#holy shit what a couple of failures

[likemosaic]

✏️ zenos n yotsuyu but also maybe. minfilia and ryne LOL

send in a ✏️ for quote(s) for our muses from the incorrect quotes generator! / @aetheryic

FOR MINFILIA & RYNE (feat dadcred) -

Ryne: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it. Minfilia: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out. Ryne: Th-that's not how that works-

---

Ryne: Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held. Minfilia: Are you okay.

---

Minfilia: You ever see something that changes your life and you're just like "huh.." Ryne: I saw you. Minfilia: Honestly that's so cute and sweet but it kinda makes this awkward because I was gonna show you a picture of Thancred in a turkey costume.

---

FOR ZENOS & YOTSUYU:

Zenos: Are you ready to commit? Yotsuyu: Like, a crime or a relationship?

---

Yotsuyu: Do you think sex without love is a sin? Zenos: If it is, I’ll see you in hell.

---

Zenos: What are you in the mood for? Yotsuyu: World domination. Zenos: That's a bit ambitious. Yotsuyu: You are my world. Zenos: Aww... Yotsuyu: Zenos: Yotsuyu: Zenos: OH.

[charcubed]

I have soooooo much I want to write about Doctor Odyssey and if I keep waiting for the perfect moment to write something PROPERLY GOOD AND COMPREHENSIVE then I’m simply going to explode. So instead I’m going to write a messy little post on my phone when half asleep and try to keep it to one main topic.

Yeah yeah the throuple had a threesome (and I’m foaming at the mouth over it) but can we talk about the THEMES!!!!

This show is for crazy people (me specifically). Once again, I have a lot to say, but for now let me just focus on the wedding episode itself. That threesome is informed by the context of the rest of the episode in a way I simply CANNOT get over.

Let’s look at our passengers: the bride, groom, and best man. We find out all of them are being unfaithful to each other in various ways, miserable in their silence and unhealthy relationship dynamics. They all went to school together and were once close, but things went wrong somewhere along the way. The best man’s speech implies he has feelings for the groom, the groom is a sex addict who’s had multiple partners (possibly the best man included) because he feels trapped in a lie, and the bride and best man are having sex with each other. And none of them are communicating about it, and the groom who had preexisting mental health struggles commits suicide.

What happens to the three of them is a tragedy and it is absolutely a result of heteronormative monogamous culture. That culture was passed down from the bride’s mother to her too by example and societal influence.

I’m not exaggerating. It’s not subtle!!! At all!!! Everything explodes for those passengers because monogamy and repressing bisexuality wasn’t working for them.

They’re a dark mirror and cautionary tale. (Bonus points for how Avery’s sad backstory is that she was betrayed by her longtime friend / brief husband who cheated on her with a mutual friend as well, which is why she’s definitely hesitant about love now.)

By comparison, Avery and Max and Tristan have been avoiding some similar big pitfalls: they know they’re into each other and it’s not a secret, rivalries keep being squashed with effort, and no one is pressuring anyone to choose (so far).

This is what our beloved main characters have on their minds before what follows. And again, let’s not even get to the sex part yet… THE BUCKET LISTS!!! I’m losing my Goddamn marbles!!! The way all 3 of their lists intersect? Holy shit. Off the top of my head: Max and Tristan want to fall in love and have kids, Avery and Max want to see the world, Tristan and Avery have niche interests outside of medicine that they want to explore more… We were given itemized lists to show how the 3 of them balance and round each other out perfectly.

It’s not about any 2 of them because it won’t work with just any 2. It’s ALL THREE — just like all the framing and blocking of shots is consistently all 3, they walked down the wedding aisle all 3 together, the first sex scene for any of them that WE as the audience see on screen is all 3 of them together, a “bad threesome” is defined as 2 people getting too wrapped up in each other and the 3rd being an accidental outsider, we often see that if one duo gets a couple-y moment then the other duos get similar moments later as well, etc etc. Sorry. Let me not continue the summary list here and now so I don’t get too sidetracked but there’s A LOT.

But like, my current point? That wedding episode is a goldmine and the threesome explicitly happening doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Far from it. The themes are themeing in the whole show, of course, which is part of what I want to write about elsewhere at some point too: this show is repeatedly very deliberate about making sure heterosexuality or monogamy aren’t framed as the default or only correct options, and queerness is sprinkled everywhere. But this wedding episode specifically… the themes were nearly the ONLY PLOT. Nothing else — it’s basically only that, and it’s very focused. The failures of monogamy are on full display. And that’s why and how we get an explicit threesome right after it, which will lead us into how things will continue to develop for our trio.

Now, as for why the threesome happens so relatively quickly? My hot take on that is that general audiences can be stupid and so the creators wanted to put the throuple explicitly on screen fairly early to get people to start Noticing. Show them how the characters need to be together… and that sets us up for the possible angst and tension to follow as they have to accept it emotionally for themselves too. Now, as an audience member, you’ll more strongly know what to root for. You’ll know what’s right because you’ve seen it and you’ll want them to get back to that place, come what may. (If you’re not a puritan.)

It’s so fucking good. Insane silly show for insane people. Are we seeing the vision??? I need everyone to lock in.

This ramble is probably a disaster and I apologize for that but ohhhh man I had to put SOME words down so I wouldn’t explode. Suffice it to say I’m having a ball up in this bitch and I cannot believe this show exists. I couldn’t believe my eyes and my brain cells in the pilot, and I REALLY can’t believe them now.

What a time to be alive!!!!!! Polycule “love fest” on a cruise ship, baby!!! The world needs more love, all kinds of love, as the Captain says!!!! Onward to gay week!!!! LET’S SEE THOSE BI MEN KISS

[vaaaaaiolet]

Left to his own devices during an international flight, Leon reflects on the most recent failure in his life: screwing over his airport crush. Said crush might also happen to be seated a couple rows ahead.

f / m, fluff, romance, you know the drill, bitches. leon is stupid and clumsy and crushing on you like crazy!! roman holiday mentioned bc i love gregory peck

word count: 957 // read on ao3

a/n: for my beautiful beautiful mutuals @idyllcy + @kennedysbaby <3 make sure to buckle up when you fly!! and don't take your shoes off on planes that's gross dudes

On long international flights, you’ve got three options to pass the time:

stuff your face.

watch outdated blockbusters.

sleep like the dead.

Leon, however, picks option D) relive the most embarrassing moments of his life while trying not to throw himself out of the nearest emergency exit. He’s such an efficient decision maker that he’s whittled his selection down to the most recent of these moments – exactly three hours ago.

Three hours ago at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Leon was the biggest jackass to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

She’d been sitting pretty, smiling down at her phone like some sort of angel sent from the sky in the early morning rays, and Leon was half-awake, running late as always. Eyes shutting by themselves. Shitty airport coffee bombarding his taste buds. Five o’clock in the morning is the worst time to have Hunnigan yelling in his earpiece. 

If Leon had decided to sit anywhere other than the closest spot, right behind that pretty girl, his brain wouldn’t have been torturing him for the past three hours. He groans at the memory, waving a hand dismissively at the flight attendant offering him an extra blanket. 

Leon doesn’t deserve warm blankets right now. The Antarctic should freeze him over and karma should shut down his in-flight entertainment screen. He cranes his neck to find the back of the girl’s head for the the millionth time, and there she is, sandwiched between two burly strangers, beautiful head left pillowless because Leon stole that too along with her window seat. 

How? 

In Leon’s half-asleep daze, he’d taken a nice big stretch, reaching his arms skyward to smooth out last mission’s leftover muscle pulls. And in that same daze, he’d conveniently forgotten about the lukewarm cup of coffee he was still holding. 

Newton is to apple as Kennedy is to coffee; he’d spilled every last drop down the back of the girl’s neck. Saturated her travel pillow right through. Her yelp had woken him up faster than any coffee in his life, and he’d whipped his head around to meet a pair of stunning eyes, wide open in shock that was entirely his fault.

And he didn’t even apologize! 

No, what Leon did was stare at her like a blithering idiot. 

Her boarding pass had happened to be tucked in her back pocket and coffee had spilled all over that too. It was made of some sort of eco-friendly paper, the kind that promises to disintegrate within seconds of contact with water to not choke the turtles or whatever, and that’s exactly what it did. Going, going, gone in front of his eyes. And to top it all off, Leon’s boarding group got called at that exact minute, and he’d left the poor girl to sort out her seat without so much as offering to help.

“Sir?” the flight attendant repeats.

Leon blinks, busy swimming in guilty reverie. “I said don’t need a blanket.” 

“No sir, I’m actually coming here with a seat change request,” she says, louder this time. “Would you mind someone taking the empty spot next to you?”

Well, it’s not like he needs the aisle seat for his feet or something. 

“Yeah, sure thing.”

And he closes his eyes to return to his pity party, hears shuffling in the dimly-lit cabin as the seat next to him dips, and you know what? It is kind of cold. He could use that extra blanket. Leon cracks open an eye and holy fucking shit the pretty girl is sitting right next to him.

“It’s you,” he stammers, sitting ramrod straight. “I am so incredibly sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to run off like that at all.”

She faces him. Recognizes him. “O-Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I still made the flight, right?” 

He shakes his head. “You got stuck in late boarding. You got a bad seat because of me and- god, your pillow. I’ll buy you another one the moment we land, okay?” 

But the pretty girl, you, you just laugh. “Really, it’s alright. It was a ratty old thing.”

“Then let me buy you a coffee,” Leon insists, searching for some kind of way to make up for his blunder, “it’ll be morning when we land and you couldn’t have gotten any sleep stuck between those guys in your old seat.” 

Way to go. He’s just confessed to staring at you the whole flight like some kind of stalker. 

“I’m more of a tea person, but you know what? I’ll take the offer.” 

Tea. He likes tea. Leon breathes a sigh of relief as you settle in, buckling your belt and digging around for the in-flight entertainment remote. He hands it to you from under your seat, brushing his shoulder against your knee and suddenly feeling a lot less cold as heat floods his face.

You smile when he surfaces. “Found anything good to watch?”

“Mm, not much. Hope you like Roman Holiday,” Leon adds softly, “it’s the only movie with subtitles.”

“Can’t say I don’t. It’s one of my favorites.” 

He’s going woozy. Is it the cabin pressure? Audrey Hepburn flashes across the screen in black and white, but he’s finding her beauty a lot less blinding than yours. You’re tilting your head at him, shit, is he staring again?

“Thank you, uh, gosh,” you chuckle, “I never caught your name.”

Phew.

“Leon,” he supplies with a grin. “And you are?”

You’re a liar, is what you are. A beautiful liar because he’s right – you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep since he ruined your pillow. Your head drops onto his shoulder not ten minutes into Roman Holiday, and Leon could swear Audrey winks at him before she drifts off to sleep too.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[harringtonstilinski]

Call It What You Want - Steve Harrington

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,080 Warnings: fluff, squint hard for angst, ignore the fact that eddie has risen from the dead, lol Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, @stevesxyellowxsweater!! came from this prompt list Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! So, this hellsite decided to delete/eat the original fic of this. If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Steve Harrington. Your childhood best friend turned… acquaintance? Hell, you don’t even know anymore. You two used to be inseparable before he became King Steve, then your friendship went to shit… or at least you think it did.

When he started spending less and less time with you over the course of high school, your mind couldn’t help but go to the worst case scenarios. He didn’t want to be your friend anymore, he didn’t like you as a friend anymore, he was in the popular crowd while you weren’t so that made him not like you, Tommy H. and Carol, and many more.

Everything came to a head during both of your Senior year. You had asked him to hang out a couple of days after he and Nancy broke up, just wanting to cheer up your best friend. When he ditched you for a whole ass month, you decided to quit trying.

It was now summer of ‘86, just a couple of months after the earthquake. You were volunteering at the high school gym, or makeshift shelter, when you spotten him, folding clothes.

You tried to avert your eyes when he looked up and over, feeling eyes on his figure, but you couldn’t. Lost in those hazel eyes that you were once your favorite things to look at.

He pulled his lips together in a tight smile, nodding his head once at you before looking back down at the shirt in his hands, finishing the fold he started on it.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him?” Robin said, effectively scaring you.

After jumping ten feet from your skin, you placed a hand over your heart, bending at the waist ever so slightly, resting your free hand on the table in front of you. “Holy shit, don’t do that again.”

“Look, I know it’s been years since you guys have talked, but–”

“If you tell me it’ll benefit us both in the long run again, I’m gonna take these suspenders and snap them on your tits,” you interrupted, eyebrow raised.

Robin held her hands up, looking down slightly as she said, “Okay, fair enough. But seriously, though? Just saying hey and catching up wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially Dustin.”

You looked over at your little brother, watching as he continued to hand people cups of water and blankets, his leg having long been healed from his fall back into the Upside Down. Sighing, you whispered, “I know,” before looking back at Robin. “I know he’s already lost Eddie. He can’t lose Steve, too.”

“Even though it feels that way,” your brother said, setting his tray down next to you.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you sighed. “You haven’t.”

“He’s always going on dates.”

Brows furrowed, you replied, “He’s always gone on dates. His asshole of a father always told him that if he wasn’t settled down by a certain age then he was considered a failure in his eyes. Which he isn’t… nor will he ever be.”

Dustin and Robin looked at each other behind your head, both of them raising their eyebrows in unison at your words, realization hitting them both. You had a crush on Steve. 

And of course, your shithead of a little brother looked back at you with a devilish smile after watching Steve take a few steps towards you. “Well, here’s your chance to get that date you’ve always wanted.”

Looking at him confused, you asked, “What are you–” before being interrupted by both him and Robin saying, “Bye!,” walking away as Steve approached the table.

You looked from Dustin to Robin as the two of them walked away, mouth ajar before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth and looking in front of you. A small smile appeared on your face, seeing that playful smile that Steve always gave.

“Hey, loser,” he said.

Releasing your lip, you scrunched your eyebrows, greeting him with, “Buttface.”

A chuckle came from his mouth, his head bending forward as his chin became parallel with his collarbone. When he brought his head back up, you saw nothing but amusement in his eyes as he said, “Buttface? Really?”

Crossing your arms, you retorted, “Well, you are. You fucking ditched me.”

All amusement left his eyes at your words, fear and anxiety crashing into yours. “Oh, my god. Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it. I just slipped out–”

“It’s okay,” he said, stopping your words. Nodding, he added, “I mean, I did deserve it. I was an asshole and I’m majorly sorry for that.”

Smiling a little to yourself, you tilted your head and quietly asked, “Did just say majorly? What is this? 1982?”

He looked at you confused, but laughed nonetheless. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Going back to messing around with the items in front of you at the table, you said, “You were always one for trends. Still are, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

Gesturing to his clothes, you eyed his outfit before locking eyes with him again. “Need I say more?”

“What about the hair?”

“Still on trend with that. It’s your best attribute. I predict, though, in about… twenty or so years, you’re gonna cut it short.”

Leaning his hands on the table, he asked, “Will I still look good?” “Of course,” you chuckled. “You always have. Even when we were kids and your parents made you get those… oh, what are they called?” You thought for a moment before gasping. “Oh, my god! It was a bowl–”

“You finish that sentence and I’ll make sure everyone sees your haircut from the late 70’s.”

With wide eyes, you said, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t try me, princess.”

You narrowed your eyes at the nickname he used to call you when the two of you were kids. You loved it until you reached high school when Carol started calling you princess to get under your skin.

He started using it in a derogatory way after that just to please his friends, which pissed you off to no end. Steve would end up going home after school or hanging out with Tommy H and Carol, regretting the words he’d said to you.

That’s when you both made the conscious decisions, separately, to stop hanging out. When you two walked across the stage at graduation, you cheered and clapped for each other, spotting each other in the crowd and giving each other a small smile.

Realizing what he’d called you, his eyes went wide with shock. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

Waving him off, you looked down. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m over it.”

“Clearly not with the way you just looked at me.”

“And how was that?” you asked, looking from the blanket you were moving into Steve’s eyes.

With a small smile, he replied, “Like you wanted to kill me.”

“Oh, my god. Just ask her out!” Dustin said, walking behind Steve.

Your eyes went wide, not believing that just happened, but… Steve apparently believed it because not five seconds after Dustin had disappeared, he asked, “Would you? Go on a date with me?”

Flabbergasted, you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, your brain going a million miles an hour as you tried to come up with an answer as an arm came around your shoulders, ultimately halting your train of thought.

“Of course she’d love to, dingus,” Robin said. You could hear the smile behind her words… and see it as you turned your head to face her.

“Robin,” you quietly hissed.

“Oh, shush,” she whispered. “You know you want to.”

You knew, deep down in your heart you knew you wanted to go on that date with one Steve Harrington. You had always wished that he would ask you, but alas… he never did. Always asking out the popular girls, the girls on the cheerleading team or dance team. And it always broke your heart.

This time, though, was different. It was you he was asking, not some other girl that only wanted to get into his pants… or he into theirs.

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a moment before gathering your thoughts and nodding your head. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah, okay, what?” Robin said, the smile evident on her face.

“Yes, Steve, I’ll go on a date with you.”

~~~

Two weeks had gone by before you were standing in front of your vanity mirror, looking over your outfit.

“Hey, female - holy shit.”

You turned and spotted Eddie standing at your doorway, a cassette tape in his hands that he nearly dropped. Chuckling, you said, “Hey, Eddie. What’cha got there?”

“Uhh,” he said, looking from you to the cassette. Looking up with a devilish smile on his face, he played with it, before tilting his head and scrunching his nose. “Maybe it’s that album you’ve been looking for.”

Scrunching your brows in thought, you wracked your brain trying to think of what album he could be talking about until it hit you with a gasp. “Def Leppard’s Pyromania?”

Pointing at you with the cassette, Eddie smiled and said, “The very one.”

Squealing happily, you ran and jumped into your best friend's arms, hugging him tightly around his neck before releasing him, hands cupping his cheeks. “Thank you, Ed.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He gave you another quick hug before adding, “Oh, by the way. You look beautiful. You’re gonna knock Harrington’s socks off.”

Chuckling, you said, “Thanks, Eddie.” At the sound of Steve’s laugh, your body tensed the slightest bit, your best friend noticing.

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice gentle. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry. If he tries anything, just let me know and I’ll kick his ass.”

“In what? D&D?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes going the tiniest bit wide before he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, you got me there.”

You laughed as you turned to put the cassette on your vanity, giving yourself one more look over before exiting your room, purse on your shoulder. When you spotted Steve standing at the door with Dustin, laughing, your heart leapt into your throat. Steve looked damn good, and you knew tonight wouldn’t end without the two of you making things official… after talking everything out.

When Dustin looked at you, his smile never faded. “Well, here she is. The lady of the hour.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, giving him a side hug as Steve chuckled.

He opened the door for you, escorting you out, Dustin, your mom and Eddie wishing the two of you a good night.

“Ten bucks they end up together,” Dustin says.

“I’ll up you ten and say they’ll do more than just ‘get together’,” Eddie replied.

With a disgusted look on his face, Dustin looked up to his mentor, saying, “That’s my sister, you gross ass.”

~~~

The car ride to the movies was silent, but comfortable. The film choice for the night was The Karate Kid Part II. Your main reason for seeing it?; Ralph Macchio.

Max had told you if you didn’t see it that she’d hunt you down and murder you in your sleep. An empty threat from the redhead, but nevertheless, you told that you’d see it, a smile spreading across her face at your words.

Once the movie was over and you voiced that you were starving, Steve drove the two of you to Benny’s, home of the best burgers and fries in Hawkins. As soon as you two walked into the diner, the waitress smiled to herself, already getting her notepad and pen out, writing down yours and Steve’s orders.

She waited on the two of you during your Freshman and Sophomore years of high school before Steve became King Steve. Gloria, the waitress, had always wondered where you were when Steve would come in with Tommy H and Carol. Steve had explained that the two of you weren’t really hanging out anymore, which made her sad, so seeing the both of you at the diner together, made her smile.

The both of you took your normal booth in the middle along the wall of windows. You turned your head to the right, looking out at the cars passing by on the road. Sighing, you felt content before looking back at Steve, whose eyes had been on you the whole time.

Steve was immensely happy that you had decided to go on this date with him. He always felt bad at the treatment you got from him, and always wanted to make it up to you in the best way possible. This was the best thing he thought of. Doing what you’d always used to do; movie and then burgers at Benny’s.

“What?” you asked, reaching up to touch your cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

Chuckling, Steve looked down at the table before looking around the diner, eyeing Gloria, giving her a nod, a small smile on his face as he did, your eyes watching his movements.

Turning your head to look towards Gloria, your face lit up with happiness, the seasoned waitress walking over with her tray resting on her hand, bringing the two of your food.

“Oh, my goodness,” she smiled. “Look at how grown you two have gotten. I was wondering when you two were gonna come walking back in here together.”

Your face flushed as Steve’s eyes widening the slightest bit at her words. She always rooted for the two of you. After Gloria had set your drinks in front of you, she smiled and said that she’d be right back with a special treat for you and Steve.

Shrugging, you picked up your burger after topping it with your condiments and veggies of choice that were on your plate, you took the first bite, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head. “Oh, my god. I forgot how good these burgers were.”

With furrowed brows, Steve picked up a fry and asked, “When was the last time you were here?” before popping it into his mouth.

“The last time we both were here,” you said, after swallowing your bite, going back in for another.

Steve hummed to himself, taking a bite of his cheeseburger, having topped it with his toppings of choice. 

About half way through your meal, Gloria set your favorite milkshakes in front of you, a big smile spreading on your face after she walked away. Using the spoon that was in the cup, you brought a spoonful of the thick milkshake to your mouth, quietly moaning with an eye roll at the flavors hitting your taste buds.

