#hope this makes up for the months of radio-silence Q-Q | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nametakensff · 1 year ago

Note

oooh can i request 🥶🤬🤧 for st/eddie?

Ok, so this ended up at 13.7k 💀 it just took over and I kept going - thank you so much for the prompt! 💕

E/ddie and S/teve had been planning to go to a concert together for months. The day of, however, they wake up sick and grouchy. Everything continues to spiral from there

~~~~~~

Content:

M/M, Established Relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, colds, contagion, mess, handjobs, fevers, they're just generally super fucking unwell but fuck about it anyway, fetishy dirty talk

CW:

Lots of fighting and angst, mentions of homophobia, Q slur is used

Some other notes:

- I've written E/ddie as having undiagnosed ADHD - nobody knows it's a thing, including him

- The fic is set in January 1988, so S/teve and E/ddie have been in a relationship for about a year and a half

- I'm a British person who cannot drive and has been to Indiana twice, I'm trying my best to make this scenario believable haha

Fic is v NSFW, so under a readmore! Hope you enjoy 🥰

If Eddie hadn’t been teetering on the edge of breaking point for the last several hours already, the car rolling to a miserable, sputtering stop out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere would have been the final straw. As it was, he didn’t know whether to scream or cry. So he sat there in astonished disbelief as Steve attempted to start the car, over and over. He watched his boyfriend slap the steering wheel in frustration through unblinking eyes.

“Steve. Steve? Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck have we stopped??”

He watched the muscles in the younger man’s jaw tighten, refusing to look at him and instead frowning angrily out of the front window. His knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel, and Eddie could swear a vein was starting to bulge on his forehead.

“We better not be out of gas. Steve? Are we – are we actually out of gas??”

Radio silence as he continued to stare at Steve, growing more panicked by the second.

“Ste-“

“YES, okay?? We’re out of fucking gas. God damn it!”

Steve slapped the wheel again, grinding his teeth. Before he could help himself, Eddie burst into high pitched squeals of laughter. He sounded deranged, hysterical, but he supposed he was having a breakdown and there was nothing much he could do to prevent it. At least Steve was finally looking at him – though glaring would be the more appropriate term.

“What the fuck?”

Eddie concurred – what the fuck, indeed. But no matter how much he willed it, the nervous laughter would not stop. Steve had had enough, cursing as he got out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him. It would do no good to check for any petrol – Eddie had told him they were running low, but Steve just hadn’t listened. He checked anyway – the metalhead watched in the rear-view mirror as he popped the trunk and rummaged for a full cannister, coming up empty. At least Eddie’s insane cackles had fizzled down to the occasional reedy giggle. Steve got back in his seat, slamming the door again.

Several minutes of almost silence passed, both men staring blankly into space. An awkwardly loud sniffle from Steve jolted Eddie back to the present. He watched as Steve lifted a broad palm to hover in front of his gaping mouth, nostrils twitching in preparation for the oncoming sneeze. Underneath the exhaustion, the anger and utter defeat, Eddie still found himself admiring his boyfriend’s profile, eyes fixed on his crumpling expression, almost on autopilot.

“Hh-HAH!! HAAAESHHH’uuu!! H’RRIIISSHHH!! TSCHHHH!! Mother fucker –“

Steve fumbled in the glove box for a tissue, a napkin, anything to clean himself up with. The powerful sneeze had not only drenched his palm, several droplets running down his wrist, but his nose had started to run down his lip. Again, his search was futile – they had long used up any tissue or bandana they had to hand. Eddie sat in contemplation for a moment, then sighed heavily before reaching into the back seat for his things. He opened his backpack, glanced sadly at his Black Sabbath ‘Born Again’ Tour t-shirt, before wordlessly thrusting it in Steve’s general direction.

He heard Steve pause, hesitating, before he gently took the shirt from Eddie. The older man thought he heard a small ‘thank you’, but it honestly wouldn’t have surprised him if it had been a ‘fuck you’ either. Eddie grimaced at the sound of Steve emptying his poor, congested sinuses into his prized possession, arousal and frustration warring in his stomach. He turned his head in time to watch Steve wipe his nostrils dry, painfully red from hours of similar abuse.

Those sneezes had been notably louder and even messier than the endless preceding ones, which had already been amping up in intensity over the past couple of hours, making driving an increasingly difficult task. Eddie wondered if the silver lining of being lost in the middle of nowhere was that Steve hadn’t gotten them into any major accidents by sneezing them into an oncoming vehicle. The thought didn’t help him one bit, however. Silver linings, my ass. Silver linings could fuck off and die – much like he wanted to, in this present moment.

He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closing against anxiety that flowed through his extremities in waves, engulfing him in a paralytic sense of doom. He really needed to keep his cool, but he was failing miserably. He’d just have to ride it out for now, wait until the panic plateaued and subsided.

He considered their current situation – both of them sick, with what he now suspected was the flu, given how quickly it had come on and the way his head was starting to pound. They were lost; they had no gas and their car was stuck on the side of a road with nothing but cornfields surrounding them as far as the eye could see, like some god damn B Horror movie. They had no food, no more Tylenol, no tissues. They had been fighting for hours. They were tired. It was below freezing outside, and he could already feel the lack of heating. It didn’t take a genius intellect to deduce that they were well and truly Fucked with a capital F.

As if some decidedly non-divine higher power had a personal vendetta against him – a suspicion which Eddie had entertained several times throughout his life – his nose was starting to tickle, again. More accurately, his head was abuzz with the desire to sneeze within milliseconds, giving him almost no warning or buildup before he was jerked forward by a fit of intensely itchy sneezes.

“HhdTT’chiew! Hggxt! Hig’xt! Ehg’xxt! GXXT’CHieww!!”

He had stifled the first one by sheer willpower, able to pinch his wildly flaring nostrils shut between a thumb and forefinger for the next few. The last somehow managed to barrel past his wavering grip, slick nostrils slipping free. He shouldn’t be suppressing them like this – not now, not when he was ill and the only thing it would seek to accomplish was a burgeoning sinus infection. His head throbbed anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, willing himself not to whimper.

“…You shouldn’t-“

“I know. Please. Just. Leave me alone.”

He knew that was the wrong thing to say, even after having said plenty of wrong things today already. He had heard the genuine concern in Steve’s voice when he spoke, and he could now feel that his previous anger had been rekindled, emanating from the former jock in almost tangible waves of resentment. He had often fucking hated his life before Steve, but this was the first time he’d ever fucking hated it since.

Steve was right, of course. He knew stifling would hurt him, and he normally reserved it for when he was unable to hold back an allergic fit in public. Here it was just him and Steve – his boyfriend, with the same fetish for sneezing as him. He should be sneezing with abandon, as he normally did around him. It pleased Steve, it pleased him, it didn’t hurt – what reason could he possibly have for bullying the sneezes into submission?

If he was being completely honest with himself, it was this: Steve didn’t deserve to hear them right now. It was possibly one of the pettiest things Eddie had ever thought, and he’d been plenty petty in his time. But right now, he wanted Steve to know how fucking pissed he was at him, even though it hurt to feel the same sentiment directed back at him. He had purposely twisted himself towards the passenger window as he sneezed, biting back the sound and hiding his face from Steve in entirety. He never thought he would be in a position where he didn’t want Steve’s roving eyes drinking in the visuals of his desperate pre-sneeze expression, but here he fucking was.

Eddie leaned his forehead against the window, eyes shut and jaw clenched. The cold glass against his skin felt wonderful, but it also made him shiver, confirming that he was indeed feverish. Just perfect. Wasn’t it enough that they would be missing the concert they’d been looking forward to for months, on top of fucking hating each other right now, without both of them being sick as a dog? He felt the threatening prickle of tears he’d been holding back for hours forming at the corner of his eyes, the final cherry on top of this shit sundae that was his day.

~~~~~~

Steve, for what it was worth, was feeling just as miserable as his boyfriend. Hell, he thought he probably felt worse – the guilt of ignoring Eddie’s warning about running low on gas burning like acid in the pit of his stomach. At the time, he probably even knew the older man was right; but he’d been so fucking angry with him already for fucking up their money that he’d barely listened to him. Admittedly, he’d been a grade A asshole ever since he woke up that morning, lurching forward with a throat-scraping sneeze, a nasty head cold already well settled in his sinuses. His prickly mood had practically invited friction with his sensitive boyfriend, who was also coming down with something himself.

He clenched the steering wheel with both hands and urged himself to calm down. The anger and frustration he’d been feeling almost nonstop for hours had left him shaking. Despite it all, despite how this was the angriest he had ever been with his boyfriend, he couldn’t help his almost pavlovian response to the older man’s irritated little sneezes. His traitorous dick throbbed against the tight confines of his levi’s. The fact that he couldn’t control his physical response just made him even angrier – it was a never-ending cycle of frustration that seemed to travel through him in an uncomfortable thrum. He hated feeling this way.

His sinuses buzzed and he reached up with a fist to rub at his nose, mashing it around so harshly he could hear the resounding wet squelching noises with each motion. He glanced at Eddie, finding him still slumped and motionless up against the passenger door, staunchly ignoring him. His turned back felt like a door closing in his face, the metalhead about as distant from Steve as he could possibly be whilst still sitting less than a few feet away from him. Eddie could be moody at times, but today was a whole new level of dramatics that Steve knew he had been the cause of. The sight of his boyfriend inching himself as far away from him as he physically could was incredibly painful, so Steve turned his gaze back to the steering wheel and tried to think.

They didn’t really have much of a choice either way – they would simply have to wait for someone to come by. He should’ve brought one of the walkie-talkies that had saved him countless times in his misadventures against Vecna, The Mindflayer, the Demodogs – but hindsight was 20/20 and perhaps given all the insane supernatural danger he’d been through, he’d neglected the very real possibility that the mundane could be dangerous too.

His head gave a sudden and sharp throb, wrenching him out of his thoughts as he cursed softly under his breath. He made a mental note to track down and kill the Family Video customer that had gifted him with this real sucker punch of a bug. The second the guy had walked in, eyes streaming and nose bright red, Steve should’ve hightailed it to the back of the store. But Robin was already off with another customer, and the guy beelined to the counter where Steve had been standing. He tried his best to smile welcomingly at him, pointedly looking anywhere other than his twitching pink nostrils.

The guy had asked Steve for recommendations on a date night movie, even as he took a damp wad of tissues from his pocket and pawed with it at his nose. Good luck with that date, buddy, Steve had thought whilst rattling off a list of romantic comedies that would fit the bill. He remembered that ‘Dirty Dancing’ had just come out on VHS, and the guy seemed to brighten at that idea, so Steve went to grab a copy for him. He handed it to the guy and hurriedly typed away at the computer, eager to get this dude and his germs out of the store.

He’d been so close, too, but as he turned to tell the poor guy to enjoy his movie, he’d been met with the sight of him sneezing, uncovered, down at his counter. To his credit, he seemed completely mortified, attempting to wipe the surface clean with an even dirtier tissue, but Steve had assured him through only slightly clenched teeth that it was okay, and to feel better. The man had all but sprinted through the door, and Steve set to sterilising the counter, disgust and arousal battling inside him at the realisation that the colossal sneeze had actually left visible droplets in its wake.

He should’ve known it would be his turn to get sick. It was January, and he’d made it all the way through December without so much as a sniffle, avoiding catching Robin’s cold earlier that month even after they’d cuddled their way through a movie marathon in her living room. It was practically unheard of that he would get through Winter without catching a cold. It was unheard of that he would only catch one. He had only hoped he could count on that good luck a little while longer, just long enough that he could enjoy the concert Eddie had been planning for months.

~~~~~~

Iron Maiden was not a band that Steve had cared to listen to, nor were horror movies something he cared to watch. Dating Eddie Munson meant that he didn’t really have all that much of a choice in the matter. Several months earlier, Eddie had convinced Steve to check out ‘Phenomena’ with him. The last film they’d watched together was ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, which had quickly become one of Steve’s favourites – and despite his griping, he knew Eddie liked it, too – but he was well overdue a horror movie watch with his distinctly macabre boyfriend. It was totally worth it watching Eddie’s entire face light up, big brown eyes practically glittering with excitement, when Steve acquiesced.

“This one’s from Italy,” Eddie had told him enthusiastically as he pushed the VHS into the player, “But it’s supposed to have a totally metal soundtrack, and the director – you remember ‘Suspiria’, that movie with the ballerinas and witches?”

Steve had remembered, but it was less the witches that had terrified him than the dog suddenly ripping a guy’s entire throat out unprompted. He’d made Eddie escort him to and from the bathroom that night. He nodded.

“Well, that guy, Argento, he made this one, too!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Steve raised an arm against the offending cushion that Eddie flung down at him, the two wrestling briefly before settling in and focusing on the movie. Steve honestly found it horribly boring – it had that one girl from ‘Labyrinth’ in it, a movie Eddie and Robin gushed about regularly, but not much else was going on to keep him interested. In general, watching his boyfriend’s animated profile was much more entertaining.

It had been in a sudden chase scene, a young girl running from some unseen pursuer and towards a gruesome fate that ‘Flash of the Blade’ by Iron Maiden had started to play and Eddie had been head-banging rhythmically within seconds. He turned to Steve, completely and utterly ecstatic, child-like grin splitting his face, and Steve’s heart had been so full he’d been unable to do much more than smile dreamily at his boyfriend. When Eddie had eased up on the frantic fidgeting and belting out the lyrics alongside the movie, he’d snuggled up to him and breathed in the scent of his warm curls until he’d dozed off.

He’d woken up just before the movie had ended. A lake was burning or something like that. When Eddie had turned to him with a huge grin and asked him what his favourite part of the movie had been, Steve honestly answered “The part with the Iron Maiden song." Eddie beamed.

“You liked that song, Stevie?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Steve answered, not entirely untruthfully. It was less the song itself – more that it animated Eddie in a way Steve would like to see every single day for the rest of his life.

“The lyrics are fuckin’ awesome, too – kind of like a D&D, intrepid knight kind of theme!”

“Totally.” Steve smiled at him.

“You know…The Maiden are coming to Indianapolis in January – I was gonna go with Corroded Coffin but they’re all busy that weekend, so – so what if we went, together? I know it’s not your thing, I totally get if you don’t wanna go, but-“

“I’ll go with you.”

Eddie looked so excited that Steve’s heart skipped a beat. Yes. More of that. Keep looking at me like that.

“Oh, fuck, are you serious, Stevie? Fuckin’ A, man! I need to get organised!”

~~~~~~~

And so, Steve had committed to the gig, nearly as excited as Eddie for their little trip up to Indy. It wasn’t often that they managed to get the time to spend more than their evenings together, even now that they finally had their own apartment. It had taken a great deal of planning, and it should have been perfect. But it had all gone to shit.

The first thing that went wrong, as noted before, was both of them waking up sick. They’d been grouchy, neither of them looking forward to the long drive ahead. Steve was resentful of the fact that he would be crammed in an arena jampacked with sweaty, drunken metal dudes, and Eddie was resentful of the fact that Steve was resentful. Steve hadn’t mean to put a damper on their mood, but he truly felt awful and couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend his evening. He would much rather stay bundled up in bed with his sick boyfriend, where they could look after each other and enjoy each other’s company in peace. Maybe when they felt a little better, they could really enjoy their mutual cold in a more…intimate fashion. But no. They’d committed with both time and money. Car journey and concert it was.

The second thing that had gone wrong, after a bumpy but still salvageable morning, was Eddie losing their food, medicine and other supplies that he had just bought at the first gas station they stopped at. They were good for water, a six pack of one litre bottles in the trunk, and they figured since they’d be grabbing dinner later that evening, a couple of sandwiches and snacks for the road would suit them fine. Steve had volunteered to head into the store, knowing how distracted his boyfriend could get, but Eddie had waved him off and insisted it’d be fine. When Eddie had strolled back to the car 20 minutes later, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, Steve had asked him if everything was okay.

“More than okay, dude.” Eddie had grinned at him, then opened his backpack to reveal a freshly purchased bag of weed.

“Where did you-?”

“Ran into a previous client in the store – he deals now, and he gave me an old chum’s discount.”

Steve pulled out of the parking lot, thinking to himself that smoking up later on might make the miserable experience of being sick at a concert more bearable than if he’d been sober. It was about 10 minutes later that through the brain fog he realised he hadn’t seen Eddie carrying any kind of purchase from the store, and hadn’t seen anything but weed in his backpack.

“Munson, you did – get us food and stuff, right?”

Eddie, who had been lazily leaning back in his seat and rubbing at his nose with the palm of his hand, suddenly shot upright.

“Shit. SHIT.”

Steve jumped a little.

“What, dude?! Are you okay?”

Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“I left the stuff behind the gas station – I put the bag down when I was getting the weed.”

Steve gaped at him before cursing under his breath. He looked for the nearest opportunity to turn round and swung the car back in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing, man?”

“We might still be able to find it. I mean, what the fuck, Eddie? Drug deals?? Right now?”

Steve could feel the anger bubbling up steadily, his regular patience almost non-existent. Eddie was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“It’s not like I meant to lose our shit, okay? I just – you know, I forget things.”

“That’s why I offered to go in myself!”

“I’m not an infant, Harrington, I can function well enough to buy crap at a store.”

“Clearly fucking not?! You left our stuff and spent our money on pot – thanks for fucking asking, by the way - when we could have easily found something closer to the gig. Like seriously, man, not cool.”

“UGH, I didn’t mean to leave it! I got distracted and I just – it was a good deal and I thought it would help us mellow out. That it would help you mellow out.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Steve…..you can’t honestly tell me you don’t know how much of a fucking asshole you’ve been to me today?”

“I’m not the asshole who prioritised a fucking drug deal over food and medicine!”

“Ohh my god, Steve! I bought our fucking food, I bought our fucking medicine, I just forgot it, okay?! I forgot to pick the bag up off the ground, heaven forbid a guy make a mistake every once in while!”

Steve could see that Eddie was visibly upset, and he knew he felt awful about forgetting their things. He was about to apologise for overreacting when he noticed Eddie freeze up once again, patting his pockets frantically and moaning.

“What. Eddie, what? What’s wrong now?”

“….Can’t find my wallet. I think I left it in the bag.”

Steve could have sworn he saw red. They’d put almost all of their money together in Eddie’s wallet, leaving just enough for hotel fees in Steve’s, a stupid fucking thing to do in hindsight but something that neither of them had assumed would fuck them in the ass later.

“I genuinely don’t know what to say to you. Oh my fucking god.”

Steve saw Eddie wince out of the corner of his eye, and he realised he had quite possibly never hated himself more than he did in that moment. He was acting just like his father, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The anger was so palpable he could hardly breathe.

They drove the rest of the way back to the store in silence. Eddie was yanking the passenger door open before the car had even come to a full stop, sprinting towards the back of the store. Steve watched as his boyfriend emerged from behind the building empty handed several moments later, taking in his devastated expression. He swore loudly before resting his head on the steering wheel, motionless as Eddie got back into the car.

“…I found a ten in my pocket, but we might need it for gas later on.” He heard Eddie mutter.

“We don’t. We need food and medicine more.”

“No, dude, we’re gonna need more gas.”

“And I’m telling you, we don’t. Come on, I’ll buy us stuff this time.”

Steve looked over at the older man and held his hand out expectantly for the money. The look Eddie shot his way was lethal. The metalhead slapped the bill into his palm.

“Knock yourself out, mom.”

Steve got out of the car.

“Rather be a mom than a brat.”

He slammed the door behind him.

~~~~~~

“Hh-HH! Heh’ENGXT’tchieww!! HDT’Tsiewww!! Eht’tchieww! Hh’ISSSH’ieww!!”

Eddie’s head rocked forward with the force of the fit, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. Luckily he hadn’t veered off course too much this time. He noticed suddenly that Steve had reached out to steady the wheel while he sneezed, and though the gesture was perfectly reasonable, he was already so angry with him that it just served to piss him off more than anything. He snuffled and elbowed Steve’s hand away.

“Dude, I got this. Leave it alone.”

Steve threw up his hands and rolled his eyes, a supremely immature gesture that made Eddie resent him all the more. It was a sickening feeling, being angry with Steve, and on top of his worsening cold Eddie didn’t know how much more he could take. He was angry at himself, as well. He felt stupid, so fucking stupid. Steve was right to be pissed at him for the colossal fuck-up he had managed to achieve – hell, we would be pissed at Steve had their roles been reversed.

What really fucking stung, though, was the disappointment and derision his boyfriend had directed his way. It was nasty and it wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced before from the former jock, even when he really had been an asshole at school. He was normally such a sweetheart. He understood that Eddie could lose track of time, forget what he was doing in any given moment. It was part of what had made school so miserable – he had tried his best but it was like no matter how much he tried to focus, he just couldn’t. Like his brain was on constant overdrive. He thought Steve had accepted that about him, really understood him. But the way he’d looked at him when Eddie had messed up at the gas station, the tone of his voice – it hurt so badly he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He knew Steve was sick, and that made him sulky, but fuck, man.

He heard Steve gasp beside him. They’d both started sneezing in earnest a few hours ago, raging their way through the small box of tissues Steve had managed to buy for them alongside a bottle of Tylenol and a single sandwich that they had split. They were down to just a few tissues.

“HAAAEEESHHH’uuu!! HARRESHHHIEWW!! TISSSSH’ieww!!”

Eddie listened in vague appreciation to the rich vocal sound of Steve’s increasingly violent cold sneezes, wishing he didn’t hate him so much in that moment so he could enjoy them in full. He was concerned at the way they had Steve tumbling forward over his knees, jerking against the restraint of his seat belt. Any thought of them actually having a good time at this concert had all but vanished at this point, but to admit that out loud would be to admit defeat, and mean they’d put themselves through all this misery for fucking nothing.

Steve swiped the last two tissues from the box and blew his nose, a thick, crackling sound that betrayed just how congested he was becoming. Two wouldn’t be enough, Eddie knew, and his suspicions were confirmed when Steve rooted in his pocket to finish cleaning himself up with a used, balled-up tissue. Eddie sighed. He had a few bandanas in his backpack – he could offer one to Steve now, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him.

They drove for another 30 or so minutes before Eddie started to pull up to a gas station. Steve sat up and looked at him questioningly.

“Why are we stopping at a gas station?”

“To watch a fucking movie.”

“Eddie-“

“We’re fucking obviously getting gas, Steve - we’re not gonna last the rest of the drive.”

“With what money are you getting gas?”

Eddie glared at Steve, patience worn completely thin. God, the way he was talking to him like he was his fucking dad, or something. It was infuriating.

“We still have the money in your wallet – it would only cost a couple of bucks.”

“No, no – we worked it out, this is just enough for our hotel. We can’t show up short, they’d turn us away.”

“They’re not gonna get the chance to turn us away if we don’t even ghh-get th-there-hh!!”

Eddie scrubbed at his flaring nostrils in a desperate attempt to mollify the tickle, but luck was decidedly not on his side today.

“Ehh-!! EGXXXT’shiewww!! HAHDT’chieww!! IGSHHH!! HIGXT’shieww!! EHH’TSSCH’ieww!! Ahh…F-fuck…”

The sneezes were intense and incredibly wet, curling him over the steering wheel and forcing tears of irritation from his eyes. He felt Steve reach out to steady the wheel again, this time not fighting it. He was almost trembling in the aftermath of that fit, an unwelcome combination of pleasure and frustration prickling at his skin. He sniffled miserably.

“Bless you.”

He blushed in response to the blessing, neither of them having acknowledged each other’s sneezing for hours. Perhaps Steve had temporarily forgotten to be angry with him, given the dramatic scene he had just made. For the first time in their relationship, he cursed their shared fetish - it was making things increasingly complicated. He did not like the mixed signals his brain was sending him – ‘never talk to Steve ever again’ and ‘fuck Steve in the back seat right now’ were about as contradictory as could be, and the confusion only made him grumpier.

He continued to drive towards the gas station, about to pull in when Steve’s hand, still firmly wrapped round the wheel, twisted them away. Eddie yelped in surprise.

“Are you fucking insane, Harrington?! What are you doing?!”

“We don’t need gas, Munson. I told you already.”

Eddie could hardly believe what was happening. He had never known Steve to behave so – so childishly. It was fucking rich, considering the brat accusation Steve had hurled his way earlier that day. He smacked Steve’s hand away and continued onward past the gas station.

“Fine. If you fucking say so, King Steve.” He got a small kick of satisfaction watching Steve squirm in response, but otherwise saying nothing.

“We’re switching in 20 minutes.” Steve mumbled after a beat.

Eddie grunted in recognition. He wondered if Steve realised he wasn’t due to drive for another hour, but he was feeling far too petty and passive-aggressive to correct him.

