#ficlet response

[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Eddie. My love. My light. My heart.”

“What?”

“Did you happen to pack Ella’s clothes?”

“Of course I packed Ella’s clothes. How would I forget her clothes?”

Steve was staring down into a nearly empty bag that they bought for Ella’s clothes when they went on trips.

It was small enough that she could roll it herself, but still big enough to hold all her clothes.

When they were packed, of course.

They took turns packing for her. This time was Eddie’s.

Steve had no reason not to believe that the bag wasn’t packed, he’d even heard them yesterday picking out shirts.

Where the shirts were now was a mystery, though.

“Well, unless she can wear her stuffed elephant or her hairbrush, then she doesn’t have any clothes in this bag.”

Eddie came up behind him, looking over his shoulder to see what Steve was seeing.

Yep, empty.

“I packed her bag. I swear to god I packed clothes.”

Eddie was running his hands through his hair, stress suddenly pouring out of him. Steve knew then that he definitely packed the bag. He would’ve been laughing it off if he hadn’t.

“Ella.”

The realization hit them both at the same time.

They turned from the small bedroom area at the back of the RV to see her playing at the table.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t walk over yet, wanting to form a game plan with Steve first.

“When did she do it?”

“Probably while we were sleeping.”

“How did we not notice how light it was?”

“She made us let her carry it the whole way, remember?”

They both sighed. They thought she was just being independent.

Since turning three a month ago, she wanted to do everything by herself, even things that were still much too difficult for her to do. They always let her try first as long as it wasn’t actually dangerous, and she was a very determined kid.

But determination wasn’t always a positive, as Eddie and Steve quickly learned when she used that determination to wreak havoc on their surprisingly careful organization.

“Why would she do this?”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

Eddie shook his head.

“What?!”

“This is because I told her we couldn’t pack her princess dresses.”

“But we never pack her princess dresses.”

“Ah, but she never cared before.”

“And she cares now?”

“Obviously.”

“So…she just decided to not wear any clothes because we said no on the princess dresses?”

“Indeed.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, but it was to cover all of his frustration with their strong-willed daughter.

“I’m gonna go hook up the plumbing. You handle the princess.”

“To be clear, we’re not letting her be independent with this anymore, right?”

“Not until she can stop being sneaky.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. She’s my kid.”

“Eds, she isn’t biologically yours.”

“It doesn’t matter. She got it by osmosis.”

“…okay.”

Steve left the RV and Eddie joined Ella at the table, where she’d started coloring in her coloring book they kept in the RV to keep her busy.

“Ella, you know your daddy and I were just unpacking our things and the weirdest thing happened.”

“What?” Ella didn’t look up from her coloring as she spoke.

“Your clothes disappeared.”

Ella looked up at Eddie, jaw wide open as if she wasn’t the culprit behind the missing clothes.

“Do you have any idea where they might be?”

“No! They left?”

“Well, I have a hunch. Wanna hear it?”

Ella nodded furiously, playing her role well. Eddie was impressed.

“My hunch is that someone was upset they couldn’t bring their princess dresses and decided that they didn’t wanna wear their other clothes either. That someone must have unpacked their bag before we even left the house.”

“Who did that?”

“I don’t know. But Daddy and I are keeping an eye out. If you know anything, tell us,” Eddie shrugged. He knew she’d give in eventually.

But not right away.

She went back to coloring and he got up to finish unpacking his own bag so Steve wouldn’t have to.

After a few minutes, he felt arms around his leg.

“Hi, princess,” he smiled down at her, resting his hand on her head.

“Daddy, it was me! I did it!”

Eddie did his best to hide his smirk by looking up the ceiling. He could hear Steve cussing outside, probably struggling to hook up by himself like always.

“What did you do, princess?”

“I stoled the clothes!”

She was crying now and Eddie hated when she cried. Even when she was in trouble, he hated it.

“Where did you put them, angel?”

“I hided them under my bed.”

Eddie was impressed. She was good.

“Why did you hide them?”

“Cuz I wanna be a princess!”

“But daddy said no, didn’t he? And that means you have to wear your regular clothes for this trip.”

“But I was sad.”

Eddie got down on the floor, pulling her into his lap. She was trying to catch her breath, but she was still too upset, hiccuping through tears.

“Baby, let’s take a deep breath so we can talk, okay?”

Eddie heard the RV door open, but he paid no attention to it, focus on calming Ella down.

They took some deep breaths together, and Eddie kept a calm smile on his face so she knew that he wasn’t that upset.

“Alright, let’s talk. Do you know why I said no to bringing the princess dresses?”

“Cuz they get ruined.”

“Yeah, baby. You know how we go do a lot of fun things on these trips and sometimes we get messy outside?” Ella nodded. “Your princess dresses aren’t easy to clean or fix if something happens to them, so it’s better to keep them at home. Don’t you think so?”

Ella nodded again.

“I can be a princess?”

Eddie smiled at her.

“Of course you can still be a princess. They don’t always wear fancy dresses you know. One time I met a princess who wore jeans and a t-shirt to go on adventures. Just like you can wear now.”

“Oh.”

Eddie let her sit with this information for a moment, but just when he was going to say something, she spoke.

“Sorry, Daddy. We go home?”

“No, princess. We can run to the store and grab you some play clothes. But do you know what I think you should do?”

“What?”

“Apologize to your dad, too. He was really sad when he saw your bag.”

“Oh. Don’t want him sad.”

“No, we don’t. How about you go say sorry to him and I’ll get finished here so we can go to the store?”

“Okay.”

“Love you, princess.”

“Love you mostest.”

“Love you infinity.”

“So many?”

“So many.”

[ravenssilver]

I would adore if you could make an Aeon angst where he feels abandoned or like he’s not worth being in the ministry, and one of the ghouls (any of your choice) finds him and comforts him? You don’t have to if you don’t want too I’m just in love with your writing!!

ahh anon !! i will happily throw out some aeon/swiss hurt/comfort. you feed into my muse🫶🫶

here is me indulging in my favorite thing—aka 2.2k words of aeon feeling abandoned and swiss loving on him anyway🤍

cw: aeon being anxious, aeon has minor abandonment issues, minor panic attack

under the cut, if you please<3

Aeon was giddy after a particularly good ritual. He and Swiss seemed to have developed a pre-show ritual of practically being attached to each other’s hips and walking on stage together. He had hit every note perfectly and gotten to every cue, bouncing happily to the beat of the songs all the while. The audience had been fantastic and he had gotten at least five bat plushes thrown at him before bows, and he was sure some of the crew had picked up the rest.

Though, as Aeon took a quick shower to get all his sweat off, he thought about the other ghouls during the ritual.

Cirrus and Cumulus didn’t pay him any mind whenever he went over to them, Dewdrop seemed annoyed when Aeon was all over him during Absolution, Rain didn’t seem all that amused by the slides in Watcher, and Papa seemed actually upset when he had cut in front of him for his part in Year Zero.