Pointing to the shake with the spoon, you said with a mouthful, “The best damn shakes in Hawkins.”

“The best damn shakes in all of Indiana!” Steve exclaimed, holding his own spoon out with some of his shake on it.

Scooping another spoonful, you ‘clinked’ your spoons together, laughing at the silliness of it all. You had missed it, though, and so had Steve. Once your laughter had died down and you were finished with your meals, Steve had tried to pay, Gloria insisting that it was on the house, courtesy of Benny himself.

The drive back to your house was quiet again, but comfortable. Steve had his hands on the steering wheel and gear shift, respectfully, while yours was in your lap. All the words you wanted to say were a mess in your head, every thought that was tumbling around in your head caused you to lose track of time… and where you were.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back, your head turning towards Steve. “I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckled, his hand never leaving your shoulder. “I said, we’re here and asked if you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly. “Yeah. Got lost in thought, I guess.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

Shaking your head, you looked down and whispered, “It’s nothing.”

Putting his hand on yours and gaining your attention, Steve said, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

All you could do for the next ten seconds was look into those hazel eyes you used to get lost in before you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes and sighing. Steve sighed and closed his eyes, as well, bringing his hand from yours to cup your cheek.

“I’ve missed you, Stevie,” you whispered. You felt him stiffen just slightly, your opening and head lifting from his for just a moment before he brought your forehead back to his. “I’m sorry. I know you hate being called that.”

This time, it was Steve who lifted his head to look at you, his hand never moving from your cheek. “You’re the only one that gets to call me that, ya’know? Always have been, always will.”

A small smile spread on your lips, Steve’s hand moving slightly back towards your neck, his thumb rubbing at the top of your jawline near your ear. “Don’t hate me for this,” he whispered.

“What are you–” you started, but your words were cut off by Steve’s lips on yours. You were a little shocked, to say the least, but you kissed him back regardless. It wasn’t a hungry kiss. It was more of one that was testing the waters

With lips slowly moving in sync, you couldn’t help but feel happy that his lips were actually on yours. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have Steve’s lips on yours, and now that they are… you couldn’t get enough.

You wanted to keep kissing him until your lips were red, swollen, numb, the whole nine yards. All you wanted was Steve, and now… you think you have him.

When you both pulled away, breathless, you rested your foreheads against each other’s, simultaneously. As you caught your breath, you smiled, a soft chuckle making its way from your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile on his face as well.

Rolling your head to the right a little, you bit your bottom lip before lifting your head and looking at those hazel eyes you’ve always loved. “I just can’t believe that happened.”

Moving his hand back to your cheek, Steve smiled that smile you hadn’t seen in years. “Well, you better believe it… because I plan on doing that more.”

“I’m counting on it, Stevie.”

Steve chuckled while shaking his head, bringing your lips back to his with a smile on both of your faces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: 

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on March 22, 2024

[shybunnie20]

Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

strangers to friends to lovers

★Teasers ★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie embarks on a new chapter after finally graduating. He expects to face a variety of hurdles that come with a change of scenery, but what he doesn't anticipate is falling head over heels for you.

Author's Note: Holy shit, I can't believe this is finally finished after 11 months. It’s the first time I've written smut in well over a year and I'm pleased with how it turned out (I couldn't have done it without the support of my beloved @eddiethefreakkmunson)

Location photos are linked above and in the fic at their first mentions. AU with no Upside Down, no use of Y/N, focuses on Eddie's POV, fluff and mild angst with a happy ending *wink wink*

Word count: 17.3k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! alcohol consumption/drunken behavior, subtly pervy moments, masturbation, fondling, dry humping, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), a little bit of praise & possessiveness, includes swearing.

Eddie was determined to leave Hawkins for good as soon as he tossed his graduation cap to the sky. He didn’t expect how expensive a venture like that would be, so he devised a plan. For a couple of months, he would stick around to save up a financial cushion.

To pocket every penny possible, Eddie took up odd jobs around town like mowing lawns and painting fences. With every task completed, he army crawled his way toward living life on his terms. He didn’t expect it to take him well over a year to save up enough cash.

On this sweltering afternoon, the atmosphere is charged with the promise of new beginnings. The summer sun peeks out from behind the dense clouds and casts irregular shadows on the dirt road of Forest Hills.

His van is packed to the brim with boxes of his belongings. After mentally checking everything twice over, uncertainty twists Eddie’s stomach into knots. What if I have car trouble? What if I get lost? What if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?

Wayne descends the concrete steps and joins Eddie. He lets out a belly-deep sigh that speaks volumes. You’ll figure it out. You’re gonna find your way. Your best days are ahead of you.

There’s a hint of sadness in seeing his boy take this significant step toward independence. But beneath that sorrow, profound pride prevails within Wayne. Eddie’s dreams reach far beyond the boundaries of Hawkins. Sticking around here won’t do him any good.

Eddie looks at the man who’s been his rock; the one who used to rise before dawn to plate crispy bacon and fluffy pancakes, meeting Eddie’s needs before his own. The memories are vivid as he reflects on the milestones his uncle guided him through. Without a doubt, Eddie wouldn’t be half the man he is today if it weren’t for Wayne.

His beloved van sits atop the very spot where he once wiped out while learning to ride a bike without training wheels. “It’s time to be a big boy,” Wayne said, urging Eddie to muster some faith in himself.

Reluctantly, Eddie mounted his small bicycle and clutched the rubber handles. With a push to set him off, he experienced the fleeting thrill of accomplishment as he pedaled forward. He only made it a few feet before his balance wavered.

The bike wobbled, sending Eddie tumbling to the gravel. His knees and palms bore the brunt of the fall, and the sharp pebbles embedded themselves into his scraped skin.

Wayne isn’t exactly a ‘rub some dirt on it’ kind of guy, but he isn’t the coddling type either. He cleaned Eddie’s wounds, slapped on some bandages, and told him to give it another shot. Faced with his nephew’s tearful protests, Wayne emphasized that just because failure stings, it shouldn't deter him from trying again.

“I guess this is it then.” Eddie wipes beads of sweat from his brow using the back of his hand.

“Yep, looks that way. It sure will be quiet without y’here. I got so used to living with all that racket of yours.”

“It’s called good music. You should take it for a spin sometime, it’s way better than that honky-tonk shit you made me listen to growing up.”

“I like my honky-tonk shit just fine, thank you,” They share a laugh.

Wayne will undoubtedly miss their banter, but it’s their Sundays together that weighs the most on his heart. Occasionally, the summer graces them with a few perfect days—pleasantly sunny with a stirring breeze. That weather maintained an unspoken tradition.

When little Eddie moved in, he was struggling to find his footing and hadn’t spoken much. Wayne took him to a serene lakeside spot where the water gently lapped against the shore.

He cast his line into the water in pursuit of a crappie dinner, and six-year-old Eddie gleefully played with the live bait. Over the years, their dynamic remained largely unchanged. Wayne watched his bobber from the swaying dock while Eddie kicked back in a folding lawn chair. It was simple father-son time that didn’t cost more than an afternoon or two. As of now, those days are over.

“You sure you’re gonna be alright without me, old man?”

Wayne shrugs and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “I suppose I’ll manage one way or another.” 

“Take care of yourself,” Eddie says firmly.

“Will do. Oof-” Wayne chuckles when he’s abruptly hugged. He smooths over the back of Eddie’s head with his calloused palm.

The men hold onto one another, their unspoken sentiments conveyed in the silent embrace. They exchange a pat on the back before parting.

Wayne’s eyes follow his nephew as he closes the rear doors and makes his way toward the front of the van. “Eddie, one last thing. Remember to take your chances while ya got 'em and strike while the iron’s hot. Don’t let nothin’ pass ya by.”

Offering a firm salute, Eddie hops up and settles into the driver’s seat.

With Hawkins in the rearview mirror, Eddie sets off. Chicago may not be the sprawling metropolises of New York or Los Angeles, but it’s a world apart from his hometown.

It’s far enough away to provide a much-needed change of scenery, yet close enough that he can move back home if things go to shit.

The drive goes smoothly overall with a couple of instances of getting turned around. By the time Eddie is finished with the long hours on the road, he’s bone-weary.

His new place may not be the epitome of luxury, but it’s a roof over his head and that’s all that matters. After lugging his things to the fourth floor, Eddie can finally consider himself moved in. His apartment lacks furniture and decor, but it’s a space he can call his own.

The throbbing of an unbearable intensity plagues his thighs, a fiery reminder of the multiple flights of stairs conquered. He collapses onto his twin mattress and emits a low groan. The sound bounces off the bare walls and echoes through the studio apartment.

Eddie starts noticing the difference in sounds around him. Gone are the barking dogs and tires rolling over gravel. His fridge hums like the one in the trailer, which is nice, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out the argument happening in the unit above his.

When the noise finally subsides, he hopes to catch up on some much-needed sleep. But just a few minutes later, the ruckus rekindles. In a bid for tranquility, Eddie clutches his pillow to his ears to block out the animalistic makeup sex seeping through his ceiling.  He’s praying that the man is a two-pump chump because this is a lot for a first night. Hell, it’s too much for any night.

In a matter of days, Eddie has already encountered a series of issues. Whenever he tries to use hot water, his shower head screeches like a banshee. And the upstairs neighbors? They wear bricks for shoes and have a hoedown at 2 a.m. on a nightly basis; that is, if they’re not at each other’s throats.

Job hunting has been fruitless. The gas stations, car washes, and tobacco shops turned him down for the same reason: no documented experience. This means that he’s going to be stuck with the makeshift bed frame he came with for a while, which is just wooden planks zip-tied together. He’s not sure how long it’ll be able to withstand his tossing and turning.

There’s good news, though. Eddie refused to succumb to defeat. Today, he strolled past a tattoo parlor and impulsively checked it out. When he approached the counter, Eddie was met by an imposing man with a rather unwelcoming demeanor. In spite of feeling a bit intimidated, he greeted the man warmly.

As expected, the shop owner Cliff, did not reciprocate. When Eddie inquired about job openings, Cliff promptly replied with a curt “no.” Eddie’s tone grew desperate and he nearly pleaded. Cliff became irritated and offered a non-existent custodial position just to get Eddie to shut up and leave.

Currently sprawled on the rickety mattress, Eddie holds Mr. Pickles in the air and looks up at him. His trusty plushie is a bit worse for wear, having had his seams sutured with crimson battle vest thread.

“We’re doing it, buddy. We’re finally doing it.”

Shortly after moving in with his uncle, he had trouble falling asleep in the unfamiliar trailer. Wayne, hoping to provide comfort, gifted Eddie the stuffed bunny. It swiftly became a treasured part of his life, symbolizing safety and support—two things he hadn’t received much of up to that point.

The floppy-eared companion got its name from Wayne’s favorite snack. Whenever his uncle would pop the lid on a fresh jar of pickles, young Eddie would erupt into a fit of laughter. He insisted that Wayne was going to transform into a pickle due to how fast he blows through a jar.

In his twenties now, Eddie still cuddles with Mr. Pickles every night. If his pal could talk, he’d tell him how proud he is. Eddie rolls onto his side and nuzzles the bunny’s worn fur. That smile lingers on his face while he drifts off to sleep, now with a sense of hope for the days ahead.

The time has come. Eddie has worn through his entire wardrobe and needs to make a trip to the laundromat. Having a washer in the trailer was something he didn’t fully appreciate until now.

Taking a quick look around his apartment, Eddie spots a cardboard box that’ll suffice in lieu of a laundry basket. He fills the box with the scattered clothes from the floor, slips on his sneakers, and makes his way out onto the street.

Nestled in the heart of his neighborhood, Eddie arrives at his destination. The air carries an overwhelming fresh scent of detergent. It’s not bustling by any means; there are only a handful of people here.

Compared to those who are well-versed in their routine, Eddie feels out of place. He chooses an available machine and plops his box of dirty clothes on the counter behind him. He inspects the front-loading washer, not versed in its functions and operation. Eddie goes to open the machine’s door but it refuses to yield.

His patience wanes with each futile tug. Just as frustration peaks, a sudden realization dawns on him, prompting a blush to sweep across his cheeks. There’s a lock hidden on the flip side of the handle.

With the press of his thumb, the lock disengages and the door screeches open. Hot under the collar, Eddie hastily scoops up his clothes and stuffs them into the damp drum. He slams the door shut with a mechanical click, the sound signaling the lock relatching. 

This place lacks helpful signage, to say the least. The only one here displays the cost of running a cycle, but there’s nothing to guide newcomers through the process.

Eddie pulls out his wallet to retrieve a few quarters. After inserting them, he figures out the detergent tray without much trouble. But as Eddie presses the START button repeatedly, increasing his force with each press, the machine stubbornly refuses to respond.

“You have to choose a setting.”

Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice, his brows arched and mouth hanging open. “Huh?”

You walk over from the adjacent wall of driers a few feet away. “It won’t start unless you select a wash setting first.”

He looks at you like a deer-in-the-headlights, so you step in and set the machine to delicate for him. The washer springs to life and water begins to fill the drum.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Eddie says while rubbing the back of his neck. “These are so different from the one I had back home.”

“Where’s home?” You ask, resuming your task of folding your clean laundry on the nearby counter.

Eddie is visibly taken aback by your continued engagement. “A town in Indiana that you’ve definitely never heard of,” He starts to fidget with the detergent jug’s cap, though it’s already sealed.

Suddenly, Eddie feels self-conscious about his appearance. Talking to a cute girl wasn’t on the agenda today, he didn’t dress for this. He regrets choosing function over fashion; his denim shorts are an old pair of Wayne’s jeans that he cropped to wear while mowing lawns. The raw hems are messily frayed and the light blue is darkened with grass stains.

“Indiana, huh? You’re a ways from home then. What brings you to The Windy City?”

Eddie’s attention lands on your pile of clothes, subtly assessing your wardrobe choices. “Uh- just needed a change of pace, I guess.”

“Chasing the dream, right? Figured Chicago had more to offer?” You peek at him, catching his stare fixed on a pair of underwear at the top of the pile—a standard white cotton panty, nothing worth ogling.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, his posture stiffening when you make eye contact. He swallows hard, averts his gaze, and shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. “Something like that.”

“Did you bring your band with you?” You take the undergarment in question and fold it, seemingly unfazed.

As you move the folded pile into your laundry basket, his clothes start thumping inside the machine, causing suds to splash against the glass window. 

Eddie’s brows knit together. “How’d you know I have a band?”

“You’ve got the look,” You remark as your eyes travel over him.

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is that so? Do enlighten me, what’s the dead giveaway?”

“Your hair,” You suggest charmingly.

Eddie swishes his brunette curls like a lady in a shampoo commercial. “Too predictable?” 

“I’d say it’s on brand. Let me guess, Slayer? Maybe a little Dio or Megadeth?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you before looking down at his shoes. “Jesus Christ, you’re reading me like a goddamn book.”

You cock your head to the side, playfulness tugging at your lips. “And if I were to look for this book in a store, what name might I find it under?”

“Eddie,” He lets his arms fall to his sides. When you tell him your name, it bounces around in his head. How pretty, he thinks.

After lifting your full laundry basket, you step away from the counter. “Good luck with the dryers. Oh, and just a heads up, those doors lock too. Don’t go yankin’ the handle off unless you’re looking to take home a souvenir,” You giggle to yourself as you walk out of the laundromat.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open while he watches you leave. Once you’re gone, his attention drifts to the nearby bulletin board. Among the various flyers, one advertises an open mic night. He decides that he’ll check it out sometime this week.

At Double Barrel Bar, Eddie is swallowed by a sea of mainstream nonconformity. The bar-goers are dressed similarly to him, and while the crowd is mostly younger people, they’re still a touch older than him. 

A symphony of clinking glasses and animated chatter collides with the thunderous live metal music. The dense haze of tobacco smoke and the distant clatter of pool balls only enrich the ambiance. The walls are adorned with framed music memorabilia and band posters, a mix of global icons and local talents.

Eddie is enveloped with nostalgia. This place reminds him of the gigs he used to play with Corroded Coffin, although they never played for an audience this size. Staring at the stage, he questions whether he could engage such a crowd and persuade them that he’s worth listening to.

Between two other men at the bar, Eddie takes a seat.

Lee, the bartender, greets him. “What can I get ya?”

Eddie shrugs and hooks his sneakers beneath the rung of the stool. “I'll take a cold one, whatever's cheapest.”

“You got it. Bottle or tap?” Lee wipes his hands on the white rag draped over his shoulder.

“Bottle is fine.”

Lee retrieves a bottle of beer and deftly pops the cap before sliding it over to Eddie.

His fingers curl around the icy glass, the condensation cool to the touch. Eddie’s plump lips wrap around the bottle’s rim and he takes his first sip. The crisp liquid trickles down his throat, offering a short-lived remedy for the stuffiness of the room. 

As Lee tends to another patron, Eddie fidgets in his seat, causing the flier in his back pocket to crinkle. “So, you host an open mic?”

“Yeah, Thursday through Sunday. Are you any good?” Lee asks.

Eddie flips his guitar pick necklace between his fingers. “I like to think so. I guess you’d have to ask the ants in my kitchen, they’re the closest thing I've had to an audience lately.”

Lee snorts. “I've got a good feeling about you, I’m gonna reserve a spot.”

“Oh, uh- you don't have to do that.”

Lee waves his hand in dismissal and gathers the abandoned glassware from the now-empty seat beside Eddie. “No pressure, just swing by on Thursday if you’re interested.”

The opportunity intrigues Eddie, but performing alone is uncharted territory. Contemplating the offer, Eddie grapples with a cloud of self-doubt looming over his decision.

It’s been two months, and his routine is now established. Each day brings progress and a sense of reward, even though there have been occasional hiccups along the way.

Surviving the sweltering summer with a broken AC was sheer hell. He found himself spending ample time nude in his apartment or standing in front of the open freezer compartment of the refrigerator; sometimes simultaneously. Fortunately, September has arrived, and the temperature has begun to wind down.

Managing expenses requires a frugal approach, given the modest pay from his custodial job. Eddie resorts to taking power showers and using candles to keep his utility bill low.

Sometimes he forgoes meals to keep an extra couple of bucks on hand. But when he does eat, he opts for saltine crackers slathered in butter, bologna sandwiches, canned soups, and plain noodles. Occasionally he treats himself to store-bought pasta sauce, though it’s still the saddest spaghetti known to man.

Eddie faces skepticism from the seasoned artists at the tattoo shop, all military veterans who view him as an arrogant kid. Their perception fuels his determination to prove himself. To earn their respect, he’s dedicated to cleaning more thoroughly than he ever has in his life.

He’s become keenly observant, absorbing every detail of the professional tattooing process, despite never being included in those conversations. Within the circle of artists—Ace, Lunchbox, and Dozer—Eddie gravitates toward Ace, who becomes a mentor. Seeing Eddie’s genuine enthusiasm, Ace asks about his drawing abilities. 

Although Eddie’s sketchbook is brimming with fantastical creatures, Ace can recognize a young man’s raw ambition and desire for direction and purpose. He takes Eddie under his wing, allowing him to learn the medium while on the clock.

After taking Lee up on his offer, Eddie found himself on stage every Thursday night. His performances were rusty, as he hadn’t played in front of anyone since before he was working his ass off to get here.

As he strummed through the jitters, Eddie rediscovered the sanctuary that music had always offered. It felt like a part of him had resurrected, reviving the passion he sorely missed.

Playing Thursday nights may not rake in tips like the weekends would, but he’ll take what he can get. Eddie’s been saving up for some pre-owned furniture, and he’s happy to snag any extra cash he can for it.

Life is good right now. The worry about moving back home has lessened, and he’s genuinely amazed at how smoothly things are going. Just when Eddie thought things couldn’t get any better, a Saturday night slot opened up at the bar.

It would be twice as busy, packed from wall to wall with people who could bare witness to him fucking up. Doubt crept its way in, but when Lee mentioned that Eddie could pocket thirty-five bucks or more by the night’s end, it was a no-brainer.

Tonight marks his debut Saturday gig. Stepping through the red brick archway and out onto the stage, the creak of the rustic boards beneath his feet sends a ripple up his legs. Eddie hasn’t even made it to the mic and he’s already forgotten what foot he’s supposed to be stepping with next.

Beneath his t-shirt, his back grows slick. A lump lodges itself in Eddie’s throat, causing his voice to crack when he introduces himself to the room. Amidst the overlapping conversations and the flushing from the nearby restroom, the amassed noise seems muffled. The strong winds in his head distort the sounds, whirling like a twister.

Eddie hooks his guitar up to the amp and forces himself to take a deep breath. As he tunes his instrument, the upheaval begins to settle. Gradually, Eddie finds unity with his guitar and concentrates on perfecting the tone.

Throughout the performance, there’s a persistent undertow of nerves refusing to fully subside. In spite of his efforts to lose himself in the music, his fingers occasionally falter as they dance on the strings.

At the end of his set, Lee can be heard whooping and hollering over the sparse clapping. With a sense of relief, Eddie packs up and makes a beeline for the bar, eager to ease the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Normally, the rush is akin to a high, but this time around it’s so intense that he’s dying to dial it back a notch.

He splurges and orders something a bit fancier than his usual bland beer. Why not celebrate a little? Eddie claims a recently vacated table in the bustling crowd, seating himself on the leather stool adorned with studs. His eyes roam the room while he takes a swig of his drink, savoring the superior crisp taste.

His attention zeroes in on a figure just feet away, a quick recognition igniting in his mind. Eddie recognizes you instantly, due to the scarcity of memorable encounters he’s had.