~~~~~

Eddie was practically tearing his hair out. Some way, somehow, they had managed to get lost. Like, middle of nowhere, cornfields for days lost. Both of them had driven to Indianapolis before without a single issue. This had to be a curse. It just had to be.

The road map spread out over his knees made zero fucking sense – it didn’t help that Steve wouldn’t let him turn on the overhead light, and he was instead holding a torch with half-dead batteries casting a flickering beam over the endless configuration of road diagrams. He was starting to feel a little car sick for his efforts, taking short breaks to peer out of the window and find his bearings. The last of the Tylenol was doing fuck all for him, and he could not. Stop. Sneezing. Case in point, his breath started to hitch yet again.

“Heh-!!”

He fumbled in his pocket for his bandana, almost but not quite bringing it up to cover his mouth in time.

“ENGXTCH’tssieww!!”

The first sneeze burst out of him, pink nostrils flared wide in desperation, dousing the map in his lap with a cloud of spray. He muffled the next three into his bandana, gasping for breath when they finally subsided. This cold – this flu, perhaps – was absolutely kicking his ass. These sneezes gave him hardly any warning, taking on a life of their own and pitching him forward helplessly at their leisure. He blinked down at the map through bleary eyes, noticing to his chagrin that he had sneezed a veritable puddle all over Columbus and the surrounding terrain of about 20 miles. Luckily, not an area they should be anywhere near – though perhaps it couldn’t completely be written off given that they could literally be on god damn Mars as far as Eddie was concerned.

He abandoned the map, attempting to fold it neatly for all of 5 seconds before he was scrunching it up in anger and jamming it back into the glove box. Steve had stopped listening to his suggestions ages ago, anyway. He just kept driving down the endless expanse of the pitch black road, sneezing explosively every couple of minutes. Eddie was no longer glancing at his wristwatch, slowly resigning himself to the fact that they would, in fact, be missing the concert in its entirety. He would cry about it later when Steve couldn’t see. Right now, he was trying not to freak out about the fact that he could have sworn they had driven down this particular spread of infinite road before – not that it looked any different, the only visual markers being corn to the left, corn to the right, corn fucking everywhere.

It's not like this could get any worse.

It was as this traitorous thought flashed through Eddie’s mind that he heard Steve curse and pull the car to the side of the road, just as it sputtered miserably and abruptly stopped dead in its tracks.

~~~~~

They’d been sitting there in silence for at least 10 minutes before Steve started to shiver. It was well into the evening now and the lack of heating of any kind was really starting to get to him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, at least – it wasn’t that bad, out here. The night sky was even brighter than Hawkins, brimming with the light of a billion stars. He remembered the night that Eddie had taken him up to Weathertop Hill and they’d stargazed for hours, never letting go of each other’s hands. The thought of it right now made his chest hurt. He was positive that Eddie would no longer want to be with him, not after today. In a sad way, he was already in a phase of pre-emptive acceptance – a form of self-protection where he convinced himself that the worst was bound to happen, so he may as well get ready for it. Robin told him he had low self-esteem, but he liked to think of it more as emotional pragmatism.

A sudden small hiccup of breath jolted Steve out of his ruminations. He peered over at his (probably soon to be ex) boyfriend’s back and noticed it was trembling. Another slightly louder gasp of breath graced the air and Steve realised with a sickly, sinking feeling that Eddie was crying. Eddie was crying because of him. Steve had felt pretty fucking awful about his behaviour in the past but nothing, nothing compared to how awful he felt in this moment. The pain in his chest seemed to pulse outwards and engulf him in its entirety.

“….Eddie? Baby?”

His voice sounded so fragile he even shocked himself. Eddie froze for a second before continuing to cry softly, giving Steve nothing in response. Steve noticed that the trembling had become full body shaking. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a fit of sneezes that came on so quickly he only managed to catch the last one in Eddie’s ruined shirt.

“HEEEISSSHHH!! AEEESHHUUU!! HH’TISHHHH!! MMP’TSCHHH!!”

He blushed, wishing not for the first time in his life that he was able to control the volume and force of his sneezing. He normally loved sharing this fetish with Eddie, but in this moment it couldn’t be more of an inconvenience. He blew his nose as quietly as possible, which was not at all, before reaching out a tentative hand to rest in the centre of the older man’s spasming back. He felt Eddie flinch, but he didn’t move away. Steve frowned at the heat emanating beneath his palm, sizzling hot even through the fabric of Eddie’s long-sleeve tee. It startled him, given that he was sure he already had an elevated temperature himself – shouldn’t Eddie feel normal to him? Was he that much warmer?

He felt Eddie’s back expand under his fingertips before the older man was suddenly jerking forward with a series of tightly stifled sneezes, the first five almost completely silent besides a soft squelching sound. Steve rubbed a small circle between Eddie’s shoulder blades in a way that he hoped would be soothing, biting his bottom lip hard as concern coursed through him. Eddie continued to sneeze, finally giving in and letting them loose, the persistent cold-induced tickle leaving him gasping helplessly.

“HIG’tchieww!! Engxt’TCHIEWW!! ‘TCHIEWW!! Eh’NGXT’Tschieww!! Nnn….”

He’d thoroughly sprayed his palm with the fit, which he then wiped shakily on his thigh. Steve heard him sniffle thickly before drooping back against the windowpane. He leaned forward in his seat and placed his other hand on Eddie’s left shoulder.

“Eddie? Are you okay, honey?”

He heard Eddie mumble incoherently before a rumbling cough had him pitching forward again, muscles spasming under Steve’s palm with the effort. Steve cursed and rubbed his back through it. When Eddie’s breath evened out again, Steve used the hand on his shoulder to gently push him back into his seat. The metalhead still wouldn’t look at him, eyes stubbornly fixed to the right, but Steve barely noticed. He took in Eddie’s pale, tear-stained face, the heavy circles under his eyes, his painfully red nose which was leaking down to his lips. He looked pallid, and so, so unwell. His cheeks had little spots of colour on them, a sure sign of fever. Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Ohh, Eds….”

He choked out a sob. It was too much. He hadn’t cried since the aftermath of their stint with Vecna, alone in Robin’s bathroom - and even that had been measured, controlled. He didn’t cry. Harringtons don’t cry. But all the same, here he was, bawling like a little kid. He felt sick, he felt like an asshole, they were lost and cold and hungry and tired and it felt like the end of the world so he just cried and cried and cried.

~~~~~

Eddie had intended to ignore Steve to his final breath. He was too weak to resist as the younger man pushed him back in his seat and out of the passive-aggressive contortion he had worked himself into against the car door. That last fit of sneezes had left his head swimming, and he was honestly grateful for the comfortable upholstery of his boyfriend’s BMW. Even as angry as he was, the warmth and weight of Steve’s hand on his back had been, for a moment, the most reassuring feeling in the world. But Steve didn’t need to know that. Steve could damn well wait until he was ready to forgive him.

But then Steve started crying.

Eddie spun round, eyes fixing firmly on Steve’s crumpled expression. It was terrifying, like seeing a parent or teacher or other unshakeable adult cry for the first time and realising they’re just an overgrown kid themself. His boyfriend looked so vulnerable, so lost, so unbelievably sad that Eddie found that he burst into tears as well. His strong, powerful boyfriend, the same man who had leapt headfirst into a lake in pitch darkness, who had ripped a demon bat monster in two with his bare hands, who had faced paranormal monsters to protect his friends countless times – that man, his Stevie, was crying like a little boy who’d lost his mommy in a supermarket. And it was all his fault.

He reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder.

“Stevie…Please don’t cry, Steve, please! It’s ok! We’re ok!”

He was sobbing almost as hard as Steve, ignoring the way the pounding in head was swelling to an almost unbearable throb. He leaned his body awkwardly over into Steve’s seat and wrapped his arms around him in a fierce hug. Fighting be damned, this entire fucking nightmare of a day be damned. He just wanted Steve to stop crying like the world was ending before he actually died of a broken heart.

“Eddie-!! I’m s-sorry-!” Steve choked out where he had buried his face against his shoulder, fingers digging fiercely into Eddie’s back. Eddie shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Stevie – I fucked it up! I always fuck things up!”

Admitting it out loud sent a new wave of sadness rushing through him and he cried harder, squeezing Steve tight.

“Y-you don’t-! You’re not-! It was m-my fault, I was just….awful to you! You didn’t do anything wrong, I fucked it up-!”

Steve sounded close to hyperventilating, so Eddie willed himself to calm down for the both of them. He shushed him gently, stroking his hair and holding his body close as it was wracked with gasping sobs. He’d been such a petty tool, trying to punish Steve with his silence. Steve had been right before – he was a brat, at least he had been today, and he needed to fucking grow up.

“Shh, honey….it’s ok, we were both being fucking assholes. We are fucking assholes, and that’s why we work so well together. We’re soul holes!!”

Steve snorted a brief laugh between sobs and Eddie felt the icy fingertips of dread loosen slightly from where they’d been squeezing his temples in a death grip. He could fix this. As long as they could love each other, everything else was insignificant. They would be okay.

He continued to hold Steve, ignoring the way his back was starting to protest at the angle he was holding himself at. The younger man was starting to calm down, occasional hiccupping breaths shaking him but otherwise slowing his crying. Eddie pressed small kisses to his hair, conscious of his runny nose and trying his best to angle himself in a way he wouldn’t make a total mess of the expertly crafted style Steve was so proud of.

He felt Steve tense in his grip, and started to ask what was wrong when Steve rocked forward against the protective cover of his shoulder and sneezed violently.

“HEHH’MPPTSXHH!! MPP’TSCHIEWW!!! MPPPTSCHHH!!!”

Eddie’s breath hitched, blood rushing south as he felt every shiver, every contraction of Steve’s muscular body in his arms. The sensation of his pointed nose pressing insistently up against his shoulder and the sheer volume of each sneeze so close to his ear had him reeling. They’d been particularly high-pitched for the former jock, making Eddie think he must have had a particularly irritating tickle in his nose. He moaned softly and stroked Steve’s back.

“Bless you, honey. Poor baby,” he sighed, noting that Steve hadn’t made any action to extract his face from where it remained pressed firmly up against him. He could feel the moistened fabric clinging to his skin.

“Did you make a mess, sweetheart?”

“….Ymmf.”

Eddie took that as a ‘yes’.

He gently sat back in his seat, extricating himself from Steve and watching as his boyfriend’s flushed, dripping face came into sight. A thick strand of mess hung between Steve’s left nostril and the damp patch on Eddie’s shirt. Steve scrambled for the shirt in his lap, gingerly wiping the mess away on Eddie’s shoulder and severing the connection before bringing it up to his own nose. His eyes were puffy and sore as he peered up at Eddie, blushing behind the bundle of fabric pressed to his face.

Eddie reached out and squeezed Steve’s thigh. A sudden sharp pain speared through his skull and he audibly groaned, pressing his head back against his seat. Steve took his hand in his own. They sat for a moment, not talking, but for the first time that day the silence was comfortable.

~~~~~

Steve’s head throbbed in the aftermath of what had to be one of the most intense cries of his life. It wasn’t something he wanted to experience in any regular capacity. He was also terribly embarrassed, even though it was just Eddie who had seen him. Robin was constantly reminding him that it was healthy to accept when you needed help, or to recognise when you were approaching your limit. Some metaphor about a pot boiling over that had just made Steve’s mind wander to the food he had planned to cook for when the kids came round to his apartment later that week. The point being, he should definitely work on his listening skills and Robin was right. Again.

He could feel Eddie shaking as he held his palm in his own. The older man was leaning back into his seat with a pained expression plastered to his face. Steve cleared his throat.

“So….”

Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, Big Boy?”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being ‘this is a total downer’ and 10 being ‘I would like to request some assistance in dying’, where are you at right now?”

He heard Eddie chuckle before moaning softly.

“About a gazillion. I feel….really fucking bad, Stevie.”

Steve turned his head to take in the older man’s appearance once more. He was deathly pale, looking even worse than he had just 10 minutes earlier. Steve tried not to panic.

“You look awful, Eds…” he cooed.

Eddie cracked a crooked smile at him.

“You sure know how to make a guy f-feel…special-hh’HH!! ENGXT’Chieww!! HDDT’chieww!! IGSHHH’ieww!! Hhh’HDT’chieww-IGT’chieww-ICKKSHH!! Ohhh, Jesus…”

Steve was unable to make out the spray in the dark, but he could hear just how wet and sickly each sneeze sounded. His cock throbbed in his jeans, unbelievably still as interested in Eddie’s impressive displays of sensitivity as ever. Eddie snuffled thickly and Steve held out the soiled shirt to him. Eddie took it and blew his nose on a dry spot, of which there were now exceedingly few. Steve rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Eddie’s hand. His boyfriend groaned before speaking again.

“Ugh, I can’t fucking stop. This has to be some new kind of super plague.”

“Well, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

He felt Eddie squeeze his hand.

“What about you? Scale of 1 to 10?”

Steve paused, doing a quick mental scan of his general wellbeing. He felt like ass.

“…A billion, maybe? Not as bad as you.”

Eddie scoffed.

“You’ve gotta be feeling pretty bad to cry like that.”

Steve bristled, embarrassment pulsing through him.

“I-!! You were-! I just-!”

“Woahhh, dude, it’s okay – I’m not mocking you, or anything. I was cryin’ too. Before you even started. It’s no big deal, Stevie. I just know it’s not something you do very often – or, at all, actually?”

Steve sighed.

“Yeah. You know – you know my dad. How he feels about – vulnerability, or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

Steve felt the ever-present tickle in his sinuses flicker to life, suddenly and with little warning. He pitched forward with another round of messy cold sneezes.

“HH’RIISHHHH!! HAARRRESHEWW!! ITSSCHHHH!!”

“Engxt’chiew!! Hh!! HIG’Tchieww!! Ingxt’chieww!! ENGXT’TCHIEWWW!!”

Steve and Eddie made eye contact at the same time, sheepishly turning to look at one another behind their protective barriers of choice – Steve’s hands, steepled to his face, and Eddie’s elbow, which he gripped steadily with his other arm. They burst into laughter, stopping only when Steve buckled forward with a coughing fit, Eddie whacking him on the back as he proceeded to sputter and choke. He finally leant back, wiping the spittle from his lips.

“What the actual fuck is our life right now, dude.”

“You know? I think it’s actually pretty on brand for us, man.”

Steve shot a sardonic glance his way.

“Elaborate.”

“Just, you know – the first time I really spoke to you outside of the occasional encounter at school? I was literally on the run, a god damn murder suspect. We fought demon monsters in an alternate dimension. I figured out you liked me because we have this fucking obscure fetish and you kept popping boners all allergy season.”

Steve groaned.

“Shut upppp…”

Eddie didn’t shut up.

“What I mean, is this: we’ve never done anything in an even remotely conventional fashion. I think I may genuinely be allergic to conformity. What’s another allergy to me?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I am. We are. It’s fitting that our first real fight be such a huge, dramatic affair that ends with us freezing to death on the side of a country road. Poetic, some might say.”

“We’re not going to die out here, man. Somebody’ll come by.”

Even as Steve said it, he was doubtful. They’d been driving alone for hours before the car had stopped and nothing had come from either direction since. More worryingly, though, was the fact that he could now see his own breath, and Eddie’s teeth were starting to chatter. He fiddled with the ring on Eddie’s index finger.

“Let’s get in the backseat, share some body heat, okay?”

He watched Eddie nod briskly, face scrunching up.

“Okay. Want to hold you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. It’s okay though, remember? It’s okay.”

~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later and the two were bundled up in the backseat of Steve’s car. They’d at least remembered to bring coats with them, but otherwise assumed due to the heat of the venue and the quick turn around from car to hotel to venue to car, they wouldn’t need such heavy padding. Luckily, Steve found an old blanket in the trunk from the last time they’d gone on a picnic, which was now firmly secured around them. Eddie complained the blanket was too scratchy, but Steve had replied that there was no way he could tell through his thick Winter parka. Eddie had eventually conceded.

Steve had wedged himself against the car door, the hood of his thick coat offering some cushioning. Eddie was lying in his arms, his back up against Steve’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. They nestled into each other, desperately seeking each other’s warmth. Eddie felt like a furnace to Steve – which, given the circumstances, was not unwelcome, but it worried him to no end that the long-haired man continued to shiver in his arms despite their combined heat.

They had retired Eddie’s Black Sabbath shirt as an honorary snot rag, moving on to Steve’s extra polo shirt as their new makeshift tissue. It was currently pressed up against Eddie’s face as he shook with yet another sneezing fit.

“ENGXT’tchieww!! HDDT’tchieww!! TSCH’ieww!! HAGT’TSCHIEWWW!!! Uhgg…”

He snuffled thickly, settling back against the younger man. Steve’s cock was hard, pressed up as it was against Eddie’s lower back. He loved being able to experience every tremor, every jerk that travelled through his poor love’s body as the sneezes rocked him back and forth. He knew Eddie could feel how excited he was, but they both ignored it.

The metalhead had suggested fooling around to keep them warm, and Steve had even entertained the idea, thinking he could maybe get past the tight band of tension squeezing at his temples. An orgasm might even lessen the discomfort. But then Eddie had all but swooned to the gravelly earth the second he attempted to get out of the car, and Steve had nipped that idea in the bud almost instantly. He sprinted over to his boyfriend and helped him to his feet – slowly, since that sprint had left his head swimming and black spots dancing before his eyes. He’d deposited Eddie in the backseat, grabbed the blanket, and arranged them as best he could.

Eddie had wanted to be the big spoon, but Steve had flat out refused, stating that he didn’t want to be responsible for squashing the older man to death in his weakened state. He had at least 20 pounds on him and the pressure of his solid musculature pressing the dungeon master up against the door was a surefire way to suffocate him. Eddie had argued that Steve was faring no better than he in the oxygen department, pointing out that he was still winded by the tumultuous journey from trunk to backseat. Steve told him to bite him. Eddie reached out and nibbled on his forearm.

So here they were, mercifully settled at last. Or, as settled as they could be, given that they were frequently curled upwards or jostled backwards by their damn near constant sneezing. As Eddie scrubbed his itchy nostrils against the fabric of the shirt, Steve pressed kisses to his fuzzy curls.

“Bless you, baby. That was a big one, at the end.”

“Mmm. They’re conspiring to kill me.”

Steve snorted.

“’They’? Your sneezes?”

“Absolutely. Always been out to get me, but now they’ve finally decided to put me out of my misery.”

“So dramatic.”

Eddie fidgeted in Steve’s arms, trying to realign himself to the choice position he had been in before his cold had so rudely uprooted him. Steve bit his lip as Eddie rubbed up against his cock, holding back a moan. The older man seemed to find a position he was happy with and went boneless against Steve, letting out a tiny little mewl of satisfaction. Steve tightened his arms around him, an overwhelming wave of affection urging him to draw his boyfriend closer to him.

“You’re so cute, Munson.”

“I know. Now tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“Flatterer. Keep it coming.”

“You’re s-so-! Ohh, gonna-!! HH’HEH!!”

Eddie lifted the shirt in his grasp, angling it back over his shoulder. Steve frantically pressed his face into the folds, inhaled deeply enough to lift Eddie up an inch or two, and sneezed forcefully.

“HRRRRSHH’MPH!! TISHHHHH!! HAEEESHHH!! HEH-!! HEYYYESSSHEWWW!!!”

He groaned in the aftermath, head pounding. Eddie was right, this did feel like some kind of super plague. He was sneezing every couple of minutes or so like clockwork, and every fit seemed to wipe him out as if he’d finished running a marathon. He panted into the cloth for a moment longer, feeling his boyfriend clumsily wipe his nose and mouth as best he could from the awkward angle. He nodded, signalling it was ok for Eddie to lower the shirt. He felt the older man squirm slightly, curls brushing against his face as he angled himself back to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“God bless you, Stevie. Such a tickle.”

Steve blushed at the attention, his cock giving an appreciative throb in his jeans. He once again entertained the idea of fucking in the backseat, was about to vocalise this when Eddie hissed in pain, head pushing back and digging into Steve’s shoulder. He could see the grimace on the older man’s face.

“Baby?”

Eddie didn’t answer, riding out what Steve knew to be another round of deep throbs in his skull. Brow furrowed in concern, he stroked an arm gently up and down his boyfriend’s side as the dungeon master strained against him. His erection was flagging, momentarily catching up to the seriousness and decided unsexiness of the situation they were in. The older man finally seemed to relax, a shaky exhale leaving him. Steve nuzzled his face down into his curls.

“Feel so bad, Stevie…gettin’ worse…”

Eddie was panting slightly, the small puffs of exhalation visible in the frigid air.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He could feel his own body starting to ache, head swimming with fever. It’d only been an hour since their car had died, but they’d gotten so much sicker in that time that Steve was starting to worry in earnest. He didn’t think they would die, nothing quite so dramatic as that, but they would need more water soon at the pace they were needily gulping it down, and he was worried about Eddie’s fever. If Robin were there – god, how he wished she was – she’d tell him to worry about himself as well, before rattling off about a billion different contradictory fever reduction techniques. He smiled at the thought of her, his partner in crime, feeling slightly better for picturing her face.

He reached for a bottle of water and took a long drink before offering it to Eddie, forcing him to drink as well. When they were finished, he snuggled down again into his boyfriend’s curls.

“We’ll be okay, Munson. We survived the Upside Down, we can survive rural Indiana.”

