door firmly closed behind him, the staff room's view blocked once again. You peeped through the mesh windows and managed to decipher the blurred silhouette of the sofa and coffee counter. You backed away as the door swung open again to the familiar face of Officer Boggs, his much shorter height made you relax second by the second.

"Oh hi Y/N, shouldn't you be outside?" He asked before shutting the door behind him, leaving the both of you outside in the wide hallway.

"Well I am, but I forgot to give you this from last night." You replied, planting your hand into your pocket before pulling out the owners key. Boggs let out a chuckle as his rosy cheeks grew even merrier.

"I forgot I gave you this! I'm glad that at least someone doesn't take my naivety for granted" He continued. "I respect that about you."

He unhooked the jingling keys from his beltline and clipped the Cafertiera key on the chain. He had a proud collection of keys to his name - being a veteran member of the Prison, it did have its perks.

"Well thank you, I really appreciate that Boggs. You know, sometimes I don't feel like I fit in here myself." Sounded cliche, you internally facepalmed yourself. Normally you wouldn't be telling this to anyone, but Boggs had been there since forever so it was nice to tell at least someone your true thoughts about staying here.

"Oh now don't think like that, every prisoner when they first come in her feels like that, but don't worry, I'm sure that the others will welcome you soon. Have you tried talking to them? I know you're not the socially inclined person but give it a shot. Who knows? You might actually enjoy their company" He concluded.

When Boggs gave advice, it could go two ways: either it was incredibly awful which ended in bad decisions being drawn from it, or it could be genuinely heartwarming and sincere words of wisdom. Thankfully, this was one of those pieces.

You allowed yourself to run over the speech the superior had just given and smiled. You could spark up a conversation with Yancy, you could ask him about what that poem meant! Maybe that could be the starting point of breaking out of your introverted shell.

"Thanks Boggs, I really do appreciate you." You said, before heading off outside.

"Have fun! But not too much fun, I don't want for you to get hurt!" His yells sounded down the empty corridor.

The mid-day sun blazed down on the steaming concrete, the prisoners having that work-out glow. Yancy had rolled his short sleeves even shorter, exposing his lesser-known tattoos, and his private box was stuffed in his trouser leg conveniently, away from the guard's view. If anyone found out what was in this box..well, it would ruin him.

Racing became tiresome after a couple of hours so the prisoners resorted to lazily running laps around the small quarter, this included the songbird himself.

"I tell's ya T, you wanna stop off for a few minutes? this box is gettin' uncomfortable." He protested, shifting his weight from one foot to another, finding a comfortable spot in his trouser leg.

"Why, you chickening out? Scared that someone will beat your record?" T retorted.

The prisoners slowed to a stop. Yancy regrettably paused his track game and attempted to get his ragged breath back.

"No ya dingus, it's 'cause dis box is scratchin' my skin off! I swear I's bleedin' down my shin by now."

Tiny's retort turned into concern as they pulled over to the side of the quarter. Once out of sight, Yancy slowly rolled his trouser leg up to his shin and took out the small, worn-out box from the bottom of his leg.

"Your leg hasn't been sawed off Yance, but you sure you need to keep it there? You could hurt yourself."

Yancy chortled shortly, not willing to admit that his friend was right. After what happened last time, he was going to learn from his mistakes. He rubbed his fading ankle bruise as he remembered the time he stayed in the medical ward. But the question was: where was he going put the little thing?

His eyes scanned the usual nooks and crannies that he had hid stuff in before, but word somehow got out and now everyone was using them for their secret stashes. Great - so much for having the upper hand.

His eyes continued to look for somewhere to stuff the thing until his ears pricked up on the outside door swinging open. His frustrated face broke into a smile as he saw you walk out timidly, and perching on a weight bench.

"Here, can youse hang on to it for a hot minute, just don't open it alight," He said, his curious eyes never leaving your sight.

Tiny was startled. The Boss never let them hold anything of his, let alone the one thing he persistently never left out of his sight. Tiny slipped the matchbox into their shoe before taking a squat down the brick wall as they watched their mate stride over to the newbie, but chose not to follow suit.

You picked at the seat cushion like it was the most interesting thing ever to you, whilst plucking up the courage to go and talk to the most confident person out here. Your eyes managed to look up. partially blinded from the sun but saw the small huddles of prisoners near the water pitches, walking around, or down by the blind spot. Guards stood at every entrance broadly, letting people in and out of the area, their moist uniforms made you wonder how the hell they managed to keep composure in this heat.

Your moment abruptly came as you saw the man of the hour coming towards you, his wide shoulders fully exposed to the heats rays. You knew he worked but w-w-wow.

"Finally decided to join in the fun eh?" He sprung up the conversation.

Chuckling, you look down, embarrassed and in amusement "And I'm guessing that this is the newest trouser look. Is this asymmetric chic? or is this just you trying to use illusion to become taller?" You threw a double whammy at him.