Eddie observes from afar, observing your mannerisms as you execute your waitressing duties. You must only work weekends, which would explain why your paths haven’t crossed again until now. When your eyes meet his, a shock shoots through his body.

He sits in rapt anticipation as you make your way over. Time seems to stretch unbearably from your previous spot until you finally stand opposite of him, separated only by the circular wooden table.

A courteous smile graces your face—a skill that waitresses must master if they want to pay rent. “Ready for another?”

Eddie stares back at you. His eyes drift down to the almost full beer bottle in his hand. The cogs in his skull are scraping, unable to put the words you’ve said to him in a comprehensive order. He nods without making a peep.

You pivot to leave, but then turn back to him and lift a brow at his unaltered dumbstruck expression. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you don’t look it.”

He remains silent and shakes his head sheepishly, feeling foolish for agreeing to another beer and then changing his mind just because you asked again. Is there more dignity in being indecisive than a bumbling mess?

“You were just singing up there for nearly an hour,” you call him out, folding your arms and tucking your serving tray against your side. “I know you can talk.”

Eddie clears his throat, but he ends up making an odd sound. “Uh, my throat’s a bit sore, that’s all.”

“Did you forget to do your vocal warm-ups or what?”

“It probably sounded like I did,” Eddie laughs, the self-deprecation evident.

“Not at all, I thought you were great.”

“You did?” Eddie’s lips curl at your compliment. Heat blooms on his cheeks, amplifying the full-body perspiration. He takes a casual sip from his beer, a guise to moisten his dry mouth and escape your intimidating gaze.

“Totally, you really come alive when you’re up there,” you rest your forearms on the table’s edge. “Is it just Eddie, or do you go by a stage name?”

No way. There’s no fucking way that you remember him, his face is so forgettable it’s not even funny. Lee had to have said something about who was filling the Saturday night spot. Eddie is inwardly thrilled to hear his name roll off of your tongue, but he tries to maintain his composure. “I suppose not, I guess I never thought about it.”

“You could pull it off, it suits the whole ‘one-man show’ thing you’ve got going on,” You say while giving him a once-over. The intrigue on your face is unwavering as you walk away.

He’s drunk, he has to be. Or maybe his drink was spiked somehow. The room is spinning and he feels nauseous as all hell, despite only having taken a few swigs from his beer.

A short while later, Eddie’s bottle is half-empty as he sits, continuously replaying the moment in his mind. More specifically, he can’t stop thinking about the sparkle in your eyes; he’s never seen anything like it.

He snaps back from his daydream at the sight of your return, this time with an unopened beer in hand. Eddie looks nothing short of puzzled as you slide it across the table toward him. “Uh, no thanks, I’m-”

“Relax, it’s not for you. I’ll be clocking out in six minutes. I wanna hear more about that small town of yours. I mean, as long as that’s okay with you. I understand if you have other plans tonight.”

“No!” Eddie exclaims. “I mean, yes it’s more than okay, and no, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

You glance downward while scuffing your shoe against the floor. “Okay, cool. Keep it cold for me then?” 

“Yeah, for sure. You can count on me.”

Shit shit shit. How is he going to keep this beer cold? Of course, ways to heat it flood his mind. If you come back to a lukewarm beer, that’ll be the end of him. He’s going to fuck this up and any chance of getting to know you will be squashed.

When you join him again, your drink is still cold and the bottle has left a ring of moisture on the paper coaster. Eddie’s unsure of how he managed to not lose it; if he’s capable of anything, it’s misplacing something when his only responsibility is to keep it in his possession. 

As you slide onto the stool beside him, you’re quick to inquire. You ask him typical ice-breaker questions at first, and Eddie responds with a plethora of details. At times, he goes off on tangents. You don’t appear bothered by it.

Eddie talks about his ability to learn how to play songs by ear, and he delves into the intricacies of his favorite Dungeons & Dragons campaigns that he’s created over the years. He earnestly tries to convey its depth to you and throughout his ramblings, he doesn’t miss the concentrated look on your face as you try to keep up.

Lee is nearing the end of his cleaning routine and the other waitresses have left for the night. Neither of you is aware that the bar is devoid of a crowd, scorching lights, and blaring music.

Eddie has been too busy asking you about your origins and passions, his wide eyes and attentive demeanor affirming his genuine interest. Just as he mentions working at the shop and you’ve asked him how many tattoos he has, you’re interrupted.

Lee stands beside the table, armed with a damp rag and a spray bottle. “Awfully hard to wipe the seats when your asses are still on them. Scoot your booch,” Lee instructs by motioning toward the entrance.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to slip off his stool. You, on the other hand, take your sweet time.

“Have a good night,” You say and give Lee’s shoulder a friendly pat.

Uncertain of his next move, Eddie hesitates while you make your way to an unmarked door. It’s half past two in the morning, and he feels a tug of concern about you leaving by yourself.

There’s a very good chance that you’d consider him clingy or intrusive if he waits here. Eddie opts to stand outside. He props himself against the building and idly nudges a loose chunk of concrete with his shoe to keep himself occupied. Soon after, you emerge into the night.

The slam of the heavy door prompts him to straighten up. “Hey.”

“Oh, I thought you left,” you admit and adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “Thanks for telling me about Hawkins the Hell Hole.”

“The pleasure was all mine. Do you, uh…” Eddie inches forward, his Reeboks scraping loudly on the pavement. “Would you like me to walk you home? It’s pretty late.”

“I don’t live far, it’s just a few blocks.’

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around then?”

Your eyes twinkle brighter than he’d previously seen. “I’d say the odds are in your favor.”

“Goodnight. Get home safe,” He says with a half-hearted bow.

“Likewise,” You reply, biting back a giggle.

Eddie watches you fade into the darkness along the unlit patches of sidewalk. Once you’ve turned the corner, Eddie smiles from the surreal sensation of floating on clouds.

In this moment, the feeling of joy is so potent that it’s borderline palpable. He’s the embodiment of elation, a soul soaring high. It’s a feeling he wishes he could bottle up and carry with him forever.

The next Saturday plays out much like the previous one, save for one detail: it’s considerably tougher to concentrate on stage knowing who’s in the audience. Post-performance, the routine echoes that of the prior week. The two of you gravitate toward the same table as before, establishing it as the one you’ll always sit at.

At first, a hesitation lingers before diving into more personal topics. However, as the night progresses and more beers are consumed, you seamlessly fall into them. Eddie weaves elements of drama and romanticism into his past, making it utterly engrossing for you to listen to.

When you propose getting together outside of the confines of the bar for the first time, Eddie eagerly accepts your invitation to show him around since he has yet to do any sightseeing.

Eddie is swept up in an exuberant wave of boyish excitement, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He never experienced it during his teenage years like the average person. The sheer thrill of having an instant connection with a girl is an entirely new feeling for him.

Week after week, your laundry days are synchronized and you’ve started the habit of making silly faces or giving each other the finger just because. During the late nights spent together at Dove’s Diner, Eddie finds enjoyment in seeing you eat. It’s a peculiar fascination, but it makes him happy. Seeing you completely at ease while enjoying greasy food is endearing to him.

When he arrived in Chicago, Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to move back to Hawkins. Even so, he wasn’t experiencing the same comfort here as he did in that cramped trailer.

There was a longing for familiarity that he had in his old surroundings. Eddie didn’t want to have to go back home in order to feel that sense of belonging again. He had his doubts about ever truly adjusting to life here until you came along. In your company, the foreignness of the city fades away, replaced by that feeling he’s been missing.

Several times, he’s been working in his sketchbook, adding to the pin-up style figures and faces that bear a striking resemblance to you. While engrossed in drawing, he hadn’t picked up on the similarities. But when he absentmindedly drew a simple heart, that's when it occurred to him.

Eddie like-likes you.

As your shift comes to an end, you head to the back room to gather your belongings. Eddie stands idly at your claimed table, picking at his hangnails while he waits.

“When’re you gonna ask her out?” Lee asks while tidying up nearby.

Eddie laughs heartily at the idea. “How about never.” 

“You should. I can tell she’s into you.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t stand a chance.”

Lee puts down his spray bottle and looks at Eddie. “Listen, I’ve known her for a while now. Trust me on this,” he dumps a used ashtray out into a trash bag.

Eddie emits a noise of disbelief, his mind flickering back to the painful lesson he learned in his youth—he’s no one's type. Lost in reflection, he doesn’t realize you’ve returned with your sweatshirt draped over your bent arm.

Despite the tiring evening, you're upbeat in his presence. “Okay, I’m ready! I was thinking we could get some takeout and watch TV at my place.”

“Sure, I could eat,” Eddie says with a grin. Lee is shaking his head, looking particularly smug.

Your apartment is the polar opposite of Eddie’s, the difference is like day and night. It has a homey atmosphere and there’s a notable absence of wear and tear. He does have band posters, framed personal photos, and furniture, but they fail to create the same inviting ambiance that your apartment effortlessly exudes.

Seated beside Eddie on your couch, you tease him. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m trying!” He attempts to mimic your technique, but the piece of chicken repeatedly falls from his chopsticks.

“I can see that,” you stifle a laugh. “And you’re total shit at it.”

Out of frustration, Eddie impales his sweet and sour chicken with both sticks.

Glancing your way, he catches you smiling ear to ear, watching him. Eddie smiles back as he chews. “What? This way works just as well.”

You laugh and refocus your on the TV while resuming your meal. Eddie swears that you’re sitting closer to him than when you first sat down. Your thigh is almost touching his and your shoulder is just as close.

The paranoia subsides as he gets lost in thinking about how he can feel the heat radiating off of your bare thigh. But Eddie’s pulled back to reality when your chopsticks cut across his vision and dig into his takeout box.

He doesn’t mind, not really; sharing is caring. Having said that, when you lean over to look into the box, your shoulder bumps against his. A particularly appreciative sound escapes your lips, one that’s borderline pornographic.

“That’s really good, I’ll have to get some next time,” you hum and place your takeout box on the coffee table. “Or I could just keep stealing yours, it tastes better that way.”

Eddie is frozen, eyes unblinking. As you return to your spot on the sofa, you’re unquestionably closer this time. Your beautiful skin is on display in those shorts of yours and your bare thigh is brushing against his own. He could choke on air right now if he were still breathing.

You look over at him, your brow furrowed. “You good?”

“Yeah, yep. All good,” Eddie avoids making eye contact and stares blankly ahead. “Peachy keen.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you brush off his abrupt awkwardness and scoot toward the edge of the cushion. After gathering your trash, you look at him. “All finished?”

“Mhm,” He replies weakly and extends his box toward you.

With your arms full, you head into the kitchen, leaving him by his lonesome in the living room.

Eddie releases a heavy sigh and drags his hands down his face. Your absence allows him to reenter his body, but it only makes him keenly aware of his not-so-subtle half hard-on that’s outlined through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His eyes widen in alarm and panic takes over. “Shit!” Frantically brainstorming ways to conceal it, Eddie spots a fuzzy blanket at the far end of the couch and he retrieves it, draping it over his lap. While he tries to make himself look as casual as possible, he catches a glimpse of your approaching shadow just before the kitchen light is switched off.

In the few seconds he has left, Eddie tries out various hand placements, but none feel quite right. Every position feels forced and conspicuous.

As you stride back to the couch, your sweet expression eases some of the tension in his bones. “I got a bit chilly,” Eddie blurts out, hoping to preempt any impending questioning. “Is it okay if I use this?”

“No, I’m totally gonna tell you that you can’t use a blanket for its sole purpose.”

Eddie laughs nervously, “Alright, alright.”

This is arguably worse, being wrapped in your scent. It’s awfully hard not to get any harder when your natural smell is flooding his head. It’s intoxicating, and he finds himself inhaling deeply to capture as much of it as he can.

“What’d I miss?” You ask while plopping back down beside him.

The continuous movement causes Eddie to clench his back molars together because an image surges before he can even think to suppress it. He’d bet all the money he has that you’d look stunning on top of him. There’s fantasy looming alongside the image; Eddie wonders what you look like beneath your clothes.

“Nothing, you didn’t miss anything,” He mutters. When you start to squirm against the back of the couch, Eddie shoots you a questioning look. “You got ants in your pants?”

You huff, “No, there’s an itchy spot on my back. Could you scratch it for me, please? It’s driving me nuts.”

“Oh, um, sure,” Eddie fumbles for words as you angle yourself and present your back to him. “Where is it?”

“Right between my shoulder blades.”

Eddie’s eyes zero in on the outline of your bra strap that’s visible through your shirt across your back. Given his luck, that would be the target. Just to be cautious, he starts by scratching at the higher middle part of your back.

“A little lower.”

Eddie swallows hard as his fingers tentatively inch their way down. His belly begins to swirl the closer he gets to the clasp, but thankfully, you stop him just before he reaches it.

“Right there! Yeah, harder.”

If this goes on too much longer, Eddie could very well pass out. But, per your request, he applies more pressure. Beneath the blanket, the discomfort has only intensified—his arousal is now raging with a persistent ache.

“Oh my god, finally,” You say appreciatively and settle back into a more relaxed position.

The overwhelming urge to touch himself skyrockets as his body begs for friction. Eddie repositions himself to adjust the blanket, hoping to keep his erection concealed. From the corner of his eye, his gaze drifts along your figure, pausing at the rise and fall of your diaphragm as you watch TV.

A jagged breath falls from his lips, but he’s determined to clear his mind. Realizing that he can’t leave here tonight with your blanket as a shield, he has to find a way to distract himself by the end of this program.

Miraculously, he survived. Now lying in his bed, Eddie is surrounded by the darkness, save for the glow of the moon and the faint residual light from the streetlamps filtering through the broken blinds. Eddie stares up at the ceiling while his mostly naked body responds to the vivid recollections swarming his train of thought.

On any ordinary day, Eddie would resort to the routine of using his hand and lotion to relieve himself. Be that as it may, the stirring in his core demands a different sensation.

With the thought of you weighing heavily on his mind, there’s an alternative means by which he’s going to alleviate the frustration and desire that’s grown too loud to ignore. Eddie, already shirtless, yanks his boxers off in a swift motion and kicks them off carelessly. Moving onto his knees, he leans over the edge of his bed and retrieves a pillow from the floor.

He sits back on his heels in the middle of his bed and contorts the stuffing with intent. For a moment, he’s not sure how he wants to use it. His body’s impatience grows, causing his erection to bob expectantly.

Eddie licks his lips in anticipation and sets the bent pillow down with the bend facing him. With one hand, he firmly holds the makeshift toy in place. With his other, he strokes himself languidly, blotting the fabric of the pillowcase with precum as he taps his cock against it repeatedly.

Experimentally, Eddie rolls his hips downward, thrusting the sensitive underside of his length against the smooth material. His eyes fall closed, and he can’t seem to pick just one aspect of you to fantasize about, not when every inch of you is so captivating. Eddie grunts, “Yeah, you like that?”

He adjusts his hips, angling them lower to get more friction. The heat blooming causes Eddie’s jaw to go slack. The usual five or six minutes have been halved as the thought of your smile makes Eddie embarrassingly close already.

Wanting to get in a few more thrusts before he’s spent, Eddie pistons himself against the pillow. “Tell me how badly you want me, I wanna hear you say it.”

With one fist continuing to pin the pillow down against the mattress, Eddie trails his other hand up his pale, slender stomach. He digs his gnawed-down nails into his skin, leaving red streaks behind, as he tries to imagine it as your touch. Eddie doesn’t know what it would feel like if it wasn’t his hand, but the thought of you is more than enough.

Devoid of any visual aid, the absence of a magazine or porno tape isn’t hindering him. Typically, when Eddie only has his imagination to utilize, he can beat off without finishing until he eventually gets bored and gives up.

This time it’s different. As his thoughts run wild, Eddie’s rhythm falters. The bed frame squeaks, and the wood shifts while he thrusts as hard as he can.

“Uhhh,” A coarse moan pours from his throat as his cum shoots onto the pillow. Eddie’s thrusts slow to a stop and he pants. The tension in his abdomen gradually subsides as he floats his way back down to earth.

His eyes flutter open, and he’s faced with the mess he made. “Fuckin’ hell,” With a sigh, Eddie decides that he’ll deal with it tomorrow.

After changing into fresh boxers, he chugs down a glass of tap water. Utterly exhausted, Eddie collapses back onto his bed. The aged frame creaks in protest to his abrupt flop. The intensity has been burned away, and what lingers is rawness.

Here’s the thing, Eddie has a way with words, and his unconventional charm comes without a second thought. But conveying himself physically is a different story. His upbringing lacked affection, and consequently, Eddie was robbed of particular milestones. Among those missed moments was sitting on the grass beneath a starry night sky on summer night.

Eddie never got to pluck the green blades from the ground as he gathered the courage to have his first kiss. He hasn’t so much as held someone’s hand before.

With Mr. Pickles tucked under his chin, a wave washes over his heart, wading him further into the tide of ache. Eddie may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid. He’s picking up what you’re putting down. Your persistent hints practically scream at him to make a move.

But your persistence only worsens the anxiety because Eddie’s not sure that he can take the leap like you want him to. It’s not that he doesn’t want you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s uncertainty about what to do if he gets to be with you.

Eddie’s drawn to you, his poor pillow could tell you that much. This isn’t the first night he’s spent laying here trying to talk some sense into himself. When he practices being smooth instead of awkward, Eddie struggles to navigate through the hypothetical scenarios that he’s in complete control of.

If his bedroom walls could speak, they’d tell of those nights. But after the sinful act he just committed, they have a hell of a lot more to say. Those bold utterances were far from who he is. It was a facade, a portrayal of a self-assured man he’ll never embody.

Talking dirty made him feel powerful in the moment because the mask allowed him to avoid facing how he truly feels about you. At his core, what Eddie craves is to baby you, he wants to show you that he can be sensitive. He’d die on the spot to see you in a state of delight from being showered with adoration.

Eddie closes his eyes and envisions a world where he can be what you want. He’d never be oblivious to having food in his teeth, and he’d never push a door that should be pulled. This false reality is one where he doesn’t disappoint you by shying away from your advances. It’s unrealistic, he’s just not wired that way.

During his younger years, Eddie endured the worst of taunting. The other kids mocked his short frizzy curls by referring to it as a “rat’s nest.” They told him that he’d resemble a troll until his dying days.  It was ingrained into him that he was unworthy of any form of love—be it familial, platonic, or romantic. The remarks made about Eddie’s prominent nose convinced him that he was a walking safety hazard and he’d poke someone’s eye out if he ever dared to kiss them.

In the seventh grade, Eddie hit a breaking point. He was fed up with having chewing gum put into his curls. There are too many times to count where Wayne sat for hours with a jar of peanut butter, attempting to free the cemented wads from his nephew’s locks. One day, Eddie stood in front of the mirror in the cramped bathroom and cried at the discovery of another bright pink clump of gum tangled in his hair.

It may have been just one piece at that time, but it was the final straw. Out of desperation, Eddie did the only thing he felt would solve the problem for good. By taking matters into his own hands, he used the clippers to give himself a buzz-cut. As chestnut-colored locks cascaded down, settling atop the sink and his feet, the damage was done.

Wayne lent a hand in handling the patchy spots in the back of Eddie’s head that he couldn’t quite reach. The impromptu solution worked as he’d hoped, but it only opened the door to different torment. 

The following school day, his classmates didn’t hold back, likening his appearance to that of an inmate waiting to meet Old Sparky, or cruelly suggesting that he resembles his imprisoned father.

Eddie quickly came to understand that he was never going to be the guy girls wished would ask them to the dance. The scars of rejection were etched into his self-esteem, and since then, he’s come to terms with his inadequacy.

Perhaps you’re interested in Eddie because there are still things you don’t know about him. Surely, once you learn how unworthy he is, you’ll laugh in his face just as the others did.

Tonight he’s shielded from the nightlife commotion inside his van, parked along the curb outside your apartment. He sits patiently, watching the pine tree-shaped air freshener gently sway with the feeble push of air from the AC vents.

It’s Friday night, and there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend it with you. Eddie directs his attention toward your building as you descend the steps of your apartment’s stoop.

Eddie detects the effort, even from afar. Your shoes look new and you’re wearing more makeup than he’s used to seeing you in. These differences have him pondering the significance behind the deliberate choices.

When Eddie casually suggested catching a movie a few days ago, he hadn’t thought much of it. To him, it was merely something you hadn't done together. He didn’t think twice when you got so excited about seeing a late-night showing of Die Hard.

It’s dawning on him that it wasn’t because you’re a big Bruce Willis fan. The reason you’re all gussied up is because this is a date. He asked you out on a date.

This is not a problem, per se. Eddie’s thrilled about going on his very first date, but fear also has him in a chokehold because he’s unprepared.

Wayne never took the time to give his nephew the lowdown on dating. It didn’t come up because Eddie never displayed interest or curiosity about it.

He’s at a loss. Eddie doesn’t know how to carry himself, he doesn’t have a clue about what’s considered proper etiquette beyond what he’s seen on TV and in movies. Are those even reliable sources?

As you cross the sidewalk in his direction, Eddie’s palms grow slick. It suddenly registers that he should be outside, ready to hold the car door open for you. But before he can act on this realization, you swiftly swing the door open and slip onto the passenger seat.

"Hi," You chirp, the sound almost a squeak as you close the car door behind you. You subtly adjust the bottom of your dress before securing your seatbelt.

“Hey,” Eddie’s eyes wander over your body until he finds himself admiring your bare knees.

With a jolt, his eyes snap back to your face, only for you to be watching him with a pleased expression adorning your features.