~~~~~

Eddie had no idea how long it had been by the time he heard the familiar rumbling of an approaching vehicle through the foggy haze of his fever. He and Steve were in a state of persistent half-consciousness. They would both be right on the brink of sleep when one of them would succumb to a tickle in their nose, shaking them both to full wakefulness. It had gotten progressively less jarring after the fiftieth time; it almost felt routine.

The metalhead could feel Steve’s cock, half-hard, pressing up against him. He ought to be surprised his boyfriend could still feel arousal given their less than stellar circumstances, but then he would absolutely be the proverbial kettle calling the pot black. His own erection would come and go with every fit of sneezes from either himself or his boyfriend, making him feel like a horny middle schooler. He was almost glad he was too sick to be embarrassed about it. Almost.

He had just finished mumbling a blessing to Steve, his boyfriend having sprayed down the front of his coat with a fierce triple, when the unmistakeable crunch of tires on gravel perked him up faster than an espresso shot.

“Steve? Steve! I think there’s a car – no, yeah, there’s a fucking car, man!”

“Holy shit!”

He felt Steve start and attempted to shuffle off him, but found himself flopping helplessly backwards, entirely winded by the effort.

“Ugh, sorry…”

Steve gently rocked him forward and quickly arranged him so that he was sitting up in his seat, before kissing his cheek and scrambling onto the road.

“Be careful-!” Eddie shouted, immediately regretting raising his voice as he doubled over with a hacking cough. He brought the nearby water bottle to his lips with shaking hands and took a generous swig, gasping. He could make out the headlights of a van pulling up behind them, then the rumbles of a conversation. Alongside Steve’s voice, a rougher, deeper voice registered. A man, then. He swallowed the fear that this guy might clock them as a couple of queers – or maybe he was a serial killer? They were screwed either way. He closed his eyes and listened. No shouting, just a gentle back and forth. He heard Steve sneeze, then the other man chuckle. It was a friendly sound. He relaxed a little.

He started slightly at the sound of the door beside him opening, looking up to see Steve leaning over him.

“Hey, Eds. Great news, this guy – Leonard – he’s heading straight to Indianapolis. Before you ask, don’t worry, I saw his ID. He’s delivering deckchairs, or something? Anyway - he’s got some gas for the car, but when I told him we were sick he said we could ride in the back of his truck and he’d tow us the rest of the way.”

Eddie smiled softly, happy to see Steve looking a little more animated, even if he did look like death warmed up. The eye bags he was sporting made his droopy brown eyes look even lazier than usual. It was worrying, but still cute. Steve held out a hand and helped him climb out of the car. He felt shaky on his legs, like a baby deer. Glancing over Steve’s shoulder he spotted a jovial, middle-aged man approaching with a tow rope. He was sporting a flannel shirt over a pendulous beer belly, peaked cap on his head and a huge copper beard engulfing his face. He looked rough, but his eyes were kind and his smile was soothing.

“You must be Eddie!” Leonard said, walking over to them. He frowned a little as he took in the sight of the two of them up close. “Christ, boys, you look just about dead on your feet! Pardon me sayin’.”

Eddie huffed a small laugh.

“No, you’re right. We’ve been��better.”

Leonard smiled at him, looking paternal and endeared. Eddie liked the guy already – he sort of reminded him of Wayne, albeit a much more chipper Wayne.

“Well, don’t you worry. You and Steve just hop on in the back of the ol’ dream machine and I’ll take you far as you need to go. Y’all said you’re heading to Indy?”

“That was the plan.” Steve confirmed, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible.

“Great – like I said, I’m heading straight over there, but if you’d prefer, I know a decent little motel just outside city limits that’ll have some vacancies?”

“That would be great,” Eddie almost moaned, thinking that even the grubbiest motel mattress in the world would be heaven right about now.

“Sure thing, sure thing. Well, we should be there in less than hour, give or take.”

“Um, Leonard? I meant to ask but – where exactly are we?” Steve asked.

“Just outside of Rushville.”

Eddie and Steve gaped. They’d somehow managed to clear straight past Indianapolis altogether and keep on south. Their faces must have successfully conveyed their almost comical shock, as Leonard bellowed out a rumbling laugh.

“You boys really got the short end of the stick today, huh? Come on, get your asses in the truck – I’ll finish up here and we can get on the road.”

“Thank you, Leonard, really – this is – we were really in a rough place-“ Steve started.

“Don’t you worry, now. Go on, get – there are tissues in the back. I get hayfever something fierce come Spring.”

Eddie watched Steve nod before his strong arm was wrapped around his waist, supporting the metalhead as he walked them both to the Truck in question. They had to pause briefly for Eddie to sneeze, a helpless little fit of six partially stifled paroxysms. Leonard offered a cheery blessing from where he was securing their car, and Eddie blushed. It was going to be a long hour.

~~~~

Steve woke up, slowly, pulled out of sleep first by the slow halt of the truck and then the gentle rumble of Leonard’s voice.

“Boys? We’re here. Rise and shine, now.”

Steve blinked open his eyes, taking in Leonard’s kind expression as he leaned back over his shoulder to look at them. The former jock was aware of the weight of Eddie’s head on his shoulder, and with a sudden icy rush of panic moved to gently push him away. It wasn’t that he thought Leonard would do anything to them, per se, but they needed to be careful. Eddie already attracted so much attention, not that Steve would change anything about him for the world – but still.

Eddie groaned and sat up gradually, squashing his fists up against his eyes and moving them in slow circles. Steve noticed that his boyfriend had left a little pool of saliva – or was it snot – where he’d been resting on his shoulder. They’d both fallen asleep within minutes, the blessed heating of Leonard’s dream machine wrapping warmth around them like the plushest of blankets. Steve was relieved, having been prepared for the embarrassing scenario in which he and Eddie sneezed nonstop all over the inside of the poor man’s vehicle for 50 minutes straight. He was already extremely grateful and a little shocked that Leonard had taken in the sight of their painfully obvious illness and let them ride with him in the first place.

“You boys went out like a light. Sure is nice to be young, huh?”

Steve felt Eddie jump beside him, and realised the older man had temporarily forgotten where he was. He patted him on the shoulder before turning back to Leonard.

“I’m so sorry we just passed out on you, sir. We didn’t make for good company at all.”

“Don’t you worry about that, son. You looked like you needed a decent night’s sleep. Speaking of, you should be able to get some more shut-eye at this little establishment. ‘Rita’s Motel’ – sure, it’s not the Ritz, by any means, but she’s served me well.”

Steve unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to look past Leonard at the small building in front of them. The motel was like any other, perhaps slightly homelier than most.

“Thank you, Leonard, for everything. I, uh, I really want to pay you back, but – we’re running low on cash, probably just enough for a night here, and-“

“I won’t hear it, Steve. You boys are clearly in a pinch. Not a single penny will I take. Now, come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll fill up the car while you sign in, then I’ll be on my way.”

Steve mumbled his thanks, over and over, feeling and sounding like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. The relief was overwhelming. Leonard slapped a broad palm down on his shoulder and chuckled, assuring him it was nothing. They were interrupted by a sudden burst of sneezes behind them. Steve turned and watched Eddie catch another three exceptionally loud and sickly sounding sneezes in his upraised hands.

“ENGGXXXTCHHH!!! IGXXT’SHIEWW!! Hahh’ENGXT’Tchiewww!!”

Steve’s heart lurched in his chest. He willed his cock to calm down; the last thing he wanted or needed in this very moment was to shield a mighty erection from their kind-hearted saviour. Eddie snuffled, the sound thick and incredibly messy. The older man blushed deeply behind his hands as he noticed both pairs of eyes trained on him – if he hadn’t been fully awake before, he sure was now.

“Good god, bless you!” Leonard exclaimed.

Eddie blushed an even darker shade of red, mumbling his thanks and frantically searching for something to clean himself up with, or perhaps a hole to go die in. Steve reached back beside Eddie and grabbed the almost full box of tissues Leonard had mentioned earlier. Eddie hesitated for a moment, and both Leonard and Steve seemed to realise his situation as he made no move to shift his hands from their steepled position over his face. They turned around to give the metalhead some privacy, Leonard making his way out of the truck and offering Steve a hand down out of the side door, having climbed over the seat to follow him.

“You take those tissues with you,” Leonard directed at Eddie as he opened up the exterior door for him to climb out. “Won’t be needing them for a while, anyways!”

Steve reached out to steady his boyfriend by the elbow, supporting him as he jumped down from the truck on shaky legs. True to his word, Leonard escorted them inside the antiquated reception area and got to talking with the small owlish looking woman behind the desk. Steve quickly realised this was the titular Rita, and that she was just as friendly and parental as the trucker.

“Oh, you poor things!” She cried, taking in the sight of the two of them, shivering pathetically behind Leonard’s great bulk. Both of them blushed to their ears – the attention was nice, but more than a little overwhelming.

Within minutes, Rita had signed them in and handed over the keys to their room. She had given them a discount, the cost far cheaper than Steve had been expecting. He wondered if it had anything to do with the violent triple of sneezes he had pathetically muffled into a balled up tissue as he gave her his details. Maternal to her core, she had even thrust a bottle of Tylenol and another of cold medicine their way, free of charge from the little supply she kept on hand. It felt like the universe was righting itself for all the bad luck they’d suffered that day, putting such kind and generous people in their path. Eddie tried to offer the left-over money to Leonard when he came back in from topping up their car, but he refused.

“You boys take care, now. You need anything, you go to Rita, okay? You’ll help these kids out, won’t you, old girl?”

“I don’t know this ‘old girl’ you’re referring to, Len, but I will certainly be here if you need me, boys.”

Leonard gently slapped them both on the back before saying his goodbyes, and then Rita was leading them to their room. Eddie and Steve thanked her and closed the door behind her. They wordlessly shucked off their coats, climbed into the double bed, and were asleep in seconds.

~~~~~~

“Hello?”

“Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne paused for a moment, recognising his nephew’s voice but taken aback by how worse for wear he sounded.

“You okay, son? What’re you doin’ callin’ me at 6 in the morning? I thought you’d be out all night at that concert.”

He heard Eddie sigh deeply before the unmistakable sound of him smothering a fit of coughs crackled down the line. Worry spread through his chest, that old paternal panic gripping him.

“Eddie?”

“Y-yeah, sorry. Actually, we, um? We didn’t make it. We got lost. And then we ran out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. And we’re both down with the fucking plague. So. I’m at a motel right now, a couple of miles outside of Indianapolis. We stayed here last night.”

Wayne blinked at the sudden overload of information. When he’d registered everything Eddie had told him, he sighed wearily.

“How in the hell did you and Steve manage to pull that off?” He light-heartedly jabbed.

“Ughh, I don’t know. We were fighting, like, all day, Wayne. We’re okay now but it was just awful. And so fucking stupid.”

Wayne sighed again.

“Well, as long as you’re okay. Situations like this are the kind of thing that make or break a couple, so if you’re both doing just fine now, I’d say you have successfully navigated your way to the next stage of your relationship.”

“You think so?”

Wayne smiled. Eddie seemed to have perked right up at that, just as intended.

“I do. Now, what do you need me for, you menace?”

~~~~~~

“HHHR’RRISHHH’IEW!! HRRRSHHCH’UU!! AESSSHHUUU!!!”

“Oh my god, Stevie. Bless you, angel!”

“Mmn. Thank you.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, shivering as he came inside from his trip to the payphone. Rita’s Motel had comfortable mattresses but was alarmingly lacking in working telephones. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his coat, unceremoniously dumping it on the floor, before stripping off the rest of his clothes. He took in the sight of Steve bundled up in bed, looking painfully adorable with his messy hair and little red nose, before climbing in beside him. He nuzzled up to him, rubbing his cold nose up against Steve’s.

“Hi.”

“How’re you feeling, big boy?”

“Like shit, still, but better. The cold medicine worked. Headache��s gone.” Steve pressed a small kiss to his lips. “What about you?”

Eddie kissed him back.

“Compared to last night? Waaay better, man.”

Steve furrowed his brow and reach out to press the back of his hand to his boyfriend’s forehead.

“You’re still really warm, but not quite so bad. I was really worried about you, honey.”

Eddie closed his eyes, pushing his thigh between Steve’s legs and bringing the younger man’s hand down from his forehead to clutch it against his chest.

“Worried about you too, baby.”

They lay there for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence before Steve spoke up.

“Did you get through to Wayne?”

“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry. Yeah. He’s coming through with Hopper later. Should get here around mid-day, he thinks.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Hopper’s coming? Why?”

“He said he owed him one. Hopper’ll come down with Wayne, then he’ll drive your car back up while we die a slow, miserable death in the back of Wayne’s car.”

“Oh…”

“Why even call Wayne to come down in the first place if we have a car full of gas, y’know? He just didn’t want us to drive, and towing the car would be a huge pain in the ass.”

“Right. Sorry. Took me a moment.”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed Steve right on the tip of his nose.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re sick.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled up at the teasing touch of Eddie’s lips against the sensitive skin.

“Eddie, Mm’gonna…gonna snee-!”

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let it out for me.”

Steve obeyed, taking in a final gasping breath, chest swelling to capacity, before sneezing unhindered onto his boyfriend’s face.

“HAAARESHHIIIEWW!! AEESHHHUUUU!! GITSCHHH’EWW!! TISSSSCHH’IEWW!!”

Eddie moaned in appreciation at the sensation of spray drenching his features, eyes closing reflexively against the force of it. Steve’s sneezes were already so loud and cock-teasingly desperate on a regular day, but the never-ending tickle his cold had inflicted upon him made them even more powerful. Within moments, Eddie was almost completely hard, the sudden rush of blood to his cock leaving him more than a little dizzy.

“Fuuuck, baby! Such big sneezes. Bless you.”

~~~~

Steve reached for a tissue from the box lying between them – Rita had gifted them with another several alongside Leonard’s gracious offering – and gently wiped the spray from his boyfriend’s face, blushing slightly to see droplets starting to roll their way across Eddie’s cheeks to the pillowcase.

“Damn, those were big!”

“Mmhmm. Just how I like them. You’re so gorgeous when you have a tickle, Stevie.”

Steve reached down between Eddie’s legs, smirking at the gasp the older man choked out as he gave his cock a teasing squeeze.

“You really are feeling better, huh?” He started to pump the length, long, slow strokes that squeezed the head of Eddie’s cock before making their way back down.

“Fuckk, Steve-!”

“Is that good, baby?”

“So good, always so good, holy shit-!”

Eddie bucked involuntarily in his grasp at a particularly hard squeeze to the base of his cock. Steve’s breath stuttered, feeling Eddie’s thigh press up against his own budding erection as his body jerked against him. Moaning, he pressed their foreheads together.

“You wanna get off with me, Munson?”

Eddie laughed breathily.

“Is the pope a catholic?”

“Ugh, don’t make me think about God right now, man.”

“Why? I’m right here.” Eddie grinned at him, looking far too pleased with himself. The cocky expression was somewhat weakened by his miserable complexion and swollen pink nose.

Steve wanted to think of a witty retort, but any thoughts of meeting Eddie with some cleverly formulated response vanished the second he felt his boyfriend’s sweaty palm wrapping around his cock and jerking it with several fast, hard pulls.

“Ohh, yeah,” He moaned, losing himself in the sensation, eyes fluttering shut and teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He was already embarrassingly close. His own hand faltered only temporarily before returning to stroking his boyfriend in earnest. Eddie pushed his thigh up harder between Steve’s legs, and he gasped.

“Mm, you like that, big boy?” Eddie moaned, mouthing at Steve’s lips. Steve closed the space between them and kissed him, both groaning as Eddie sucked hard on Steve’s tongue. They couldn’t keep it up much longer, though, noses far too stuffed up. It didn’t matter; they exchanged small kisses again and again, hands working each other in the ways they knew they liked best.

Steve peered down his nose at Eddie, his boyfriend’s face a rictus of concentrated pleasure, eyelashes fluttering above blushing cheeks as he panted and moaned. He looked so good like this; Steve felt himself lurch even closer to orgasm. He pictured the older man sneezing messily, an endless fit on loop for him in his mind, even as he stared at Eddie’s nose just at the end of his own. His nostrils would flare every now and then, in pleasure rather than in response to a burgeoning tickle. The subtle movements were such a tease – Steve wanted to watch those poor pink nostrils flare to capacity as Eddie built to a powerful sneezing fit. He cock throbbed against his boyfriend’s fingers.

Mind made up, Steve pushed their noses together and rubbed them back and forth. Eddie glanced down at them, slightly bewildered and looking temporarily cross-eyed. It was so cute – Steve chuckled under his breath, all the while continuing to rub his nose against Eddie’s, hoping to coax a sneeze (or five) out of him. He felt Eddie’s nostrils flaring wildly as he rubbed his nose down the side of the metalhead’s twitching appendage. His own nostrils flared minutely in a sort of sympathy twitch.

“Hh-HH!! Ohh, Stevie, s’gonna make me – make me-!!”

Steve groaned, just about managing to hold back from coming at his boyfriend’s words. He loved that Eddie played up every tickle for his pleasure, knew just what to say to work him all the way up. He nuzzled their noses together, slowly, feeling every tick of Eddie’s nostrils against him as they flared wide. A few more breathy, mewling gasps escaped from the older man before he was pulling back with a frantic urgency.

Steve started to come at the sight of the metalhead poised right on the precipice of losing all control. His eyebrows arched, mouth hanging slack as his nostrils twitched and twitched. He buckled forward at last, aiming each sneeze down between them. Steve’s orgasm engulfed him as he felt his boyfriend’s fit bathe his cock in spray, huge, cold-induced sneezes that he himself had helped to tease out.

“HIDDDTT’SHIEEWWW!! AHDDTT’ZSHIEWW!! EHh-NGXTCH’CHIEWW!! GXXTSH’TZSIEW!!”

A few more desperate, hitching gasps before a final, definitive “EHH’DZZTT’TSCHIEWW!!!” burst out of Eddie, so strong he trembled with it.

The orgasm continued to pulse outwards from his cock and throughout his limbs, the sweetest pleasure, leaving him shaking and moaning the metalhead’s name, coming in heavy spurts into the cage of his fingers.

He wound down from his peak, feeling sleepy all at once but willing himself to stay awake. Eddie was staring at him with a look of such intense desire that Steve’s spent cock pulsed pitifully in response. His grip retightened on Eddie’s cock and he resumed his stroking, desperate to watch his boyfriend fall into an orgasm of his own.

“Bless you, baby, fuckkk. That felt so good. You’re incredible.”

Eddie groaned, sniffling at the slight mess that dripped from his nose after that body-bending fit. He looked up at Steve before raising his hand to his lips and licking at the mess the former jock had left all over his fingers.

“Mm. You taste amazing, Stevie. Not that I can taste all that much right now.” He flashed a cheeky grin at Steve.

Steve grinned back and pulled Eddie closer to him with his free arm, pressing their chests flush together. It made jerking his boyfriend off a little harder, but they both sighed in satisfaction at the skin contact. Steve felt Eddie’s thighs starting to twitch, saw how his face had started to screw up – sure signs of his approaching orgasm. Not to mention the filthy, nonsensical ramblings pouring from his mouth that normally started up when he began to fall to pieces.

Eddie reached up to cup Steve’s cheek with his clean hand, tilting his face towards him.

“Do you have a tickle, baby? Sneeze for me?”

Steve sniffled experimentally. His cold had left him with a near-constant tickle just on the edge of fully culminating. He reached up briefly to rub the tip of his nose in small circles, feeling his breath catch as the tickle started to build anew. He sniffled a few more times for good measure.

“Yeah….oh-hohhh, yeah, definitely gonna…gonna sneeze..!”

“Unnnhh, Stevie!”

As Steve’s eyes started to flutter shut, he took in the sight of his boyfriend frozen right on the edge of orgasm. He was flushed all the way down to his chest, tattoos standing out in stark contrast. He was so damn pretty. Steve gasped, burying his nose in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“Get ready, baby-! It’s coming…gonna sneeze for you...HH-HAH!!”

One more final inhale, chest expanding against Eddie’s, before the tickle crested and he was pitching forward helplessly.

“HAHH’TISSSCHHH’IEWW!! ITSCCHHHIEWW!! HH-H-HUHH!! HUHHRESSHHHOOOhh!!”

Eddie’s strangled moan was loud in his ear as he snuffled against his neck, strong arm wrapped around the older man’s slender waist, feeling him strain and shiver against him. It looked and sounded like a particularly intense orgasm for the metalhead, and Steve felt a sort of pride mingled with affection spreading through his chest. He loved making Eddie feel good. He felt his hard cock jerk in his grasp, painting his fingers and both of their lower stomachs in hot stripes of cum.

Steve was almost asleep as his boyfriend came down from his high, mumbling and giggling as endorphins rushed through his system.

“Ohh, Steve, holy fuck!”

“Mmf.” Steve snuggled closer to Eddie, nestling up to him with the intention to pass the fuck out.

“Stevie. Steve. Not yet, honey. We need to clean up. And put some clothes on before Wayne gets here.”

Steve stubbornly did not budge, even as Eddie’s captured cock softened in his limp grasp.

“Noooo. They won’t be here for hours, anyway…” He nestled further into Eddie, then moaned in displeasure as his boyfriend wriggled free.

“Nuh-uh. Up, now. I don’t trust you to wake up in time. Not after that nut, and with that fever.”

“Ungggg……okay……”

Eddie helped Steve sit up, both of them swooning at the effort. Now that their orgasms had cleared their heads, the discomfort of their sickness was starting to filter through the afterglow. Eddie wiped Steve’s hand clean with a fresh tissue.

“Let’s jump in the shower – just for a couple of minutes, dude, stop whining! We smell like sick people and cum.”

Steve nodded. Eddie may be blunt, but he was right. He squeezed his hand in his own.

“Okay. I really, really love you, by the way. Let’s not fight over stupid shit anymore. Please?”

Eddie kissed him softly before wrapping his arms around Steve’s muscular shoulders.

“Yeah. No more fighting. Love you so much.”

They held each other for a couple more minutes before stumbling to their feet, shaky on their legs en route to the small bathroom and finding it hilarious. Their weekend might not have gone even remotely as planned, but neither of them regretted it, knowing they’d look back on it all one day and remember only the love they felt for each other as the tepid shower water sluiced over their feverish skin.