Yancy's shocked eyes bored into your own mischievous ones for a brisk moment. Suddenly, he exaggeratedly placed a hand on his chest before crumbling to the grass floor. "Oh de pain! I can't bear it anymore! Not another short joke!"

Other people around the quarter edge were starting to laugh along with his flailing and happily applauded when he finished his piece. The cheering and jeering died down as the conversation drifted back to normal, as Yancy dragged his trouser leg down and sidled up next to you and he bumped his hard shoulder next to yours.

"What a Drama Queen." You continued, letting out a small smile.

"What can I's say, I got's to get ma training in somewhere." He replied "So how's it been with you? Finish dat book yet?"

It was as if he read your mind! The topic of the poetry book caught your attention as you chipped away at your social shell. "Uh, not yet, but I did want to ask you a couple of questions about poem 19. You know, the one you recommended I read?"

The prisoner stretched his arms and placed them behind himself. "Oh yeah! It's one of ma favourites! I personally thinks its about de good and bad sides to love and once you've actually caught feelings for someone, it pains you to do things dat even surprise yaself. Youse got me?"

You would have never known that Yancy had a passion for literature, just listening to him made you even more dedicated to spending time with him. Boggs was right with his advice, it didn't bruise your ego that bad to socialise with new people, as it made you question what other things the man had up it sleeve - or trouser leg.

You rephrased yourself, "Ok then Yance, do you read poems often then?" your feet started to dance around the grassy floor, flattening pieces of green.

"So do you analyse poems often then Yancy?"

The man interrupted you "Oh please, call me Yance, only the big dog calls me Yancy."

"I used to when I was a youngin', my family hads a nice library ya see. Dey's had Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and some oder authors I can't remember but when youse a fabulous actor like myself, you gotta keep up ya noggin' in check." He smiled and looked out onto the busy area, almost reminiscing about his past life.

He never liked to bring up the subject of his past but when Yacny was with you, it felt- right. To finally talk about childhood memories and just laugh about them, instead of it always being dragged back to the soul reason why he was locked up at Happy Trails in the first place.

His strong arm planted on the side of your small shoulder as he gave you a tight squeeze. "How about youse? Do you read?"

"I-Uh... I"

Words formed in your mouth, yet your tongue was on holiday, not responding to any sentence your brain was throwing at you. Butterflies were born in your stomach as your face started to feel warm, too warm for your liking. What was happening? Were you having sunstroke!?

"Youse ok? Ya looking a little warm d'ere" Yancy said, dropping his arm from your side. "Youse want me to go grab you some water?"

This signalled your tongue to finally come back to work. "Oh. No, I'm fine thanks and yeah, I read, that's what I was going to ask about you actually." You said, forcing confidence.

"No way! Heh, I guess great minds think alike huh?" He replied, grinning his addicting smile. He looked over to where he left Tiny and an idea sprung in his scheming mind. "Hey, youse wanna come over to the wall, I got's a friend who you could meet. I mean, only if you wanna?" Yancy laughed, trying to sweetly coax you deeper into socialisation.

You hesitated. This man sure was alluring, but risking another episode like that caused you to reconsider. You bit your bottom lip, slightly, your eyebrows became sewn together as you weighted up your options. Either go over and run your social battery out completely, or decline and recover from this moment.

"Thanks Yance, but I think I'm done for the day." You responded. "All this talking and warm heat" and maybe some other things "has made my head spin a little."

"Ok, well if youse's sure." Yancy stood up once more and punched your shoulder "See you around Keys!"

You saw him walk back to his mate and sit down together under the shade of the building. You blissfully made your way back inside of Happy Trails, back with you and your own thoughts.

Its blasting air conditioner made your arms tingle as you pulled out a chair in the Cafeteria and went to reach for the poetry book. The silence hung much thicker in the air as you sat uncomfortably. Is this what withdrawal felt like? To be isolated not a minute after being surrounded by people. You kind of missed the feeling of having someone to talk to, but everyone had their boundaries - even you. You tried not to linger on the thought of feeling like you let Yancy down. He gave you the opportunity to help you overcome your fears but you didn't take it. Maybe next time you would take it, but for now, you did something new today: You should be proud of yourself.

You scanned around at the empty chairs and tables, the occasional guard whistling by the Cafeteria's door frame before you brought your head to the window. Your eyes soon spotted Yancy sashaying around with his friend. They must have said something funny because he soon showed his pearly whites, his chest rising and falling as his strong hand clutched his chest. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from this scene. The jailbird was the only person who actually tried with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back up and your breath hitched. He was looking directly back at you and giving you a small wave. His smaller companion followed suit, shooting their hand straight up, frantically joining in. You sheepishly waved back before opening the book from you left off.

"Missed me Y/N?"