Eddie clears his throat and busies himself with turning over the ignition. “You look nice,” he scrunched his face. “Pretty! I meant to say you look pretty.”

"Thanks," you reply appreciatively and inspect your freshly painted nails to ensure they’ve withstood the indecisive wardrobe changes of the past half hour.

Throughout the brief drive, engaging in small talk grants Eddie a temporary respite from his brain being in overdrive. Determined to maintain composure, he makes a conscious effort to avoid looking your way.

Eddie successfully carries the conversation as you enter the lobby and get through the refreshments line. Luckily, you secure the last two seats at the end of a row; he’d have been mortified if the theater was oversold and there weren’t any seats left.

The first half of the movie goes as one would expect; you’re comfortably seated beside him, occasionally whispering commentary to each other. Meanwhile, Eddie shovels fistfuls of over-buttered and under-salted popcorn into his mouth, crunching away as the scenes progress on the screen before him.

But then there’s a subtle shift in your body language. He assumes that your inability to sit still might be caused by the need for a restroom break. That is until your knee gradually inches closer to his.

The film has become an afterthought as Eddie watches you place your hand on your thigh, noticeably close to his own that’s casually hanging off of the armrest. It’s impossible to differentiate the pounding pulse in his ears from the blasts of gunfire booming through the theater.

When your fingertips graze his, Eddie rips his hand away to reach for the bucket of popcorn that’s resting in the ditch of his opposite arm. “Want some?” he fails to whisper while offering the bucket to you.

The explosive flashes of red and yellow harshly illuminate your face and without a word, you shake your head and go back to the movie.

Eddie puts the bucket back where it was, and in the hopes of distracting himself from the guilty tingle in his feet, he fidgets with his wristwatch. Repeatedly, Eddie clasps and unclasps it, making the strap incredibly loose and uncomfortably tight around his wrist.

A few minutes go by and without warning, his heart stops because you unexpectedly rest your head on his shoulder.

As if struck by lightning, Eddie leaps to his feet. The motion launches the bucket of popcorn into the air, and the people in the row in front of you are showered with kernels. He's as stiff as a board as he’s confronted with mild uproar and a chorus of expletives. 

Red-faced and unsure of whom to apologize to first, Eddie turns to you. “Shit! I’ll go get another one,” He doesn’t wait for your response and rushes down the stairs, practically leaping over them two at a time.

After bursting through the double doors and out into the empty hallway, Eddie brings his palm to his forehead, his other hand propped on his hip while he paces. Once he’s able to collect himself, Eddie heads toward the lobby, only to find that everything is powered down. 

Eddie decides to use the little time he has to rehearse what he’ll say. There might not be anything he can do to play off his peculiar behavior; at least, nothing that he can think of at the moment.

As he shows up empty-handed, Eddie doesn’t overlook your rigid posture. Your left leg is crossed over your right, pointing away from him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just upset that he wasted the popcorn and didn't get more.

In your lack of questioning, Eddie feels compelled to explain himself. “Concessions were closed, so…” He gestures with upturned palms, but you don’t acknowledge that he’s spoken or come back.

Not having received a response, Eddie resorts to chewing on his thumbnail and his leg bounces in tandem. Lost in his head, he finds it increasingly difficult to focus on the remainder of the movie.

Exiting the theater and stepping out into the parking lot, Eddie’s voice lacks confidence as he walks alongside you. “What’d ya think? I give it a solid six out of ten.”

You reply with a casual shrug and wrap your arms around yourself. “It was alright.”

“How ‘bout I treat you to Dove’s? Wanna go for a bite?” Eddie suggests to salvage the remainder of the evening.

“I’ll pass. I’m not hungry,” you say curtly, taking a step ahead to open the passenger door for yourself, denying Eddie a second chance to hold it open for you. 

“Oh,” Eddie begins, but his sentence is severed by the slam of the door. “Okay,” he finishes with a sigh.

During the drive back to your neighborhood, the air feels dense. The radio commercials do little to fill the space between you.

Upon the front tire nudging the curb, you get out of the van before Eddie has put it in park. He hurriedly follows suit, rushing over to catch up with you as you head toward your front steps.

“I had a good time tonight. Did you?” Eddie blurts out.

Pausing in your steps, you turn around and face him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Knowing that he’s the cause of your deflated spirit punches a pang to his chest. Eddie offers a gentle expression. “Would you wanna go again sometime? Probably best if you hold the popcorn though,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

“Night, Eddie,” You say with finality before letting yourself into your apartment.

Once you’ve gone inside, dejection overtakes Eddie’s features. “Goodnight,” he mutters to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

Sifting through the mental archive of wisdom passed down by Wayne, Eddie desperately rummages for any guidance that could apply to his current situation.

Eddie has officially had the world’s worst date, and it very well could be the only one he’ll ever get to go on. It only hurts more that the outcome was entirely his fault.

You’re avoiding him, that much is obvious. You stopped showing up to do laundry together and while he performs, you intentionally keep your back turned to the stage.

After your Saturday shifts end, you no longer stick around to hang out with Eddie, instead choosing to leave with your fellow waitresses.

One would think that it was a tough decision, but it makes perfect sense to him. Eddie gives up playing on Saturdays to avoid crossing paths with you. He reverts to his old spot on Thursday nights.

It’s a way to protect himself while making things easier for you. He can’t fathom how repulsed you are by his presence at this point.

Eddie sits at the folding table in his living room, his feet hooked with one another. The blaring thrash metal fills the room as he meticulously drafts tattoo concepts, completely absorbed in his sketchbook.

The incessant ringing of the telephone hardly cuts through the music. Eddie ignores it for the first two rings and lets out a reluctant huff before pausing the tape and picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, can you come get me?” Your cheerful request weaves through the lively chatter and honking car horns in the background.

Not having seen you in two weeks, your voice hits him like a wall. “What for?”

“M’ready to go home.”

Eddie reads his watch and leans against the wall. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“You know what, forget it. I’ll just walk home.”

“Absolutely fucking not. What bar are you at?”

“Errr, The Dugout I think.”

“Stay put, alright? Wait for me inside, I’ll be there in a few,” After hanging up, he recklessly shoves his feet into his Reeboks and snatches his car keys from the counter.

Eddie arrives, expecting you to be inside. But there you are, sitting on the curb, right where you shouldn’t be. He calls out to you and jogs over, dodging a few bar-goers on the way.

At first, you turn your head the wrong way when you hear your name called. When you spot him, you scramble upright. “You came for me!” Excitedly, you raise your hands above your head and it slightly throws off your balance. 

“Holy shit, you’re plastered,” Eddie half-scoffs, half-laughs. His eyes roam your body, and he immediately takes notice of your scraped and bloodied knees. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Huh?” you ask, your drunken buoyancy unaffected by his evident concern. Following his guided point, you simply shrug. “I dunno, can’t remember.”

“You’re not here by yourself, are you?” Eddie scans the area, looking for any signs of someone accompanying you.

“Mmm... no, well yes. My girlfriends were here but they left.”

Eddie scoffs, “You’ve got some shitty friends.”

“Good thing I have you. My very own knight in shining armor is here to rescue me!”

“That tower of yours must’ve had quite the mini bar, princess,” Eddie remarks.

“Let’s go,” Eddie instructs, heading toward his van with the assumption that you’re following.  Peeking over his shoulder, you’re practically tripping over your own feet.

The long strap of your purse slides off your shoulder, snags on your bent elbow, and the bag thuds against your calf.

“What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He steps back, takes hold of your purse, and throws it over his shoulder. Then, he wraps his arm around your waist and holds you snugly to his side, determined to get you home safely by whatever means necessary. After helping you into the passenger seat, he reaches over to fasten your seatbelt. “No hurling in here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you salute before sitting back so that your head is supported by the headrest.

Getting you up the stairs was the hard part. He unlocks the apartment door and gently steers you toward the bathroom.

You make a feeble attempt to resist, grasping onto the door frame before finally yielding to your waning strength.

Eddie lets go of you and begins to rummage in search of supplies.

“Okay, Eddie Bear. I’m ready for my bath,” You slur, leaning against the wall for support as you start to ease yourself into the tub.

“Eddie Bear, huh? That’s new,” he snorts before glancing over. “Oh, no you don’t. C’mere,” Eddie grasps you by the waist once more, guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat.

With both hands, he cradles your booze-warmed cheeks, unintentionally pushing your lips into a pout. “Stay put, would ya?”

Mumbling to himself, Eddie goes back to gathering the first aid supplies. “I look away for two goddamn seconds. Nothing but trouble, I swear.”

The pout doesn’t leave your face and you cross your arms with an annoyed huff. As the seconds pass, it's as though there’s elevator music playing in your head while you wait for something to happen.

Eddie crouches at your feet. “So, what’s your justification for getting shit-faced on a weeknight?” The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he begins wiping away the dried blood on your knees with a damp cloth.

“Boys are dumb, that’s why.”

“I know, aren’t they just the worst?” Eddie concurs with a hum. He stands to rinse the cloth, washes his hands, and then fully gets to his knees on the tile floor to apply ointment.

“Yeah, they are,” Your voice trails off as you look at his fingers resting firmly on your thigh, just above your knee, to prevent any inadvertent movement.

Engrossed in your own little world, you start humming an improvised tune. “Like them so much,” you sing-song to yourself.

Eddie glances up at you briefly. “What’s that?”

“Your hands,” you explain and poke each of his knuckles with your index finger. “You’ve got such nice fingies.”

“Fingies?” Eddie smiles as he secures bandages over both of your knees. He withdraws his touch from your thigh and he takes hold of your hand, turning it palm-side up.

“Mhm, the nicest.”

“Yours are nice too,” he comments as he cleans the scrape on the heel of your hand. As Eddie admires the intricate lines and wrinkles across your palm, he inadvertently brushes the cloth directly against your wound.

You make a high-pitched fuss in reaction to the sudden contact, reflexively pulling your hand away.

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie apologizes earnestly. He applies the ointment before applying a bandage. Rising to his feet, he theatrically brushes off his hands. “There, good as new.”

You reach out to him in a toddler-like manner and make grabby hands at him.

Eddie laughs and leans against the door frame. “I’m not carrying you. Brush your teeth so we can get you into bed.”

“You’re no fun,” you groan while you stand awkwardly, the bandages restricting full movement. You wet your toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste onto it, making sure to shoot a scowl at Eddie as you do.

After lackadaisically brushing your teeth, you plop the brush back into its cup. “There, squeaky clean. Happy?”

“As a clam,” Eddie says with a grin. He steps back to allow you out of the bathroom. “Go put your PJs on.”

With a dismissive wave, you drag your feet to your room and begin to dig through your dresser drawer.

Just as he’s about to start picking up after himself, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie,” You call out defeatedly. 

“Yeah?” When he doesn’t receive an immediate response, he cautiously steps into the doorway of your room. There you stand, still wearing your dress.

“I can’t reach it,” You say, turning your back to him and bowing your head slightly, signaling that you need his assistance.

Eddie swallows hard and mutters under his breath, “Right, the zipper,” Stepping into the room, his hands start to tremble.

Now positioned behind you, he carefully takes hold of the small piece of metal. Despite the trembling, Eddie tries his best not to make contact with your skin as it’s revealed by the descending zipper.

Dizziness consumes him as his eyes flit between your shoulder blades. Once your dress is completely unzipped, Eddie takes a significant step backward, putting distance between the two of you. “Is that all you need?”

You return to sifting through your pajama options. “I think so.” 

Eddie retreats to the bathroom. The image of your bare back is seared into his memory, he’s just gonna have to live with it etched into his mind forever.

After regaining his composure, he locates some aspirin and fills a drinking glass with water. “Are you decent?” Eddie asks hesitantly, not daring to step closer to the threshold without receiving confirmation.

“Uh huh,” You mumble, flopping onto your bed and committing to the first position you land in.

Holding the cup of water and two tablets of pain relief, Eddie re-enters your bedroom. He finds you sprawled and droopy-eyed lying on your back.

Eddie’s chunky metal rings clink against the glass when he sets it down on your nightstand. “I think you’ll appreciate this little visit from the aspirin fairy come morning. You’re gonna feel like shit.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your attention glued to how his strong nose casts a shadow on his cheek in the glow of your bedside lamp. Flipping onto your side facing the door, you yawn and stretch your toes.

Eddie gathers the jumbled blanket from the other side of the bed and drapes it over you, covering you up to your shoulders with care.

Although he wants to, he refrains from tucking you in, concerned that you might trip or get more hurt if you need to get up. “Well, goodnight.”

Just as Eddie turns to leave, your weak grasp seizes his hand before he’s out of reach. It stops him in his tracks, and his gaze follows the path from your joined hands, tracing up your arm until his eyes meet yours.

Fighting to keep your eyes open, you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. “I don’t want you to go.”

He returns without needing any further invitation and sits on the edge of the bed by your belly. Releasing his hand, you rub your eye before tucking your fist beside your head.

Looking down at you affectionately, a grin graces Eddie’s face. He watches as your eyelids flutter closed, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. “Such a sleepy girl.”

With your eyes cemented closed, you adjust your head on the pillow before drifting off to sleep. Eddie stays put for a minute or two, simply admiring you. He’s never seen something so precious.

His heartbeat rattles his ribs, just as it did the first time he saw you waitressing at Double Barrel. That static-like tingling plagues his extremities as an old thought resurfaces. In those conversations where you shared your life stories, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be kissed by you.

Eddie’s eyes brim with tears at the fact that his presence is solely due to your inebriation, and this closeness it’s about to expire. “God,” he exhales, rolling his eyes skyward to hold back his tears.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, pulling the blanket a touch higher over your shoulder. Then, he switches off the lamp and leaves you to rest.

Dwelling on the fact that you won’t remember tonight won’t do him any good. Getting this close to you would have never happened in sober circumstances. At least he got to take care of you in the way he always wanted, even if only for a short time.

Over the past few days, Eddie has been thinking about how he felt when you relied on him to get you home. He’s curious whether the call you made to him signifies that you still want him in your life. If that happens to be the case, then he can work with that.

Going through with this might worsen the sting of rejection, but Eddie has his heart set on mending things.

Within moments of entering the bar and scouring the room for you, he spots you conversing with Lee about a table’s order. Eddie begins to pat his thighs in an erratic rhythm as he feels his insides lurch.

As soon as Lee notices Eddie, he wraps up the conversation and gets back to work. You observe Eddie, noticing the hopefulness on his face as he strides across the room. “Do you need something?”

“Not necessarily. I was wondering if I could uh, make you dinner or something?” Eddie kicks one foot with the other and totters back and forth in place. 

Your expression changes to one of disbelieving annoyance. “I can slap together a PB&J at home, but thanks.”

“No, no. I’m serious, I’ll make whatever you want,” Eddie insists.

“What for?”

Eddie briefly looks away, scratching at the nape of his neck. “I miss hanging out with you.”

“I don’t know,” You ponder with uncertainty, your gaze monitoring the occupied tables in case you’re needed.

“Let me cook for you. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

His pleading eyes wear you down. “Fine, when?”

A bright smile spreads across Eddie’s face, stretching from ear to ear. He bounces on his tiptoes with enthusiasm. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set a time then.”

“Sure, yeah,” you respond, your attention diverted to a booth on the far side of the room where the seated customers wave you over. “Look, I gotta go.”

You’re already back in work mode and walking away before Eddie can say anything else. He just stands there, incapable of shrinking his smile to a mere grin.

Bowing his head, Eddie pumps his fists at his sides in a moment of triumph. With the opportunity for redemption sitting in his lap, he has his heart set on making things right.

In the days leading up to the agreed-upon dinner, Eddie makes several trips to the library, hunting for a recipe for the meal you mentioned. He dips into his emergency savings to purchase extra ingredients, dedicating his time and money to practice making it.

The first go around, he forgot to add two crucial ingredients, resulting in a bland and tasteless dish. Eddie couldn’t let it go to waste, so he settled for the less-than-impressive dinner that night.

On the second attempt, he tried to compensate for the previous mistake by adding more than enough seasoning. He didn’t exactly do it on purpose; it poured out of the canister much faster than Eddie expected. Regrettably, that meal went straight into the trash. Eddie couldn’t stomach a forkful of it.

Eddie absolutely, positively cannot fuck this one up. He can’t afford to, both figuratively and literally. Without a doubt, if he serves you a shit dinner, you’ll push him out of your life for good.

When you knock on the front door, the perceived silence on the other side of the door is broken with a clatter and muffled cursing. The quiet resumes and hangs in the air for a couple of seconds before the door swings open.

There stands Eddie, hair a little tousled. “Hello, hello!”

His stomach does somersaults at the sight before him; your clothes accentuate your figure, and your skirt suits you. Once again, you look stunning and appropriately dressed for a date.

Meanwhile, Eddie doesn’t have many options to choose from. The most formal thing he owns is a button-up shirt and it’s too dressy, but it’s all he has. Paired with it are his holeless black jeans. Before today, he never thought it was possible to be both over and underdressed at the same time.

“Come on in,” Eddie says, stepping aside with reluctance, allowing you to enter his apartment.

As soon as he opened the door to you, his mind turned into a whirlwind of second-guessing himself. The shirt is definitely too formal, but Eddie wants to prove that he knows it’s a date this time, and he means for it to be one. If only he owned an iron so that the material wasn’t as wrinkly as it is.

He wants to prove that he can clean up nicely, evident from the scent of aftershave and cologne. Eddie meticulously clipped his fingernails and tidied his eyebrows, ensuring that he is as presentable as possible.

“This is my castle,” He gestures to the space.

The entirety of the afternoon was spent tidying up and Eddie couldn’t bear to leave a single surface undusted. Any potentially embarrassing materials were tucked away and he washed all of his dirty dishes.

As you enter and survey his studio apartment, he takes the opportunity to rake through his bangs with his fingers. You spot his sketchbook sprawled open on the guitar amp and pick it up.

“Oh, those are nothing, you don’t have to-” Eddie moves forward and reaches out, intending to retrieve the drawing pad, but pauses when you point to the sketch he recently finished.

“This one,” you trace the lines of the drawing with your finger before looking over at him. “I’d get this one.”

“You’d let me give you ink?” There’s a hint of insecurity and surprise in his voice as he subtly retrieves the sketchbook from your grasp.

“Maybe. It depends if you’re still shit at it,” you shrug casually, interlocking your hands behind your back as you assess the living room area. Your attention falls on the antique bookshelf, adorned with miscellaneous items and framed photos. “Has Cliff let you take clients yet?”

“No, you’d be my first real canvas,” Eddie admits.

As you continue looking around, his gaze is one beat ahead of yours. His eyes land on it just before yours do, and his stomach drops upon spotting the one thing he forgot to hide.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, rushing over to the couch and scooping up Mr. Pickles. “Who’s this cutie?”

Pale as a ghost, Eddie stares blankly back at you. How the fuck did he forget to hide the one thing on this planet that rids him of all masculinity.

“I’ll introduce you another time,” Eddie silently urges you to put Mr. Pickles back in his spot, desperately hoping you’ll never bring it up again.

In actuality, he should be thanking himself for the oversight, because you look far more high-spirited than when you stood outside his door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” You brush over the matted fur on the bunny’s head before carefully placing him back on the sofa.

The tension dissipates on his body as he picks up on the change in your energy. It’s reminiscent of how happy you were to see him when you were drunk. But this time is different; it’s genuine, rather than influenced by alcohol.

You’re lured into the kitchen by the incredible aroma, and the steaming food matches the enticing smell. “There’s no way in hell you made that.”

“You bet your ass I did,” Eddie retorts with his hands on his hips while he makes his way from the front door to the kitchen.

You step closer to him. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” you purr, inching closer until your toes nearly make contact with his socked ones. With featherlight pressure, you place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s internal circuits fry as he tries to process the fact that he just got kissed on the cheek for the first time. His lungs refuse their vital function, denying him oxygen. He retreats by half a step, attempting to mask the blazing rosiness of his face.

“For god’s sake, I’m so sick of whatever this stupid game is.”

“What game? I’m not-” Eddie panics.

“You get me to throw myself at you by doing thoughtful shit like this, but when I finally make a move, you act revolted.”

“I swear to Christ I’m not playing with you. I mean, I’m not trying to,” Eddie explains, his words jumbling together. “I know I've been making a total ass of myself, and tonight was supposed to fix that. But I just- I keep screwing up because I like you and you make me so nervous.”

You scoff, halfway turned toward the door. “That’s hard to believe. You flinch if I so much as bump into you. You don’t want to touch me, I get it.”

A pang of guilt hits him like a baseball bat to the stomach. “No no no, I do! I wanna touch you,” Eddie admits. “Look, you mean so goddamn much to me. You deserve someone who can make you feel good, and I can’t do that.”

Still guarded, you sound agitated but you turn to face him nonetheless. “What are you talking about?”

His voice lowers, a whisper of shame. “I don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Nobody wants to fuck the dorky virgin, y’know?” Eddie’s vision blurs from the tears veiling his vision.

You frown at the vulnerable quiver in his voice. “I do, I’ve been wanting to.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.”

“I have to disagree with you on that. You’re a fast learner,” You extend your hand to him at waist height.

Eddie stares at your outstretched hand, struggling to process the gesture. He holds his breath, torn between his anxiety and trust. Cautiously, he places his hand in yours.

The benevolent hold pulses a flash flood through his being, the frigid water jolting his systems alive. When you intertwine your fingers with his, the clamminess is evident against the softness of your palm. Insecurity floods him, worried that you’ll be repulsed by it.

Cracks of lightning electrify Eddie’s heart, rendering him unable to meet your gaze. Instead, he focuses intensely on your joined hands. “I have no idea what I'm doing though.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him with a confident smile. Giving his hand a slight squeeze, you add, “See, not so scary anymore, right?”