#it's.....a lot sappier than I usually write #sneezefic #nametakenfic #s/tranger t/hings #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snzfucker #snzblr

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jefferythejelly · 2 years ago

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wtf is going on between dream and quackity??? I looked it up but I'm seeing so many different opinions from people 😓 what's going on and will I have to pick sides? I'm just so confused by this whole thing 😭

oh anon what rock have you been living under (and can you take me there)

this got kind of long bc a lot has happened and it's been kind of slowly building up over a month, and i kind of used this as an excuse to do something i've been wanting to do and make a rough timeline of events, so hope you don't mind the incredibly long post. it has certainly been An April (/neg) around here.

march 10th- quackity announces the big project he’s been teasing, the qsmp, a minecraft server with both spanish and english creators. dream puts out a priv tweet the same day saying he’s been working on something similar to collaborate with worldwide creators and he’s mentioning it bc he doesn’t want people to be worried about copying once it’s announced (this is foreshadowing)

april 2nd- dream announces the united smp and its accompanying live translation mod with a video and a tweet. small note here that the video was originally supposed to be an april fools video at first, which is why the international creators are skinned as the different manhunt members, but was delayed by a day bc editing took longer than expected. discourse starts near immediately as drantis are quick to accuse dream of copying q's idea of a multi language server

april 3rd- quackity announces that a new live translation mod is being implemented in the qsmp. copying accusations are now coming from both sides. note that it has been 1 day since the usmp announcement, so the chance that q actually developed a mod in that time is basically zero. also note that dream said he’d been working on the usmp prior to knowledge of qsmp’s mod being public. this is confirmed by snapchats dream posted later this month of camera roll screenshots of photos of a whiteboard with brainstorming for the usmp with the date march 8th visible, which is prior to the qsmp announcement. the point i’m trying to make here is that the most likely explanation is that it's a big damn coincidence

on this day there was also a brief copypasta started by george and sapnap joking about the similarities between the two servers (the first multilingual smp with live translation). george goes live with the smp from his copypasta tweet (slutsmp) and several ccs join throughout (during the stream its implied he basically @/everyone-ed the entire dsmp discord). he makes several shady comments but at this point its unclear if hes memeing quackity, the fans making drama out of the situation, or both

kind of skipping over a few weeks here bc its a lot of the same Nothingness but basically: discourse continues to spiral, egged on by the fact that dream has continued interacting with/mentioning quackity but is met with radio silence from the other side. there are a few clarifications from dream on twitter during this period that the qsmp and usmp are separate concepts and that he does not hold any ill will towards q

april 24th- while already somewhat assumed after quackity announced the qsmp's translation mod, quackity officially announces that the qsmp will be adding worldwide creators

april 27th- dream drops this thread which i highly recommend reading for yourself bc it gives a lot of context. tldr: quackity hasn't responded to dream despite multiple attempts to reach out, from both dream and other mutual friends. dream doesn't know what's going on with him but doesn't want any more hate to build between their two fanbases. he is explaining this because he feels he should explain his motives/give context as hate has built up to the point of irl threats to himself and his family's safety. he says that he is changing the concept of usmp slightly so there is less competition between the 2 servers and reiterates that he doesn't want any hate sent to quackity and that he's proud of all he's done

radio silence from quackity for this whole day, and then:

april 28th- quackity goes live on twitch. he says nothing about it and announces the new brazilian creators for the qsmp

and that's... kind of where we're at? q has continued being active on qsmp and social media and has said nothing, mutual friends are continuing to interact with quackity, and we've kind of reached a weird stalemate.

there's also some small bits of context that are more on the fandom side of things as to why a lot of ppl aren't supporting quackity anymore, so i'll (semi-briefly) try to explain those here:

during all this a mod on the qsmp was (rightfully) called out for including a mob that portrayed incredibly racist stereotypes of indigenous people. q did eventually remove the mod after public pressure but his apology/explanation of the situation was incredibly lackluster, and he didn't address any of the server members who made racist comments about the mob or after the mod's removal. this soured a lot of people's opinion of quackity/the qsmp in general.

second thing is just general vitriol between the two fandoms. qsmp fans/quackity solos were already being nasty at the start of the month, and that only built as the month continued. i saw at least one instance of a fan supposedly being doxxed and having someone show up to their house over the drama, and heard of ppl having gore/photos of self harm sent to their dms (so y'know. classic toxic twitter fandom bullshit). i will say that the toxicity has recently somewhat risen on the dteam side of things as well, with people being a lot quicker to hate on ccs still interacting with quackity and generally being super neg abt q (tho i can't act like some of that anger isn't slightly warranted. hell, i've been super angry over this and i used to be a super big fan of quackity). a lot of people are disappointed in q's silence over this whole issue and believe that it is quackity's responsibility to at least publicly denounce the doxxing/threats being made by fans in defense of him, especially as it's something that dream has already done, both prior to this situation and during.

as far as "picking sides" goes... a lot of ppl here on dtblr have been doomposting for a while, and at this point quackity is basically in no one's good books. at the same time, most of the rational people i follow have been acknowledging the nuance of the situation, and that a lot of mutual friends may be caught in the middle right now (shit dude, you're talking to a foolish main and that dude's still on quackity's damn server). there's also the matter of dream basically asking people to stop fighting, which at this point i am very inclined to agree with due to the levels of discourse and toxicity that we've already gone through, plus i think it's a better alternative than the community self-cannibalizing any time someone mentions quackity

ultimately it's up to you to decide what you want to do with this info and how much you want to remove yourself/unstan ccs, but know you aren't alone if you're sad/disappointed about how this whole thing has panned out 🫂 it has certainly been quite the Month around here

#sorry this took so long to get to. i had class for 5 hrs and then when i got back i was tired & didnt wanna think abt discourse for a bit #i could go back and add links to tweets and such if anyone wants but i think this is mostly accurate #feel free to add on if there's anything you think i missed or could be helpful #and anon i hope ur doing well. also sorry for making u read all that <3 #asks #anon #discourse #long post #its under a readmore but still. fair warning. long post #ALSO this is all shit we already know if this starts up arguing again im gonna explode into a million pieces no one start shit #i dont think anyone will but i just get nervous whenever i discourse post bc im v nonconfrontational and dont wanna start more arguments #everyone b niceys okay....

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littlespoonevan · 3 years ago

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buddie + one missed call <3

@catdadeddie asked: Buddie + Q. One missed call for the prompt list? 👀

Anonymous asked: For the minific, can you please write something for buddie and Q?

Anonymous asked: Buck and/or Eddie + Q for the microfic? 👀

Anonymous asked: for the prompts thing I would love to see something for Q? I think it was One missed call

so this was an incredibly popular choice lmao. i have no idea if you all were envisioning a specific plot when you sent me this but i hope it lives up to expectations!!! (or at least is a fun read askjdfh)

enjoy :')

Buck, as a general rule, always answers his phone.

Hen and Chim like to make fun of him, saying that it’s a habit left over from Abby since they spent so much time on the phone before they ever met in person. The reality is the slightly more depressing lingering fear he used to have of missing a call from Maddie during all those years of radio silence back before he joined the academy.

Regardless, it usually means he’s a reliable friend to call in an emergency, no matter what time of night. It’s why Chim called him the first time Maddie worked an overnight after Jee-Yun was born, begging him to go to the store and get diapers when he ran out. It’s why Hen called him to pick up her and Karen when they’d had too much to drink on their date night to drive home. And it’s why Eddie had made him his and Christopher’s emergency contacts after only a few months of knowing each other.

Unless he’s quite literally standing in the middle of a blazing inferno, Buck answers his phone.

Which is what makes this situation so frustrating.

Heaving a laboured breath, he stretches his arm as far as it’ll go in an attempt to reach his phone where it’s buzzing on the ground a few feet out of his reach.

It’s too difficult from this angle to tell who’s calling but he’d bet every cent in his bank account that it’s Eddie. If only because they’ve hardly talked in the past three weeks since Eddie left the 118. If only because this is the first daring rescue Buck has attempted in that time and of course it’s gone wrong.

It’d been a calculated risk but one he never would’ve hesitated over when Eddie was on the other side of his line. The building foundations had been unstable after an initial ceiling collapse but he and Ravi had still managed to save the woman trapped inside. It’d been as they were leaving, headed back to the open window, that the ground had collapsed beneath him and sent him hurtling into the basement with a pile of rubble landing on top of him for good measure.

The fact his phone survived the fall at all is a miracle. Or some kind of karmic mockery, probably.

“Buckley, do you copy?” his radio blares at his shoulder, cutting through the noise of his phone.

He grits his teeth in frustration, abandoning his efforts to retrieve his phone, and dutifully answers the radio call. “Here, Cap,” he huffs. “My lower torso and left arm are pinned. I can’t get out on my own.”

“Alright, hang tight. We’re on our way.”

Buck lets go of his radio with a sigh, rolling his head to the side to stare at his phone. As if on command, it starts ringing again. It’s the third time since he’s been trapped here. And now he knows for sure it’s not Bobby or the rest of the team which means it’s either Eddie or Maddie. And Eddie or Maddie calling him three times in quick succession when they likely know he’s at work is definitely a cause for concern.

True to Bobby’s word though, the rest of the team find him and get him freed and onto a backboard in record time. Hen is talking about chest x-rays and Chimney is checking his O2 levels and everyone is ignoring his pleas to get his phone for him where it’s still on the ground.

It’s not until he’s in the back of the ambulance that Chimney finally even acknowledges what he’s saying and that’s only because he pulls his oxygen mask down.

“You need to keep this on, Buckaroo.”

“But my phone-“

“I think Ravi picked it up,” Chim says, forcing the oxygen mask back over his nose with a stern look. “It’s not even broken, I heard it ringing. Don’t worry.”

Buck attempts to glare at him, even through the pain in his ribs and the pounding at his temples – he’s not sure he’s successful. “Maddie-?” he manages and that, at least, gets Chimney’s attention.

He frowns, fishing out his own phone and typing something quickly. After a few seconds he turns the screen around to show Buck. “She’s at work but she’s gonna take her break and meet us at the hospital, see.”

Sure enough, there’s a text from Maddie in response to Chim’s “Buck got a little banged up on a call and is asking for you. We’re on our way to First Presbyterian now. He’s FINE!” confirming she’s on her way.

There’s nothing about her trying to reach him earlier.

Which means Eddie was definitely the one trying to call him.

What if it’s Christopher? Or another panic attack? Or some kind of freak accident?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking-

“Hey, breathe, Buck!” Hen says suddenly, lurching forward to put a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm him down. He can hear the monitor beeping wildly in the background but Hen tries to count his breaths with him, forcing him to focus on her.

“Eddie,” he wheezes when he manages to get some air back in his lungs.

Hen and Chimney share a look before Chim sends him an uneasy smile. “We’ll call him.”

After too many scans and x-rays Buck finds himself alone in a hospital room.

He’s lucky – a few cracked ribs, some scrapes and bruises, and a familiar ache in his bad leg is the extent of the damage. The doctor has just left and everyone else is waiting out in the reception area and he still hasn’t gotten his phone back and-

“Buck?”

He snaps his head up, finding a frantic-looking Eddie rushing through the door of his room. Buck hasn’t seen him since last week after their awkward conversation in the doorway of the Diaz house when he’d dropped Chris home after the zoo. His hair isn’t gelled like normal so it’s a little wild where it falls across his forehead. Buck loves his hair like that.

Eddie hurries forward until he’s standing right by the side of the bed. He stops short of actually reaching out but his eyes scan Buck from the top of his head to where his torso disappears under the blanket. “Jesus Christ, Buck, are you okay? Chimney nearly scared me half to death on the phone. He said you fell through the floor-“

“Why did you call me?”

Eddie stops short, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“You- I dropped my phone when I fell and it was ringing.” Eddie’s expression is unreadable but intense enough that Buck drops his gaze and focuses on playing with the hem of the blanket. “It wasn’t anyone on the team and it wasn’t Maddie either so…”

He raises a head again. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Eddie’s throat bobs and he nods, just slightly, before looking away.

“So, what’s wrong? Is Chris okay?”

Eddie lets out what would be a laugh but sounds more like a stuttered out breath. “I, um. I was watching TV while I was folding laundry and there was this ad for a documentary about those Toynbee Tiles you were telling me about and I- I wanted to call you so we could watch it. And then I remembered we haven’t had a movie night since before Christmas and it’s my fault and Christopher keeps asking about you and I miss you and I just- I needed to talk to you.”

Buck watches him for a moment, mind working over. He wants to ask why Eddie didn’t just text or why he didn’t realise sooner Buck was probably on a call. Instead all he can manage to say is, “I told you about those tiles months ago.”

Eddie shrugs, taking a tentative seat on the edge of his bed, hip brushing against Buck’s knee over the blanket. “I remember everything you tell me.”

And that’s- too much. Too much when Buck is being pumped with pain relief and missing his partner and when Eddie is finally within reach after what feels like so, so long.

Steeling himself, he reaches for Eddie’s hand, circling his wrist at the last minute when he panics. “I tried to answer. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I know,” Eddie tells him, mouth tilting at the corners for just a beat before it pulls down again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you today.”

“Would’ve happened either way,” he shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, twisting his wrist in Buck’s grip to fold their fingers together. “I should’ve been right beside you though. Even if it was just so I could fall too.”

Buck thinks of his phone sprawled just out of his reach, imagining the now accurate picture of Eddie’s name and Eddie’s picture plastered across the screen while it rang.

“You were,” he says, shooting Eddie a playful grin. “Technically, I mean. Y’know Hen and Chim are gonna start calling us weird if they realise we can sense when one another is in distress.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, wide and familiar in that way Buck has missed so much. “That’s not why I called you.”

“I know but it’d be so much funnier if we told Chim that it was.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, squeezing Buck’s hand in his own. “When they let you out of here wanna come home with me? We can…talk, maybe?”

Buck nods, heart pounding with something that feels like hope. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Take me home.”

#buddie #911 fic #evanbucxley #userceecee #catdadeddie #anon #asks #my fics #meme thing #follower celebration

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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

Text

Swipe Right {Rowaelin Fluff Modern AU}

Part TWO to Swipe Left {Rowaelin Fluff}

Written alongside the beautiful and talented @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Aelin looked in the mirror one final time. She had to look absolutely perfect, of course, even though she was just visiting Rowan at work. It had been a little over a year since she had met the love of her life in the airport, and life was pretty perfect.

She had no complaints.

And from what she could tell, the perfection would only continue to grow.

After brushing through her long, golden hair, Aelin slipped on a pair of brown sandals to go with her turquoise t-shirt dress and called it good.

It had been an eventful morning, to say the least, starting with a quick workout and brunch with Lysandra. After that, she’d showered and gotten ready, checking her email for an offer letter from one of the many companies she’d applied to. The paid internship she’d taken had ended a couple weeks back and while Rowan had been more than generous, not asking her to pay rent when she’d moved in, she needed to start pulling her weight.

Rowan said she could pay him in other ways and she snorted and shoved him.

Aelin liked to contribute. She liked to help out.

Nonetheless, she was hurrying down the steps, as quickly as she could, and to her car. Once inside, she was starting the engine and pulling out of the parking space before the radio could even catch up and begin playing music.

She was giddy, could hardly control herself.

She couldn’t wait to show Rowan.

In her defense, though, she was also bringing him lunch just before his lunch period, so it wasn’t all about her surprise. It was about the kind, loving gesture that could only be shown through bringing your significant other food.

She had to make one stop before she stopped at the school, though, and that was the most important of the day.

Rowan turned around and crossed his arms as he looked at his class. “Can anybody tell me who Abigail Williams is?”

He was met with silence.

“You learned about her last year, with Ms. Lochan.”

Not even a blink of recognition.

He sighed and rubbed between his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “First person who can tell me anything about her gets to leave for lunch ten minutes early.”

A male voice spoke up. “She was accused of being a witch, right?”

“Good, Quinton, she was.” He pointed at the student, who was a basketball player. He’d never put any effort into his studies until recently, when he realized colleges care about your grades, too, not just how many three pointers you can hit. “Where?”

Quinton hesitated.

“Starts with a S,” Rowan slowly.

“Salem,” Quinton said, without any hesitation.

Rowan leaned back against the whiteboard, arms crossed. “Very goo-.”

His words dropped off as he noticed a flutter of movement in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. His class had noticed, too, because he instantly lost their attention as Aelin gave him an amused look.

Rowan couldn’t be mad. His eyes softened as he said, “You all remember my-.”

She was met with a series of loud hellos and hollers, which only made her grin widen - and her ego grow to an uncontrollable level, no doubt.

She held up a bag. “I brought lunch. I didn’t mean to be early. I’ll just…” She pointed to Rowan’s desk in the back corner of the room, indicating her destination.

He chuckled and nodded. He turned his attention back to his class, trying to reclaim their attention. “Alright, next week, we’re going to start on the Salem Witch Trials.” There was a flutter of excitement, which was atypical for sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds in school. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, because yes, it’s extremely interesting, but there’s also a lot of dates or boring stuff.” There was a collective groan, knowing Rowan would give one of his date only quizzes for extra credit. “But...we’re also going to be watching a movie next week. Which leads me to our homework…” Cue the groans again.

“Witches are a commonly adapted piece of folklore in modern media. Monday, I want you to bring in an example of your favorite adaptation of witches from movies, tv shows, music videos, whatever it may be. Wednesday, I want an example of other times there were witch hunts in history, aside from Salem. Not too hard, but we’re going to be taking a lot of notes. Be ready.” He glanced at his watch and saw it was ten til. He nodded his head at Quinton. “Q, you ready for lunch?”

He nodded yes and started packing up his backpack.

Rowan shrugged and said, “I’m feeling generous today. Pick a buddy to go with you.”

Quinton smirked and turned around, pointing to Aelin. “You hungry, Miss G?”

The class erupted into good natured heckling.

Aelin laughed, quietly. “I’m afraid I’ve already eaten.”

“Too bad,” Quinton murmured, earning another round of laughter. “Evangeline, then.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes but began packing up, anyway.

Rowan gestured for them both to go then told the others to get started on their homework, which meant they’d be talking quietly among themselves or on their phones, until the bell rang.

Rowan made his round around the room and ended by his desk, sitting on the edge. His smile had faded, and he wore a concerned frown. “Why’d you come in such a hurry? Don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re here, but...I mean, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

He hated that he had to miss the appointment, but he was saving his vacation days for the months when Aelin would need him home.

“No, nothing, just…” She shrugged her shoulders trying to appear cool and casual, but inside she was about to explode. “Wanted to see you.”

She couldn’t tell if he believed her, he smiled softly, but the wariness was still in his eyes. “Well?” He asked.

She laughed, quietly. “You don’t think I should maybe wait until you don’t have a class of eavesdropping teenagers around?”

She gave a pointed glance behind him and he caught two of his students quickly turning around.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced over at the clock, they still had a few minutes. “What did you bring me for lunch?”

Aelin chuckled before she said, “Ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and cut up apples with some caramel to dip them in.”

Rowan’s smile was genuine when he said, “You spoil me.”

He reached for the bag, but she snatched it back. “It’s not fair of you to eat in front of your students,” she replied, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, but got back up, making another quick circle around the room.

“Mr. Whitethorn?” A girl’s hand raised. “We have a question about what we can use for our media. Movies are okay, right?”

He figured the question would be coming and he was glad someone asked it, rather than half the class having to scramble like the grade before them did last year. “Movies are permitted, but PG-13 or lower. Can’t be rated R.” There was a chorus of groans. “I don’t make the rules, sorry, but if I did, you still wouldn’t be allowed to.”

The bell rang and as everyone rushed for the door, he called, “Alright, don't forget your homework and have a great weekend!”

They were out the door before he’d finished his sentence. Aelin was chuckling from where she sat on his desk.

In a flash, Rowan was at the door, locking it, pulling the privacy blind and then at his desk. He pressed his lips to Aelin’s and said, “Okay, well?”

She laughed and handed him the brown sack that his lunch was in. Rowan looked at the bag and said, “I appreciate you bringing me lunch, baby, but that’s not what I’m asking.”

The urge to roll her eyes was almost too strong to resist, but she said, “Open the bag, you frantic buzzard.”

With narrowed eyes in her direction, he did as he was asked, and froze. His eyes widened as his hand reached in and pulled out the little black and white ultrasound pictures.

He said absolutely nothing as he shuffled through them, his green eyes growing bright and misty.

Aelin watched him with complete adoration.

“Shit,” he breathed, shaking his head as he met Aelin’s loving gaze. “This is our kid.”

She nodded, a smile breaking on her lips. She didn’t try to stop the tears that slid down her cheek.

Aelin and Rowan had gotten married on the beach, almost six months to the day after they’d met. Neither of them had any immediate family and they both knew the wanted no one but the other for the rest of their days.

They’d suspected Aelin was pregnant a few weeks earlier. Her cycle hadn’t come and Rowan was actually the one who noticed it was late.

Now, their baby was growing and would be there in a matter of months. These were the first ultrasound pictures where the baby actually looked like a baby, not just a blob. They could see the head, the hands, the feet, everything.

“Yeah,” she smiled, and he took her face into his hands and kissed her, softly. “It’s our baby.”

“I’m so sad I missed it,” he whispered. “Instead, I was here talking about shit that none of these kids will remember tomorrow.”

“There will be others,” she promised. “Much more important appointments that you’ll be able to come to.”

His eyes lit up. “When do we find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

She rolled her eyes, kissing him once more. It had been a constant debate for them both the past month. Rowan was adamant it was a girl, but Aelin said she could feel that it was a boy. “She wants to schedule that for eighteen weeks, but says we may not be able to tell until twenty.”

Rowan waited and he asked, “And how pregnant are you right now?”

“Ro!” She laughed but shoved him. “This morning was eleven weeks.” She placed her hand over her stomach, the bump just barely starting to show.

He laid his hand over hers. “Six weeks until I get to see my beautiful baby girl.”

“Or your perfect, handsome son,” she laughed.

Rowan just said, “We’ll see.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and took a bite of his sandwich, which earned her a scowl from him. When she claimed it was because she was eating for two, Rowan couldn’t argue with that.

He sat in his desk chair, pulling her onto his lap as he started to eat. He only had thirty minutes before his next class came in, and he hated to say he was dreading it. As much as he loved his job, he was ready to be at home with his wife, rubbing her belly on the couch in his sweatpants.

Life was never as good to him as it was now before he met Aelin. Things weren’t bad, not at all, but he was never this happy.

Before, he used to love teaching. It was his passion and he was always one of the first into the school in the mornings and one of the very last to leave in the evening. He poured over his lesson plans at home, spent all of his spare time grading papers or homework. But now, he wanted that spare time to go to Aelin. Rather than get up at five-fifteen, and make it to school by six-thirty, he stayed in bed with Aelin as long as he could, sometimes not making it until right before the bell. Those were usually the mornings that Aelin awoke with his first alarm and scooted back into his warm embrace. And then continued to scoot until he had to get up.

She had completely consumed him, but he definitely wasn’t complaining about it.

And soon, there would be another little person to captivate him, too.

It was a Saturday, and the second Rowan opened his eyes, he realized Aelin was gone. He sat up, slowly, and blinked a few times to clear his surroundings.

She was nowhere.

“Ace?” He called.

“Kitchen!” She called back.

He picked up his phone to catch the time. 9:06. Just when he was about to ask why she was already out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning, the thought hit him.

Their gender reveal party was at noon.

He was up and rushing around the corner, grabbing it for traction as he rushed into the kitchen. His wife had an eyebrow raised, her hair piled into a messy bun on her head. She wore an old shirt from his college baseball days and a pair of his sweat pants she’d claimed as her own once her belly began to get too big for her own comfy clothes to fit. She held a cup of tea in her hands, carefully blowing on it. “Good morning,” she said with a smirk.

He stood upright and leaned on the wall. “Morning, babies.”

Aelin laughed as she rubbed a loving hand over her belly. He’d begun to refer to them as one, and she thought was the cutest thing she’d ever experienced.