Aeon frowned when he remembered how he had subconsciously given up on interacting with the band after Mary On a Cross when Papa didn’t even look at him when the song quieted down for a few measures.

And during Square Hammer, his final chance to maybe get an interaction, Aurora was play flirting with Swiss from across the stage when Aeon was meant to be on her platform.

Aeon hissed when he accidentally got soap in his eye, a frown etched on his face as he felt his heart aching with doubt in himself.

Did his packmates think he was annoying? Did Papa think he was annoying?

Maybe they’re just tired… Yeah, that had to be it. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, much less annoying.

Aeon quickly finished up with his shower and changed into some clothes he had stolen from Swiss, grinning when he saw the slight bagginess of his pack mate’s clothes on him.

With a pep in his step due to his shower and how he now felt clean, Aeon happily left the dressing room and went to the parking lot where the buses were.

Though, as soon as he got outside he froze in his tracks.

The buses were gone.

A distressed sound left Aeon and be spun around in a circle as if the building behind him would’ve somehow turned into the tour buses. Aeon chuffed worriedly when he just saw the door he had come out of and went back inside, some of his glamor starting to slip as his thoughts spiraled.

They left him. They got on the busses and left him alone. He was stuck—trapped.

Abandoned.

A distressed whine left Aeon and he picked up the pace of his footsteps, desperate to find his pack or his Papa. Aeon felt like his throat was closing up, his ears pinned and twitching at every single noise he heard as his hands started to shake.

Much to his dismay, instead of someone he knew, Aeon ran into a member of the venue staff and he had hurt himself by quickly throwing up his glamor.

Aeon’s head pulsed with an intense ache as his eyes darted around, his glamoured nails clicking as he picked at them.

“Hey, are you alright?” The woman asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she placed her hand on Aeon’s shoulder. Aeon wanted to say yes, try to reassure her that he was fine when he so clearly wasn’t. But when his throat closed up even tighter, tears welled in his eyes and his shaking became a lot more obvious.

“Woah, it’s okay, breathe. Why aren’t you with everyone else out back? They’re leaving for the hotel in about five minutes,” The woman said, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get Aeon to calm down.

A tear fell from Aeon’s lash line when she told him that. He nodded and turned on his heel, rushing away from her as he went to the back of the venue.

Nobody had told him that there was a rest day after that nights ritual. Nobody had told him that they would be going to a hotel that night instead of getting back on the buses.

Aeon rushed outside, signing in relief when he saw Papa and the rest of his pack standing outside of a van. He wiped his eyes and face of tears, trying to cover up the panic in his scent that he knew was there.

“Ah, there you are,” Copia sighed when Aeon silently walked up next to Rain, huddled in on himself. “We’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?” Copia asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t-“ Aeon went to respond, only for Copia to throw his hands up in the air and mumble annoyed Italian to himself as he went to make sure all their bags were ready to go to the hotel.

Another distressed sound left Aeon as he felt a pit form in his stomach. He looked down and pulled the hood of Swiss’ hoodie up over his head, hiding his face from his pack who weren’t paying attention anyway.

Aeon’s shoulders shook as he messed with the end of his sleeves, his body trembling with anxiety as his thoughts continued to spiral.

Look what you did, you made Papa mad. You held everyone up and now they’re all mad at you. You’re cutting off their resting time like a total idiot. How dumb do you have to be to not remember a schedule?

Aeon clambered into the van first as soon as the doors opened, wanting the front row seat closest to the window on the drivers side so nobody would see his tears.

He heard a low growl from Dew, as that was usually the fire ghoul’s spot, the annoyed sound only adding fuel to the dumpster fire that was Aeon’s brain.

He buckled and curled into himself, burying his face in his knees as his thoughts just went further and further down the spiral of self doubt and insecurity.

The next twenty minutes went by in a blur. One moment Aeon was curled up into himself on an uncomfortable seat—the next, Aeon was curled up on an uncomfortable hotel couch as he stared at the wall, tears slowly trailing down his face.

Aeon had fully unglamoured, his tail wrapped tightly around his ankle as his claws dragged along the discolored part of his face around his right eye. Waves and waves of distress rolled off of him as he whimpered every now and then.

They all hate you. You’re just a replacement for someone they all loved. A penny in the crater sized hole in their hearts where the prior quintessence ghoul was.

The better quintessence ghoul.

Aeon sobbed, closing his eyes and burying his face into the hoodie he had stolen from his favorite multi-ghoul.

He wasn’t Swiss’ favorite, though.

Aeon whined and immediately tore off Swiss’ hoodie and sweatpants, chucking the clothes across the hotel room, leaving him in his boxers.

Aeon snuffled and laid back down, curling up into himself even tighter as to fight off the chill of the unreasonably cold hotel room.

He wanted Swiss. Dewdrop, even.

He wanted to be warm. He wanted to be loved. Appreciated by the creatures he had around him everyday. Aeon loved the crowd’s praise, but he wanted his pack now. Even just one of them would suffice.

He wanted to know that they saw how hard he was trying. He wanted to know that they appreciated him for stepping into shoes that were far too big and running the miles anyway.

He just wanted to be seen.

“Stardust..?”

Aeon picked up his head and looked over at the door to his hotel room, his ear twitching as he heard Swiss’ voice.

“Hey… Aeon, you awake? C’mon, your scent changed, I know you hear me..” Swiss said, knocking on the door again.

Aeon looked over at the digital clock that was across the room, taking a moment to remember everything Mountain taught him about reading a clock.

It had been two hours since they got to the hotel.

“Bug? Can you come to the door?” Swiss spoke again, regaining Aeon’s attention.

Aeon scrambled up, not wanting to annoy Swiss even more than he thought he had. Aeon snatched the duvet on his bed and struggled to get it off the mattress due to the unnecessarily tight tucking of the bedding.

As soon as Aeon managed to get the duvet off the bed, he fell to the floor with a yelp due to how suddenly the tension released. The little quint scrambled back up to his feet and wrapped the duvet around his mostly bare body, ignoring the pain in his hip from the fall.

Aeon opened the door and peaked through, his lilac eyes staring up into Swiss’. The multi-ghoul quickly moved closer when he saw Aeon wasn’t glamoured.

And to Aeon’s dismay, that allowed Swiss to see the tear streaks on his face.

“Stardust, what’s wrong?” Swiss frowned, gently cupping Aeon’s cheek with his big hand. Aeon snuffled, choking back a sob as he leaned into Swiss’ hand.

Swiss frowned and crowded Aeon back into his room, closing the hotel door and locking it before he brought Aeon over to his bed and sat him down, pulling the duvet around tighter around the smaller ghoul’s body when he felt how cold it was in the room.

“Talk to me, Tommy, what’s wrong?” Swiss spoke softly, his eyebrows creased with worry as he brushed his thumb over the little quint’s cheekbone. Aeon’s bloodshot eyes hesitantly looked into Swiss’ as he sniffled again, wiping the snot away from his face with his wrist.