Eddie shakes his head, even though fear is still coursing through his veins. You pick up on his hesitation and knowing that he won’t do it himself, you guide his hand to your hip and leave it there.

He sort of caresses, not out of boldness, but seeking to alleviate the numbness in his fingers. The sensation has already spread to other parts of his body.

Your patient expression, graced with a grin, grows into a bright smile when you meet his eyes. Eddie’s confidence blossoms, and he uses his other hand to cradle your cheek.

Acquainting himself with the contours of your face, his thumb strokes lightly from beneath your eyes and along your cheekbone. He starts to smile too as his nerves give way to the feeling of reassurance.

As you tilt your head into his touch, your eyelids flutter closed, and you grasp at the loose sides of his shirt, pulling him closer. He steps forward willingly, but his voice retains an uncertain tone. “I really wanna kiss you, but I’ve never, uh…”

You lean in, and the tip of your nose gently brushes against his. The thundering of his heart in his ears drowns out everything but your voice.

“Close your eyes and follow my lead, okay?” The warmth of your breath encircles his lips, turning his knees to jelly. 

Eddie can’t even whisper a confirmation. At your request, he closes his eyes, leaving him solely reliant on his other senses. The smoothness of your lips against his registers as a gentle peck with just enough pressure for him to feel it. It lingers, and he finds himself incapable of moving his lips in response.

“Want another?”

With his eyes still closed, he murmurs, “Yes, please.”

Devilishly, you press a kiss to his wrist, the hand that is still gently cradling your face.

Eddie’s eyes open, a pout and a scowl simultaneously forming his reaction. “Nu-uh, right here,” he insists, leaning in eagerly. He’s caught up in the desire to feel it again but he’s still hesitant to initiate the kiss himself.

You happily close the gap and this time, Eddie slightly purses his lips against yours, doing his best to follow your lead. After giving it a few tries, he feels you withdraw but his head instinctively follows, chasing your lips.

His eyes swirl with affection as he grapples for something to say, feeling breathless and dumb. “Fuck, I don’t wanna stop doing that.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Eddie’s able to pursue, but only a fraction of a second before you. With determination, his pecks carry more verve. It’s easier than he thought it would be; granted, he can rely on his ability to keep a steady rhythm, a perk of being a musician.

Eddie didn’t think this could get any better—that is until your lips slot perfectly between his, wet and warm. He pauses, malfunctioning once more. As you kiss him deeply, his mind is dusted in a golden haze and it feels as though he’s floating within himself. Enveloped by the sensation of your hands on his collarbones, a soft noise escapes him.

Mortified, Eddie freezes. Instead of deterring you, it only spurs you on. You wrap your arms around his neck and mold your body against his. The intensity of the kiss only escalates, he’s chasing your storm, matching your every move.

Your fingers entwine in the curls at the nape of his neck, coaxing more noises from him. Eddie is so far gone that he’s unaware of the growing bulge in his jeans. His hand leaves your cheek, traces down your shoulder, and along the outside of your arm before clinging to your waist with both hands.

You hover over his lips, a stream of electricity fizzling between you. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”

Eddie forgets to respond but then nods fervently. With curious eyes, he watches intently as you lift your shirt, unveiling skin he’s never seen before.

He inhales and exhales shakily as your necklace falls back into its place against your chest. It’s not a swinging pocket watch, but Eddie is entranced nonetheless.

“You said you wanna touch me,” you draw his trembling hands up your sides. “Now’s your chance.”

Eddie’s hands ascend and meet the silky band of your bra, and you guide his palms forward to the plush foam padding. Your reassuring hold is encouraging, but Eddie tears his stare from your breasts to check-in. He finds you already looking at him, exuding a sweet demeanor. “Give it a try.”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs in the thick column of his throat, his hands unmoving beneath yours.

“Like this,” You squeeze your hands twice before removing your guidance and allowing him to proceed at his own pace.

Adrenaline motivates him to cup them independently this time, and his cock twitches as he commits to the action.

“You’re doing great by the way,” You offer a smile.

Growing more confident, Eddie applies more pressure. His thumbs move in tandem, brushing over the area where your nipples are concealed. The innocent delight in his eyes burns dark into frustration after a few squeezes. Eddie huffs in annoyance at the fact that he’s only getting handfuls of padding.

“Easy, tiger. Want this off too?”

Heartened by the lack of ridicule, he feels safe. Regardless, Eddie fails to articulate more than a few words, his heart lodged in his throat. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Come sit,” You suggest, taking his hand in yours to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he sits, Eddie thanks himself for having washed his sheets for tonight, despite never imagining that this would happen.

When you release his hand, both of them return to the plush of your waist, making himself at home there. The straps of your unhooked bra drape loosely on your arms, and his pupils dilate as the foam cups gradually gain distance from your body. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie says under his breath, his bottom lip shining after a swift swipe of his tongue.

Your hips receive an involuntary squeeze as his patience begins to waver. He then slides his hands back up to your ribs, using his thumb followed by the heel of his palms to graze the bottom of your breasts.

With a sigh of relief, Eddie no longer has to daydream about what they might look like. His beautiful brown eyes roam over your body like you’re a masterpiece, a sculpture carved from stone solely for him to admire endlessly. Savoring the moment, he takes his time to appreciate every second. Eddie doesn’t take your trust for granted.

After a minute or two, you scoot backward onto the mattress toward the pillows. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He watches you recline half-naked on his bed, and his belly swirls at the sight. Eddie follows suit, crawling to you. Now positioned between your legs, Eddie hesitates as he looks down at you, your hips not making any contact.

His touch resumes at your waist, but this time he’s stroking the expanse of your tummy; it inadvertently brings comfort to both you and him. Until this moment, he’s never had the chance to see the tiny details on your face up close—the distinct aspects that compose your sheer beauty.

Eddie’s hazelnut curls hang over his ears as his gaze trails over your neck and chest. His intense adoration makes you want to hide, but the unease is melted away when he captures your lips with his own. Eddie feels like it’s already been too long since he last kissed you, the deprivation like that of extreme thirst.

Goosebumps prickle his fully dressed form, a surge of belonging filling the cracks in the surface of his heart. Timid pecking is a thing of the past, each kiss more fervid than the one before it. The wet click of your lips drowns out the inhibitions buzzing in his ears.

Eddie’s large hand paws at your breast, his thumb playing with your pebbled nipple, drawing a whine from the back of your throat. You tug him closer by his jeans, bringing his hips down against yours. Regardless of the denim barrier, this causes a change in him. When you lift your hips against Eddie, he grinds back just as needily.

As your lips part, he begins a trail of affection along your cheek, jaw, and down your neck. When Eddie reaches your collarbones, his mouth moves hurriedly. He’s itching to fulfill the longing that’s been something he’s imagined plenty of times before. Kissing every inch in his descent, Eddie hunches over and takes your nipple into his mouth.

The melodious sound that pours from you makes him painfully harder. His cock strains against the metal zipper of his jeans, fighting to defy the taut material. You arch into his mouth, and Eddie continues to grind against the apex of your thighs.

He licks his way across to give much-needed attention to your opposite breast, all the while maintaining stimulation on the other with his thumb. Eddie suckles and flicks his tongue, his breath hitting your bare skin like a sweltering midsummer heat wave.

The reciprocity of sincerity is blowing his mind; the way it feels to have your hands weaving through his hair. There’s a slight tug when your fingers catch on a knot, and the sting only fans the flames burning in his lower belly.

Eddie releases your nipple, leaving it bereft of the heat of his mouth. Following his previously explored path up your chest and neck, he bashfully looks into your eyes. “Could I, uh, kiss you down there, too?”

“Normally I’d have to ask for head. Are you sure?”

The melted milk chocolate of his irises practically drips off of his lashes as he blinks at you. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

“I’m not entirely convinced,” You coax him playfully.

“I’ll just have to prove how starving I am then, won’t I?” Eddie quips, moving out of the way to remove your skirt. As he does, the waistband slips from your hips and he slides it off your legs.

You’re in nothing but your panties and the white cotton is not particularly sexy, but they sure are familiar. That day at the laundromat, Eddie never imagined he’d see you in this exact pair at some point. He wonders if you did.

His fingertips tap their way up your thighs until they reach the band of your underwear. You look so cute with your hands resting across your belly like an awaiting princess—his princess.

Much like the skirt before it, the garment is tugged down the curvature of your legs. Your knees knock together as your legs reflexively close. Meanwhile, Eddie is mesmerized by the damp patch on panties hanging from his fist.

“You wanna keep 'em?”

Eddie nods with feigned innocence. These would go to good use, he thinks. 

“They’re all yours,” You grant his wish.

“I feel so spoiled,” he says while tucking them into his back pocket for safekeeping. Then, Eddie redirects his attention to the living art laid out before him. “Especially for getting to see you like this,” he drags his fingertips along the outside of your calves until they reach your knees.

Your legs fall open, proudly putting your glistening cunt on display for him. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, moon-eyed. He repositions himself between your legs, lying on his stomach. Drool pools on his tongue, his mouth just inches away from your body. With one arm wrapped under your thigh, Eddie uses a finger on his free hand to collect the wetness that’s all for him.

“Don’t be a tease,” You fuss.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie responds, ready to put his new skill to use. It starts with a testing press of his lips against your clit. He works his way lower, mouthing at you messily, making out with your cunt. Eddie licks his lips and rests his cheek against your inner thigh. “Can I use my fingers too?”

“Yeah, just take it slow,” You gather his hair and keep it out of his face so it doesn’t get in the way.

Eddie glides two digits through your folds, admiring the way the pads of his fingers glisten with the mix of your slick and his spit. Slowly, he eases his two fingers into your entrance. They sink deeper without facing resistance, and you soak him down to his bottom knuckles. Eddie looks up at you from between your legs, amazed. “You’re so wet.”

You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. “You own a mirror, don’t you? How could I not be.”

Flattered, Eddie smiles. He draws his fingers back before plunging them into you a little faster this time, though not by much. As you lay back and get comfortable, you instinctively roll your hips downward with each thrust of his fingers.

With his cheek still resting on the inside of your thigh, he’s unable to bring himself to speed up, downright mesmerized by the sensation of your velvety walls squeezing around his fingers. When he accidentally flexes and curls them upward, it elicits a pretty gasp from you.

Eddie’s gaze flits up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What was that?” he teases and does it again, deliberately. “Did you say something?”

You moan, “That feels amazing,” You run your hand up your belly to your breast, massaging yourself in tandem with his improved technique.

He finds a steady tempo, rubbing the spot that makes your nerves flare. With nothing else on his mind, Eddie is fully engrossed as he drives his digits into you. Your fingers suddenly appear before him to rub your clit for added stimulation.

“Oh my god,” You moan unabashedly, arching your back off of the bed in response to the heightened ecstasy.

“You like that?” Eddie looks up at you, feeling a rush of pride as you writhe.

“Yes- fuck, I’m almost there.”

Eddie boldly nudges your hand away with his nose, swiftly replacing your fingers with his tongue, flicking it passionately.

Your moans fill his ears as he laps at you, enjoying the way you taste when you unravel. He’s so in the zone that he fails to realize you’ve already reached your peak and become overstimulated.

You squirm in his grip, gently pushing his forehead away. “Eddie, Eddie!”

“Yeah?” His fingers stop abruptly, and he looks at you with doe-like eyes, your glossy sugar smeared all over his lips and chin.

“It’s too much,” You say exhaustedly.

“Shit, my bad,” Eddie frowns, disappointed that his fun has come to an end. He slowly withdraws his digits, admiring the way you’ve coated them. He drags his fingers down his tongue like your arousal is cake batter from a bowl. A low hum emanates from Eddie as he sucks them clean, inadvertently making a show of it. “God, your pussy tastes good. Even better than I dreamed it would.”

“Come here,” You beckon him, smiling blissfully.

Eddie wastes no time getting onto his hands and knees and crawls up between your legs. Hovering over you, he gazes into your eyes, cheeks dimpled. “I made you cum.”

“I can’t remember the last time I came that hard either,” you chuckle, noticing the sheen on his face. You grab your discarded shirt to wipe it off. “Here, let me-”

“No!” Eddie angles out of your reach, his brow furrowed. Using his still-sticky fingers, he wipes at his lips and chin, licking his digits clean once more. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

After you tuck his frizzy curls behind his ears, Eddie’s tender grin fades. Your hands slowly move down his pecs to his belt, and you tug at the metal buckle. Just as you free the leather from the prong, he stops you.

“Uh- wait.” The hesitance in his voice brings your pursuit to a halt. The way you shrink back causes his heart to squeeze.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to go all the way if you’re not ready.”

“It’s not that. Believe me,” Eddie reassures you. He brings a hand to the side of your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m just worried that you’ll never wanna see me again ‘cause I'm so terrible in bed.”

Your shoulders raise and lower with the deep breath that you take. “You said you want to make me feel good, right?”

“More than anything,” Eddie declares in a heartbeat.

“Your cock would.”

Eddie nearly shudders and his voice burns raspy. “Yeah? You want it?”

You hook your fingers through his belt loops and tug, staring back at him intensely. “Not want. I need you inside me.”

“Christ,” he gulps and presses his hips forcefully against yours, dampening the denim. Eddie lowers his mouth to your shoulder and kisses it. “I wanna know what it feels like so bad.”

You turn your head and nibble his earlobe. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?” When your hands return to his partially undone belt, Eddie doesn’t intervene this time.

“I don’t have protection though.”

Blindly, you unbutton and unzip his jeans. “Side pocket of my purse.”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away and awkwardly scoots backward off the bed. His pants hang low on his slender hips, exposing the snug elastic band of his blue plaid boxers. After finding the condom, he inspects it. “I have no fucking clue how to use this.”

Sitting up, you hold your hand out. “I can put it on you if you want.”

Eddie hands it to you, then it occurs to him that he’s still fully dressed. While you’re tearing the foil package, he yanks down his jeans and kicks them away, his belt jangling. Only a few buttons are undone from the neck before he gets impatient. Eddie tears his shirt over his head, leaving his mane disheveled.

He pulls at the waistband of his precum-soaked boxers indecisively, but the sight of your beautiful naked body reminds him that it’s only fair. Eddie pulls them down and his anxiety has caused him to go partially soft. When you look at him, he wishes the world would swallow him whole. 

Your eyes rake across his slim frame, then meet his eyes instead of drifting below his waist. Eddie climbs back onto the bed, sitting on his haunches. You crawl onto your knees to join him and pull his body against yours, kissing him.

Mumbling against your lips, he tries to apologize for already failing you by being unable to stay hard, but his words falter as the kiss deepens, his worries becoming an afterthought. Eddie grips your waist, and the sensation of your breasts pressing against his bare chest makes him feel woozy. As soon as you break the kiss, he’s immediately filled with fear once more. “If it’s small or it looks weird, don’t tell me.”

You effectively distract him from his insecurities by trailing your lips down his pulse, dragging your teeth along the supple skin there. Eddie grips your ass harshly, a shaky sound pouring from his throat as you kiss your way down his body. He watches, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

As you finally look at his shy cock, you run your palms up and down the sparse hair on his outer thighs. “You’re the perfect size for me,” You compliment him with a smile. 

“I am?”

You suck a bruise on the pale skin of his waist. “Yeah, you are.” 

Eddie’s eyes close, his hands resting on your shoulders as he focuses on the sensation of you licking and biting him. Lost in the feeling rather than inside of his head, Eddie’s cock gradually rouses.

Having previously set it aside, you grab the condom. “Hold it still for me, please.”

“O-Okay,” he secures it at the base, his palm covering the trimmed thatch of curls. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” With one hand, you fit the band around the tip, and with your other, you roll the latex down his shaft. That alone causes Eddie’s mouth to fall open, a ghosted moan tumbling from his lips.

“There, easy peasy,” Sitting back up and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him flush against you. His wrapped, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m not sure I could if I tried,” Eddie says, his eyes flitting between yours. “Is this really happening?”

“It’s happening,” After kissing the tip of his nose, you settle back bringing him down with you to get comfortable, your head resting on the pillow.

Eddie returns to the previous position, this time with your legs hiked around his hips, causing his cock to rub against your mound. Afraid of poking around too much, he asks, “Would you do the honors, m’lady?”

“Why, of course,” you say with a giggle. You guide the head of his cock right where it needs to be and look into Eddie’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

He swallows hard and inches his hips forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance. Eddie sinks until he’s halfway sheathed by the hot embrace of your cunt. As he pushes the rest of the way in, his jaw falls slack.

“You doing okay?” You soothingly stroke the bulging veins on his forearms.

“Mhm,” Eddie mumbles with his lips rolled inward. After a few seconds without moving, he draws his hips back and then drives them forward. The moan that rips from his chest is unholy.

After two or three agonizingly slow and experimental thrusts, the motion comes naturally to him after all that practice he’s gotten from humping his poor pillow in this very spot. “Fuck me,” The hand that isn’t supporting Eddie’s weight fists at the bed sheets as he thrusts repeatedly, falling into a slow and steady pace. “Jesus fucking fuck.”

“Look at you go,” you moan out. “It feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

“Feels… god, you feel incredible,” Eddie grunts, propping himself up on both hands. His hair hangs down, swaying with the tempo of his hips. In this position, he can watch the bounce of your body with each thrust and he’s doing just that.

The grazing of your fingernails along his flexing hips throws off his pace. It weakens him, especially when you’re looking at him the way you are. Eddie is so consumed by the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can’t be self-conscious about the fact that he’s moaning every time he sinks back into you.

The shame of virginity has been lifted away as Eddie experiences this night of firsts with the girl he’s crazy about. Eddie is struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. He’s captivated by the way you’re watching his length disappear inside you over and over.

You look stunning lying on his pillow, anchoring his body to yours. Before tonight, he considered the concept of moaning someone's name to be cliché because it only happens in the movies. But Eddie’s had a change of heart because he can’t stop saying yours. It’s all of you right here, right now, all over, making a man out of him.

His muscles begin to tremble, and he lowers himself onto his forearms. Eddie rests his forehead against yours, his hips stuttering. “I’m so close, baby. I don’t wanna cum,” He slows his movement to stave off his orgasm.

“I want you to,” You express while gliding your hands down his muscular back.

“No,” Eddie protests, ceasing his thrusts entirely. “I want you to cum again first.”

“This isn’t about me.”

 “Are you shitting me? It’s always been about you,” he pulls back to look into your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, you’re so damn worth it.”

Just before you have the chance to respond, Eddie unexpectedly rolls his hips. With one hand, he thumbs at your clit, watching how your eyes roll back. He doesn’t even have to look down to see the mess you’re making because he can hear it.

Eddie’s moans dance with yours as he pushes his knees forward, adjusting the angle of his hips to mimic a ‘come hither’ motion. He knows he’s found the spot he discovered prior when your legs spasm around him. In response, Eddie rubs your clit harder.

The way your walls tighten makes it all that more difficult for him to hold back. He’s on the cusp, his abs tensing as he tries to fight it. Your hand flies above you to push against the headboard, your other one occupied with gripping his flexing waist.

“Cum for me,” Eddie growls, frustrated with himself as he teeters on the edge, just seconds away from spilling into the condom.

Your brows furrow and your eyes squeeze shut, a rush of air getting caught in your throat as you climax.

“Yeahhh, that’s it,” Eddie’s abdominal muscles tense to their limit. “Oh- fuck,” His voice pitches higher.

“I’m yours,” You moan prettily and guide him down, letting him bury his face in your neck to give his arms a well-deserved rest.

“All mine,” Eddie says between his labored breaths. He grips and lifts your hips while you kiss his shoulder. Losing their previous steadiness, his strokes become shorter and more sporadic. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cuh- uh- mmm.”

Eddie lets out a whimper as he delivers two unsteady thrusts before slamming his hips against you, burying himself as he orgasms. His ass tenses and ripples, the muscles contracting as he rides out his high.

Panting loudly, Eddie stills his movements completely and props himself up to look down at you. “Jesus Christ. After that, I wanna have you for dinner every day,” he says against your cheek before kissing it. “As a snack in the middle of the night,” Eddie adds, kissing your temple. “Shit, you’d be good for breakfast too. It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know.”

You let out a winded giggle, your bodies sticking together as he struggles to keep himself propped up.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” You tease and smile wide when he rolls his eyes and snorts.

Eddie takes your hand, flattening your palm against his chest so that you can feel how vigorously his heart is beating. “Is this what being in love feels like?” He asks tearfully.

“Yeah,” you nod, placing his hand over your own heart that’s thudding just as hard. “Just like this.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags: @nj01 @tlclick73 @foreveranexpatsposts @madelynraemunson

[destinationtrekk]

I want a long explanation of Albert's mental state after re5, you know....ummm, I mean, how much does his behavior and actions change? How will he feel about himself? Will he suffer from depression or such disorders? How will be his relationship with the reader?