“Is that breakfast?” He asked, with a yawn, throwing open the fridge for the entire carton of orange juice.

“No,” she said, with a pointed finger in his direction. “This is for the party, and if you touch any of it, I will kick you in the balls.”

Rowan froze as he turned, the carton halfway to his mouth. He was just now realizing how much there was on the counter. Multiple crockpots, bags and bags of junk, and something in the oven, seeing as how it was turned on and cooking.

“Exactly how many people are coming?” He asked, surprised.

Aelin shrugged. “Enough.”

At least they had just bought a new house and could fit a herd of people. Either way, Rowan was not a fan of large groups of people. His socially awkward nature prevented it.

Standing up in front of a class of kids? Sure. Easy.

Entertaining guests? Nope. Not his thing.

“I see that look on your face, calm down,” she said, chuckling as she meandered toward him and grabbed him by the hips. “I’ll entertain, you just make sure all the bowls I set out are constantly filled to the brim.”

Rowan grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her mouth. “Alright, I can do that.”

She turned back to the counter, picking her tea back up. Rowan began pulling things out to make himself a protein shake. After blending it up, he hopped up on the counter and looked at Aelin. “What can I do to help?”

“I need you to go pick up the cake,” Aelin said, washing her mug and placing it back in the cabinet.

Rowan blinked at her. “Like the cake? Like the cake our baby is in?”

She rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re an idiot, you know that the baby isn’t in the cake. And secondly, we’re not doing a cake reveal, remember? But we are having a cake for the party.”

Rowan frowned. “Since when are we not doing a cake reveal?”

Aelin came up between his legs and looked up at him. “Since everyone else in the world did one.”

“Then why do we need a cake?” Rowan asked.

Aelin blinked. “Are you serious?”

Rowan just cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll get the cake. What else?”

“Hang the decorations I got because I’m short.”

Rowan chuckled as he hopped off the counter. “Fair enough.”

A loud knock came to the front door but before anyone could walk toward it, it flew open and Lysandra came flying in, plastic bags full of decor in each hand.

“Hello, mommy and daddy-to-be!” She sang, setting the bags on the counter and immediately getting to work.

“Or I guess Lysandra is going to take care of that,” Aelin chuckled.

Rowan pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to go get ready for the day while Aelin sat and talked to Lysandra. Just like Rowan, her best friend hadn’t allowed her to lift a finger throughout her pregnancy. He was just entering the bathroom when he heard Aedion enter the house and say, “Good morning, Aelin. You’re looking plump this morning.”

Thirty minutes later, Aedion was riding to the bakery with a freshly showered and shaved Rowan, having been kicked out of the house by Lysandra.

“How was I supposed to know she was going to cry?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders.

“She’s five months pregnant, man,” Rowan laughed. “Her emotions are all over the place, pretty much assume everything might make her cry right now.”

“Huh,” Aedion said, staring out the window. “The pregnant mind is one I don’t wish to understand.”

“Me either,” Rowan muttered. “Just wait until you knock up Lysandra.”

Aedion groaned. “Yeah, that can wait.”

Rowan laughed as he drove into the parking lot of the bakery and hopped out. He ran in to pick up the biggest, most elaborate gender reveal cake. It was for a small gathering, of course, but for a handful of people, the five tier cake was a bit much.

Which was why Rowan walked ridiculously slowly, cautiously, to the back of the car. He opened the trunk and slowly slid it in.

Aedion was just staring. “No wonder Aelin didn’t want to come pick it up. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining that.”

“Thanks, man,” Rowan mumbled, climbing back in the front seat.

Aedion picked up the receipt and looked at it. “Gods, that’s way too many zeros at the end for a cake.”

Rowan sighed and said, “If it makes her happy, I do whatever she asks.” Aedion smirked. He asked, “What?”

The smirk softened. “Nothing, just… I always hoped Aelin could find someone who loved her the way I love Lysandra. I just didn’t think it would be on Tinder.”

Rowan groaned. The fact that they’d met on a glorified fuck-buddy app brought Aedion a lot more joy than it should have.

“Technically,” Rowan began, “We met in the airport.”

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” Aedion said, as Rowan slowly pulled onto the road. The drive back to the house was ten minutes longer than it should have been, due to the ridiculously slow speed Rowan was driving at to keep the cake safe.

When they arrived, it was just after eleven and Lysandra was already wrapping up her intense decorating agenda. The house was draped in pink and blue streamers, banners, and little frilly things that Rowan thought were ridiculous and pointless, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Where’s Aelin?” He asked, once he and Aedion set the cake, successfully, on the island.

“Bedroom, dressing,” Lysandra said, still scowling at an exasperated Aedion.

“I’ll be back,” Rowan sighed.

He walked down the hall to their bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Ace?” There was a quiet answer and slipped in.

She was in her closet, and when he entered the bathroom, she said, “Baby, can you help me put on my shoes? I can’t reach my feet anymore.”

He found her sitting on a small chair, her foot halfway in a sandal.

He laughed and knelt down, latching the shoe around her - honestly, very swollen - ankle and then did the same with the other. He kissed her knee then her pronounced bump, and looked up her face. “Aelin, I love you…but that cake is fucking excessive.”

She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

He rolled his eyes and stood, helping her to her feet as he went.

She was wearing a white dress, that hugged her body, highlighting the pronounced bump that grew more and more every day, and a loose, comfy cardigan. Her hair was piled on the top of her head.

He softly kissed her. “You look so beautiful.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. It was becoming difficult. She sighed and said, “Are you sure I’m not looking plump?”

“Baby, he was just joking,” he chuckled, rubbing her back.

She sniffled.

“Aelin, baby, don’t cry,” he cooed.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said, throwing her hands in the air, “and I don’t know why it makes me so mad that Aedion called me plump, which I am, and why I hate that my house is covered in pink and blue. I mean, pink and blue? That’s so normal, Ro, and I hate normal. Why didn’t we do purple and red? Or, shit, green and gold? I love green and gold. Pink and blue sucks, Ro.”

Rowan just stared at her as she babbled on before taking a long, deep breath. “How about this? Next week, when we start decorating the nursery, we’ll do it in green and gold. Okay? After today, you never have to look at blue or pink again.”

She wiped angrily at her nose. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, trying his hardest not to laugh. “I love you.”

She leaned up on her toes and he met halfway, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you, too.” She stepped out into the bathroom and made sure that her makeup was still intact and then said, “Let’s go see my fucking excessive cake.”

One by one, their friends showed up. Lysandra made everyone give their official guess as they came in and after everyone had arrived, it seemed the majority agreed that Aelin was correct and there would be a little heartbreaker running around soon.

Even with the pink and blue decorations, Aelin had to admit that everything was beautiful. Lysandra had done an amazing job, which she told her time and time again.

When the time came, everyone filed out into the backyard, Lysandra carrying a bat and a white box. She handed Rowan the bat and Aelin took the box, explaining that the ball inside would explode into a colorful cloud when hit. All she had to do was get it to Rowan. All he had to do was hit it.

“No pressure,” he mumbled, setting the bat down. He rolled up his sleeves, to which his friends whistled and howled, and got a few practice swings in. When he felt he could confidently hit a moving target, he got into position and nodded to Aelin.

Her grin was glorious as she threw the ball.

It was a terrible throw, but Rowan swung at it, nonetheless, and pink dust filled the air.

Everyone erupted into cheers as Aelin yelled WHAT THE FUCK, but when the cloud cleared, and Rowan caught her gaze, she was smiling at him with tears in her eyes.

Rowan whistled, looking around at their living room, which was full of opened gifts. Their baby shower had been that morning - Rowan had spent it playing basketball in the park with Lorcan - and they had been spoiled.

Earlier that week, Rowan had painted the nursery gold, and it seemed that everyone who went to the shower got the hint that gold and green was the theme.

Aelin sat in the chair, her feet up on the table in front of her. She nodded. Her voice wavered as she said, “I love our people.”

He smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He knew this wasn’t a crazy pregnancy crying. No, this was the love she felt for their friends, how blessed and overwhelmed by their own love and generosity she was.

He took her hands and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go get comfy and put together our sweet girl’s nursery.”

She groaned as she moved towards their bedroom. “I’m eight months pregnant. I don’t even remember what comfortable is anymore.”

“Just take off your pants,” he suggested, as they entered their room. “No pants equals comfort.”

She snorted. “You just like me pants-less.”

He shrugged. “It’s a perk.”

As much as she thought he was joking, she did just that, putting on a gigantic t-shirt and some fuzzy socks. In his sweatpants, Rowan followed her down to the end of the hall, to where the nursery was.

She sat in the plush rocking chair they’d bought, knowing they’d be spending quite a bit of time in nursery. Aelin quietly watched Rowan as he worked, humming a lullaby and slowly rocking in the chair. One by one, Rowan built, put together or set up everything they received from the day.

He dragged a big box towards him, puzzled. “What is this thing?”

Aelin smiled. “A cooler with a built into bluetooth speaker and charging station.”

He blinked. “And why does the baby need that?”

“The baby doesn’t, but you do.” She laughed at his shocked expression. “It’s from Aedion and Lysandra. He said it was your bro shower gift.”

Rowan opened the box and peeked inside. “Have I mentioned how much I love your cousin?”

She snorted. “He’s aware of your bromance, yes.”

Rowan grinned as he put the box in the hallway and looked around. “Anything left that has to be put together?”

Aelin shook her head, slowly. “Just stuff that has to be put away.

Rowan opened up a little gift bag and pulled out a little red, polka dotted sundress. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is tiny.”

Aelin’s grin widened. “That’s from Elide. Along with a hundred other little outfits.”

But Rowan was staring at the newborn sundress. “Aelin, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She laughed. “Come with me, I’m about to blow your mind.” He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “Not like that.”

With Rowan’s assistance getting out of the chair, she led him back down to their room. “I can’t bend over so… There’s a storage box under the bed. Put it up here.” She patted the mattress.

He did as he was told, grabbing a hold of a long, thin plastic tub, it’s lid was snapped securely in place, but it was full to bursting.

Rowan murmured, “She has more clothes than me. How does she already have more clothes than me?”

Aelin chuckled but skimmed through the small outfits, pulling a few of her favorites out. “Because Lysandra is her auntie.”

Rowan took the small blue onesie from Aelin. He held it in his hands, gazing down at it.

Aelin noticed his silence then and her smile faltered. “Baby?”

Aelin was floored when he looked up and there were tears shimmering on his face.

She hesitated, and when she spoke it was a whisper, “Gods, Are you crying?”

“No,” he said, but a tear had, in fact, fallen down his cheek. “It’s just so...small.”

She watched him, smiling softly, as he took in the little outfit.

“The baby is going to be tiny,” he breathed. “What if I break her?”

He chuckled, brushing it off, but she could see the genuine fear in his eyes.

“You won’t, Ro, you couldn’t.” She reached up and brushed the tear from his cheek, cupping his face in her hands. “She isn’t even here yet and you’re so in love with her. You wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her.”

He nodded, but Aelin could see the trepidation still on his face. The whole pregnancy, he’d been her rock, the one constant motivator. She knew he was so ready for this baby, that she was already so loved, but it was normal to be scared.

“I love you,” she breathed, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her belly got in the way and she groaned as she was just barely too short of his lips.

He laughed and leaned down, letting her stand back on her feet and wrapping his arms around her. “I love you, too.”

They went back to the nursery, Rowan carrying the massive tub so Aelin could begin folding them and putting them in her dresser. As he was unwrapping diapers and putting them in their designated drawer, Rowan said, “So I had an idea for a name.’

Aelin paused and turned. “Okay?’

She was having this baby in less thirty days and they had yet to find a name they agreed on. The closest they’d come was with Nora, which Aelin had decided after a day of overthinking, was that Nora was an old person's name. Rowan had said that it was classy and timeless. Nonetheless, it went into the no pile, and they continued looking.

He leaned his back on the gold wall, crossing his arms over his chest, almost like he was bracing himself for her response. “Sloan.”

Aelin tilted her head to the left slightly. “Sloan?”

He nodded. “Sloan.”

“Hmm.” She closed her eyes and repeated the name a few more times, slowly, then with their last name, just to see. At last, she opened her eyes back up to meet her husband’s gaze and said, “I like Sloan.”

Rowan hesitated. “Wait, seriously?”

She laughed, leaning back on her hands from where she sat on the floor. “Yeah, seriously. I love it.”

Rowan still was in shock that she was in favor of a name suggested by him. He was still frozen in his place along the golden wall. “You’re worrying me. Are you feeling okay? I’m calling your doctor.”

“Shut up, you prick,” she said, smiling. They’d finally decided on a name, a name they both loved, a name they both agreed upon.

He chuckled and laid down in front of where she sat, his face inches from her round stomach. “Did you hear that, Sloan? Mama just told daddy to shut up. You should kick her in the ribs for that.” Their daughter did no such thing and Aelin quietly laughed, running a hand through Rowan’s newly cropped silver hair, as he scowled at her. He pressed a kiss just above her belly button. “What about this? Can you tell her how much I love her?” Aelin took a sharp breath in through her teeth as she felt a sharp pain in her side. Rowan’s deep rumble of a laugh traveled across her skin. “That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to her stomach, and gazed up at Aelin through his lashes, smirking. “Won’t take orders from a man. Just like her mama.”

Aelin sighed and shook her head. “Already turning her against me.”

“She’s a daddy’s girl,” Rowan muttered, yawning as he closed his eyes. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t even the one growing a human being inside of him. When he looked up at his wife, he could see her exhaustion. “I think we’ve done enough today, mama. Let’s go to bed.”

“Mama,” she repeated, quietly, eyes shining.

Rowan nodded, slowly, and took her hand. “One more month.”

Aelin brought Rowan’s hand to her lips as she smiled. “Yeah, one more month.”

___

“Ro.”

Rowan was having a beautiful dream, sleeping soundly, when his wife suddenly began shaking his shoulder with the wrath of a cranky, nearly full-term pregnant woman.

He groaned, opening his eyes, just barely, to look up at the alarm clock that sat on his side table. It was just after two.

“Go to bed, babe,” he mumbled.

“No, Ro,” she said, jabbing him in the back with her knee.

“Ow, Damn,” he hissed, pushing himself up on his elbows with a sigh. “What? Are you okay?”

“No,” she breathed.

His body tensed as he reached over to turn on the lamp, and when he did, he saw Aelin sitting up, eyes wide, a dark circle spotted on their light gray bed sheet.

Rowan blinked. “What? You woke me up cause you pissed your-“

“My water broke, you asshole,” Aelin snapped.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, eyes wide. He jumped out of bed, grabbing for the jeans he’d discarded on top of the hamper the night before. “Oh, shit!”

Aelin was breathing heavily, and clutching at her stomach. “She’s coming,” she whispered, “she’s coming, she’s coming, she’s coming.”

Rowan was there immediately, sitting on the bed in front of her, taking her hand in his and letting her squeeze as hard as she could. “What do you need me to do, baby?

“Are the bags packed?” She asked, voice tight.

He nodded. “Yes, ours are in the dining room on the way out the door and Sloan’s in the truck, with her carseat, already buckled in and ready for her.”

“You’re such a good daddy,” she breathed, face showing relief as the pain in her abdomen subsided.

Rowan pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “Come on, let’s get you changed and go meet our precious girl.”

A slight look of panic crossed her face, but it quickly turned to excitement and adoration. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Rowan breathed, and helped her to her feet. She kept on the oversized tee she had and Rowan helped her slip on some cozy pants and her flip flops before they were hurrying out the door.

The car ride was miserable. They got stuck at every red light along the way and the contractions quickly became stronger and closer together.

When they got to the hospital, Rowan parked as close as he could to the entrance. It helped that it was the middle of the night. After helping her to the door and into a wheelchair, Aelin was met with a nurse and then she was being wheeled away. Rowan, and their bags, just behind.

“I feel like we forgot something,” Aelin said, as Rowan tied the back of her hospital gown and helped her into the bed.

“We talked about this,” Rowan began, pulling a chair up close to the side, “Fleetfoot isn’t allowed in the hospital, Ace.”

She chuckled, but the gesture was quickly replaced with a contorted look of pain.

“Breathe,” the nurse whispered, calmly, as she finished hooking Aelin up to a series of machines. One took blood pressure, one kept track of the contractions, one monitored her heartbeat, another monitored the baby’s.

Looking at all of the machines gave Rowan a headache.

“How far apart are your contractions, dear?” The nurse asked, taking notes on her chart.

“About eleven minutes apart, but my water broke,” Aelin said, resting back in the bed, trying to get comfortable while she still could.

She smiled and said, “Not uncommon for a first time mom. We’ll keep an eye on it, but for now, why don’t you try and get some more sleep.”

“Sleep?” Aelin asked, her eyebrows raising. “I can’t sleep right now, I’m having a baby. I want my epidural and to push her out.”

The nurse, a sweet-looking older woman named Alis, laughed softly. “Sorry, hon. You can’t get an epidural until your contractions are about five minutes apart. Just relax and we’ll come check on you in a little bit.”

Alis left and Aelin stared after her. “I can’t sleep,” she mumbled, looking at Rowan. “How does she expect me to sleep? I’m about to shove our daughter out of my vag.”

“Great visual, babe,” he sighed, sitting next to her and taking her hand with his free one. His phone was in his other. “Here it is,” he began reading. “In the early stages of labor, mothers-to-be are encouraged to rest and relax. If labor begins at night, it's best to try and go back to sleep until contractions have increased to require all of your focus.”

“Fabulous,” Aelin mumbled. “Can I have my phone?”

“Sure, baby, where is it?” He asked, reaching for her purse.

She looked at him. “I thought you had it.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Why would I have had your phone?”

Aelin’s eyes narrowed. “Because I asked you to grab it on the way out the door when you went back for your tablet.”

Rowan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His eyes said enough: Ohhh shit.

She let her head fall back against the pillows and closed her eyes, settling back and trying to get comfy. “I knew we forgot something.”

“I’ll ask Aedion and Lysandra to get it on the way.” He yawned and leaned back in the chair, pulling the ball cap covering his messy, silver hair lower over his eyes.

It was quiet for a minute and then Rowan said, already dozing off, “If you don’t have your phone, I assume that means you haven’t told anyone she’s on the way?”

Aelin replied, “Nope.”

He re-situated his hat and pulled out his phone. Since things didn’t seem to be progressing too quickly, he sent a quick text to their friends, not wanting to call and wake everyone. Save for one person: Lysandra.

Thirty seconds later, Rowan’s phone was ringing. With a sigh, he answered. “Hell-.”

“You didn’t call me on the way to the hospital?!” Lysandra’s loud voice came through to his ear.

“Sorry, I was a little busy trying to get my wife to the hospital,” Rowan said, yawning. “Nothing’s happened yet, don’t worry, I’ll call when things pick up. Her water broke and now she’s being told to go back to sleep.”

“Which I can’t do and my husband forgot my phone!” Aelin said, loudly, obviously frustrated.

There was a second of silence on the other end before Lysandra said, “Seriously? You didn’t grab her phone?”

“Don’t worry, she’s giving me a look that is equivalent to being stabbed, I’m being punished,” Rowan muttered.

“Let me talk to her.”

Rowan held out his phone without any hesitation. He heard Lysandra rattle off a series of questions and Aelin silently nodded along to each, softly biting the side of her finger. It was a nervous ‘twitch’ she’d picked up in the past few months and couldn’t seem to break it when she was thinking. “Okay, I got it. You know where the spare key is and I’ll send you the rest.” He heard Lysandra saying something else and Aelin’s eyes flicked over to him. “I haven't decided yet. I’ll let you know. Love you.” Lysandra replied and then Aelin ended the call, handing the phone back to Rowan.

He had an eyebrow raised, and though every instinct in his body instinct told him not to, he asked, “Decided what?”

She pouted her lips slightly and was about to reply when another contraction began. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit.”

He was up, his phone forgotten on the side table, and he took her hand. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe through it.”

“I’m deciding,” she said, through her teeth, “if I’m having Lysandra pick something up from Starbucks for you on the way here, or just me.”

He raised his eyebrows, rubbing soothing circles in her back with his free hand, but he said, “That’s cold, baby.”

“Well you forgot your pregnant wife’s phone on the way to give birth to your daughter,” she said, finally remembering to do the breathing exercises they’d learned.

Rowan sighed and said, “That’s fair.”

Aelin ended up having Lys get Rowan his coffee, too. They were even able to get a couple more hours sleep between the contractions, but when Lysandra blew threw the door at five-thirty, a bleary-eyed Aedion behind her, they were both up and Rowan was eating a sad, cold, hospital cafeteria breakfast.

“Oh, bless your hearts, thank the gods I brought real food.” She held up a bag from Aelin’s favorite bakery.

“Chocolate croissants?” Aelin asked, her eyes going wide.

“And they’re still warm, haven’t even been out of the oven for ten minutes,” Lysandra said, handing her the bag. With the other hand she extended her phone.

Aelin snatched both. Rowan knew better than to ask for a croissant. Lysandra held up a cup of coffee to him, her emerald eyes narrowed. “In your defense, she had left it in under the blankets in the bed.”

Aelin was sniffing the croissant as the door swung open, once again, and Alis came in, cheerily asking, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Aelin groaned. “When can we get this thing out of me?”

It had quickly turned from my daughter to this thing as the morning went on.

“I’m going to check where you’re at, and we’ll see,” she smiled.

Alis eyed the coffee and bag of goodies as she approached, but before she could say anything, Aelin said, “Don’t worry, they’re just for smell. I’m waiting to eat them after baby gets here...which will be soon, right?”

Aedion had made himself scarce the moment Alis ordered Aelin to put her feet up, but Lysandra was sitting on the edge of the bed. Rowan was still eating his shitty cafeteria waffle as Alis checked where Aelin was at. Five minutes later, the nurse was tossing her gloves into the trash and washing her hands.

“I believe your baby girl will be here sometime this afternoon,” she smiled, hands on her hips. “I’ll be in to give you the epidural in a few hours. Until then, continue to relax as much as possible. I’ll bring in more ice chips for you to munch on while you sniff your baked goods.”

She left and Aelin groaned as she let her head fall back into the pillows. “After noon,” she said, making sure the words were separated. “As in after twelve pm, which is still seven hours away.”

Lys patted her hand. “It could be sooner. She might decide she’s ready to be here now.”

Aelin turned and looked at her best friend, a look in her eyes that she hadn’t seen since they were in middle school and beating the shit out of each other in the girl’s locker room. They’d been inseparable ever since. “That would be horrible, too. Because then I wouldn’t get my epidural and I’d be in even more pain.”

Aedion said from the couch, mouth full, “She’ll get here in the perfect amount of time that you get your drugs and you aren’t in labor for two days.”

Aelin looked at him. “What are you eating.”

Aedion crumpled up the wax paper bag it had been in, trying to obscure the chocolate within. “Nothing.”

Aelin’s voice was like ice. “If I wasn’t due for a contraction any minute now, I’d punch you right in the dick.”

The room got silent and then Rowan’s phone rang. He glanced at it. “It’s Lorcan, babe, I need to get it.”