It was gross, but Swiss was far too concerned about Aeon’s tears to even notice his actions.

“I… I feel like you don’t like me. Like-“ Aeon sobbed softly and covered his face. “Like you’ve all been lying to me and that you don’t want me here…”

Swiss’ heart shattered.

“Oh, bug…” Swiss whispered as he swept Aeon up into his arms. It was all he could say at the moment, his own devastation rushing through him.

Swiss didn’t know what he or the pack had done to make Aeon feel this way, but he would kick himself for eternity because of it.

“You will always, always be wanted, Stardust. I know that if the others were here, they’d be all over you telling you the exact same thing.” Swiss whispered, holding Aeon close to his chest as the smaller ghoul sobbed out all his sudden and overwhelming emotions.

Swiss let Aeon cry, not once shushing him or trying to get him to stop crying. He didn’t want Aeon to feel like he was being a burden, so Swiss let him cry until he felt better.

“Swiss…?” Aeon whispered after about 10 or so minutes, seemingly shy. Swiss hummed and looked down at Aeon, staring into his lilac eyes with as much love and affection that he could muster. “I… can you get my clothes..? I threw them over there…” Aeon mumbled, pointing across the room.

“Of course, babybat, one second,” Swiss said immediately, gently setting Aeon back on the mattress and pressing a kiss to his forehead before rushing over to where Aeon had pointed.

Swiss picked up the dark gray hoodie and sweatpants, his eyebrows furrowing when he recognized the feel of the fabric.

“Are these mine?” Swiss asked, wondering if they were his favorite set that he had lost. Aeon shrunk into himself and nodded as Swiss walked over. “I took them a few months ago.. I’m sorry..” Aeon apologized, looking sad.

“Don’t be sorry,” Swiss smiled, shaking his head as he gently guided Aeon to unwrap himself of the duvet. Swiss mumbled a quiet: “watch your horns…” as he slipped the hoodie over Aeon’s head, smiling when he saw just how adorable the smaller ghoul looked in his clothes.

“The gray matches your skin better anyway,” Swiss shrugged with a grin, ruffling Aeon’s shaggy black hair and helping him into the sweatpants. Aeon chirruped softly and leaned into Swiss’ touch, a quiet little purr starting up in his chest as Swiss swept him off his feet.

Aeon laughed happily, a grin on his face as Swiss laid him down, his head resting on the pillows. Swiss re-situated the bedding and laid down next to Aeon after flicking off all the lights, nuzzling Aeon’s nose as they settled into the bed together.

“Feeling better…?” Swiss asked softly, brushing his thumb over Aeon’s cheekbone, his eyes taking in Aeon’s appearance in the darkness. Aeon thought for a moment before nodding slightly, only to shake his head.

Swiss frowned, cupping Aeon’s jaw with his big hand.

“Talk to me?”

Aeon sighed a bit before starting to explain.

“You made me feel better than I did.. but I.. I guess I’m still thinking about the others. You can only promise so much, y’know?” Aeon mumbled, sounding sad. Swiss’ frown deepened but Aeon was right.

From the quint’s point of view, Swiss’ words about the others were just as good as the lies his brain was feeding him.

“Do you want me to talk to them? Have them talk to you?” Swiss asked, wanting Aeon to feel at home in the pack. “Can I… um.. can I try to talk to them first?” Aeon asked, sounding nervous.

Swiss’ heart swelled and he nodded immediately.

“Of course you can, Stardust. I’ll let you go about this however you please….” Swiss whispered, kissing Aeon’s forehead between his horns.

Aeon purred and leaned into the kiss, cuddling up closer to Swiss.

“Thank you, Swiss.”

“Anytime, Stardust.”

[stevethehairington]

Dustin swings.

The first punch to Steve’s hands is unexpectedly hard enough that Steve has to step back to steady himself.

Under any other circumstance, that would’ve had Dustin grinning and laughing and teasing the shit out of Steve.

Today, he doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

His mouth stays twisted, an anguished gash that feels so out of place on a face that stands for everything Steve has come to associate with Dustin: bright, bubbling laughter, a permanent grin so wide it shows off every single one of his teeth; nothing but pure happiness and joy.

But there's not a trace of that in Dustin anymore. There hasn't been since... since.

It fucking hurts to see Dustin like this. So broken, so pained. And the worst part is, Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how to fix it. Because, well, he can't fix it. He can't bring Max back. He can't bring Eddie back. He can't undo all of the death and destruction and pain and suffering. No matter how much he wants to.

Steve knows, all too well, that handling Dustin with kid gloves won't do shit either. Gentle touches and kind words and the kind of taking care that comes in the aftermath of such great tragedy isn't going to help. Dustin has seen, has experienced, has survived through far too much for empty promises of "it'll pass" and "it will get better" and "it gets easier" to mean anything.

Four times around and it hasn't gotten better or easier at all.

The only thing Steve can do to help is to be there. To be a steady presence in Dustin's life, to offer him the silent support he needs, to let Dustin work through his grief and his anger and his pain at his own pace.

So he does.

He stands there and he lets Dustin pummel his hands, pounding his tightly wound fists over and over and over. Lets him scream and shout and grunt and cry as he streamlines every overwhelming feeling into this one action.

(Steve's hands hurt, they sting from Dustin's punches, and he thinks they might bruise, if palms even can bruise, but he thinks of it as some sort of penance. For letting Dustin go through all of this. For not protecting him better in the first place.)

Steve can't quite make out all that Dustin's saying as he hits, but he catches bits. A couple of "why"'s, a few "it's not fair"'s, one "it should have been me" that tears through Steve's own chest and has him losing his breath and his footing, briefly, once more.

After a couple of minutes, Dustin's energy starts to lag. His breathing comes heavier, but his punches come slower and slower, until all of the sudden he's collapsing into Steve's arms, burying his face into Steve's chest as his sobs wrack through his body.

Steve catches him, secures his arms around Dustin and holds him close, holds him tight. He swallows down his own sobs threatening to break through because fuck, fuck, fuck he never wanted this for Dustin. The horror, the hurt, the guilt. That was supposed to be Steve's to carry, and Steve's alone. But he couldn't even do that right either.

He can feel Dustin's tears, hot and wet, down the side of his neck. Can hear the snot that stuffs his nose and clogs his lungs. Can hear the absolute heartbreak in his words as he mumbles out his desolation into Steve's shirt.

But Steve holds his own grief in. Holds his own pain. Because he needs to be strong for Dustin. Needs to be his rock right now.

Steve can't stop it. He can't take it away. He can't fix it.

But he can do this. He can let Dustin punch him until he can't anymore. And he can hold Dustin as he cries.

It's not much, but it's something.

[edgyggstantomlol]

Tomarry prompt: Accidental first kiss that neither one of them were expecting to happen.

There are things that everyone knows. The sky is blue, grass is green, Lockhart's a dick, the French are fucking annoying, etcetera and so forth.