I hope I didn't bother you ❤️❤️

awh, asks are never a bother!! wi will say I think @nshtn is much better at describing wesker's psyche than me, but my version of post re5!wesker (i call him uroboros!wesker) is different than theirs.

also holy shit this is 1200 words, i don't know what happened

i think immediately after re5, there's no change. physiclly, he's incredibly weak and in near-constant pain as uroboros heals him. you dote on him religiously, desperate to keep him alive as well, and this is what begins his mental shift. it does take a few months, but he slowly comes to realize how much he needs you past his surface level sexual desire and trust in you as a "lackey" basically

not that he never felt affection for you, but he certainly labelled it as something superficial - what one would feel for a pet, perhaps. now that he has nothing to do except sit around and feel sorry for himself and struggle with his feelings toward his own virus in his body, he feelings for you morph quite a bit.

but first, his self-perception. after spending his life comparing himself and those around him to Spencer, he had a serious ego problem and god-complex. he literally calls himself a god in re5, and gods don't lose the game - except he did. i think wesker sees the world as pretty black and white. you're either an asset or an enemy, worthy or a waste, and the only time in his life when this mindset fractured was in stars.

he saw many, many people as an officer who made genuine mistakes that put them in awful situations - criminals who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and victims who just wanted a way out. he finally had a glimpse of humanity's reality, that regular people had to fight to survive like he did, except they get to be happy when they survive something. he never had that. it was survive or fail, and you don't get to be happy about it when your only other option is to die. i think marcus' death absolutely had to do something to his psyche as well, definitely as a motivator to 'stay on the path paved for you, and be obedient, or bad things will happen."

so in stars he feels conflicted emotions about the reality of his childhood, but they're temporary and quickly get repressed again as his life goes on. they resurface post-re5 because he sees how you interact with others, and he really has nothing else to do except to think about it.

this obsession with analyzing his own upbringing couples rather poorly with his feelings for you, now fully fledged as romantic and devoted. of course, he refuses to say anything. he now believes that he's worthless, a failure, and his life's work has been utterly destroyed. wesker is the kind of person who needs a goal and clear objectives, and without them he feels like he'll drown in his own thoughts. which is exactly what he's doing!

you notice his odd behavior immediately, from the way he refuses compliments that used to make him cocky, and how he rarely (if ever) asks you for anything. you were basically his assistant before, and now he apologizes for even having a harsh tone with you. he can't fathom how you care so deeply for a failure like him, and why you aren't using helping to save his life against him. because that's what people do, right? they take and give and everything has to be a favor that helps you climb to the top.

well, you never actually cared about him being on the top, so you take it upon yourself to confess first. surely he's always known how you felt about him, smirking at your blushing reactions and lusty stares, but he reacts bad when you finally tell him. he thinks this is how you're making him repay for saving his life, by humiliating and debasing him for his romantic attachment to you.

this is a shock to you, because you thought he was moping out of self-pity, not a midlife, self-exploratory bout of depression. it hurts both of your feelings - he thinks you've played him by being kind for something in return, and you're heartbroken that the man you love doesn't trust you anymore.

it takes a while for him to come around. you double down on your affection and explanations, trying to dismantle his fragile mindset piece by piece. he's resistant, somehow convincing himself that he's trapped in some sick mind game that you're manipulating, because he's too thick to just give in. he doesn't know how to accept love or, frankly, get the fuck over himself. yes, he failed. yes, his life's work is kind of ruined. but he has a new lease on life, if he would just accept it.

what finally pulls him out of this spiral is a kiss. you've been pleading with him for days, trying to get him to just talk to you and work this out, because you can't keep living in this emotional hell. he's snippy and rude and exhausted, because he feels the same. he can't bear to be around you anymore, so he tells you to leave him the hell alone. you're in his new office, having switched safe houses a few times until you could finally settle, and this most recent, permanent move is why you've been so upset.

why does he think you're sticking around? he still has access to nearly all of his resources, if he really wanted you gone he could leave without telling you. he's well healed now, except for a few things he'll likely deal with forever, but he's keeping you around. he knows he can't let go of you, but he's still so resistant to everything you're offering.

he's standing hunched over his desk, hands white-knuckling the dark mahogany, broad shoulders and back facing you so he can hide him expression from you. his voice is strained, like he's barely holding himself together while you're openly crying. this is unbearable, but you comply with his wishes.

your last move is to walk closer, your hand lightly settling on his elbow while you press your forehead to his bicep, seeking any tiny sliver of comfort you can find in him. you leave a gentle kiss on his arm, as well as a wet patch of your tears, before you walk away, silent except the heartbreaking sound of your sniffling.

this shatters him. he spends the rest of the day destroying himself, but he vows it's the last time he'll wallow in misery. it takes time, but he slowly begins to open up to you, admitting to his poor mental health and struggles with finding purpose. how he can't fathom your love for him, but he can't fight his own attachment to you either. he cries when you kiss his lips for the first time, but he fails to hide his smile when you pull away.

later in life, years after the devastation that was Kijuju, he's a different man. he's still a little flighty and calculating, but he's fast to comfort and reassure you, expressing himself freely and communicating instead of lashing out or pushing you away. you both still work on...well, everything. your lives have been tragic and painful, especially his own, but he's never felt so secure as he does with you. he truly loves you, and he'll do anything he can to keep himself from ever hurting you again.

[aimedis]

redacted characters as things in my journal 🎀

relatively big tw - there's like vague to explicit mentions of su!cid3 and heavily implied mental self-esteem struggles in this one (i'm alright at the moment, promise) so if that's triggering to you, don't read. this is kinda heavy and maybe disturbing to read to some people i think.

i decided to do this because i though it was kinda fun and cool to like analyse my stuff and the characters a little bit. sorry if this offends anyone ig? idk 😭 i'll be back with the more lighthearted stuff in a couple days okay let's go ->

darlin: "my feelings aren't in my control most of the time. i don't know why i feel this way."

angel before they broke up with micheal: "i think is funny (but i also feel bad) that he's always talking about "getting married" and "forever" when i have a break up letter sitting in my notes."

freelancer: lyrics to "making the bed - olivia rodirgo"

darlin: "i don't wanna talk about him anymore."

damien: "i just want my mom. and i wish i could go up to her just bawling my fucking eyes out like i'm five-years-old without feeling like a fucking failure but i can't... i've survived long enough and i can do it some more."

darlin before sam: "and a part of me will always miss what once was or could have been. but i know they will never be long term, permanent, or reality. i wasn't created to have a happy ending... but i'm okay with this. it makes it easier to slip away and disappear."

cutie: i don't know what so say really. i just feel empty and alone often. i feel out of place. i feel like everything i do is humiliating or straight up wrong. i don't know what's wrong with me."

gavin: "try as i might, i still feel like i am not in my body. living vicariously... through myself?"

baabe: "i should know. my dad didn't want me enough to stay."

lasko: "man what a fucking baby. stop crying over shit that hasn't even happened."

damien before huxley: "i wish i was dead. do you think if [mom] knew she'd wish that too?" (knew that he was gay)

lovely: lyrics to "strangers - ethel cain"

darlin: "i hope it's not my fault when it's all over. i want one thing to not be my fault. but it probably will be."

angel: "why am i crying. again. over and over and over again. it's all i ever do. cry about this or cry about that."

milo post-inversion: "this hurts a lot more than i thought. the thought of feeling like this forever? it sucks."

freelancer: "fucking kill me. i can't breathe."

sam: "is it wrong to think i don't deserve this or that it's not my fault?"

lasko: "it feels like i'm always apologizing."

david: "it really hurts when i need to talk to [him] so bad but i can't."

huxley post-inversion/xavier's death: "is it just always going to feel like this? holy shit this hurts."

damien: "i'm sorry, mom, i'm sorry."

vincent: "the real me? i don't know who that is anymore."

angel: "one more or one less, nobody's worried. my tummy hurts."

darlin before sam: "i don't plan on feeling like this again. i don't plan on "being in love" ever again. as if i know what that feels like... it makes me feel like shit all the time."

cutie: "after this, i'll go back to being alone. like god intended."

asset: "it's kind of sad how i don't even feel like a person sometimes."

lovely: "every so often it hurts so much i think it's gonna rip me apart from the inside."

asher post-inversion: "and it's like, sometimes it straight up feels like i'm gonna die in that moment."

sweetheart: "my greatest sin to men was being a child."

damien: lyrics to "forwards beckon rebound - adrianne lenker"

[shawnaise]

oh my god. holy shit. deez nups. the entire buttering-up of seeing lassiter happy the whole episode only for the shules event at the end..? the look on shawn’s face is horrible. just seeing the moment where he realizes that nothing he ever did was good enough for anybody; that his life and choices in life aren’t worth the effort he put into them. where no matter how much good he does- how many murderers he catches; he’s a failure above all else. it’s a direct parallel to his relationship with his dad; the way that he has to choose profession or love and neither way is a good option. where love sculpts you into an ugly vision of self where you only live to please others; and profession offers you joy but only at the expense of never being able to be yourself. shawn doesn’t win in either of these scenarios and he can’t because there’s no way to. no matter what happens after this episode; I don’t think shawn will ever be fully redeemed as a concept; as a character? sure, they need to keep the plot moving. but as a person? in real life that kind of thing doesn’t just disappear after a couple of filler episodes, it lingers and reminds you that people love you until; until they meet a part of you they don’t like, until they figure out a part of you that they didn’t want to. and it’s your fault for being broken; it’s your fault for having that part; that indescribable part that even you aren’t too sure you’d like to share. but they see it, and all the time before that is only until.

[xxacademy]

i’ll let you in {part two}

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: the mission takes an unexpected turn, leaving you to make life & death decisions. but, the mission gone wrong turns out the be the least surpsing part of your week.

word count: 1.7k

content//warnings: somewhat graphic depictions of blood & injury. mention/use of knives. mention/use of guns. alcohol, kissing.

“it’s okay leon, just sit still, okay!” panic rises in your voice as you pull off leon’s shirt, revealing a broken blade wedged in his shoulder.

with all your strength you pull it out and instruct leon to hold the wound while you get bandages ready. little groans and sharp inhales fill the room as leon writhes in pain, blood seeping from between his fingers. you pour alcohol directly onto the wound, causing leon to flinch.

“jesus christ, that felt worse than the knife!” he groans.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry” you sit in leon’s lap to get a better look at the gaping puncture going through his shoulder.

“this dosen't look so good.”

“i’m okay, i promise” he assures.

you bandage him up, and stand up, throwing him his shirt back.

“we have to get out of here, we’re losing time” you exclaim.

leon puts his gear back on, springing back into action as if nothing ever happened. he grabs your hand, guiding you out of the maze-like structure.

rounding a corner you come face to face with a grotesque bio-monstrosity. with no hesitation, you take it out with a gunshot to the head and a knife to the neck.

you and leon are sprinting through the building, trying to get to the helicopter waiting for you on the other side.

“you have the vial right?” leon asks you, huffing and slightly out of breath.

“yes, i should,” you say patting down your pockets.

“holy shit, i don’t have it, what do i do!?” you scream, coming to a halt and attempting to turn back around.

you must have left it in that room when you were dealing with leon’s shoulder.

“what do you think you’re doing?” leon grabs your shoulder before you could take off.

“i’ll run back and get the vial!” you yell, pure panic taking over.

“no, you get to safety, i’ll grab it and meet you back at the helicopter.”

“no leon, i’ll do it. please, you’re wounded!” you desperately try to convince him.

leon’s deep, authoritative voice echoes throughout the hall when he says your name, “this is an order, get to the helicopter, now.”

“yes sir.”

you realize how wrong you were to defy him. he’s the captain of this mission, you must follow orders.

the clicking and gnarling sounds of bloodthirsty monsters are catching up to you and now leon has to turn back and face them, or else the entire mission is a failure.

your eyes meet with leon’s, “just stay alive, please.” you practically beg.

he lets out a half-hearted chuckle “i could say the same to you, now go.”

you both take off in opposite directions. luckily you make it to the roof of the building unscathed and see your way home awaiting you. wind and rain are smacking you in the face as you climb up the flailing ladder. you pull yourself up into the helicopter and ask the pilot to wait for leon.

it was a nail-biting two minutes, is he dead, is he alive? the storm was drawing in and you had to go, luckily you saw him. leon popped through the door with a swarm of mutants following closely behind as he makes a sprint for the helicopter.

thank fucking god.

he makes it up and falls into his seat, soaking wet and out of breath.

“leon, thank goodness are you okay!?” you frantically check his body to make sure he made it in one piece.

“i’m okay,” he smiles with a sigh “we made it and that’s all that matters.”

…

it’s been a couple of days since you’ve been back; you spent the first day in the infirmary where they ensured you were fit to go back to work. luckily you didn’t sustain any major injuries. so, you got sent back the following day.

you’ve since spent the day writing follow-up reports for the mission and finishing countless other half-completed reports on your desk. it has put you into a fog. to experience true life and death and immediately go back to the office is extremely jarring. but comes with the job title.

you hear a knock at your door, drawing your attention away from the never-ending stack of paperwork.

“come in!” you holler.

the door peaks open and you’re greeted by leon. clad in a dark navy suit. it looks expensive, quite literally fitting him perfectly.

“leon!” you burst out, just happy to see his face.

“hey, how are you?” he asks softly, closing the door behind him and taking a seat at one of the chairs facing your desk.

“well, it’s been hard to get my mind off the last couple of days, but i’m hanging in there...” you sigh, “and you?”

“my shoulder is fucked up, but nothing i can’t handle.” leon’s nose scrunches up as he's reminded of the pain.

you tilt your head and pout your lips, a non-verbal show of empathy.

leon clears his throat and sits up straighter in his chair. “well, in honor of that nightmare, i thought that you would wanna go out for a drink, maybe i take you out to a nicer bar this time?”

a date?

“uh-ya! i’d love that, actually!”

“how about tonight?”

“that works” you smile.

“great, i’ll see ya then.” leon leaves your office, silently closing the door behind him.

your mind is going a million miles a minute.

what am i going to wear? should i even dress up? is this even a date? am i overthinking things?

never mind that, now you have to get through the work day, anxiously waiting for tonight to come.

...

you run home after work, partially because you desperately wanted out of your work clothes and mostly because you wanted to impress him.

you wanted to look good for once, after all, he’s only ever seen you in your work clothes.

you throw on a cute little black dress with a low scooped neck line and dainty lace along the edges, black thigh-high tights, and mary jane heels. the whole ensemble was topped with a trench coat. you looked nice, but not overdone.

you make it to the bar of leon’s choosing, and it was certainly a lot nicer than expected. it was classy, with a 1920’s speak-easy theme. most of the drinks were whiskey or bourbon-based.

leon already had a spot at the bar with two drinks ordered.

he watches you as you approach him, a little smirk adorning his rosy lips.

“don’t you look cute” he compliments, pulling out a chair for you to sit.

cute.

you visibly blush and hold back a cheesy smile, desperately trying to contain your elation.

once seated you admire your drink, it has little edible flowers and an orange twist garnishing the glass.

“what is this?” you ask.

“it was on the specialty menu, it looked pretty so i ordered it for you.”

“and what did you get for yourself?”

“whiskey, neat. as always”

“that’s definitely what i’d assumed you to drink” you laugh.

“hm i guess i’m so predictable”

“honestly, not really”

“hm? oh really” he raises an eyebrow.

“your drink of choice maybe, but you’ve managed to be one of the most unpredictable people i’ve met.”

“is that a compliment?” he smirks.

“yes, i’d say it is” your tone is flirty and sweet.

“how come?” he asks.

“well, i’d say you’re hard to read, for a while, i thought you were drawn back and aloof. but getting to know you, you’re anything but. your quietness is deceiving”

“hm yeah, i guess i can see what you mean.”

you take a sip of your drink and it’s delicious. it’s strong with a spicy warmth of the whiskey heating your throat as it goes down but balanced by notes of light floral sweetness.

“you like it?” leon asks, watching you sip on your pretty little drink.

“hmmhmm” you smile.

leon looks you in the eye and then down at his hands.

he seemed… cautious.

“there’s a reason i brought you here... i wanted to apologize for what happened out there, shit went wrong and it shouldn’t have.”

does he feel actually feel guilty? it was unreasonable considering you felt responsible for constantly putting him in rocky situations. you’re tremendously less experienced in the field, and it showed.

“no, that’s not true” you furrow your eyebrows. “don’t blame yourself for my fuck-ups, you out of all people don’t deserve that.”

“as a leader, i’m always responsible, y/n.”

“responsible or not, you do not owe me an apology. i won’t accept it. you’re the one that got stabbed in the shoulder for christ sake!”

you forget you’re in a crowded bar, and draw the attention of a few heads with that last statement.

“well, at least let me show my appreciation, you made the most of a shitty situation, and i thank you for it.”

“okay, i’ll allow it; and thank you, captain.” you said with a smirk.

and there it was, that side of him you always saw, even from afar. a tormented soul trying to make right in a wrong world, even if wasn’t his fault.

as the night progressed you two talked for hours. starting light, with the topic of work until the conversation divulged into something much more personal. you found yourself spilling all your inner workings to him. why was he so easy to talk to?

“it’s getting late” leon confesses. your heavy eyelids telling him all he needed to know. “fuck, you’re right.” you agree.

“did you drive?” leon asked.

“no i walked, i only live a few blocks away.”

“can i walk you home?”

“yes, please,” you said with a sigh of relief. you really did not want to make the cold and dark walk home alone.

the walk was quiet, but not awkward. only a few sentences of small talk here and there.

finally arriving at your apartment, you figure this is your only chance to make a move.

before arriving at the lobby door you turn to leon, eyes full of lust and stomach twisting with fear.

fuck, just do it.

you move towards him eagerly in an attempt to go in for a kiss. but leon’s lips meet yours sooner.

he went in first.

you’re shocked. he places his hand delicately on your cheek deepening the embrace and leaving you with no chance to think.

his lips leave yours and his thumb strokes your lip. his sultry eyes gaze into yours like pools of ocean reeling you in.

your voice is low, almost in a whisper. “why don’t you come in?”

part three

⭐️tags

@cantchoosejust1 @it-is-tea-time

[pilferingapples]

An Impromptu Ranking of Hugolian Adoptive Parental Figures

Ursus,The Man Who Laughs : I know everyone's going to want Valjean to be first place, but he's not. Ursus takes the lead not only because he's got two adopted kids, but because he does what no other dad-mom-general-adoptive-parent on the list does, and actually does the grubby hands-on work of Raising Kids. He doesn't have maids or nannies or nuns or any help; he's just a guy living in his traveling van and raising up a couple kids (who arrived at his door horribly sick and injured, even, which he manages to treat?? ) with zero support except for a literal wolf. He's honest with them and openly loving and teaches them how to survive in their own time and society. Too bad about the kids existing in a really bleak Hugo novel, but you did great, Ursus. 10/10.

Jean Valjean, Les Miserables: He loves Cosette SO much and tries SO hard! Second place only because (1) during the convent years, he sees Cosette for one hour a day , and while that limitation is definitely not his ideal choice,it does mean he's just not the constant primary caregiver the way Ursus is and (3) More Trauma means More Problems, and especially So Many Communications Issues. Plus a really really misguided faith in the importance of attaining bourgeoisdom. IDEK , man. Heroic efforts, heroic failures, 18/18 Napoleonic Antithesis Points maybe?

Lethierry, Toilers of the Sea: a decent normal guy raising his niece, who has very normal 19C Dad Faults-- too much trust in stereotyped gender roles, and too much focus on his job at the expense of his domestic life. Absolute middle of the road, not heroic as a parent but also doesn't do anything that makes me go "holy shit NO , dude" . He's just a humanly flawed but caring parental figure. 5/10 complete middle of the road

Cimourdain, Ninety-Three: Listen I LIKE Cimourdain. I respect his whole narrative arc. I think he's probably the most interesting character in the novel. But he loses Parenting Points for (1) not being the primary hands-on caregiver for large chunks of his adopted kid's life and (2) uh. the whole. the thing where he kills his adopted kid. There are circumstances yes I know but still . If you are directly responsible for the death of your kid you are going to lose points in the parenting games. That's just how it is. 4/4 with full symbolic meaning of the number.

Frollo, Notre Dame de Paris: HOLY SHIT NO, DUDE.

Semi-adopted THREE kids and TWO died horribly and he directly threatened the life of the last one. Even before then he's not a GREAT parent, largely leaving the raising of his sort-of sons up to others, locking one up in a single building, letting another fall into addiction, and the third go starving and homeless on the streets. So it's already not doin' great but arguably he's Trying?

But then he wants to bang a teenager, and decides they're all expendable. Absolute worst reason for the absolute worst parenting decisions. 8/8 you ARE the Fatalité , dude, look within and quit blaming your issues on teenagers.

Honorable Mentions: Radoub, Ninety-Three: gets the "like a mother" comparison, goes through a firefight for his adopted kids, stays sweet and cheerful and soft around the babies to the end. Gets set here because he's NOT an adoptive single parent, he's actually co-parenting with the kids' birth mom and they are delightful platonic parenting partners. We wish you, Michelle, and the kids all the best , Radoub! Good job getting out of your novel without killing anyone you love!

Gavroche, Les Miserables: OK he only manages to adopt the momes for an evening, and for an adult I'd be docking All The Points for that, but for an unparented 12 year old he is doing GREAT. He even kept looking for them afterwards! The biggest and most sincere You Tried star for you, Gavroche, it's not your fault you're all getting atomized hard enough to explode a barricade.

Dishonorable Mentions:

Gillenormand, Les Miserables : If you're gonna hold a kid as a financial hostage and destroy his dad's life because the kid's soooooo important to you, you might also try making sure that kid has any way to know that you actually give a damn about him? Maybe at least don't beat him with sticks? Legos be under your feet forever, Gillenormand!

The Slaveowner Uncle in Bug Jargal : absolutely perish

[blacklegsanjiii]

Base concept I’ve got going rn is essentially just a vinsmoke siblings swap (Sanji ends up modified, the rest are “normal”) and they still have a bad relationship, but it’s still due to the siblings’ attitude and not because of something Sanji’s done. Hell, the relationship between each other kind of worsens too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that around and the idea kept itching at me

The long and short of it would end up being that Sanji’s not strictly a success the same way the others are unequivocally failures— he’s enhanced, but they overcorrected on the emotional front and he’s ended up with little to no personality, very good at taking orders and being a soldier but it’s severe enough that Judge has to swallow his pride and turn to his failure children if he wants the country to run at all once he dies. It doesn’t preclude any of them from abuse at his hands though , just so long as they don’t “look bad”. Sora also died as soon as the boys were born, so they don’t have her as a pillar of support.