“Go,” she said, smiling wickedly. “Aedion can help me.” She held out her hand, waiting for his to squeeze.

Rowan patted his back as he walked by. “Hope that croissant was worth it.”

He answered as he stepped out into the hall. “Hey, man.”

Lorcan asked, “Your wife push out your demon spawn yet?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “No, she’s still a few hours away from her epidural and a while from pushing.”

Lorcan’s response was simple. “Gross. Hey, is your substitute giving your finals?”

He sighed, “I would assume, Lor, since they start on Wednesday, and my wife is giving birth to our daughter right now.”

“Fair enough,” Lorcan said. “Elide will be coming by at some point to see Aelin, and I’ll come by after classes end.”

“That’s probably about when she’ll be here, so make sure you call Lysandra first. I might be a little busy,” Rowan laughed.

Lorcan snorted, “Why? It’s not like you’ll be doing any of the hard work. You did your part nine months ago, when you nutted inside of-.”

Probably louder than he should have, in a hospital wing just after sunrise, Rowan said, “Goodbye, Lorcan,” and hung up the phone.

Considering how his best friend usually spoke, Rowan had to admit that the conversation had actually been pretty tame. I’m fact, he was pretty sure that was Lorcan being sweet and caring. Which is why, once he opened the door to Aelin’s room, Rowan said, “Lorcan said good luck.”

Aelin, next to Aedion who was rubbing his now-sore hand, blinked. “Are you sure? That’s uncharacteristic of him.”

“He also says that Elide will come by soon.”

“That sounds more accurate,” Aelin said, then yawned. “Can you at least go get me some magazines or something? I’m bored as hell and hurting like shit.”

His stomach grumbled and he said, “I’m absolutely starving, so what if I go grab some food that doesn’t look like it could come to life and eat me instead, and I’ll pick up that new book you’ve been wanting?”

“You mean you’re going to leave?” Her eyes went wide, filling with tears.

He was instantly by her side, her face in his hands. “I won’t, I don’t have to. I can eat the radioactive cafeteria food and run down to the gift shop for the magazines. I was just going to run to the Walmart that has a McDonalds in it down the road. Two birds, one stone.”

Her eyes were still panicked and Lysandra, hearing Rowan’s stomach growl ferociously again, said, “Ro, why don’t you run down to grab some magazines, and Aedion will go get you food and the book for Aelin?”

It was less of a question and more of a “Get your asses in gear, this is what we’re doing” statement, and with Aelin’s sniffling nod of confirmation. The men were off, Rowan coming back with a few magazines and the sweetest stuffed animal that Aelin had ever seen.

“What is that?” she laughed, eating another bite of ice chips.

Rowan sheepishly held the white ball of fluff in his hands. “I realized that when we were packing her bag, we didn’t bring her anything but clothes and diapers and the essential stuff. And I know she has tons at home, but... I wanted to give her her first stuffed animal, as her daddy, so…”

Aelin’s eyes were rimmed with tears as she said, “Can I see?”

His cheeks burned. “I didn’t have many great options, they’re doing a remodel down there, so… The White-Tailed Hawk was the highlighted animal of the month.” He held the soft bird out to her.

Aelin huffed a laugh as she took the bird into her hands and ran her fingers over the soft fur. “It’s perfect.”

She clung to that stuffed animal for the next few hours as Rowan ate his McDonalds. The book, however, had to wait, because by the time Aedion got back with everything, the contractions were brutal.

At least Rowan had finished his egg McMuffin before they pulled out the longest needle he had ever seen, making him lightheaded.

He nearly fainted when they stuck that needle into Aelin’s back.

It wasn’t much longer that she grew numb from the waist down, and not too much longer after that she felt the slightest bit of pressure, letting Alis know that the baby was wanting to make her grand appearance into the world.

Lysandra, much to her disappointment, was told she had to leave while Rowan remained, holding her hand as she began to push.

“You’re doing so good,” Rowan whispered, five minutes in. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Aelin closed her eyes and pressed her sweaty forehead against his, just as she started to push again.

They had both heard horror stories of women who had to push for hours and hours and hours. Thankfully, Aelin was not one of them, because half an hour after the first push, a soft cry filled the silent room.

“She’s here, baby, she’s here.” There were tears streaming down Rowan Whitethorn’s face as the doctors placed the small, wailing infant on Aelin’s chest. The cries quieted almost immediately and he kissed her head. “I love you so much. You did so amazing, Ace.”

Aelin was crying, looking down into the perfect face of her daughter. “Hello, beautiful girl. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Rowan laughed quietly, though even Aelin admitted that it sounded closer to a sob.

————

About an hour later, a quiet knock came from the door. Rowan opened the door to find Lysandra and Aedion waiting.

All it took was one smile from Rowan and Lysandra began to cry, throwing her arms around him. “Congratulations.”

He hugged her back, trying his best not to tear up again himself. “Thank you. Come meet her.”

After a quick hug from Aedion, Rowan led them into the room, where Aelin, fresh faced and hair in a messy bun on the top of her head, sat in the bed, gazing adoringly at the small bundle in her arms.

“Do you want to meet Auntie Lys and Uncle Aedion?” She cooed down at her daughter.

Sloan was sleeping, but it didn’t stop Lysandra from pressing her lips against the newborn's head, where a striped knit hat was pulled over her tufts of golden hair.

“Meet Sloan Elia Whitethorn,” Aelin said, quietly, brushing her finger over Sloan's soft cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” Lysandra whispered, and the moment Aelin asked if she wanted to hold her, Lysandra was crying again.

Rowan watched the entire scene play out from just inside of the door, leaning up against the wall. His wife, holding his baby girl. His friends, family, admiring their little creation. There was nothing like it. He had never imagined life could be so perfect, so joyful. He had never imagined he could love someone, two someones, so much.

And to think, he owed it all to a fucking dating app and an absurdly long layover at the airport.

He was so damn happy he swiped right.

#part 2 #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan #aelin #fanfic #fanfition #oneshot #sjm #collab

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bnha-goodness · 5 years ago

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I dont know of you write for this character, but can I get Earl Grey, Russian Caravan, and Matcha for Present Mic? If you don't do him, then maybe Aizawa?

I’m not super confident about writing for Present Mic but I’ll do my best! (To make up for it, I’ll write them for Aizawa too)

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

If it’s while you’re still in school together, mixtapes. I’m not even kidding. You open up your locker and in it is a little cassette with your name on it and a little heart and a doodle of his face on it. If it’s while he’s a teacher at UA, playlists. With your name as the title with a heart right next to it. When you listen to either of them, you can’t help but smile. It’s got some classics, “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire, “Hey Jude” by the Beatles, “Reptilia” by the Smiths. Songs that make him think of you. It’s so touching that you find him the next day and give him a big hug and a kiss, “I hope you’re dinner pick is as good as that mixtape.” He’ll be buzzing for the whole day.

matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?

He’ll have you come on as a special guest on his radio show, it’s part of a Q&A that he had planned. Some of the questions are directed at him but then he invites his listeners to ask you some questions too. Some of them are, how do you deal with the noise? What’s the most interesting thing to happen on a regular day with him? Each one you answered with a smile and a playful glance to your longtime boyfriend. And then the questions got a little odd, one listener asked, “You sound so pretty, would you marry me?” You laughed awkwardly, “That’s sweet, but I have other plans.” You winked at your boyfriend who seemed surprisingly unbothered by their question. And then another caller asked the same thing, and then again, and by that point you were feeling pretty uncomfortable. “What can I say, honey, everyone loves ya!” “Yeah I guess.” “Not as much as I do, obviously.” “Obviously.” There was a little bit of dead air as the two of you looked at one another, “Everyone had their chance to ask their questions and now it’s my turn, ready to get put on the spot babe?” “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He started off by asking you what his favorite color was, what his favorite food is, and what his favorite hot beverage is. After answering each one perfectly he sighed, “Aren’t they wonderful everyone, knows me inside and out. I’ve just got one last question, the ultimate test, if you will.” You laughed and braced yourself, ready for a tricky question, “Will you kindly tell me,” pause, “If you,” pause “would” pause, “do me the honor of marrying me?” He tried not to say it in one breath but he was still nervous so it came out that way anyway. Silence. “Oh honey...” the tears welled in your eyes as you threw yourself at him, almost knocking him off his seat, “was all of this so you could ask me to marry you? You goof, of course I will.” It was all over social media the next day.

russian caravan tea; how experienced are they with relationships?

Yes and no. His experience comes more from the length than the frequency of them. I’d say before he met you, he’d have been in two or three relationships, each of them six months to a year. He strikes me as a ride or die type, so if there’s an issue he’ll want to have worked it out. Unless it’s completely out of his control, then he’ll have done his best but understands when some things just don’t work, and you can’t exactly force them to.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

If it’s while you’re still in school together, secret letters. He wasn’t quite ready to admit his feelings so he opted for unnamed letters detailing how much he admired you and how much would’ve liked to get to know you. If it’s while he’s a teacher at UA, he’ll be upfront about it. He’ll hang out with you after his classes and will eat lunch with you on campus, eventually he’ll open up and tell you how he feels. In his mind, he’s got a lot on his plate as it is, he doesn’t want to waste time to courting if he knows you feel the same. He’d rather spend that time actually dating you and taking you out on a date.

matcha tea; how and when do they propose to their s/o?

It’s quite sweet actually. It’ll be Sunday, he’s caught up in grading papers so he takes the opportunity to be a little lazy. You guys will sleep in a little bit and he’ll wake up with you in his arms, he’ll kiss the top of your head and climb out of bed quietly. With a yawn he’ll make coffee for the both of you and heat up some toast, he’ll set his coffee down on his bedside table and walk over to your side of the bed. He’ll move your hair and kiss your forehead, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” “Shouta I thought today was a lazy day.” “It is, but you still need to eat something.” You groaned as you sat up but hummed in delight as you took that first sip of coffee. He’ll climb back in bed and wrap his arm around your shoulder pulling you in close. After your coffee you lay back down and switch on the TV, switching to a show you can idly watch, chatting in between scenes and commercials. He looks down at you and gently brushes your hair out of your eyes and just stares at you with all the adoration his body can muster, “What?” You laugh under the intensity of his loving gaze, “You know what I want to do today?” “Hm?” “I want to marry you.” Your heart sped up and the shift didn’t go unnoticed, “Sounds wonderful, Shouta, don’t you need to propose first?” And then you look down at his hand and your heart stopped in your throat, “When did you-?” “Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth?” The ring was delicate and beautiful and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You held his hand and leaned up to kiss him, your other hand resting on his cheek. “Absolutely.”

russian caravan tea; how experienced are they with relationships?

Same as Present Mic. He’s a ride or die type so his experience comes more from the length of the relationship than how many he’s been in. However, I would say he’s had a few more short term relationships than Hizashi. He’s not as stubborn and can see when a relationship just isn’t cut out or when it’s just a passing fancy.

#hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada #present mic #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #bnha #mha #request #prompt

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aimee-morales · 4 years ago

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“Maybe there are no words to say. I just want to be held.” ― Elizabeth Acevedo, The Poet X

There were no cameras, no MTV deal. It was a stuffy room with white walls, my mother playing boleros on the radio, the rosary tightly wound around her hand as if somehow that would ease the pain. My father would only make it at the end of visiting hours and sit there in silence, go over a few scores from the game, say some prayers and then kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, muñeca.” And then he’d be off, the quiet of the room consuming me, my arms waiting to hold the little human I had brought into the world. The room would brighten whenever Quinn and Ángel and Blake would come running through. Each of them would talk a mile a minute, as if everything was normal, as if at sixteen I hadn’t given birth to a son that would change the trajectory of my life. I remember how tightly I held onto Blake’s hand, the look in her eyes, the look in their eyes as if they were just happy it wasn’t them. I’d like to say that I found comfort in Quinn’s eyes, in his arms, that I looked at him and trusted that everything would be okay. But I didn’t. I was fucking terrified and not even he could assure me that things would be okay. No matter how many times he ran his hand over my head, or kissed me or told me he loved me. Not even the thought of having him forever was enough to keep me anchored. I was fucking terrified. What kind of mother would I be?

“I’ve had a lot of things to feel ashamed about and I’ve learned most of them are other people’s problems. Not mine.”― Elizabeth Acevedo, With the Fire on High

In my high school years, we’d go to the Dominican Republic every summer. Mami would pack up my suitcase for me because she didn’t trust me to bring clothes that wouldn’t completely show off my ass. I’d tell her we were going to the DR “Ellas inventaron culo!” I’d shout from my room before laughter ripped through me and it would only grow when I’d hear her giggle in the other room. The day before I left, Q would come by to pick me up and I’d hold his hand as we drove around Redwood Bay blasting music from his radio. I’d tease him about all the boys I’d meet and he’d kiss me until the sun went down, whispering promises to me that I was so sure we’d be able to keep. I’d spend the summer missing him, thinking about what he would look like, sound like, feel like when I got back. But I’d let myself get lost in the feeling of the sand underneath my feet, the sound of the ocean moving, the thought of the hopes and dreams my ancestors must have had for centuries. Surely their wildest dreams could not have been me. But sitting there on the beach, the smell of mofongo and sancocho beckoning me back to the house, the sound of Wilfrido Vargas coming from the radios that sat on the windows. I thought, maybe I’m not my ancestors wildest dreams but maybe I can be mine. I had the whole world in front of me, all I had to do was go out there and see it. All I had to do was go out there.

“Everything changes. I'll learn to be fine.” ― Elizabeth Acevedo, With the Fire on High

Mason had just turned 13 and almost as if he was trying to initiate me into parenting a teenager, he threw a fit at his party about his father. About how he wanted to spend the day with him, about how he wanted to see him, about how none of what I had done had been enough. I still remember the way it felt like a punch in the gut. Did this kid know I spent ten months with him inside of me? Nurturing him, loving him, just so he could come into the world and speak to me like this? He was lucky I didn’t let his grandparents get involved, my father was more than ready to give him a light tap to his side with his cane and my mother, well, no one ever wants to get my mother angry. I knew that I was supposed to talk him through it, maybe apologize but all I could do was cry. I walked away and curled into a corner of my old bedroom and cried my eyes out, feeling like a failure, until two scrawny hands could be felt on my back and it was the first time in a long time I had heard my son apologize to me. I turned to him and grabbed his face, “Hay tantas cosas que no sabes, mijo.” I told him as I ran my fingers through his hair and he looked at me with those same warm eyes that looked like this fathers. There are so many things you don’t know. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to tell him about all the pain I felt. I wanted to tell him that his mother was a failure, that every day she got up and thought about all of her regrets. I wanted to tell him that he was my shining star but that it had been hard to have him, it had been hard to raise him. I wanted to tell him that he could never understand that I would always be in love with his father, even if I couldn’t stand the sight of his face. That you could hate the person you loved the most. So instead I took a hold of his face, I kissed his forehead, I told him I loved him, I forgave him and that maybe next year. There was always next year.

(listen here)

#about aimee #meant to be played on shuffle for sure #playlist #muse? unlocked bitch #teen pregnancy tw

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bearcina · 4 years ago

Text

Fallout OC Seven Day SPECIAL: Luck

Welcome to the seventh, and final day. Today I’ll be giving a long fic, and some good Q&A

Gonna miss Elisavet and her shenanigains? Here’s the fic.

All entries in the series will be posted to the fic as soon as this goes up.

Q&A

What is your OC’s unmodified Luck stat? Another perfect 10. She’s born of four-leaf clovers, upright horseshoes, and good fortune.

How fortunate (or not) overall is your OC? Very, very fortunate. She’s never lost her life savings, she stumbles upon what she needs when she needs it, she never really loses prized possessions, and she’s very fortunate at the gambling tables.

Do they seem to stumble upon necessary supplies easily, or do they never seem to find what they need? She can always find what she needs and usually right when she needs it. Need a few more caps? That filing cabinet conveniently has just enough to fill her pockets to get it. About out of ammo? Well, looks like there’s a convenient ammo stash right there. Need some chems and liquor? Looks like that desk has some hidden away in the drawers.

Have they survived an injury that, had it been someone else, would have been fatal? She’s survived countless deathclaw maulings, and ov fourse, she managed to get back up after Benny tried to execute her and leave her in a shallow grave.

Do good things or bad things happen more around them? She definitely brings good luck eveywhere, plants tend to produce more, battle spoils are plenty, and her companions have even noticed how much better their luck is- whether it be having an extra pair of socks or a whole new stimpack when they need it.

Ficlet

Elisavet's eyes were wider than a full moon. Her hands were bound, a filthy cloth had been shoved in her mouth, and she was kneeling at the foot of what was about to be her grave. Sylvia was going to kill her. The man in the checkered suit stubbed out a lit cigarette. The weight of a once-familiar platinum chip was gone- her chest was heavy in its place. Sylvia, her bright red hear flashed in her memory, her heavenly laugh rang in her ears. She almost couldn't hear what the men were saying. This really was going to be it, wasn't it? She committed the scene to memory. The man in the checkered suit, the impatient men with shovels, and the glint of the top of the platinum chip. Sylvia's quilt was visible just out of the corner of her eye, and she started to cry. Shit, she was done for. She knew she shouldn't have taken the job. Sylvia had said she had an awful feeling about it. No, Elisavet needed to bring home those caps- she thought it would have been better than this. They almost had enough for their own brahmin to go with their shack they had built. A shuddering sob raked through her body, she looked the man in the eyes, pleading to just let her go- she wanted to go home and see Sylvia. She'd stop doing courier work just to go home and see her partner again. She would give up anything to just see the red hair of her wife once more. It had been a whole month since she had seen Sylvia in person, now she never will see her again.

"Maybe Khans kill somebody without looking them in the face-" Oh no. This really was the end of the line. "-but I ain't a Fink, dig?" Silence was heavy. She was paying attention, but she could only let the tears run hot down her face. "You've made your last delivery, kid." The man seemed to scowl for half a second, as if he had an ounce of regret. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene," A shiny silver gun was drawn from his jacket. It was the end of the line. She wasn't ready- she still had a ring to give to Sylvia. The light caught on the shiny gun as it was aimed at her head. She stared up at the checkered coat, then to the eyes of the man, envying the well tailored suit for only a second. She was filled with sorrow, fear, rage. "From where you're kneeling, it must look like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck." The finality in his voice shook her to the core. She had never had bad luck like this before, never in her worst moments. There was no escape, she stared the man in the eyes, hoping to make it a haunting scene. She was scared, yes. She didn't want to look the man in the eyes. She would at least face her death with enough dignity to look the man in the eyes and watch it come for her. "The truth is," The gun was cocked. "the game was rigged from the start."

It was only a second of blinding pain. Elisavet had fallen back into the shallow grave without grace, blood splattering on the ground, and on her quilt.

The light was bright. She hissed in pain, twitching as she tried to pull a blanket that didn't exist over her eyes. The voice of a man cut through the tense silence. "You're awake. How about that." He was shocked. She coughed a few times, before trying to sit herself upright. Pain broke out all through her head, everything going into white as she groaned. She had to have been dead- but the dead don't usually feel pain, right? She felt arms helping her get into a sitting position, leaning her against a wall. She kept coughing, her throat and mouth felt like she had hot mojave sand all in it. A cup was eased into her hands- but her eyes were still clamped shut. Still too bright. Curtains were drawn over the blinds, and she could finally bare to open her eyes a fraction. Everything was blurry- where were her glasses? Did she wear glasses? She squeezed the cup in her hands, it didn't feel familiar at all, not even like one she would get at a bar. She looked at it, before spilling some on her lap- where were her pants? It felt like water anyways, so she took a cautious sip- completely missing her mouth the first three or five times. "Where the hell am I?" She muttered, scanning the room, before settling her vision on an older man, dressed up sort-of like a cowboy. She then realized she was being spoken to, or well, more like at. "You've been out cold for a couple of days now." He sighed, looking at her with confusion. A couple of days? Does it take that long to pass? Everything was too bright to feel like the afterlife, though. Way too damn bright. "Why don't you relax for a minute- maybe drink that water. Get your bearings." She could appreciate that he was being gentle, and not ridiculing her for wearing most of the water. Felt like she didn't have much of a shirt on, either. Real fucking cold with the water seeping down her chest.

"Let's see what the damage is." Damage? "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" He inquired, looking like it would take a miracle to know her own name. "My name." She sighed. She knew her own name. "My name is," Wait what was her name? "I… My name…" She squinted in thought, and took a half-sip of water again. "Think it starts with an E." She took another sip of the water, this time managing to not spill any of it. Her brain felt like sand, worse than sand, like hot sand mixed with radio static. "You.. You sure you know your own name?" He asked again, looking more defeated. "No! I. I know my name." She hissed, before getting sad as she didn't remember it. "I know it's got an E at the front," She sighed, and tapped the glass with her fingers a minute. "Ah. Right. Elisavet." Elisavet smiled, the realization of her own name finally giving her clarity. "Elisavet. Only Elisavet, I think." "I'll take that as a win… Knowing your first name is good enough for now." The man sighed with relief. "Can't say I would've picked that for you, but if that's your name, that’s your name." He nodded. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings." Doc Mitchell finalized, before standing up. She was real fucking lucky to have managed to have not met her fate in a shallow grave.

#fallout oc seven day special #fallout oc #fallout new vegas #courier six #eliavet

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years ago

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Good Intentions: Season 3 Finale (Ep 6 of 6)

The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but the way out is paved with good deeds. Also on AO3. ~ Dracusfyre

When they landed on Earth, it was just Steve and Tony; Sam and Bucky's soul was nowhere to be seen. Steve must have seen Tony looking around for them, because as he made his way towards the road Tony could just barely see through the trees he said, "Sam is going to meet us. There's a process to bringing a soul out of Hell." Tony raised his eyebrows as he followed without comment, because to be fair, he had always been under the impression that it was a one way street. Once they got to the street they saw a woman leaning against a car a few meters away.

"Hey, Steve," the woman said with a small smile, squeezing him on the shoulder as Steve leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

“I recognize you,” Tony said to the woman behind the wheel as he climbed into the back of the car. “From that first night with Bucky.”

“Yeah, I was pretty shocked when I found out Bucky’s bullshit summoning spell actually worked,” the woman said as Steve climbed into the front seat and she threw the car back into drive. “I’m Natasha, by the way, and I’ve been playing Q to this ragtag band of misfits. I’m from the Men of Letters.”

“Men of Letters, huh?” Tony took a minute to digest that. “You’re the one who gave him the summoning spell?”

Natasha rolled her eyes as the dirt road became a two lane back road and she was able to accelerate. “I watched him do it and I thought no way in hell it would work. It shouldn’t have worked.”

“Well, it didn’t really work. I was just curious.”

Natasha glanced at him in the review mirror, the look in her eyes unreadable. “You were curious?”

Tony shrugged, wondering why she was looking at him like that. “Yeah. Also, have you seen the man?” he said, ignoring the strangled noise Steve made in the front seat. “I may be dead, but I’m not…dead dead.”

beware the read more

“Alright, well, when I write the official report on this, I’m going to make sure I note that the factor that led to this particular apocalypse being averted was one curious, horny demon,” Natasha said dryly, and turned on the radio. Tony considered asking more about what she meant by that but decided he might not want to think about the answer just yet so he just lay down and closed his eyes, letting the rhythms of the road soothe him into the meditative state that passed for sleep among demons.