Then there are things that everyone at Hogwarts knows, like the fact that Hagrid is more than a little insane about wild animals, and should be avoided by any persons who are less than ecstatic about creepy crawlies of larger than average size.

Or the fact that Riddle and Evans are always butting heads, but are also total freaks about each other, which is why they butt heads to begin with.

Quite frankly, it was a bit painfully obvious that their rivalry was rooted in a classic case of teenage hormones doing their, er, thing, but they themselves had yet to catch the memo. Unfortunate, truly, since it would probably only take a couple rounds of shoving their tongues down each other's throats to resolve all their conflicts.

But alas, some things were simply not to be, and so everyone resolved to having to endure the endless bitching and moaning of the school prodigies, never to be resolved by the hour of snogging Riddle and Evans so desperately needed.

;

"Oh holy shit," blurted out McTaggert. He and several other students were in the air, in between some casual matches of quidditch.

"Watch it, Taggy, not in front of the babies," said Carlisle playfully, much to the chagrin of her third year brother, and then, "What's happened?"

"Evans and Riddle just kissed."

"What?!"

Every single player halted what they were doing and snapped their attention to McTaggert, half convinced he was delusional. The school populace had long resigned itself to the understanding that Riddle and Evans would simply be dense for the rest of their school years, it was simply impossible that they would suddenly-

"Kiss? Riddle and Evans? Are you mad?"

"No way that's true, he's messing with us."

"You kid! Taggy, I fucking swear, you best be joking-"

"I'm not, honest!" he said defensively. "Look, you can see them running off right now- oh their faces are so fucking red, hah."

Everyone leaned forward on their brooms, squinting at where McTaggert was motioning.

"Oh shit, they are," said the elder Carlisle, with no small amount of glee. "Ah, to be young and innocent again, so flustered by a lil kissy kissy~"

"Oh, stop talking," whined Carlisle the younger. The pink-cheeked fourth years snickered.

"I think it's because it was an accident," mused McTaggert. "Honestly, it looked more like they tripped onto each other's faces than an intentional leaning in, if you will."

Carlisle guffawed at that, and Minyx, the sole sixth year Ravenclaw, quirked an eyebrow.

"Evans I can believe, but our ever so graceful Slytherin prodigy? Being so plebeian as to, what, stumble? I don't think Riddle's ever tripped on even his words, let alone his feet."

"Yes, well, I was the one who actually saw it happen, thanks, and I know what I was looking at," said McTaggert drily. "Perhaps if you lot were more aware of your surroundings, like a proper seeker-"

"Bring up our official matches and I'll beat you to death with my broom," interrupted Minyx.

The players then quickly and collectively devolved into a mostly unserious argument over house rivalries. Between all the noise and challenges, the matter of Riddle and Evans' little Schrodinger's kiss was soon forgotten in favor of defending quidditch honor.

From the beginning to the end, none of them had realized that Evans had ducked behind a pillar not too far away, red cheeked and wide eyed with a hand pressed against his lips.

What do you do when you know how a handsome boy's lips feel like?

[rillils]

“You’re worth a lot more than this, Buck,”

SAM JUST SAID THIS TO BUCKY. AND HE LAUGHED. BUCKY LAUGHED.

he doesnt believe him, because if he really is worth a lot more than this, he thinks, then why did steve leave him

But of course, endgame isnt real

IM CRYING RILS. MY CHILD. LORD PLEASE. JUST LET HIM BE SOFT. AND LET HIM BE STEVE'S

of COURSE endgame isn't real, sweetheart, you're absolutely right!!! and bucky means SO MUCH to steve!!!! in fact, i was gonna say--

Bucky can’t get drunk.

He discovered that new, unsavory reality pretty early on, by leading quite a few misery-fueled experiments on his own, whenever war granted him the respite and the solitude to do so. Eventually, he had no choice but to accept that, try as he might, the pleasant buzz and the grief-dulling fumes would no longer be accessible to him.

But when Steve makes love to him like this, the intoxicating warmth spreading low in Bucky’s belly feels all too familiar.

When Steve lays him out on their softest sheets, like a feast to be savored one generous mouthful at a time. When Steve holds his gaze as he sinks between Bucky’s thighs, graceful as a cat and hungry as a wolf, pleasure dancing in his eyes as his lips wrap red and shiny around Bucky’s cock, and he holds it on his tongue as though it were cotton candy melting against the roof of his mouth.

When he spends long, honey-gold forevers working Bucky open with skilled fingers, chasing Bucky’s sweet spot over and over until it’s Bucky himself, breathless and mad with pleasure, who reaches down for him and tugs him up by the underarms, pulling Steve’s gorgeous weight on top of him; his hips cinched between Bucky’s legs, where they ought to have been a whole, torturous eternity ago.

When Steve gives in, and slides home with a shuddering gasp, his mouth slack and his eyes half-lidded, and his name rises from Bucky’s lips with the helpless pitch of ecstasy.

It feels just like that. Like he remembers it feeling the last time he got nice and tipsy, enough so that the world had started to blur around the edges. That simmering heat curling in his belly and reaching out to his limbs, pouring into every nook and cranny of him, singing in his arms, in his legs, pulsing in the tips of his fingers like a heartbeat. Burning him up from within like a fever; flushing his cheeks, welling up in his glossy eyes, filling up the back of his throat.

That time, the last time he remembers getting drunk, Steve was with him.

Of course he was, Bucky thinks senselessly, his back arching off the rumpled sheets. Of course, of course, of course he was there. How else would they have explored the world and all its countless facts, if not by testing them all together?

Steve’s eyes seek him, devouring him inch by inch. His nose and his gasping mouth, and the cleft of his chin. The sweat beading over Bucky’s brow, darkening his hair at his temples, teasing it into damp curls.

Consumed, is how Bucky feels; eaten to the white of his bones, stripped clean of every part, and yet more whole than he’s ever been before.

“Do you know,” Steve pants, one hand planted on the mattress by Bucky’s metal shoulder, the other skating down along Bucky’s flank, searching, needy. “Do you know what you are to me?”

He thrusts in, slow and deep and full of purpose, and Bucky loses himself to the feeling for a moment, blind and deaf to anything that isn’t the slick press of Steve’s cock filling him, satiating him for a few precious seconds only to leave him hungry and wanting again, over and over.

“Steve,” he moans, gripping Steve’s shoulders almost blindly, desperate to find an anchor in this sweet, raging storm. “Please, please–”

Steve’s hand slips under him, fingers splayed as wide as they’ll go, lifting Bucky’s hips off the bed to press him closer.

“You’re my whole world,” Steve rasps, his voice hoarse, tight with passion, like a muscle pulled taut. Bucky can’t help but look up at him, soak up the sight of him.