When they all collectively decide to run away, Sanji ends up with them and ends up essentially their guard dog, as part of his orders has always been to protect them from outside harm.

The siblings are relieved but also all have differing and even clashing opinions on the “sanji issue” , and all of them are some level of wary of him because it’s just… kind of weird and terrible to be with their brother outside of a Germa context and have the full weight of his emotionlessness settle on them. There’s the issue of them being hunted down and whether Sanji could be used as a weapon against them, but also the issue of him being useful to them on the grand line since they can’t realistically stand up to more powerful crews all on their own, but also fundamentally the issue of Sanji literally being their brother and how messed up it is that they’re debating over him like he’s a gun instead of a person (Reiju is the one who always stresses this).

It leads to a lot of arguing and even a couple fights but they’re family and they have no one else and they love each other so it’s just an exhausting cycle of constant fights and shaky reconciliation where the core issue doesn’t get addressed. They need outside help to resolve it.

Really long synopsis lol but I throw it out here because you might get some mileage out of it too and ur free to elaborate on it as well if it appeals to ya! I have some other specifics figured out and some stuff might change, but basically if you see an AU like this ever pop up on AO3, you’ll know ya boy wrote that ✨

- Wine

Holy shit, Wine. This is amazing. Absolutely heartbreaking too.

They're barely holding it together when they escape because all of a sudden the weight of what is essentially a robot being their brother is crushing them. Do they run into the Strawhats? Can Sanji cook? I'm so pumped for this!

Also if does ever go live let me know and I'll stick it in the revamped blog map when it's done!

[prince-liest]

Your last 666 series installment is the best thing that happened to me. Its full of gore, somehow fluffy and wait-.. do I finally see some FRICKING COMUNICATION between the two idiots!?!?!

Ngl, Vox's 'Alastor not being able to love' statement hurt my soul. Your writing is brilliant and and let's just see what ending ya wro-..O MA LORD IS THAT VAL'S LOVE POTION!?!?!?!?

Now I need to know what's next!!!! And VOX I SWEAR IF U USE THIS SITUATION IN ANY WAY IM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE.

This series is a blast♡ love it!♡ makes me weirdly passionate and excited hah!

Some communication, and some communication failure, hahaha. They're going to be talking a lot more in the next one, actually, because I meant to write some NSFW and they had to go and attempt a healthy conversation instead. What can you do.

Thank you so much, I'm delighted that you're enjoying! :D

And: Way more anon asks about the latest 666 getting answered under the cut! <3 I combined a bunch from the last couple of days.

prince, I'm going insane over the latest fic. so we know from Alastor's inner monologue that he knows the roofie was an accident, but considering the super stressful situation, the fact that Vox was the one to ask for a kiss and the fact that Alastor accused him of wanting instead of loving him not a few minutes ago…. makes me wonder if Vox might not be at least a little worred that Alastor might think it was on purpose <3 gonna be rotating this in my head for the foreseeable future - ✨

I am so glad that these things are on y'all's minds, hahaha. Because you can bet they are on mine. >:D And THANK YOU, very pleased to be dragging everyone down into insanity with me.

“Should I stitch together the scars your teeth left in me in a mirror of my own signature on your body.” Fucking. POETRY. 🐈‍⬛

I am always so happy when I write shit like this and instead of everyone pointing at me and going, "Look, what an EDGELORD!" the response is you people being VERY nice and leaning into the feelsy fun! 💛

holy moly ??? i love the new 666 addition aaaah 😭🙏 the trials and tribulations of feeling scorned and ghosted by a loser who confessed his love to you and the next time you see him he’s holding your LITERAL heart in his hands by alastor ! OMFG this was too good esp the part where vox is like “bro why do YOU CARE ?? i thought you didn’t love me huh?” and alastor is like well. maybe i.do. 😐 LIKE CMONN this really played out like some soap drama and i loved the neat details on resuscitative thoroctomy (learned a new word too so double bonus) the fact vel was on the line w her and val’s apparent surgeon for val’a little ‘incidents ??? GOLDEN I SAYY hope we see more of ur oc … 🫣🫣 btw ofc vox would love to an end an argument with a kiss OF FUCKING COURSE HE WOULD 😭 thank u sm for this chapter princeliest my dear <3 hope life is treating u well too !! -🦌

Vox is ahead of Alastor in terms of effective in-the-moment conflict resolution, but goddamn if he isn't fucked up in his own fun little ways. They're so not done with most of these issues, but at least they're on they're way to maybe be able to have a real conversation about them!

You know. If they chose to do that kind thing. Instead of whatever they will probably do instead.

Anyway, THANK YOU!! I had a great deal of fun writing this chapter and digging into some of the issues that have been slowly collecting underneath the surface of kinky radiostatic, so I'm happy you guys are enjoying as well!! :D

AS FOR MY OC... I WILL POST ABOUT THEM SOON. I LOVE THEM A LOT AND IT EXCITES ME THAT PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW MORE OF THEM. Tysm for asking Q^Q

Just read the new addition to the 666 verse, and inside of me are two wolves: The first is saying: Immaculate, artistry of the highest form. We finally get Alastor’s own confrontation with his vulnerability and him trying to figure out what exactly the relationship with Vox means to him. Cannot wait for how this all is going to develop. The other part of me: THE BREADCRUMBS WORKED THE MUSE IS WRITING!!! Followed by this image (since tumblr won’t let me attach it while being anonymous) https://i.redd.it/hx2shk642vs71.jpg -🕊️

LMAO THAT PIC. Amazing, flawless, thank you. The breadcrumbs DEFINITELY worked, please keep feeding. Digging into Alastor's shit is bringing me life and I'm happy to share it, hahaha. We're swinging even harder on the introspection in the next one!

As a sucker for medical gore and aroace angst, I lack the words to express my love and appreciation for your most recent installment of 666, but your writing of radiostatic's dynamic was captivating and proved to be such a lovely read as always! I loved that you touched on Alastor's relationships with the women around him as that has always been such an interesting aspect of his character to me! I never really put much thought into how Vox's apparent avoidance of Alastor in the show could mirror Alastor's disappearance, and now it will Not leave my mind. My heart hurts for these two dorks, super looking forward to chapter 2!

"Medical gore and aroace angst" should be the title of my memoir. Honestly, this series has ended up a lot more edgy-bloody than I expected it to, since I usually tend to prefer to portray my whump/angst/violence/etc in a much more roundabout way, but it's actually kinda tipped over into, like... part of the point is how banal it is, how beside the point. The upsetting heavy-hitting bits aren't the blood, they're everything else that goes on around it. Anyway, thank you so much! <3 I think your heart will find some relief in chapter two, haha, I hope you enjoy!!

Meanwhile alastor, completely convinced that there’s no situation where vox actually loves him and is happy with the way things are—either vox wants more and is going to start asking for more, or he doesn’t actually love him and just wants to have sex with him and thus either way he is a Liar. They’re so fucking bad at this. No one is capable of being the adult here. I think they need an auspitice.

It's really funny that you said that, because that is kind of exactly the role that [spoiler] ends up playing, though in a more roundabout way, hahaha. They certainly need someone to, like, get them to be having the same conversation with each other instead of two parallel ones. I think the fun thing about writing Alastor reacting to his own feelings is just how much his reaction can change based on how things are framed for him, and it leaves a lot of wiggle room for how differently I've ended up writing him reacting to the season 1 finale in 666 vs in Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy.

But, god, you really nailed the description of what Alastor is feeling. <3

Vox in the latest 666, my ENTIRE HEART. Literally nothing about how he read the situation was a bad take or a leap to conclusions, but alastor constantly says the opposite of what he means and refuses to admit vulnerability or friendship and what the hell else was vox meant to do with that, of course he backed off, they need to have this talk so badly

YES, PRECISELY! Like, I hope it came through that really neither of them was completely crazy to react the way they did! It's a result of how much of their communication has been nonverbal, implied, and talking around things - they'd been doing so well up until this point, but there's only so far that can take you before you start thinking that you're on the same page when really you're reading two completely different books! Thank you sm! <3

‘But I am capable,” Alastor says gently. “I love you very much.” Vox gapes up at him. “...I. Fuck you.” His voice is tight, strained. “I don’t fucking believe you.” Alastor feels his smile thin. “Well. That’s just dandy, then, isn’t it?”’ I AM NOT OK GOING FUCKING FERAL

Probably one of my favorite lines to write, ehehehe. THANK YOU ANONNNN <3 It's kinda interesting to see how differently some people read this. Some folks thought Alastor was saying it to hurt Vox (which is how Vox read it). Some folks thought it was true (how Alastor intended it). Some folks thought Alastor was trying to fit into the mold that he thought Vox wanted from him (how I intended it). All of them make sense as readings! >:)

[writing0305]

Prompts.

Fluff.

“If you tell me what happened I can fix it. Whatever it is.”

2. "This cake reeks of resentment and bitterness." - "When we get to the party I'm going to need you to stop talking like that."

3. "Nothing could ever change how I feel for you."

4."I think I might love you."

5. "I can hear your heart beating, relax."

6. “Can… can I have a hug? Please?”

7. “Your mouth says you don’t like me but the way you stare at me tells me everything I need to know.” 

8. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"

9. "You know, ever since I saw you that day, I haven't stop thinking about you."

10. "Everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."

11. "Glad to see that you decided to show up." - "I knew you'd be bored without me here."

12. "This may not mean much to you, but I have your back."

13. "There isn't anything that I wouldn't do for you."

14. "You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply."

15. "Your jacket smells like you." - "Is that a good thing?" - "It’s… It’s comforting."

16. "I trust you. More than anyone else."

17. "I would do anything to keep her safe."

18. "You put a blanket over me when I was sleeping? What are we, an old married couple?"

Angst.

"The only thing about you that never disappoints, is your ability to disappoint."

2. "You couldn't live with your own failure, and where did that bring you? Yeah, right back to me."

3. “Holy shit… that’s a lot of blood...”

4. “Are you okay? does anything hurt? who did this to you?!”

5. "I don't want to see you!" "You can't be serious."

6. "You don't answer my texts or calls, how could I not be suspicious?" "No, you just don't trust me enough!"

7. “Who was that?”

8. “Just a friend, huh?”

9. “You two are so close, it’s adorable.”

10. "You are a brick tied to me that's dragging me down"

11. “Please, tell me this isn't your blood.”

12. “You were never going to tell me, were you?”

13. "I get everything I want"

14. "Get the fuck away from me."

15. "I don't know why I am upset about this so much. I never even liked him!"

16. "You know what's the saddest part? There was a time that I would've forgiven you if you just showed a little remorse. No more, though. I'm no longer a fool."

17. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

18. "... who did this to you?"

19. "...who's this?"

20. "What. the. fuck. is going on in here?"

21. "I need answers and I need them now."

22. "So, what's going on between you and [name] recently? You guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden."

23. "Why are you so worked up?" "Because they wouldn't stop fucking staring at you like they wanted to eat you."

24. “I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” - “I mean, I’m fine so it’s okay—” - “No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.“

25. "You lied to me. was i just a pawn in your game? the easiest one you can sacrifice ?"

26. “Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 

27. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

28. “I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” 

29. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. "

30. "I wouldn't do that if i were you. "

31. “They would be so mad if they found out.” “fuck ‘em”

32. "You have no morals, you know that?" - "Morals will get you killed someday, dear.”

33. “Have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself?”

34. “How did you do that?”

35. ”Where were you last night?”

36. “He deserves to die after what he did to you. And I’ll bring it to him.”

37. “She's my date. Fuck off.”

38. “Why was he talking to you?”

39. “You won't go anywhere with him.”

40. “He touches you again and I won't guarantee you I won't kill him immediately.”

41. “You go near him ever again and I'll kill him.”

42. “Whether you like it or not, you're safest with me.”

43. “Yeah, I killed him! He used to hit you! What did you expect me to do?! Leave him alone?”

44. "I didn’t know where else to go. "

45. "Clean yourself up. You're getting blood all over the place."

46. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Pregnancy/Children.

“Our babies would be so cute.” - “Oh, yeah?”

2. “Wait- we’re having a baby?”

3. “Heartbeats? Plural? There’s more than one?!”

4. “That baby is lucky to have you as a mother.”

5. “Your child has been kicking me all day.”

6. “You’re doing so well sweetheart. Just a few more weeks. My superwoman.”

7. “Go easy. You are carrying my child.”

8. "Of course I'm pregnant! Can't you see that?" - "Well, I didn't want to assume and be rude."

9. "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

10. "Well, we both made that baby." - "Don't remind me."

11. “I have a kid?”

12. “He/she’s mine too.”

13. “Anyone fucking hurts my kid again, I’ll kill them.”

14. “I have a right to be in my kids life.”

15. “How could you hide this from me?”

[bmodiwrites]

ooooh, #4 for that found family list looks interesting!

So, this is so insanely late (I reblogged that meme forever again) but I finally have something for you. Thanks for the prompt, @thefreakandthehair! I hope I did the thing justice. You can read it on AO3, too, if that's more your style. Here are the prompts if you'd like to send more.

4. Everyone always asks if we're related, and we always say no, but I always want to say yes, because you're the closest thing I have to family.

Many moons before Steve starts dating Eddie, Wayne Munson enters his life.

The day is a usual one for Steve. After reaching his social peak at sixteen and tumbling down from grace ever since, time moved by in such a way that made Steve feel as if he’s standing in syrup. Everything around him goes by but his own life is slow and stilted, barely shifting and changing despite seconds and minutes and days passing him by.

He’s out early in the morning, contemplating the failure that he is while he tries to run his melancholy away. His shirtless skin is the only thing that makes him visible in the vivid darkness that surrounds 2AM, so Steve isn’t all that surprised when he turns a corner and is lightly clipped by a truck rolling through a stop sign.

The impact his body takes is the most Steve’s felt since a Demogorgon first walked into his life. It’s so jolting and otherwise exciting that Steve can’t find it in himself to be upset. He knows right away that nothing is wrong with him at all – his long legs might be a little sore from the pathetic attempt to catch himself, but that’s a small price to pay. By the time he’s rolled over his shoulder a couple of times, Steve is invigorated.

“Holy shit! I’m so sorry, kid,” Steve’s accidental attacker says. He’s out of his car, looking all around with a panicked expression overtaking his face the second he spots Steve laid out on the ground.

With a blink, Steve does his best to reassure the man – after all, that’s what he’s known for, what he’s good at. As long as everyone else is okay with the situation, Steve is okay, too. “Don’t worry about it. I was obviously in your way.”

The look on the older stranger’s face twists into something that Steve can’t quite place. It makes his stomach knot up and turn, kind of like the times in his youth when his mom screamed his name with distaste from the kitchen. And though he doesn’t get a wallop like his mom always dished out, Steve is certain the man is thinking about the lecture he so desperately wants to give. Instead, he settles on this –

“What are you doing out this early in the morning? You can’t be any older than my nephew, which means you should be at home… tucked into bed, safe and sound.”

Steve can’t help but laugh – it’s hard to remember the last time he’s felt safe… let alone sound or at peace.

“Early morning is the best time of the day for a run. The streets are usually clear, with tonight being an obvious exception,” Steve says, hoping his tone comes off as joking instead of petulant like he’s feeling.

For a second, Steve waits for some sort of fall out, though none comes. The older man shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Steve. I’m Steve – “

Without thought, Steve sticks out his hand between them, leaving it in the air awkwardly. He’s not all that certain what makes him do such a thing but he’s compelled to, truly unable to stop himself. For whatever reason, Steve feels like he needs this guy’s approval, like it’s important for him to make an impression that isn’t in the shape of his body along the side of the stranger’s truck. Maybe his brains are rattled, or maybe, just maybe, the world is working in his favor for once.

The older man only hesitates for a second before grabbing onto Steve’s hand, shaking it briefly. “Wayne. It’s nice to meet ya.” He waits a beat, then gestures over at his truck with the barest flick of his head. “Why don’t you hop in? I’ll take you to get some breakfast. It’s the least that I can do.”

Steve doesn’t argue or question, he doesn’t worry about the fact that he doesn’t have a shirt or that his knee is cut up to bits from the fall. He simply nods without question and climbs into the passenger side of Wayne’s car. Out of all the outcomes that might’ve come his way, Steve supposes a free plate of pancakes isn’t the worst.

Come to find out, Wayne’s presence in Steve’s life is far from over.

Since that morning, Steve’s taken it upon himself to go back to the diner that Wayne took him to for their amazing bacon whenever he can. He’s not totally sure what makes it so good but it’s absolutely worth the ten minute drive out of town to get it.

Never mind the fact that leaving Hawkins, even if just for a little while, feels like the perfect break from a life that’s still dull and dreary.

Wayne, it seems, holds the same opinion about the diner’s food (and the distance from Hawkins, though it takes Steve years to find that truth out).

They run into each other several mornings over a course of weeks. At first, Wayne pretends he doesn’t even know Steve, that he didn’t run him over or bribe him with breakfast foods. The wave Steve sends his way is resolutely ignored. For two more trips, Steve tries to get his attention to no avail. Yet, the moment Steve steels himself against the disappointment of another adult letting him down, Wayne actually steps up.

He finally invites Steve to join him one Saturday morning, cementing their routine.

From that point on, Steve dedicates the first morning of every weekend to his time with Wayne. As the Saturdays pass, the old man’s frozen exterior thaws into something that’s soft and squishy on the inside and easily pliable when Steve comes from the right angle. In the matter of weeks, Steve knows that Wayne is a factory worker with an adopted nephew and little to no social skills. Throughout all of their conversations, Steve realizes, despite the quiet gruffness, that Wayne is a good person who’s willing to give someone like the former ‘king’ a chance.

They get asked, pretty frequently, if they are father and son. The wait staff is never the same so Steve’s presence in Wayne’s booth is always an exciting topic for whomever takes their order. One ballsy waitress even sounds off, making them both laugh – “it’s so sweet of you to spend time with your dad. Warms my heart.”

Despite the potential for awkwardness, neither Steve nor Wayne worry about correcting the mistake. For what it’s worth, Steve is positive that Wayne’s done more for Steve in their short relationship than his own father throughout the entirety of Steve’s life. DNA doesn’t tie them together but the relationship they nurse is a strong one, one that’s born from communication and Steve’s need to have someone see him.

Things get a little interesting when Eddie comes into his life. At first, Steve isn’t even aware that Eddie is Wayne’s nephew. With everything that’s going on with the Upside Down, it’s an easy mistake to make. When Nancy talks about her interview with a man named Wayne, Steve makes the connection, almost stopping dead in his tracks. All of the sudden, Eddie’s innocence (and what that means for the person he cares so much about) becomes Steve’s mission – it’s vital that Wayne gets to keep the important people in his life.

Steve doesn’t realize that feelings crept into the picture along the way until Eddie is wrapped up in bandages, tucked tightly into the sheets of a cookie-cutter hospital bed. He’s fighting for his life with Wayne by his side. His chest heaves up and down as air fills into his lungs and supplies the rest of his body. It’s a normal thing for a person recovering from near fatal wounds but to Steve, it’s everything.

He's still trying to push away the sight of Eddie’s skin torn to bits. Steve’s heart slams against his chest when the inkling that Eddie still might not make it out on the other side arises. Upon reflection, Steve comes to understand that apprehension as real worry, as gut churning anxiety as the minutes pass and Eddie’s eyes don’t open.

Eventually, Eddie comes back to them. He’s stubborn like his uncle and not at all ready to leave this Earth behind. It’s a relief, both for Wayne and Steve, to see Eddie up and around and very much living.

In fact, it’s such a breath of fresh air that Steve doesn’t waste any time. His usual courtships are done with smoothly spoken words and fancy dates used to impress. Steve is the master of his game, yet shockingly poor at actually feeling the things alive and well in his heart. Maybe that’s because no one ever made him feel so right in his skin. Or maybe, Steve’s just now at the point where he’s recovered from Nancy and ready to genuinely love again.

Unsurprisingly, it takes them no time at all to fall into each other. Eddie is so much like Wayne (with the added bonus of being drop dead gorgeous and cuttingly funny) that Steve is immediately enamored. While there are no fatherly feelings between Steve and Eddie, the familiarity of being around someone he already feels a kinship with is kind of nice.

So nice that dating quickly turns into something very serious. The sort of serious that makes Steve and Eddie get an apartment together long before they’re ready. Struggling to make ends meet isn’t what Steve pictured for his life but he’s living like a pig in shit – happy as can be, despite the fifty hour weeks split between two jobs. Every day he gets to come home to his best guy who greets him with a smile on his face and their next adventure together waiting for them. Even if that’s cooking shitty spaghetti and doing the dishes before they pass out for the night. It’s hard most days but Steve isn’t about to wish his reality away, either. Happiness, he’s found, is worth the price paid.

Years go by and as they do, things get better. Eddie gets a job that he loves (and pays well, too) while Steve continues to crush it at the factory with Wayne. Manual labor is exactly what Steve needs to keep his mind occupied. The added bonus of getting to be with his surrogate father and probable best friend is yummy icing on the cake. Steve’s family, the one he found and put together himself, is flourishing. With a little nourishment, Steve knows they’re only going to get better.