The movement of the car on gravel as it slowed to a stop woke Tony some time later and he sat up and looked out the window at where Natasha had taken them, pretty damn ready to find out what happened with Bucky and how they planned to protect him from Azazel. Protect all of them from Azazel, really, because when he saw that his precious had been stolen he was going to be one angry archdemon. “So, not to be that guy or anything, but why am I here?” Tony said as they climbed out of the car. “Wherever here is?” He craned his neck up at the blocky, industrial building. It looked like an old power station, with two chimneys looming into the grey sky and the stained exterior with its barred, prison-looking windows.

“This is the Men of Letters headquarters for the Midwestern states,” Natasha explained as they came around to the far side of the building, where a couple of steps led down to a wide metal door. “And one reason why you are here is because Steve refused to leave you behind.” She gave him a look as she approached the keypad set into the door, and Tony backed up to give her some privacy.

“But I wasn’t the one being held against my will,” Tony pointed out.

“Well, there were a couple of reasons why I insisted on it,” Steve said as Natasha swung the heavy metal door open to reveal a small elevator. He gestured for Tony to step inside and followed him. Natasha closed the old fashioned metal door and the grating behind it and pushed a button, and the elevator started to move with surprising silence, given its age. “Some of those reasons had to do with Bucky. We knew that he made a deal with you, because he left us a note.” The look on Steve’s face said that he was going to have some Words with Bucky about whatever was in that note. The elevator came to a stop, and when Natasha opened the grating again Tony found himself unable to leave.

“Devil’s trap?” Tony asked, not sure why he was surprised.

"The other reason is that I want to know just how much you had to do with Azazel's plot," Steve said, voice hard. He rested a hand on the demon-killing knife strapped to his thigh.

"So keeping your potential enemy close, then?"

“Yeah. Just while we talk to Bucky and figure everything out," Natasha said and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her coat pocket. As they dangled from her finger, Tony could see the runes etched on them. "You understand.”

“Yeah, fine,” Tony said with resignation and held out his hands for her to put them on his wrists. “I mean, you pretty much burned my bridges back in Hell by bringing me out, so. I hope you’re ok with me hanging out here until infinity.”

They led Tony down a wrought iron spiral staircase to hang out in the library while they had their powwow, and Tony happily wandered through the books lining the walls. They had one whole bookshelf devoted to the engineering principles of magical inventions so Tony sat down on floor and forgot himself until he heard someone say his name.“Over here,” he called out absently, and looked up to see Bucky. Suddenly he was glad he was already sitting down because the overwhelming wave of relief made him sag against the wall. Bucky looked great. There was no angel superimposed over his form, which is what Tony'd been more than half afraid of, nor was there any sign of the time he spent in Hell. It was as if the past few months had never happened. "Hey, Bucky," Tony managed. "What's up?"

"Hey, Tony," Bucky said, running a hand over the back of his neck as he took a few hesitant steps closer. When he saw the cuffs on Tony's wrists he made a face and knelt down at Tony's side. "I'm so sorry, Tony, this is all my fault. Are you ok?"

Tony shrugged, still running his eyes over the miracle that was Bucky alive and well. "It's fine, no big deal. How are you?"

"Um..." Bucky sat next to him on the floor and gestured towards the rest of the bunker. "I feel like there's a lot of catching up to do? But otherwise, I feel great." He smiled crookedly. "From what I understand, I'm a brand new man."

"Yeah? I don't know, they haven't told me much. I think they're still worried that I'm playing for the other team," he said, holding up his wrists.

"Well, about that." Bucky said slowly, and he leaned over until their shoulders were brushing. He ran the back of his fingers shyly across the back of Tony's hand. "That's another thing they wanted me to talk to you about." When Tony met his eyes questioningly he said, "how would you like another chance at being human?"

***

Had Tony known what the ritual was going to be like, he probably would have turned it down and just lived in the Men of Letters bunker for eternity. If he'd ever felt this level of pain he had blacked it out; each injection of consecrated blood burned like holy water, like acid, through his veins and down to the very core of him. By the third dose, he wasn’t ashamed to say that he begged for them to stop; by the fifth, Bucky’s resolve was gone, and Natasha had been forced to put him in a wrist lock and march him out the door. She watched him, her brown eyes sympathetic, as he burned and sweated and cursed through the sixth dose, and after that the pain seemed to ebb. By the last one, he barely felt the sting of the needle, he was so exhausted; he heard someone murmuring and felt the ropes around his wrists and ankles loosening and that was the last thing he knew before he gratefully passed out.

When he came to, gingerly testing his limbs for any searing pain, Bucky looked up from his book. “Hey, Tony. How are you feeling?”

Tony took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand and his heart pump, his stomach growl and his head ache. Things he hadn't felt in ages.

It was amazing. He turned his head and smiled at Bucky. “Hungry. Thirsty.”

"C'mon," Bucky said and stood, holding his hand out to Tony. "Let's take care of that and see what other human things you feel up to doing."

"Sounds good," Tony said as he let Bucky pull him to his feet. "I mean, now that I've gone one again, I'd totally sell my soul for a sandwich and a good lay, in that order."

#bucky x tony #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #prompt fill #dracusfyre #winteriron #supernatural au

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thedivinefish · 4 years ago

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TGIWednesday and having a twin flame love energy

TGIWednesday News

You know that person when you see them you want to kiss their face off? Maybe you complete their sentences for them or you just feel like they complete you? That’s twin flame energy for sure! It does not have to be romantic. It can be a best friend or a child or a relative or your “work spouse”, but it’s that someone you're just always excited to see. That is the kind of energy that we want to encourage and foster and know that it is real and if you have not experienced it yet, it’s coming. Granny Ruth (my mom) used to say, “YEAH you can do it baby……..go for it!” So just know that whether you had the best Valentine’s Day ever or stared out the window longing for what was or could have been. It’s coming. Always learn from your past, stay grounded in the now moment, but lean forward ever so slightly into a better more exciting future. I believe if you act like that, Spirit will lead the way to improving every area of your life and so it is and may the rest of your life be the best of your life and remember to make progress every day! Reminder, when you visit the shop this month and use the code LOVE44 you will receive an automatic 22% off the Ideal Love Audio MP3 for $44 through the end of this month.

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~ TWIN FLAME LOVE ENERGY ~ I believe, think, know and feel that the twin flame love energy flows in, around and through me now. I am ready, willing and able to believe that the best of love in me and towards others is yet to come. I know, when, where, how and why to allow spirit to show me how love will find a way. I am asking throughout all time lines and in all languages including the language of love and so it is.

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Jimmy Mack will be offering sessions at Dr. Charla Tempone’s NEW office at Swann Holistic Health Solutions from 10-4 on Friday February 19th. 403 S. Habana Ave. Tampa, FL 33609 Just south of Azeele next to Skin Savvy http://www.ctholisticsolutions.com

Please call their office directly at ☎️ (813) 873-7773 in order to get on the schedule for 15-minutes $38 or 30-minutes $68. If you’re new to working with me, I suggest you schedule 30 minutes.

From the Fish Box

Q & A with Jimmy Q) "Jimmy, I purchased the package with the session through You Wealth Revolution recently. Should I go through your mp3 more before doing the private session? I actually did this for my husband. So I hope you do not mind working with him during the session in my place? How many sessions does one person need to get the release from the condition? Is it something you can tell after the first session? Thank you." - Annie A) "Correct, you should at least listen to several of the Mp3's and read all you can prior to the session, whether it is for you or your husband. It is fine to go through him standing in your place if you're ok with that or through you for him. I never know what I'll encounter or how long before changes etc., but whomever has the session live can actually feel things coming and going and we're hopeful for improvements in every area of life." - Jimmy

February Zoom Switches Event

These calls are unique in that you have the benefit of tapping into a multitude of issues that our participants with truly insightful comments have submitted for the group each month on a different topic.

We compile that list of dozens of write-ins and one by one, Jimmy clears them ALL together during the live calls. And know too that during the LIVE call, Jimmy brings in additional pieces from Spirit in the moment of reading each item that really expand on things and cover the clearings in a much deeper way. The value in this is tremendous! Instead of paying $68 for a half hour one on one with me where we might clear a dozen or so items, you can join our group each month for just $22 where together in 30 minutes you will watch in silence and amazement as you hear and feel the shifts of over 100 items - most of which you haven’t even thought of until you hear them LIVE!! NEXT LIVE ZOOM EVENT Wed. February 24th at 7:30pm Register now - $22 (includes replay) https://calendly.com/jmh-calls/feb2021-switches Theme: Clearing the blocks and calling in The One! 🥰 All about Love/Soul Mate/Twin Flame energy. Want to increase and strengthen the love bond with your current partner? Is your energy clear and aligned to bring in that someone special? What past love traumas do you still need to clear? What beliefs do you have about love that are getting in your way?

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack FEBRUARY 17th "Today I will stake claim to what is mine. I will boldly ask, "For Me?" and grab what is mine with zeal and enthusiasm. I will continue to stick up for myself and my family, relatives and friends. I will demand an answer to the question, "For me?"

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Nightly prayers include COVID-19. Each night we work on scrambling the frequency for everyone on the prayer list. Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you.

In addition, throughout the full 30-days, Jimmy will be dialing into your energetic signature each day upon rising and make certain that you are a clear yes, unclear to no and running forward before you start your day. He is doing the heavy lifting for you around 3am NY time while most of you are asleep in order to smooth out your way and increase your most favorable life outcomes.

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Upon written email request, for each new order we offer a one-time email analysis via the intelligent healing software that Jimmy uses on your behalf. Most clients have had amazing results and outcomes!

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers. *NOTE if the MDP Service was purchased via a special telesummit or radio show offer, prayers will be limited to BUYER ONLY - and will not include family members or pets.

You can run this monthly and stop at any time after the 30 days is up, you will have the opportunity to renew and update your list each month but are under no obligation. I believe you will experience magical transformations and make progress every day!

For those who aren't familiar, below is a list of the 30+ audios in the MyBeliefWorks series.... Find a topic that addresses your issue(s), click on the link to read more. We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better. Don't forget... you can share these with your immediate friends and family.

Abundance Abuse Addiction Body Scan: Head to Toe Bountiful Harvest Creatives Daily GPS Reset Dark Energies/Fears Decision Making Diet & Exercise Education & Learning Family & Relatives Financial Windfall The Gold Coin Healing Body Disorders Healing Mental Stress

Holiday Stress Increasing Intuition IRS & Tax Time Love & Romance Money Mindset Moving Forward Pain Relief Pet Healing Sales & Success Improving Sex Improving Sleep Traveling w/Ease Work & Career Weight Loss Youth & Vitality

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The Certificate of Mastery Program includes 2 best-selling ebooks and 2 clearing audios plus written & video instructions, AND one-on-one time with Jimmy ALL for about the cost of a single 1-hr session! This online course is for anyone who is familiar with OR new to "fishing" and is ready to dive into the deep end & get results that are beyond the ordinary! It includes The Tackle Box & The Dowser's Handbook ebooks PLUS 2 MP3s "Clearing Dark Energies" & "Increasing Your Intuition" to help clear, strengthen and prepare your energy field for optimal “fishing” results. This is a work-at-your-own-pace curriculum that will TEACH & CLEAR you at the same time! In under 2wks you will be finished with the program and ready to fish on your own with greater results! Level II offers Practitioner Certification for those who qualify.

Live Radio Show Appearances

2021 UPDATE THE JIMMY MACK HEALING SHOW GOING FORWARD As you know by now, I will not be returning to our weekly show in 2021. We will of course be guest or co-hosting on a variety of other shows on occasion. So stay tuned to this section of TGIW as a variety of future show line ups will be posted!

Watch hundreds of replays for FREE here in the archives: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

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Jimmy Mack | Appointments Skype: Jimmy.Mack55 Clearwater Florida USA Book a 15 minute session Book a 30 minute session Book a 60 minute session Transformational Healing of Body, Mind & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations! Download the My Liquid Fish™ Starter Kit (*Updated December 2020) Audio MP3 Downloads and books to improve your life! Get Certified in My Liquid Fish™Change Made Simple™ Watch Free Videos on YouTube Radio Show Archives Shop for Supplements http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com Copyright ©1998-2021 All Rights Reserved

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divinefishingtips · 4 years ago

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TGIWednesday and having a twin flame love energy

TGIWednesday News

TGIWednesday Download

Tampa Office Sessions

SWANN HOLISTIC HEALTH SOLUTIONS - THIS FRIDAY FEBRUARY 19th

Please call their office directly at ☎️ (813) 873-7773 in order to get on the schedule for 15-minutes $38 or 30-minutes $68. If you’re new to working with me, I suggest you schedule 30 minutes.

From the Fish Box

February Zoom Switches Event

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

Live Radio Show Appearances

Watch hundreds of replays for FREE here in the archives: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

LEARN ABOUT CERTIFICATION HERE

TGIFunny

Forward

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com

Stay connected!

Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

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advancedthetapractitioner · 4 years ago

Text

TGIWednesday and having a twin flame love energy

TGIWednesday News

TGIWednesday Download

Tampa Office Sessions

SWANN HOLISTIC HEALTH SOLUTIONS - THIS FRIDAY FEBRUARY 19th

Please call their office directly at ☎️ (813) 873-7773 in order to get on the schedule for 15-minutes $38 or 30-minutes $68. If you’re new to working with me, I suggest you schedule 30 minutes.

From the Fish Box

February Zoom Switches Event

Fish Food

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

Live Radio Show Appearances

Watch hundreds of replays for FREE here in the archives: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

LEARN ABOUT CERTIFICATION HERE

TGIFunny

Forward

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com

Stay connected!

Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

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drippeddaily · 7 years ago

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A look back to D'Angelo's Black Messiah, three years later.

”Black Messiah is a hell of a name for an album. It can easily be misunderstood. Many will think it’s about religion. Some will jump into to the conclusion that I’m calling myself a Black Messiah. For me, the title is about all of us. It’s about the world. It’s about an idea we can all aspire to. We should all aspire to be a Black Messiah.”

”It’s about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It’s not about praising one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them. Not every song on this album is politically charged (though many are), but calling this album Black Messiah creates a landscape where these songs can live to the fullest. Black Messiah is not one man. It’s a feeling that, collectively, we are all that leader.”

In the first words in the booklet of Black Messiah, D’Angelo explains that Black Messiah is not a hero, a leader, or him; he is no Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King or Malcolm X, D’Angelo is just a musician who wants to reflect the current situation. And that is shown in 1000 Deaths, the second song in the album, that showcases the pacifist position of D’Angelo. It first starts with a sample from a 1995 debate between Khalid Abdul Muhammad and Anthony J. Hilder called “The Origin of Jesus Christ: Myth or Reality”. This sample is a 83 seconds intervention of Khalid, whose argument is based on how Christ was not the ‘blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned, buttermilk complexion Christ’, but actually a black man, the black messiah:

I’m talking about the Jesus of the Bible, with hair like lamb’s wool. I'm talking about that good hair, I'm talking about that nappy hair. That his body would be like beryl. Another scripture said his body would be like jasper. Another scripture said his body would be like fine brass, as though it had been burned in an oven. Jesus: the Lord, the Savior, the Master, the Redeemer. Jesus, the Black revolutionary Messiah.

And that was later addressed on Muhammad’s Kean University intervention: It's the white man- the white man got a God complex. That’s what names Black Messiah, not only the sense of community, but the sense of an afrocentric community. And that sense shined during the protests after the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown, months prior the release of Black Messiah. Before this skit ends another sample kicks in, this time from Fred Hampton, a deputy chairman on the National Black Panther party. Threatened by the FBI, he was murdered on December 1969, and months prior to his death he gave a speech where this sample comes from:

"Black people need some peace, white people need some peace. And we are going to have to fight, we're going to have to struggle, we're going to have to struggle relentlessly to bring about some peace because the people that we're asking for peace, they're a bunch of megalomaniac war-mongers, and they don't even understand what peace means. We've got to fight them, we've got to struggle with them to make them understand what peace means."

It’s ironic how precisely he got murdered by those ‘megalomaniac war-mongers’. But that’s what matters in this skit, the sense of unity of communities to get the best for everyone. It’s not about black vs white, it’s about people vs power.

And then we get to the actual song. Over guitars and muddy funk, D’Angelo’s distorted voice sings from two different perspectives, giving two meanings to 1000 Deaths: first, he sings as a soldier who is sent to the war and fears how his death is so near, but it also is from the point of view of Jesus before his death. The hill he mentions can be taken as the hill before the battle field, or the hill where Jesus was crucified. The soldier is thrilled, and so is Jesus, but both believe it’s from a larger good (winning a war and bringing peace or following God’s will).

Later in the chorus, D’Angelo mentions once again a extract of Khalid Abdul Muhammad, and once again in his Kean university speech:

“Jesus the Black Revolutionary Messiah said, “He or she who seeks to save their life shall lose their life. He or she, yet out of wisdom, but he or she who does not fear death shall save their life.” A coward dies a death a thousand times maybe in one day, a coward is dying all the time. But when you can look death in the face and snatch death’s tongue out of death’s mouth and rebuke the grave, rebuke the grave!”

Because a coward dies a thousand times But a soldier only dies just once Once, once

Then in the third verse, D’Angelo names God and Jesus again, but through their hebrew names: Yahweh and Yeshua. But in the second line he goes back to the war: ‘he don’t want no coward soldier’, and that’s what D’Angelo really wants to say with this song, mixing politics, revolution, war and faith: God and Jesus only want the best for us, and want us to be free. The sense of community comes back, compared to Jesus: for him being a messiah is not being a leader, but being a martyr, someone to guide the people through bad moments and being an example.

But as he says, not everything in Black Messiah is about politics. Sometimes it’s personal issues. The spark that ignited these issues was the video for Untitled (How Does It Feel), Voodoo’s third single. Inspired by Prince’s work, the video was released few weeks before the release of Voodoo and the airplay helped to increase the single’s and album’s popularity due to its heavily controversial content: D’Angelo bare naked, lip-syncing and doing gestures. All of this made D’Angelo a sex symbol, leading to frustration on his part. In the Voodoo tour, which lasted for six months, many women in the audience asked him to get naked and in general things that made him feel uncomfortable. One thing lead to another, and he ended up wanting to lose his fit figure, he wanted to get fat, to lose his sex symbol position. Months after the tour his friend Fred Jordan commited suicide, in April 2001, which lead to heavy alcoholism. 4 years later and after more alcoholism and drug abuse, his girlfriend had left him, he lost contact with most of his family and parted ways with his managers and attorney. One album was scrapped around that time, which apparently sounded like "Parliament/Funkadelic meets the Beatles meets Prince, and the whole time there's this Jimi Hendrix energy". After being arrested for possession of marijuana and cocaine, mugshots of him began to circulate. The muscular and sexy D’Angelo wasn’t there anymore, just an unhealthy and overweight version of him. Weeks after being sentenced for drugs charge, the infamous car crash happened. After that, he went into rehab.

Two years of radio silence ended with Questlove playing a new song, Really Love, in an australian radio. Because the center of the personal issues of D’Angelo, and who saved him, was Questlove. Him and Amy Winehouse. Both had been friends for a long time, and intended to form a group with Mos Def, but the sudden death of Amy stopped them. Following her death, Questlove begged D’Angelo to stop the ten year process of self-destruction he had been going through. He didn’t want him to end up like many ‘cursed stars’, like Kurt Cobain, Aaliyah or Amy Winehouse herself. These words were what changed D’Angelo’s path, and around that time he went back to recording again, this time with Pino Palladino, James Gadson and Questlove. Almost at the same time, D’Angelo goes back on tour and plays some new songs live, like Sugah Daddy and The Charade.

The personal issues are what matter on Black Messiah after all. D’Angelo went on a 15 year journey to a personal hell, and came back to tell everyone about it. The topics of love in many forms are spread through the album and the sound mixes influences in its torrid and thick funk, with obsessive guitar riffs, big basses, choirs that answer D’Angelo’s voice. The layers of sound overlap and disappear at will, with groovy pianos, precious strings, harmonical claps. Really Love stands out, starting with a female voice in spanish over strings and following with a beautiful acoustic guitar that progresses into latin rhythms, and D’Angelo offering one of his best vocal performances.

Finally, the Black Messiah booklet ends with a few words in caps:

ALL WE WANTED WAS A CHANCE TO TALK.

'STEAD, WE ONLY GOT OUTLINED IN CHALK.

This is part of the chorus to The Charade, another one of the political tracks in the album. It’s one of the most hard-hitting because of how direct it is, referencing how many oppressed communities (black, latin communities) have had to fight and die to be able to get some basic rights like voting, which in many cases conservative parties have been trying to deny, like republicans on Florida. Once Black Messiah ends, there is not much to say other than it being a proud lesson in history and a superb message about the radiant present of an artist who long ago seemed lost yet now sounds more alive, inspired and needed than ever.