Steve, moving above him, lovely and beautiful beyond words. His mouth bitten red with kisses, the apples of his cheeks burning pink above the dirty gold of his beard, hot under Bucky’s touch. His broad shoulders, boxing Bucky in. The sheen of sweat gleaming on his skin, dancing with his every move, catching the morning light with the flitting of Steve’s muscles, all grace and subtle power.

Mine, says the pulp of Bucky’s heart, beating frantically in his chest. Mine, and he’d scream it proudly from each rooftop, climb to the top of the world and above to scream it joyfully to the heavens, so that even the stars would know.

“You’re my everything,” Steve breathes out, leaning down until their bodies are flush together; his heaving chest pressed to Bucky’s own, and Bucky’s cock trapped, snug and aching, between their bellies. “D’ya hear that, honey? My everything,” Steve says, eyes never leaving Bucky’s face.

Bucky nods, out of breath. His heart will stop here and now, he’s sure of it. Stop, or burst into a thousand white-hot sparks inside his ribcage, the measure of his love too big for any heart to contain.

Steve’s mouth grazes his own, soft and wet.

“Tell me,” he all but gasps against Bucky’s lips, and the leisurely rocking of his hips picks up a new rhythm, more urgent now. “Tell me what you are to me, Buck.”

It’s like a fire, blazing with bright, vibrant pleasure up Bucky’s spine, blinding him.

“I’m–”

They’re mouth to mouth, both parted; too slack to kiss, too desperate to stray any farther than that. The air is thick between them, damp with their hot breaths, and Bucky, Bucky’s not drunk, he knows now–

“Yours, I’m yours, your–”

–he’s in bliss, molten gold and sun-bright halo, gripped by an ecstasy that threatens to spill over with every stroke of Steve’s fevered cock inside him – that has him trembling at the notion of his own body, parting like soft butter for him, greedy for nothing but him.

“I’m your– your everything, your–”

And when it does spill over, pouring hotly between their bodies, and Steve’s whispering breathless praise against his lips, Bucky knows he wouldn’t need the kiss of alcohol even if he could get drunk, after all.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

So, my darling @spaceprincessem and I were losing our minds about the shooting conversation and future possibilities and then this happened. I am sorry. I blame Em 😉😘

"For fuck’s sake, I know what your blood tastes like, Eddie!"

Eddie stumbles back as if struck. The words split through him harder than any bullet ever could.

Buck’s chest heaves as he pants, his eyes glazed over as if completely lost in the memory. "I had your blood all over me. Searing into my skin. Settling along my tongue. And all I could think was 'No, this can't be the only taste of him I'll ever have' and 'I'll bear this taste for the rest of my life if you just let him live.'" He shakes his head as tears spill down his face. A laugh breaks free from him, broken and brittle and bitter. "Praying to a God I don't even believe in. All for you."

Eddie doesn't bother to fight against his own tears. They blaze hot trails down his face, burning like the fiery splash of blood that painted Buck’s face that day.

Eddie remembers. Of course he remembers.

How could he forget the moment everything changed? How could he forget the moment a piece of metal tore through his skin and forced all of his love to explode out of him in a flood of red?

"I prayed too," Eddie whispers. "I prayed that I'd live long enough to look in your eyes again. I prayed that somehow, you'd feel my love as it stained your face."

Buck’s expression shutters and a visible tremor runs through his body. "W-what?" Blue blue blue eyes bore into him, vast and bright, a shining beacon of light that sears into Eddie’s soul.

Eddie furiously wipes away his tears and even though this isn't how he wanted to do this, he is helpless to stop the confession from finally falling off his lips. "That was the moment I knew, Buck. That moment, as searing pain ricocheted throughout my body, I realized how in love with you I was. I am."

Buck gapes at him, his mouth opening and closing. Fear and awe and pain and hope all blaze across his face. A face Eddie knows better than his own. A face beautifully carved and wonderfully soft and bright. A face he has seen ravaged by devastation and grief, glowing with happiness and love, twisted in confusion and anger, peaceful in sleep and quiet moments spent at Eddie’s side.

It all makes it so incredibly easy for Eddie to keep going. He might as well tell Buck everything now. "I held it back for so long, because-" he grapples with the words, unsure of how to properly express it but more than willing to try for Buck. He deserves it. He deserves to hear how loved he is. "Because it's so overwhelming and powerful and fucking effervescent and I didn't know what to do with it. And things kept going wrong and I lost my fucking mind, but you were there. Always there, making me feel important and loved even when I was at my lowest. And then I thought maybe, maybe we could be ready. Then fucking lightning struck."

A sob threatens to tear out of his throat. He can feel it building and breaking, cutting at the flesh of his throat like glass, but he can't let it out. Not yet.

"You died, Buck." The first time he had said the words, they were hushed and gentle, meant for Buck and not himself, but now-now they tear through the air and splatter at their feet, harsh and rough and soaked in the still lingering despair that clutches tightly at his chest some nights.

"Eddie-" Buck steps forward, reaching out for Eddie but Eddie holds up a hand to stop him.

Not yet. Not yet.

"You died and so did I. Those minutes you were gone I was a ghost, hollow and incorporeal and drowning in grief. I vowed to myself that if we got you back then I'd tell you how I felt because every day that you go without knowing how deeply and irrevocably in love with you I am is torture."

"But you didn't," Buck says, voice cracking. "You didn't tell me."

Eddie huffs and looks away. "No. I-I got scared and then you admitted to me that you were struggling and I couldn't put all of that on you. It wouldn't have been fair."

Buck steps toward him, the bulk of him closing around Eddie and caging him against the counter, wrapping Eddie in softness and warmth and strength. "And now?"

A ragged sigh escapes Eddie's lips as he reached up a shaking hand and cups Buck’s cheek. "There’s so much we need to talk about, Buck. I couldn't bear to rush into anything with you and fuck this up. I need you in my life, okay? You're my best friend, my partner, my fucking co-parent, and I. Cannot. Lose. You."

Something between a whine and sob crawls out of Buck's chest and it vibrates in the air between them. Buck nuzzles into his hand and the wet, sticky residue of his tears smears across Eddie's palm.

"You're right," Buck says. "I-I need to get better. For the both of us."

Eddie brings up his other hand so he is cradling Buck’s face and waits until those blue eyes meet his. "I love you," Eddie declares. "I love all of you, every wonderful and horrible piece, and I can wait until you're ready."

Buck exhales shakily and nudges forward until he can rest his forehead against Eddie’s. "I love you, too."

They stay like that, pressed against each other, sharing sweet, sacred, life-giving breaths until the tears and tremors subside.

[frankenjoly]

HIII!!!!!

This isn't really that good of a prompt (idk what kind of prompt youre asking for ahbsbxjzyhx) but maybe bram and aya slumber party?? 🥺

ORRR them having a teaparty?? Maybe with kunikida maybe with kyouka maybe just them I don't mind sudbndjdjfjd

THANKS AND HAVE A LOVELY DAYYY <3333

no pls it's so cute :3 i went for tea party buuut there's mentions to slumber parties too + i added kenji bcs he's a sweetie

“I am afraid I do not understand it in the slightest.” Bram said, shrugging carefully in order not to compromise the recently (and a bit overly) filled teacup Aya had handed him to pass on to Kunikida, which he did swiftly. “If it is called a slumber party, why is part of the purpose attempting to stay awake as much time as possible?”