Then, the law catches up and eventually allows them to make things official – Steve and Eddie, unsurprisingly, are first in line to do exactly that. They run away to Maine with Wayne and Robin in tow. They sign some papers and exchange rings and become something in the eyes of the law they’ve been since they first decided to commit to each other. Eddie is Steve’s husband. They finally share the same last name.

So the next time that Steve and Wayne are mistaken for father and son about a year later, Steve gets to joyfully nod his head and proudly say yes to the nosy woman asking. He smiles widely when Wayne wraps an arm around his shoulders and adds his positive confirmation, too.

And despite always feeling like Wayne’s family, like someone who belongs to the Munson name, Steve feels truly complete for the first time… maybe ever. Not only does he have this amazing man that’s excited to love him and make a life together, but Steve’s lucky enough to have a dad who cares about him, too.

Getting hit by Wayne’s truck is the best thing to happen to Steve – he reminds both his dad and husband of that as often as possible. Without that little clip of a Ford’s bumper, Steve might not have the life he loves with his whole heart. Though it’s a running joke to poke fun at Steve’s sappy admission, neither Eddie nor Wayne ever take the truth of the matter for granted.

Fate brought them together.

Their love for each other makes them a family.

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 111

Matt; "Melting internally and outide ..." Okay then ...

Oh my gods what a perfect start to the bit ... you can't just bluff this Sam, you have to open it first to continue ... a threat of nina assassination violence implied with failure? Oh my ... that's great. I love it ... HOLY FUCK MATT IS NOW DYING OF MYSTERIOUS FAST-ACTING NINJA POISON!!! Wow ... Marisha too? BECAUSE TRAVIS USED HER AS A MEATSHIELD?!!! You goit ... and Robbie gets it by refusal ... wow ... and now EVERYBODY' DEAD BUT SAM ... I love this one so much ... oh, SAM was the ninja? You prick ... XD

Yeah, I know it was about the new Assassin's Creed game, but given I just watched The Shadow Strays on Netflix my irony is tripped in a different way ... O.o o.O

15? Oh my ... did Marisha make a backhanded confirmation they're all gonna be playing BOTH of their characters each, except for Robbie? Are we REALLY about to get a WHOLE SESSION of Bells Hells AND the Mighty Nein just vibing? I'm so ridiculously excited ...

OH GOD AND HERE WE GO ... PLAY THE SONG!!! IT'S THURSDAY NIGHT!!! ON A MONDAY!!!

SPRINKLE!!! Yay! And Pate! Oh my gods how's THIS meeting gonna go? And now the weasel's in the house on Laudna's back ... ye gods ... he continues to suffer, then ... XD

Yes, OF COURSE Beau remembers THEM ... and Marisha has ENTIRELY forgotten about the live game at WEMBLEY!!! Yup ... nice going, boos lady! LOL

True, true, Jester and Dorian ARE both blue ... "space pirates"? Oh yeah, OF COURSE Jester TOTALLY loves THAT idea ...

What the fuck are you saying, Samuel? Veth is wearing A FUCKING CATSUIT right now? XD An open relationship, Veth, REALLY?!!! So very convincing ... seriously DO NOT shag the minotaur ...

They WERE very stern with him, yes ... for all of FIVE MINUTES ... oh my sweet fuck is Chetney gonna try and shag Veth now? Is THAT where their minds are going right now?

Caduceus IMMEDIATELY marking Imogen and Orym as theonly two of BH with the working braincells ... I love that ... XD

Honestly, right now it looks like Matt's LITERALLY just watching a game of tennis, he's nothing but a pure spectator right now and having SO MUCH FUN as a result because he just UNLEASHED THIS on all of us ...

YASHA!!! Watch Ashley spent the next HOUR trying to get the hang of THAT FUCKING ACCENT again ... LOL ... The couples ... oh the couples ... Marisha's getting SO CONFUSED about the multiple ships she's involved in right now ...

Braius likes Jester? Is that ... oh ... oh no ... no, he RECOGNISES her from somewhere? Oh shit ... how is he gonna react to THAT revelation? O.O

Fearne is fawning over how built Beau and Yasha both are ... :3

Oh shit ... Jester and Veth are ADMITTING that they did the thing at the Temple of the Platinum Dragon and Fjord is trying SO HARD to kep them from just digging deeper holes for themselves ... oh wow she's hugging him ... hmmmmm ... and now trying to sell him on the Traveller ... yeah ... here we go ... as if that boy wasn;t ALREADY playing half a dozen different sides all at once ... O.O

Braius: "You ruined my life!" Oh wow ... are Braius and Yasha about to fuck each other up?

Jester is trying to cast CHARM PERSON on Braius ... wow ... yup, he just CRITTED his save ... and now he's MAD about that shit ... wow ...

Caleb and Jester are both FASCINATED by Ashton ... yeah ... oh, the Dirt Wizard will just GEEK OUT over the Dunamantic DOME in that rocky skull ... Fortune's Favour? Oh here we go ... Ashton backstory recap! Yay!

Yeah, that's right, these guys are Essek's peeps! XD

Comparing notes on the fight ahead, then ... yeah, safe to say the MIghty Nein need a crash course in what they're about to face ... and now comparing PSYCHIC notes too ... XD

Oh yeah, I forgot that Veth HATES the water ... LOL

Beau taking exception to Yasha considering herself SIMPLE-MINDED is so adorable ... :3

Marisha needs to get a handle on who she's playing when ... XD ... oh wait ... yeah, the fan is kind of cheating ...

Matt; "This is my favourite episode already. I haven't had to do ANYTHING yet."

Here we go ... the flirting begins ... she really is WEAK for minotaurs ... yup ... it is indeed beginning ... LOL

Imogen's not attuned to the Circlet? Oh boy ... she's got WAY TOO MUCH blasting her in the head right now ... wow ... yeah, Jester's mind-music will be SO LOUD ... O.O

Laudna's weird mementos ... ye gods ...

Insight check on whether or not the Mighty Nein are REALLY sneaky ... hmmmmm ... I mean they CAN BE ... yeah ... ummmmmm ... O.o

WOW ... nice Keyfish reference that has NO ACTUAL RELEVENCE in this situation, Caleb ... LOL

Laudna's turning Sprinkle into a puppet ... oh gods ... and Jester's just LETTING HER torment her weasel ... which is par for the course ...

Beau and Ashton both acknowledging that they're equally grumpy is cute ... meanwhile Caleb's grumpy too ... XD

Jester's trying to make up for ruining Braius' life ... hmmmm ... yeah, I mean SHE WAS going through a kind of crisis of faith ... oh ... are they both about to finallys BOND about being mutually artistic? Oh my ... a naked painting of Fjord ... oh, and Braius is very much PAYING ATTENTION to certain details, as he would ... XD ... HIS FIANCEE?!!! This is news ... O.O ... Suzy Greene? Jester's volunteerring to SEND HER A MESAGE?!!! Of course she is ... hmmmm ... how well is THIS gonna go? How likely is it she;s just going to make this poor girl think she's having a psychotic break?

Jester: "What is a guartertaur?" Yeah, indeed, I'm curious too. O.O ... she does sound pretty cute, yeah ... wow ... how many spell-slots is Jester about to burn to tell her ALL OF THAT?!!!

The first thing she calls him is "a shell of a man" ... LOL ... yeah, this is going JUST how I thought it would ... Ashton: "I love a drunk text, this is so good." Oh gods yes ... Jester really does SUCK at Persuasion ... XD ... oh man ... is this not working? Oh ... now she's just trying to let him down easy ... hmmmm ... yeah, he is NOT convinced ... but she BEAT HIM on an Insight check? Holy shit ...

Saint Jester the Pirate ... oh boy ...

Oh, are they going to make this a FRIENDLY match, then? That could be fun ... let Braius and Yasha just have a little sparring match instead ...

Ah yes ... Jester and her pastries ... which leads to reminiscence about FCG ... awwwwww ... man, not now, please ... everything was getting so fun ...

It's just getting HARDER AND HARDER to keep track of who's who and I'm enjoying it so much every time they have to catch themselves ...

FINALLY come to a decision, then ... going to the moon first, THEN set up the Tower for them to camp out before starting to mission proper ... here we go ...

Are they seriously considering putting Veth IN THE HOLE right now so she won't have to swim?

Just follow Orym, that's probably the best idea ...

Awwwww ... :3 ... I love Orym's sisters so much ... give them ALL the hugs, please!

That is some seriously cool Prince of Egypt shit right there ... O.O ... time to GO QUICK guys! Veth: "I'd rather ride HIM!" And then Yasha picks her up and puts her on Braius' shoulders ... LOL

Once again Sam derails Matt's narrative train of thought with his t-shirt nonsense ... yup ... just like old times ...

THE TUNNEL!!! YEAH!!!

It's all a bit trippy, yeah ... Dancing Lights! Yay! Meanwhile Caduceus is doing his cleric thing ... I love how they low key geek out together ... :3

So ... back on the Moon, then ...

Yeah ... giant worm tunnels are definitely A THING for both these groups ... yeah ... O.o

Dorian DOESN'T KNOW he's on the Moon yet ... and now they start fucking with him ... LOL

Roll a D20? REALLY Matthew? 8? Oh fuck ... something's coming? Of for fuck's sake ... O.O ... oh, so it's just a STORM on the surface? Okay then ...

Wait ... Caduceus has a new storm prayer? Hmmmmm ...

Imogen sends a message to Zhesh ... so it's potentially safe? Cool ... okay, then ...

Oh yeah! The Ruidian glass dancer ... sweet ...

MARISHA!!! Get your tabs in order! Two Beaus is not useful!

Yay! Sashimi! So sweet and disturbingly creepy! Awwwwww ... :3 And yeah, the glass daggers ...

Making arrangements for teleportation travel ... and now they're gettign EVEN MORE CONFUSED ... XD ... and also some rather thinly veiled insults to Chetney ... this is getting increasingly hilarious by the second ...

Ashton: "It's really nice not to be the most fucked up person in the group for once."

BOOF!!! So ... did they all make it in one piece?

Oh phew ... thank fuck that worked out ... and now they're all crammed into a really tight little space ...

Yay! Caleb's Tower! Sweet! I've missed this ... pancakes and cat smell! Awwwwww ... :3

Now he's just showing off and I love it ... XD

Everybody's floating! Yeah, totally Willy Wonka style indeed ... XD ... oh, okay ... time to explore ... and Laudna's totally being her usual creepy self Spiderclimbing all over the walls ... startling spectral cats as she goes ... LOL ... oh yeah ... I forgot she could do the creepy cat-bone dislocation thing ...

Oh, so we're taking a break? Yeah, sounds about right ...

So ... is Laudna, like ... LOST IN THE WALLS now?

YEAH!!! THE BONE HARP!!! PLAY THE BONE HARP!!! I love the idea of a Yasha and Dorian harp and piano duet ...

Chopsticks ... snort! LOL

Wait ... Laudna's found the Cat Kitchen? O.O ... surreal ... Laudna shows Sprinkle ... by pointing him around the room like a flashlight ... XD

Laudna just slurped out of a hole and splattered down in the midst of them all ... lovely ...

True ... good point, the MIghty Nein never actually HAD a bard ... hmmmmm ...

Veth is now SLOWDANCING with Braius to sexy music ... LOL ... Sam is basically playing a flirty scene with himself ... this is beyond surreally meta ... LOL

Fearne and Jester are considering turning into cats and going exploring ... :3

Hero's Feast? Yay!

Laura Bailey and her dirty mind ... even more so whenever she's being Jester ... XD

Smart move ... making sure Yasha can't be turned against them for 24 hours ... shame they didn't have THAT capability once upon a time ...

Caleb and Orym personal time? Interesting ... oh ... is the Dirt Wizard going to offer the Wee Man up some advice? And yes, it definitely is very sound advice ...

Beau is NOT HAVING IT with Laudna ... LOL

Oh my ... is Ashton really asking Yasha for flirting advice from Yasha? Hmmmmm ... yeah, I mean it;s true, the big girl has ZERO game ... Beau pretty much just landed Yasha BY ACCIDENT, really ... yeah ...Jester TOTALLY gets in on that ... then again she is a MUCH BETTER choice to offer him advice ... yeah, Fearne DOES have really nice big boobs ...

Tusk Love! Oh boy ... seriously, how is Ashton going to take to the ultimate Exandrian romance novel? Oh ... just stuff his face in her boobs? Yeah ... yeah, that would definitely be a fun experience ... O.O

Here we go ... time for funky cat exploration games ... these two are definitely TROUBLE together ... I'm loving it ...

OF COURSE they go into the laboratory and just KNOCK SHIT OFF the worktops ... XD

A TIGER?!!! Ye gods, Caleb ... O.O

Beau and Fjord are currently MASSIVELY underestimating the Hells ... XD ... ah, the Taste of Tal'Dorei ... oh yeah ... now they're just FULL-ON INSULTING them ... LOL

Wait ... is Caleb A FAN of C-Pop creations? O.O ... holy fuck HE IS!!! And he has some of his pieces? Crazy shit ... wow ... so now they're bonding ... OF COURSE they are ... nothing appeals to the Old Man like flattery ... "Nein Hells"? Awwwwwww ... that's really sweet, actually ...oh ... "Nein HELLZ" ... that's even better, actually ...

Orym: "Chetney has spent many years bringing joy to the children of Exandria." Ashton: "And if he dies tonight he can bring much joy to the cats as they start feasting on his corpse."

CALEB HAS ONE OF THE WOODEN EGGS!!! O.O

OF COURSE Fearne tries to steal the egg ... while Caleb's holding onto it with Telekinesis ... oh boy ... she does SUCH A BAD JOB of that, I swear ...

Yeah ... I really don't see Caduceus being AT ALL responsive to any flirtation from Braius ... he's always struck me as being unapologetically ACE, if I'm honest ...

So Braius REALLY IS starting to return to the true path of the Platinum Dragon, eh? That's quite sweet, really ...

I love that so much ... Braius admits to having been drawn to Asmodeus and Caduceus simply answers: "I've heard worse."

Beau: "All right, fuckers. We got a big day tomorrow." Braius: "Dorian, you can stop playing now." Dorian: "I'm sorry, I was startled by the profanity."

Laim: "Yeah, we saw you from over in Campaign 2 and really liked your vibe." XD

Fearne's still pouting about not being able to start her collection of Chetney's eggs ... ALL FIVE?!!! Ashton: "All right, Thanos."

A future Bells Hells One-Shot? The Quest for Chetney's Eggs ... yeah, I could get behind that ... XD

So they're taking a rain check on that Braius/Yasha fight, then ... there's always tomorrow ...

"BABE!!! SEX!!!" Oh boy ... LOL

A Moon thing? Oh ... yeah, well as long as Laudna CAN come ... okay ... so now it's Imogen, Laudna and Caleb just floating around in endless empty space ... oh, LITERAL space, then ... cool ... oh weird ... that's some bizarre Quantum Realm shit ...

Ah yes ... or ja, if you will ... OF COURSE Caleb's been incommunication with the Voice of the Tempest, and indeed about Imogen's mum ... yup, sound advice right there ...

I find it very amusing that IMOGEN considers Caleb to be "very powerful" ... of course Caleb can see plain as day just how powerful SHE IS ...

Ooooh ... a gift from Caleb? Sweet ... a small metallic pyramid ... an Intuit Charge? Intriguing ... "It goes BOOM." Ja, of course it does. Not really expecting anything else from the Dirt Wizard who likes to set shit on fire ... XD

A celebratory party at Taste of Tal'Drei if they succeed? I could get onboard with that ...

Oh yeah! The Raven Mask! Get Identifying, Fearne ... just a lot of geeking out and nobody actually SAYING what it does ... XD ... that's kinda mean in a really funny way ...

That's an INSANELY high roll ... yeah, Braius just painted a bona fide MASTERPIECE ...

Fuck ... did Fjord just ANNIHILATE Pate with an Eldritch Blast? O.O

Oh my gods ... Laudna is continuing to torture Sprinkle without intending to ...

Chetney's whittling away ... stark naked ... and he lives through the night ... again ...

Dorian's calling on Orym just before bed? Oh shit ... OH SHIT IS THIS FINALLY IT?!!! Please please please please please let this be it ... Orym: "I have feelings for you ... maybe stince the day I met you." OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! The minds of EVERY FUCKING DORYM SHIPPER just EXPLODED!!! O.O ... and OF COURSE Dorian is receptive ... and so incredible sweet too ... oh my gods these two are being SO IMPOSSIBLY SWEET ... :3

Look at Matt's face ... oh my god he's just ENTHRALLED ... he's EVERY FUCKING ONE OF US right now!

THEY FALL ASLEEP IN EACH OTHERS' ARMS!!! OH MY GODS THIS IS SO FUCKING ADORABLE!!! I'M SO IMPOSSIBLY HAPPY!!! IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!!!

Bedtime for everybody ... and YES MATT MERCER YOU ARE SO FUCKING RIGHT that is a PERFECT PLACE to call it a night! That was THREE AND A HALF HOURS of perfect geekgasmic AWESOMENESS ...

[palestporn]

Gamzee: Blow up your ancestor's whole motherfucking spot

Finding your way back out of whatever the fuck he's doing (your ghost your ancestor the grand fucking highblood, every time you think this day can't get any more motherfucking wild--) feels like stumbling your way through choking smoke. Feels like when you woke up from getting your pan rung earlier, except this time when you find your way back, instead of a fight happening over your head, everybody's all staring at you while they bitch each other out.

"KK, shut the fuck up," says Sollux, and clicks his claws in front of you couple times, and watches you twitch. "I think he's hearing us again. Hey, good evening, moonshine. What the fuck--"

"What did you see?" says the emperor, real intense, and you stare at him and feel your hand try to twitch--to touch his cheek or tear his neck open you have no fucking idea. You don't think your ghost does either. Fuck. "Focus! Look at me. What did he show you?"

A whole lotta shit, is what. Fire, death and blood. A mutant who looked only just Karkat's age--arguing long nights with him through the bars on a dark cell. A hand reaching through the bars to your cheek and how all of everything flipped to spin around that second where he touched you.

"Motherfucker's pale for you," you blurt out.

Sollux and Karkat turn at the same time and stare at the emperor, and then at you, and then at the emperor, like they fucking practiced it. Your ghost does a noise that doesn't amount to words. The emperor does much the motherfucking same.

"I beg your fucking pardon," he says.

IN WHAT MOTHERFUCKING WAY, howls your ancestor, what part of FATAL AND WEAKLING FAILURE and UNDYING MOTHERFUCKING AFTERDEATH OF SHAME did you FAIL TO COMPREHEND?!

"And he's fucking salty about it," you say, fool mouth running without you, on a laugh of disbelieving. "Oh, fuck. You just touched him the one time and he's fucking gone about it, he just, ha, hhaha, he hates it so motherfucking much."

The emperor, it transpires and turns out, goes red a whole lot the same way like his descendant does. "Fucking, really?!" he says, only half at you--to the dark, to the shade he can't see. "It's been hundreds of sweeps! You tried to execute me!"

I regret NOTHING, mutant, says your ghost in boiling furious snarl, and his hating regret sings through your horns. I linger only to see your long-delayed death and drag your soul to the messiahs' cull-pits by motherfucking hand.

"What, you're. You're just, hanging out waiting for him?" you say, and Karkat's face does some kinda SOMETHING. "Like so you can go on together? Motherfucker, damn."

"Thirsty," says Sollux, and it pushes a laugh out your mouth like a punch in the gut, especially how it makes Karkat's face do a whole different kind of something. "Ehehe--"

"This isn't funny, Mituna," says the emperor, sharp over your ancestor's howl of scouring rage and cursing on your soul.

"No, it's fucking not!" says Karkat. "Is that why you put him in the conciliatrium?! He's not the same person as his ancestor, you absolute throbbing boil on the waste chute of the empire, that's not how descendants work and I should fucking know!"

"Karkat, shut the fuck up," says the emperor. He's pinching the bridge of his scarred-up, broken-ass nose.

To REVENGE himself on my memory, says your ancestor, to my MOCKERY AND DEBASEMENT, turning a hatched subjugglator of my holy bloodline to some purring, pampered--

"Hey, if you didn't like learning pile stuff you coulda just left, motherfucker," you say, stung a little. "Not like either of us ever had to do the motherfucking job, being as how I guess you fucked up my shot at getting any action a billion fuckin' sweeps ago!"

Sollux fucking cackles about that. The emperor says "You didn't have a 'shot'! Neither of you have anything even resembling a shot, okay?! Kurloz, you dense piece of shit--"

"Don't fucking talk to him like that," says Karkat, at the same time you go "Who the fuck is Kurloz?" and then both of you stop and look confusion at the other.

Never did I give him my hatchname and never ALLOWED him to use it, your ancestor's growling, sulky now, all sorts of shit you can't get a vibe on rolling around your thinkpan, while the emperor makes lecture and scold at the air where he isn't. Speaking at me like he knows me, bossy little MOTHERFUCKER. Claiming some power to speak down at the King of Colors, the culler of a thousand worlds--

"I'm Gamzee," you say, by way of explanation, and Karkat stares at you and then says, "I'm. Karkat?" like he's not really actually all that sure right this second. Sneaks a frond out and rests it on your knee, while his ancestor's yelling at the dark and his buddy's laughing his ass off, and then whips it back again red in the ears.

...You want to touch him back. Not just to kneel there sweet and let him get up in your business, but butt rudenasty up in his. So that's. New.

"Hey, uh," you say, and shoot your motherfucking shot.

Gamzee: Get up in the Second Coming's business.

==> Courtly ==> Polite ==> Bold ==> Downright Presumptuous

[START OVER]