He signed two of the records that redefined R&B and soul during the nineties - Brown Sugar in 1995 and Voodoo five years later - and then, vanished. For the last fifteen years, Michael Eugene Archer's work had been counted collaborations in other people's work, like J Dilla, Q-Tip, Common or Snoop Dogg, a few tours and tons of problems -sentimental, legal, accidental- that seemed to condemn him to the altar of the great accursed on music. The intermittent rumours of his comeback -years and years of talking about a James River that should have been his third album- were giving rise to hope, albeit not on their own terms: D’Angelo didn’t say a thing and it was close friends and collaborators -Questlove from The Roots, basically- who allowed us to keep the faith. Finally, two things happened that made D’Angelo release Black Messiah: first, James River turned into Black Messiah, and instead of the intended release in 2015 it got released in a very late 2014, December 15th, justified by the boiling hot political situation in the USA. That brings up the first and obligatory point when it comes up when talking Black Messiah: politics.”Black Messiah is a hell of a name for an album. It can easily be misunderstood. Many will think it’s about religion. Some will jump into to the conclusion that I’m calling myself a Black Messiah. For me, the title is about all of us. It’s about the world. It’s about an idea we can all aspire to. We should all aspire to be a Black Messiah.””It’s about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It’s not about praising one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them. Not every song on this album is politically charged (though many are), but calling this album Black Messiah creates a landscape where these songs can live to the fullest. Black Messiah is not one man. It’s a feeling that, collectively, we are all that leader.”In the first words in the booklet of Black Messiah, D’Angelo explains that Black Messiah is not a hero, a leader, or him; he is no Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King or Malcolm X, D’Angelo is just a musician who wants to reflect the current situation. And that is shown in 1000 Deaths, the second song in the album, that showcases the pacifist position of D’Angelo. It first starts with a sample from a 1995 debate between Khalid Abdul Muhammad and Anthony J. Hilder called “The Origin of Jesus Christ: Myth or Reality”. This sample is a 83 seconds intervention of Khalid, whose argument is based on how Christ was not the ‘blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned, buttermilk complexion Christ’, but actually a black man, the black messiah:I’m talking about the Jesus of the Bible, with hair like lamb’s wool. I'm talking about that good hair, I'm talking about that nappy hair. That his body would be like beryl. Another scripture said his body would be like jasper. Another scripture said his body would be like fine brass, as though it had been burned in an oven. Jesus: the Lord, the Savior, the Master, the Redeemer. Jesus, the Black revolutionary Messiah.And that was later addressed on Muhammad’s Kean University intervention: It's the white man- the white man got a God complex. That’s what names Black Messiah, not only the sense of community, but the sense of an afrocentric community. And that sense shined during the protests after the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown, months prior the release of Black Messiah. Before this skit ends another sample kicks in, this time from Fred Hampton, a deputy chairman on the National Black Panther party. Threatened by the FBI, he was murdered on December 1969, and months prior to his death he gave a speech where this sample comes from:"Black people need some peace, white people need some peace. And we are going to have to fight, we're going to have to struggle, we're going to have to struggle relentlessly to bring about some peace because the people that we're asking for peace, they're a bunch of megalomaniac war-mongers, and they don't even understand what peace means. We've got to fight them, we've got to struggle with them to make them understand what peace means."It’s ironic how precisely he got murdered by those ‘megalomaniac war-mongers’. But that’s what matters in this skit, the sense of unity of communities to get the best for everyone. It’s not about black vs white, it’s about people vs power.And then we get to the actual song. Over guitars and muddy funk, D’Angelo’s distorted voice sings from two different perspectives, giving two meanings to 1000 Deaths: first, he sings as a soldier who is sent to the war and fears how his death is so near, but it also is from the point of view of Jesus before his death. The hill he mentions can be taken as the hill before the battle field, or the hill where Jesus was crucified. The soldier is thrilled, and so is Jesus, but both believe it’s from a larger good (winning a war and bringing peace or following God’s will).Later in the chorus, D’Angelo mentions once again a extract of Khalid Abdul Muhammad, and once again in his Kean university speech:“Jesus the Black Revolutionary Messiah said, “He or she who seeks to save their life shall lose their life. He or she, yet out of wisdom, but he or she who does not fear death shall save their life.” A coward dies a death a thousand times maybe in one day, a coward is dying all the time. But when you can look death in the face and snatch death’s tongue out of death’s mouth and rebuke the grave, rebuke the grave!”Because a coward dies a thousand timesBut a soldier only dies just onceOnce, onceThen in the third verse, D’Angelo names God and Jesus again, but through their hebrew names: Yahweh and Yeshua. But in the second line he goes back to the war: ‘he don’t want no coward soldier’, and that’s what D’Angelo really wants to say with this song, mixing politics, revolution, war and faith: God and Jesus only want the best for us, and want us to be free. The sense of community comes back, compared to Jesus: for him being a messiah is not being a leader, but being a martyr, someone to guide the people through bad moments and being an example.But as he says, not everything in Black Messiah is about politics. Sometimes it’s personal issues. The spark that ignited these issues was the video for Untitled (How Does It Feel), Voodoo’s third single. Inspired by Prince’s work, the video was released few weeks before the release of Voodoo and the airplay helped to increase the single’s and album’s popularity due to its heavily controversial content: D’Angelo bare naked, lip-syncing and doing gestures. All of this made D’Angelo a sex symbol, leading to frustration on his part. In the Voodoo tour, which lasted for six months, many women in the audience asked him to get naked and in general things that made him feel uncomfortable. One thing lead to another, and he ended up wanting to lose his fit figure, he wanted to get fat, to lose his sex symbol position. Months after the tour his friend Fred Jordan commited suicide, in April 2001, which lead to heavy alcoholism. 4 years later and after more alcoholism and drug abuse, his girlfriend had left him, he lost contact with most of his family and parted ways with his managers and attorney. One album was scrapped around that time, which apparently sounded like "Parliament/Funkadelic meets the Beatles meets Prince, and the whole time there's this Jimi Hendrix energy". After being arrested for possession of marijuana and cocaine, mugshots of him began to circulate. The muscular and sexy D’Angelo wasn’t there anymore, just an unhealthy and overweight version of him. Weeks after being sentenced for drugs charge, the infamous car crash happened. After that, he went into rehab.Two years of radio silence ended with Questlove playing a new song, Really Love, in an australian radio. Because the center of the personal issues of D’Angelo, and who saved him, was Questlove. Him and Amy Winehouse. Both had been friends for a long time, and intended to form a group with Mos Def, but the sudden death of Amy stopped them. Following her death, Questlove begged D’Angelo to stop the ten year process of self-destruction he had been going through. He didn’t want him to end up like many ‘cursed stars’, like Kurt Cobain, Aaliyah or Amy Winehouse herself. These words were what changed D’Angelo’s path, and around that time he went back to recording again, this time with Pino Palladino, James Gadson and Questlove. Almost at the same time, D’Angelo goes back on tour and plays some new songs live, like Sugah Daddy and The Charade.The personal issues are what matter on Black Messiah after all. D’Angelo went on a 15 year journey to a personal hell, and came back to tell everyone about it. The topics of love in many forms are spread through the album and the sound mixes influences in its torrid and thick funk, with obsessive guitar riffs, big basses, choirs that answer D’Angelo’s voice. The layers of sound overlap and disappear at will, with groovy pianos, precious strings, harmonical claps. Really Love stands out, starting with a female voice in spanish over strings and following with a beautiful acoustic guitar that progresses into latin rhythms, and D’Angelo offering one of his best vocal performances.Finally, the Black Messiah booklet ends with a few words in caps:ALL WE WANTED WAS A CHANCE TO TALK.'STEAD, WE ONLY GOT OUTLINED IN CHALK.This is part of the chorus to The Charade, another one of the political tracks in the album. It’s one of the most hard-hitting because of how direct it is, referencing how many oppressed communities (black, latin communities) have had to fight and die to be able to get some basic rights like voting, which in many cases conservative parties have been trying to deny, like republicans on Florida. Once Black Messiah ends, there is not much to say other than it being a proud lesson in history and a superb message about the radiant present of an artist who long ago seemed lost yet now sounds more alive, inspired and needed than ever.

#IFTTT #reddit

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undercoverphan391 · 7 years ago

Text

No triggers that I can think of

Words: 3459

Tags: Soulmate, soulmate au, 2009!phan, and first kiss

In this Soulmate universe, soulmates can hear each other’s thoughts in their heads. Less like reading minds, and more like when you get a random thought in your head and you’re like “where did that come from”.

excerpt: It was a crisp, and colorless day late in the month of October of 2009.However, this dreary day was felt by neither Dan or Phil. As today, would be the first day that they meet after months of long late-night Skype conversations, and daily online interactions.Dan, a night owl, had woken up unusually early in the excitement of meeting the guy he had watched on YouTube for years; a guy he somehow managed to grab the attention of, and happened to have a multitude of shared interests. In the midst of straightening his hair, even though Phil had been one of the few people to see his unruly hobbit hair, Dan wondered if Phil could be his soulmate........

It was a crisp, and colorless day late in the month of October of 2009.

However, this dreary day was felt by neither Dan or Phil. As today, would be the first day that they meet after months of long late-night Skype conversations, and daily online interactions.

Dan, a night owl, had woken up unusually early in the excitement of meeting the guy he had watched on YouTube for years; a guy he somehow managed to grab the attention of, and happened to have a multitude of shared interests. In the midst of straightening his hair, even though Phil had been one of the few people to see his unruly hobbit hair, Dan wondered if Phil could be his soulmate.

Now Dan was not a hopeless romantic, like his colleagues that would try to meet anyone and everyone they could to see if they shared that telepathic connection that was attributed to soulmates. In fact, Dan was not even actively looking for his soulmate, as he secretly hoped Phil was his ever since he stumbled across his YouTube channel in 2006. He knew it was a whimsical thought, as far as his family and Christian grandmother knew, Dan was as straight as his crispy fringe, after 2 hours of hopelessly trying to flat iron he ringlets away. Sure, Dan had dated a couple of girls, and went to parties, but he never connected with anyone. He had never had a bestfriend. And he hoped that with Phil he could find some solace, and that in return, he could be the same for Phil as he boarded the earliest train from Reading to Manchester that cold, October morning.

Phil Lester did not sleep a wink the night before Dan was due to arrive in Manchester. He knew he shouldn’t have drank that coffee at nine o’clock in the evening, but he had to tidy everything for it to be just perfect for Dan.

Phil had grown up in a very loving family, and had had a lot of close friends - many of which had paired off with their respective soulmates, and this left Phil to feel quite alone despite be surrounded by his family and friends. Phil always wondered whether his soulmate would be male or female, he didn’t care either way as all that mattered was how well he got on with them, and a part of him secretly wished for it to be Dan. Of course, he wouldn’t know until he meet Dan in person as the telepathic connection is strongest when in close contact with your soulmate, otherwise you get radio silence or hushed whispers. Once Phil was satisfied with how tidy he had got his bedroom, for probably the first time ever since he had returned from university, he set off for the train station to meet Dan.

When Dan’s train finally arrived at the station in Manchester, both him and Phil had ceased breathing, it wasn’t until their eyes met - as the pair of them towered over the majority of the passengers at the station - that both of them exhaled. They recognized each other immediately, and greeted each other with a tight hug.

‘I can’t believe you’re real.’

Neither of them were aware that they were soulmates, as they had mutually thought this.

~ ~ ~

Dan and Phil were riding the high of an emotional rollercoaster, in complete bliss that the other person was actually real and not just some pixelated and blurry figure over Skype. They sat in Phil’s bedroom, going over the video that they had planned to film after returning from their first day out.

Dan was fairly new to YouTube, and Phil was his number one fan - telling him that his ideas were amazing and complimenting how well-spoken and articulate he came across in all his videos.

Phil had suggested a Q&A, and both were sat against Phil’s bed writing down questions from Twitter on a notepad. Dan was leant against Phil, still in shock from the warmth of his body - that this boy, whom he had admired and connected with was real.

…

They had been filming, what they called “Phil is not on Fire” for hours now. They were working out how they should close out the video, Dan and Phil lying on the floor of Phil’s bedroom, when a thought struck both of them:

‘This is the most fun I’ve ever had.’

“You got anything?” Phil asked, going back and forth between a few ideas in his head.

Dan nodded, and the pair sat up to film the ending of the video. Phil waits for Dan to go ahead, as he plans on surprise-tackling Dan, half listening as Dan speaks, “This is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Dan lets out a quiet yelp when Phil tackles him to the floor, and recovers from the hug with a soft laugh, “What was that for?”

Phil shrugs his shoulders, distancing himself a bit, “I just wanted to hug you, I still can’t believe you’re a real person.”

“I know. I wish I could stay here longer,” Dan says wistfully.

“I think it’s funny that you said ‘this is the most fun I’ve ever had’ as I was going to say the same thing,” Phil chuckles a bit, not realizing.

Dan’s heart nearly jumps out of his throat, but he realizes it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, he’s been with Phil for a bit now and surely they would have noticed if they were soulmates by now.

~ ~ ~

It was early in the autumn of 2012, the warmth of summer beginning to fade much to Dan and Phil’s enjoyment as their new London apartment did not have any air conditioning.

The pair had been through a lot since that initial meeting in 2009. They moved into a second apartment together, they started their own radio show with BBC Radio 1, and the were constantly bouncing new ideas off each other. However, the one stone that remained unturned was soulmates.

Since 2011, when Dan had been living with Phil for a couple of months, his family began to interrogate him. Dan knew they meant well, they had wanted him to settle down and be able to fit in with society. This weighed on Dan’s mind until one day he snapped.

On this morning, the first thing Dan did was confront Phil in the lounge. Dan, the flatmate who usually did not leave his room until half past 1 in the afternoon, was out at 11 in the morning, as soon as he had heard Phil walking around. “Up early, yeah?” Phil asked, his face partially in a bowl of Dan’s cereal.

“Phil-we-need-to-discuss-something-that-had-been-on-my-mind-for-awhile-and-I-can’t-keep-it-in-but-every-time-I-work-up-the-courage-to-put-it-out-there-I-get-nervous-and-procrastinate- and-I-don’t want to make you unhappy,” Dan slowed down as he ran out of breath.

“Dan, you know I’ll always listen to you, what’s on your mind?” Phil immediately placed his, well Dan’s, cereal on the coffee table and looked up at him with those blue, green, yellow eyes that Dan was particularly fond of, even if he didn’t want to admit it to anyone.

Dan let out a long sigh and half sat-leaned on the table behind him. “My family, mainly my grandma, was getting on my case about my soulmate…”

“And?” Phil urged him to continue as Dan seemed to trail off.

“I feel a lot like I keep you from actively searching from your soulmate, and it’s not right of me-”

“Dan, how did this become about me?”

Dan keep his eyes low to the ground to desperately avoid any embarrassing eye contact, even though it was just Phil, the Phil he knew would understand if he could just spit out the truth. Instead, Dan began to backpedal, “Well, I don’t particularly care about finding my soulmate, but I don’t want to deter you from it. As you seemed a bit down when Martyn found Cornelia last year, and I just want you to be happy and not get in the way of that…”

“Dan,” Phil said, and then closed his mouth in a tight line.

Now Dan looked up, only to be engulfed in a hug by Phil. This wasn’t one of their usually hugs, this was more like a hug you would receive from a distant relative where it’s not warm and it ends before it even begins.

“Dan,” Phil starts again. “I will try to put myself out there more. But I think it is only fair if you go out and look for your soulmate to, it’s not fair to them or me.”

Dan let out a huff of air he hadn’t realized he had been holding in, and muttered, “Okay, we’ll hit the club tonight.”

Phil couldn’t hold in his chuckle, “Hit the club? Dan, what are you, my dad?”

“This is going to suck.”

And yet again, the boys who were so in sync failed to notice the telepathic soulmate connect they shared.

~ ~ ~

Needless to say, 2012 was a fairly rough year. To make matters worse, the popularity of their ship “Phan” had made it an obstacle for them to go out and actually date people - both of the boys feared getting close to anyone, mainly women, that might google search them and find out either of them was in a gay ship. Although not “out”, both Dan and Phil did not have a specific gender preference, as most of society, because when soulmates are linked telepathically, it doesn’t matter who loves who. The deep connection was the only vital requirement.

And Dan and Phil failed to find anyone that they individually shared a connection with. In fact, it was such a flop, that by the summer of 2013 they mutually agreed to put it off for an indefinite amount of time.

~ ~ ~

In early September of 2014, Dan and Phil were sat in the lounge - they had gotten in this rhythm of waking up at a semi-reasonable time to eat cereal and watch anime together. After a couple episodes, they would just sit in comfortable silence, slowly waking up. Sometimes they would talk, bouncing video ideas off each other.

Today a particularly brilliant idea struck both of them, maybe only one of them had initially thought of it, but it got both of them excited: ‘We should make a gaming channel!’

“I’ve had a really good idea!” They bursted out in unison. They immediately looked at each other and laughed.

“Well that was unusual,” Dan mused, nervously fixing his fringe. Dan had toyed around with the possibility that him and Phil were soulmates for a couple years, but after they have tried to connect with other people, he had resolved to just being alone forever.

“Alright, well I’ve got a really good idea,” Phil is bouncing with excitement.

“How about we say it aloud at the same time?” Dan suggests, not really expecting anything.

“Alright,” Phil nods. “Three… two...one…”

“A GAMING CHANNEL! It’ll be per-” Both of the boys stop.

Dan feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, and he has completely stopped breathing. Is he having a panic attack?

Phil, on the other hand, is a bit slower. It just now dawns on him that him and Dan have this uncanny ability of being on the same page with one another in most instances. He feels excitement like a bunch of wild moths fluttering in stomach. The boy he had always hoped was his soulmate; the one he had gotten to see grow as a creator, and have all these amazing work opportunities with; the guy who he had lived in two apartments with, and comforted when university had not been agreeing with him. To Phil, this was almost too good to be true.

As his mind fluttered back to reality, he noticed Dan’s face was emotionless, yet tears were streaming out of his eyes and he was letting out short panicked breaths. Phil remembered this Dan - this was the Dan he has seen in 2012 when he was on the fence about dropping out of his law degree.

Phil carefully, wrapped an arm around Dan’s tense shoulders and gently rubbed circles on Dan’s arm. “Hey Dan, can you breath slowly for me, come on, exhale…. And inhale… exhale… and inhale…”

Phil was careful as he pressed his lips gingerly to Dan’s temple, he didn’t want to do anything that would make Dan more panicked.

Dan exhaled one more shaky breath, and avoided looking at Phil’s face with the two bright blue eyes he knew so well, with the rings of green and gold that always lit up when they would play videogames together or when they would talk to each other on Friday nights over movies they had seen a million times.

“Phil, I’ve known… I’ve known since we ended the first Phil is not on Fire… Why didn’t I say anything?” Dan keep his eyes down, they were puffy from the tears still leaking from his eyes.

Phil continued to methodically rub circles in Dan’s arm, “What do you mean, you’ve known?”

Dan’s eyes flick up, and he’s shocked to see how striking Phil’s eyes look in this moment - so intent and focused on him like he is the most important thing in his life. He nearly forgets to breath, but his burning lungs remind him to inhale, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

‘I’m such an idiot.’

“You’re not an idiot,” They both say. Phil does that cheeky grin with his tongue half-sticking out between his teeth, and Dan lets out another shaky breath.

“I am,” Phil continues. “I should have know, but I have always felt so comfortable with you that I never thought of reading into us that much - I’ve just enjoyed you and now I feel so dumb about trying to find someone who wasn’t you.”

“Well I feel dumb because I should have known you won’t have kicked me out on the streets if I simply just told you.”

“Dan,” Phil now pulls Dan into a proper hug, “You and I both know I’d never go anywhere without you, except maybe the toilet, and when I go to have those game nights with Samara from the “Ring” every Tuesday night.”

“Shut up,” Dan releases the tension in his shoulders and grins.

“So what does this mean?” They say in unison. “Okay we have to-”

“Stop.”

“Stop,” Phil does another cheeky grin with the half stuck out tongue.

“Well, what are we comfortable with?” Dan ponders, he’s talking into Phil’s neck, still enjoying the embrace.

Phil doesn’t bother to pull away, “I mean you’ll always be my best friend, but we can just see what comes naturally. If we progress into anything it should be because we want to not because we’re soulmates.”

Dan nods in agreement, “But you know what we should do?”

“Get songs stuck in each other’s heads at horribly inconvenient times?” Phil finally releases Dan to playfully nudge his arm.

“You spork, I was going to say, queue up some games to kick off our new channel. Plus, we have to pick out a channel name… how do you feel about ‘TheGame’?”

~ ~ ~

‘DanAndPhilGAMES’ had been an utter success. In the past 3 years, Dan and Phil had done so many wonderful projects together: they wrote two books; made and performed their stage show, TATINOF, around the world; were featured in a couple of Disney movies; and there was so more more the pair had accomplished. Not even mentioning that they had moved out of their old London flat, and into a new, larger home still in their city, London.

They became quite close, they were not together, in the traditional sense of the word, but they weren’t strictly platonic. For example, Dan and Phil shared a bed most nights. In their old flat, it started out as a ‘Hey want to watch a movie and fall asleep in bed’ or a “Hey let’s work on the book until we fall asleep”. These were mainly excuses because the pair was so used to their own distinct spaces and bedrooms that it was a tad odd for them to simply abandon their old bed.

However, in the new apartment, it was Phil’s idea to actually share a bedroom. As they wanted more space for their gaming channel room, and as a result the room were Phil’s ‘room’ was located was not exactly fit for an over six foot tall adult man. To be honest, it could barely fit the bed, his camera, and both him and Dan when they did collab videos. It is a wonder how they will be able to film the next PINOF without horribly bruising their knees from hitting the furniture.

It was an unusually chilly July evening as Dan and Phil sat on top of their shared bed, their legs had become tangled and Phil mused, “I like this.”

He didn’t need to clarify Dan knew exactly what he was referencing as his face lit up revealing his dimples, “Me too.”

~ ~ ~

Come August, it was now time for something Dan and Phil had been nervously excited about - livestreaming a game for ‘DanAndPhilGAMES’. They knew the Phans would go crazy, but at this point, neither of them were as phased as they had been in 2011 and 2012. They were both aware one of them might slip up. Both of them knew it would probably be Phil as he can barely keep a secret to save his life, but nonetheless, Dan and Phil prepared for their first ever gaming livestream fairly excited to see how it turned out.

“Hello DanAndPhil doglegs!” Phil chirps.

“Excuse me?”

Phil glances at Dan who is biting in his cheek to hold in a laugh, “I did some late night wiki searching on golf courses and apparently, holes that bend to the left or right of the ‘teeing area’ are called a dogleg.”

“Alright then. And welcome to Golf with Friends!” Dan rolls his eyes and playfully nudges his foot into Phil’s calf below the camera.

…

About 30 minutes into the livestream, Dan and Phil were a couple rounds in. The current one being a corridor with a curly ramp.

“Oh, it’s curly like your hair,” Phil remarked taking one of Dan’s curls and Dan tried to focus on putting. He softly hear Dan laugh out loud, followed by a, ‘Phil, remember, we can’t edit anything out, as this is a livestream.’

Phil actually laughed out loud as he proceed to take his turn.

Dan responded and messed some of Phil’s fringe, “Ah, we should’ve curled your hair for this livestream Phil, it would have gone so well with this course’s aesthetic.”

“Hey, quit distracting me, cheaters never win, Daniel!”

“Well Philly, this cheater happens to be beating you by 4 strokes,” Dan’s amber eyes were so bright as Phil looked up and couldn’t formulate any response. He was at a complete loss for words. And Dan’s smirk followed by, ‘Cat got your tongue, Philly?’ was beginning to rile Phil up.

…

About another hour later, and they finally finished the course and ended the livestream.

“Dan,” Phil was still sat on the couch in the gaming room as Dan put the irritating golf hats away in the wall cabinet. He was struggling to not share his thoughts with Dan at the moment as he was hoping to catch him off guard.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how we said we would let things come naturally?”

“Yeah,” Dan said again taking a seat on the couch with Phil, but this time he had felt his heart skip a beat.

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?” Phil looked to Dan’s face for approval. “Naturally, I mean,” He tacked on with that cheeky grin, poking out a bit of his tongue.

‘Yes.’

Both of them leaned in, but it was Phil who initiated the kiss, closing the gap and pressing his chapped pink lips to Dan’s rosy ones. Neither of them had kissed anyone properly in years, but this felt so natural and comfortable. The first one was a peck, testing the waters to see if they truly were comfortable doing this - after all, they had been best friends for eight years. The second one was a bit more intense, as Dan initiated it, pulling Phil closer and their hands began to move on their own accord. Phil had one hand in Dan’s curly hair that he loved so much, the other carefully placed on Dan’s waist; while one of Dan’s hands gripped the collar of Phil’s shirt as if to hold him there so he’d never leave, and the other was loosely hanging around Phil’s shoulder.

They took a moment to breathe, resting their foreheads together, lightly panting, and looking into each other’s eyes, ‘This is the most fun I’ve ever had.’

THE END

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