Aya giggled, filling up another cup that Kenji took shortly after.

“You can do more of the things you wanna do before sleepin’ if you stay up later than usual.” Was Aya’s response. Once that last cup had tea in it, the girl claimed it for herself. “Besides, that may be the only way you’re actually allowed to not care about your usual bedtime, so ‘course it’s temptin’ too, y’know?” Kenji and Kyôka instantly nodded, in an almost solemn demeanor.

“It’s not technically breaking the rules if they don’t apply in the first place.” Kunikida said, smirking.

“Exactly!!!” Kenji added, cheerful as always. “By the way, you said we were gonna have roles, right? Can I still be a farmer?”

“You don’t wanna be, dunno, a mage?” Aya asked, to which Kenji shook his head.

“I like being a farmer.”

“Alright, then that’s settled.” She then turned to Bram himself. “You’re still a knight, and Kyôka-chan and I are the princesses.” Hm. His little princess’ knight, that was something he could do. After all, playing pretend came easier when putting a bit of the truth in the game.

“Do you want to be my sister or are we friends from different kingdoms? In any case, Kunikida-san can be the king.” Kyôka added.

“Me? King?” Kunikida almost spilled his tea. In fact, it was quite the feat that he didn’t. “I don’t think I–”

“Chill, silly. It’s a game, isn’t it?” Was Aya’s instant answer, giggling again as Kenji leaned in to whisper something in Kyôka’s ear. Her reaction? A brief smirk, but a smirk nonetheless.

(Also on ao3.)

[sam-loves-seb]

dream a little dream of me -- chapter 1

Ian smiles at him. He checks his watch—ten-thirty—and wonders when they got so old. They’re still in their twenties and more often than not they don’t see eleven o’clock. They used to run around the abandoned buildings and the poorly lit sidewalks until the sun came up when they were teenagers. He can’t even imagine doing that shit now. He’s tired. His body is tired after so many years of fighting against what feels like everything and everyone, and now he’s finally pushed through to the other side. Mickey too. Mickey more than most. Beers and blunts and Friday nights. And a bed that’s just on the other side of the living room.

prompt: “Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

read the rest on ao3

[coffeebanana]

trick or treat

HAHA WDYM IT'S NOT HALLOWEEN ANYMORE PFFFFFT

but ANYWAYS. here's a little ficlet inspired by nastic and thigmotropic movement in plants. as you requested ages ago 😂

i meant for a little light angst. but, uh...it did not turn out that way. blame ladrien--all they wanted to do was make out

.......

“Isn’t it cool?” 

The enthusiasm in Adrien’s voice made Ladybug smile, but it failed to draw her attention to the video playing from his phone. Which was his own fault, really—for being so irresistible. And for letting her get far too comfortable in her current position, lying on his chest on the sofa in his room, lazily trailing her toes against his calf as the video’s musical accompaniment petered out.

“Mhm,” she mumbled into his T-shirt, her own hot breath puffing back at her. “The coolest.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

She shrugged, taking the opportunity to snuggle in a little closer. “Mmm. Tired.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, and as his arms tightened around her waist, Ladybug had only one thought: I never want this moment to end.

Then Adrien betrayed her.

She squealed as he began tickling her sides—lightly at first, then harder as she struggled to bat his hands away. Just as she started to run out of breath, he finally relented. She pushed herself up, pinning his arms by his side and blowing a tuft of hair out of her face as she glared down at him. “Hey!”

He smirked. “You weren’t watching.” 

“I was too!”

He merely quirked an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah? So what was it about?”

“It was, well, you know. It was…” She gestured vaguely with one hand, scowling when his smile only widened. “Okay, fine. I wasn’t watching.”

He clicked his tongue. “Such betrayal—the likes of which I’d never imagine from one who claims to love me.”

Fighting back a smile, Ladybug rolled her eyes. If she’d had known Adrien could be this dramatic before she’d started dating him, then…well, she wouldn’t have changed a thing. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I guess I’ll need to find some way to repay you,” she said, trying to feign boredom. But she couldn’t help the way her eyes slid to his lips.

And she definitely couldn’t help the way her stomach fluttered when he noticed where her eyes had landed. His breath hitched, eyes glued to hers as she leaned down, sliding a hand down his arm, fingers grazing wrist, and… A-ha!

Stealing his phone right from his hand, she quickly rolled off his chest, laughing at his squawk of protest. She landed in a crouch on the floor, phone clutched to her chest. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to watch it.”

He let out a low whine, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. Ladybug bit her lip, hoping the pain might distract her from the warmth pooling in her stomach. And between her legs. 

“I…did,” he said. It seemed almost painful for him to admit.

Ladybug was starting to have regrets of her own. But she had to see this through. “W-well, good then. Great!” She turned away from him, settling in cross-legged on the floor with her back against the couch. “I’ll just do that then.”

She raised the phone up to eye-level, only to be met by a locked screen.

Adrien laughed. “Need some help with that?”

“I mean, I guess. If you really want to.”

“Oh, I do.” He shifted onto his side, then slid his arm slowly past her shoulder, taking his time to punch in the code. His face hovering right beside hers. He gave her arm a squeeze when he finally retreated, breath whispering against her cheek. “Enjoy.”

Right. The video.

This time, Ladybug truly tried to pay attention. It was some time lapse of a plant curling its way up a wooden post, and even if she didn’t quite get the appeal, she loved that Adrien was so excited about it. 

But he wasn’t making it easy to focus.

“You know,” he whispered, lips grazing her ear. “The way it moves at the beginning is because it’s seeking out stimuli.” 

“Uh-huh...” 

It took every bit of her self-control not to lean towards him as he pulled away. 

Luckily, she wasn’t deprived of his presence for long. He set a hand on her shoulder as the video came to an end.

“And when it winds its way up the post…” His fingers slipped down to her bicep, curling around her arm to mimic the plant’s trajectory. “Well, then it’s just responding to touch.”

“Imagine that,” she gasped. Her back arched as his lips ghosted across her neck.

“So..." He nuzzled her cheek. "What did you think of the video, Love Bug?”

Ladybug closed her eyes and turned her head, blindly seeking the warmth of his lips. 

She smiled when they connected. “I think it might have taught me a few things.”

[eybefioro]

Want a 💫ficlet 💫?? Send me a prompt in my ask box!

It can be just a single word, or a line! :) or whatever your nasty little heart desires...

I've done some before, you can check in my #sdrOwOrds tag or in my ficlet collection on Ao3!

[dreamsinthewitchouse]

I was totally intending to write something else, and then this just... climbed out of me (sorry for that mental image).

Under the cut because of a) spoilers for Saltburn (just the Bath Tub Scene™ though) and b) discussions of, uh, bodily fluids.

The credits roll and Alex turns to Henry, opening his mouth in a question he doesn’t get a chance to ask — Henry lifts up one finger, a stern set to his brow. 

“No.” 

"Come on," Alex huffs, feebly pushing at his wrist. “What?” 

“I know what you were going to ask me, and the answer is no.” 

“You have no fucking idea what I was going to ask you,” Alex insists, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah?” The corner of Henry’s mouth ticks up. “Were you going to ask me if I would eat your come from a drain?” 

Alex stares at him in mock outrage, decidedly overlooking the fact Henry did indeed know what he was going to ask (because of course he did).

“So you— you wouldn’t?” 

Henry lets out an audible, long-suffering breath. “Absolutely not.”

“That could hurt a guy’s feelings, y’know.” 

“Alex. It has nothing to do with you,” Henry says, so patiently and sincerely Alex almost regrets going down this line of questioning. 

Almost. 

“It’s unhygienic,” Henry goes on, as if this is something Alex doesn’t know already. “I wouldn’t suck anyone’s come off a bath tub drain.” 

“Promise?” Alex laces their fingers together. 

“I promise.” Henry lifts their joined hands to his mouth. “However, I would eat — have eaten — your come off your skin, your mouth…” 

Alex’s pulse kicks up at the mention of their sexcapades, past and future. He glances at Henry through his lashes as he ventures, “...my ass?” 

Henry blinks, and Alex can feel his lips twitch against the root of his thumb. “What was that?” 

Alex swallows, suddenly intensely aware of Henry’s eyes on him. “My ass,” he repeats, his dick stirring in his sweats. 

Henry smiles, and it looks dangerous. “Gladly.” 

“Wait,” Alex croaks, his head swimming with the turn this conversation has taken. “Are you sure we’re still talking about my come? How would that even end up in my own ass?” 

For a split second Henry looks like he's considering pointing out it was, in fact, Alex who came up with this particular scenario. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says instead, mouthing at the pad of Alex’s thumb. “You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

[miserablekingsteve]

I have had this thought in my head since June; have it.

Steve and Eddie get together after the events of Vecna. Was it strenuous and confusing for a while? Yes, god yes it was but at the end of the day Steve was happy, even if during the will they won’t they, he’d wanted to take Eddie by the shoulders and scream in his face;

“STOP SPEAKING IN RIDDLES!! AND TELL ME WHAT YOU REALLY MEAN.”

But that’s just how Eddie was he came to learn, even Wayne would have to stop and look at his nephew, obviously it happened frequently enough that the older man wouldn’t say a word—with one brow arched and mouth open in question— Eddie would wave him off and translate what he’d rattled off unclearly before.

So, now that Steve knew he was able to actually ask Eddie for clarification he felt relaxed and safe. And for a while there he thought that he’d never have to ask for Eddie to shed light on some strange thing he said or did—that was until the other night.

Domestically Steve and Eddie stood in his bathroom, there was now a spare toothbrush in the cup that lived in Steve’s personal bathroom for Eddie. Steve loved when Eddie’s quiet hums filled the silence at any moment; always fidgeting his hands on imaginary guitar strings, figuring out certain songs he wanted to learn for practice. He smiled at their reflection in the mirror, just as Eddie tucked the toothbrush to the side and opened his mouth, drooling toothpaste all down his chin.

“You know, Mike was being such a, argh, I wanted to smack his empty pubescent head. Just kept going on and on about Will Byers and how “things had changed” blah blah,” Eddie wiped some of the dripping foam, Steve hummed in acknowledgement and spat his own toothpaste into the sink.

“How is he so, just, unaware?” Eddie followed his action and spat into the sink.

Steve snorted at that, then looked at Eddie with sympathy, “don’t be so hard on him, I know someone who was just like him. Just, oblivious.”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, “Ahh, yes. Steve the unobservant.”

What? Him, the oblivious one? Eddie’s got to be kidding, “me?! I wasn’t the one jumping foot to foot and then high tailing it out of Family Video for months. Even though,” Steve held up a finger to shush his boyfriend, “I had been flirting with you nonstop for months.”

“You, were not flirting,” Eddie stated, splashing water on his face and rubbing at his eyes thoroughly. Strange habit, Steve noticed.

Scoffing at him, Steve found a face cloth and handed it off blindly, “I so was, you were just too hung up on “King Steve, suave lady killer,””

Eddie wrinkled his nose at the nickname, then leaned in real close. The mint mixed with cigarette smell intoxicated Steve, eyes flickering to Eddie’s wicked grin, “and now look, you’re the one screaming my name into your pillows, Loch Nora neighbours be damned.”

“Yeah yeah. Anyway, all I’m saying is give the kid a break, or, a little nudge. Lord knows Mike could use it,” Steve followed Eddie’s retreating form into the hall, “and top it all off he looks up to you, big time.”

Eddie blushed and turned back to Steve with a look of pure adoration, “see this is why I keep you around, maybe you should be a motivational speaker.”

“Ha. Ha, maybe you should kiss me?” Steve grinned, Eddie leaned in and gave him a quick peck.

“Alright, we’ve got a greased up sigourney Weaver waiting for us downstairs, let’s go get her big boy.”

Before Steve could fully express his annoyance about the movie cockblocking him, a searing pain ran up from his groin and into his lower abdomen. The breath in his lungs punched out, “What the fuck,” he wheezed, throwing a hand on the wall for support.

Eddie’s eyes were wide and hands were flailing everywhere.

“Dude did you just sack tap me?”

“Yes, no? I don’t know?” Eddie yelled, his face flush with embarrassment.

“Why did you do that?” Steve hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the awkward pain.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god,” Eddie floundered, “I swear it’s just a force of habit.”

“You can’t sack tap your boyfriend, man.”

“Okay. Dude.”

“Touché,” and with the pain finally lifting Steve slotted his arm around Eddie’s waist, leading them both to the couch so they could watch Alien.

END

[wildelydawn]

Trick or treat! 🎃🧡🎃🧡

Hello friend!! Thank you stopping in 🐢 for you, I have a small post canon/post reconciliation fic that I’m not brave enough to hit publish on, but I feel like you might enjoy the silliness of Chay taking Kim out on his first paddleboat ride. :)

-

“Kim! Do it for me, please?”

The vendor taps his foot impatiently. 

Fuck. Why do I love him so much?

Kim steps onto the boat again, and the same uneven movement scares him, but he swings his other foot over, and then he’s standing on a tiny ass paddleboat.

“Sit down!” The vendor commands. He unravels the rope that’s holding them to the pier and sets them off. 

It’s obvious, but this is nothing like the sailing or cruises Kim has done. For starters, Chay is the one directing the boat with the paddles even before Kim is fully settled.  In this moment, Kim’s brain reminds him that Chay doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet.

“W-wait! Chay! Let me get settled first!”

“We have to move, they want to bring the next boat over!”

…

“Slow down Chay!”

“Okay, okay!!” Chay stops paddling like a mad man and lets them skim the water, the tension slowing them down. “Hey, Kim, take a picture of me?”

“What if I drop my phone?” This seems perfectly likely to happen with the way they’re bobbing against the current. 

“Just one photo, pleeaaaaseee?”

Kim quickly takes out his phone. He’s trembling because doing so makes the boat rock, and he’s not so sure he can put it away after this. “Smile.”

Chay smiles and holds up a fingerheart. He looks devastatingly beautiful against the sunset. Kim lowers his phone, watching Chay watch the waves, watching Chay look perfectly relaxed in an unstable paddleboat in the middle of this lake.

Kim wants to kiss him and complete the moment, but it’s impossible in this fucking boat-

Chay turns and pulls Kim in for a quick kiss, causing the boat to rock again. Kim instantly grips the sides. Chay laughs. 

“I love you,” Kim stammers. “But please please do not do that again.”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” Chay kisses him again. 

“We’re going to capsize!”

“You’re so dramatic!” 

Kim, in true dramatic fashion, reaches down and splashes water right onto Chay, and then instantly regrets it when Chay grasps onto the paddles and gives him a devilish grin. 

“Chay, wait!”

They start propelling towards the horizon again, faster and faster, until Kim is crying out and Chay is hysterical, yelling at Kim to hold on, that this is just the beginning.

-

Send me a trick or treat about one of my WIPS! 🎃

[kelkat9]

Master Prompt TenToo/Rose Ficlet Post

I've written/am writing a bunch of prompt fics which are posted on AO3. If you want to read and don't have an account, let me know and I'll see about getting you an invite.

These are all rated Teen thus far. See the tags for any warnings.

They are connected stories starting when Rose, Tentoo and Jackie were left on Bad Wolf Bay, how they make their way home, the problems they have to overcome, the anxiety, PTSD, family squabbles, and generally building a life together. Well, there is a puppy rescue and then figuring how to be domestic but that's a bit after the Doctor/UNIT issue and an adventure :)

Moonlight Confessions

Any Light in a Storm

The Domestics of Family and Dysfunctional Dimension Hoppers

Road Trip

Strays

[moorishflower]

If you have anything more to share, I'd love to hear more about Veterinarian! Hob treating lord of cats Dream! :)

I can't START this now not for real for real because there's other stuff I want to finish first BUT...

"Are you going to do the morning huddle?"

Hob doesn't lift his head from his desk. He ought to. He knows. It's smart to go over the surgeries every morning -- not least because Cori gets testy if they don't -- and there are doubtless a few pets checking in for admits today, he's fairly certain that one of them needs a glucose curve, and the last time the owner hadn't brought the dog's bloody insulin...

"I'm coming," Hob says, and proceeds not to move at all, his head pounding miserably. Lucienne lingers in the door to his office as the lights of The New Vet are turned on, one by one. He can see the cars pulling into the lot through his window, and feels, to his horror, a weak pulse of anger, followed near immediately by shame. Not allowed, he scolds himself. You aren't allowed to get burnout. Everyone else is tired, too, and look at how hard they're working. They've all got problems, you just need to hike up your pants and deal.

"Guenevere broke up with me," he says, and Lucienne exhales sharply. "Yesterday."

"At the..."

"Yeah, at the bloody Ren Faire."

"Oh, Hob," she says, and Hob raises a hand to forestall the tide of comforting words that are no doubt coming.

"It's fine," he says, even though it really, really isn't. The fucking Ren Faire. When he'd told her how much he hated the things, how inaccurate they are, how if she wanted a real experience she ought to come with him to an SCA meeting, and really, the people of the Shire of Thamesreach are good, do their own weaving and dying and metallurgy, and then Guen had...

Had dumped him. Right there in front of the jousting ring. And Hob's old enough and wise enough to recognize when he's had a hand in his own destruction, but still.

It's been sixteen years since Eleanor passed. Thirteen since Robyn followed her. And he'd been hoping...he'd been hoping that some part of him might be healed enough for some kind of love. Some kind of closeness. But apparently not. The pit in him, where his heart used to be, is still blackened and smoldering as ever. You're just a lot, Guen had told him, her hands fluttering like startled birds. You've got a lot on your mind, all the time, and you've got a lot going on at work, and you've got a lot to worry about, and it just doesn't end, does it? You being a lot? Well, it's too much for me to deal with, Robbie. I can't fix you, and you won't fix yourself, and I'm done being second in someone's life.

And then she'd walked away, and Hob had gone to the Ye Olde Meadehall tent and proceeded to drink nearly his body weight in surprisingly good-quality mead, so much that he'd needed to call a cab home. His car is still parked at the lot. He needs to go and get it today, unless he wants to add a ticket onto the stack of things gone wrong in his life.

Out in the lobby, Thessaly calls out, "Door's open!" And nearly as soon as she speaks, the reception phone begins to trill. Monday at The New Vet. Everyone clamoring to get in on account of the crises that happened over the weekend. Hob gingerly heaves himself off his desk, rubbing the ribbed marks of pens that have pressed into his cheek.

"It's fine," he says again, and Lucienne smiles hesitantly at him. He tries to smile back, and thinks he manages to fall somewhere around 'wan, but willing.' "Really. We weren't...compatible. Anyways. You're assigned to me today, I think?" Lucienne nods, and Hob picks himself up, and cracks his back, and tries to shake away that brief little flash of anger. That horrifically tempting darkness, like a worm nestled tight and cozy in the brain.

It'd be easy to let it eat him alive, he thinks, as he follows his tech into the back of the clinic. It'd be easy to think of this as a job instead of a calling. He's known vets like that, who get into things like ortho surgery for the money and little else. He's not one of them. He won't be one of them. He can't move on from his dead wife and child, and he can't perform surgery without his hands shaking and his heart crawling out of his throat, and he can't stomach the sight of HBCs anymore, but he's. Managing. He's healing. It's taking longer than he'd like, but that's just the way life is. And life is glorious. He's got staff who appreciate him and support him, he's got his own clinic that's bearing its own weight and not sinking him into debt with each passing year, he'd found a competent surgeon to take his place in the OR, and life is grand.

And you're alone, that awful worm in him whispers. Because something in you broke when Eleanor died, and then it broke again when you failed Robyn, and now it can't ever be fixed. You're not worth the time and effort of fixing.

Hob shakes his head. He's alone. So what. He has the clinic. He has his techs. There's always going to be work to do. No shortage of pets in London, and everyone needing their shots, their checkups, their emergency visits.

Life is rich and varied and ever-changing, and if sometimes the only thing keeping him going is thinking about what will happen to The New Vet if he's gone, well. That's not depression, that's just the truth.

"Who's first?" he asks, and lets the chaotic rhythm of the clinic settle into him, and wipe all other thoughts of broken hearts and dead loves from his mind.