#life is kicking my ass friends!! it really is!!

[desertteagles]

╰───► like it’s our last - e. williams

drabble.

Pairing - bbf!ellie x fem! reader

Synopsis- your brothers back from college and he brings his best friend since childhood back with him. you’ve realized you have a crush on her and sworn you wouldn’t act on it, fearing your brothers disapproval. ellie also has been harboring feelings for you but promised to not make a move per your brothers request.. especially since ellie’s kind of a player.

warnings- no smut this time </3 but little angst ig…, uhhhh idk i think that’s it.. was gonna make this a oneshot (that’s why the punctuation is sorta kinda good) but i decided NAWT to so here !

a/n well um… hi guys ! i’ve been gone for a year my bad chat 😞

U nfortunately, today was the fucking day. Now, usually, you’re happy whenever your brother decides to visit home, but this time he’s bringing an unwanted (very wanted) guest that you’ve been kind of avoiding, in order to not run your big ass mouth.

Ellie was annoying as fuck. That didn’t stop you from developing a crush on her, though, and you hated yourself for it. It was just... she’s so pretty with her stupid green eyes and veiny hands, and her pretty hair that’s always in that fuckass bun, and her... “Wait, what the fuck. Stop thinking about her, oh my god,” you groaned, putting your face in your hands. Unsurprisingly, you could never seem to keep her from getting stuck in your mind. It was a never-ending cycle of “I don’t even like her; she just has a nice face,” to “Why the fuck am I lying? I want her so bad,” battling it out in your head ever since you realized there might be something more than just annoyance toward her because she was your brother's best friend. Which also opens a whole new can of worms that you really don’t have the mental capacity to deal with.

You see, your brother is very, very, very overprotective. It was so bad that you couldn’t even bring up liking celebrities around him, which was absurd, so you had to tell him to back off (he never really did). Ellie, being the player that she is, definitely tried to get your brother's blessing to pursue you back in high school, but he naturally shot her down with a vicious and explicitly detailed description of how he’d kill her and hide the body if she ever tried anything with you, which effectively scared her from even looking at you for a while. Obviously, that didn’t last long because she became this annoying nuisance of a human being, and it ground your gears until she finally left for college with your brother, giving you a much-needed break.

the break didn’t last long because for some odd reason you thought it was the greatest fucking idea to stalk her social media. Granted, you did it out of hate (it wasn’t hate) so it’s really not your fault that seeing her posts made you start looking at her in a different light. But now she was back. And this time, you have this added knowledge that she’s hot as fuck and you don’t really think you will be able to function around her.

You paced around your room, hands in your hair, agonizing over what the fuck to wear ever since you learned Ellie was visiting with your brother today. It was like some kind of cosmic joke — the universe giving you just enough time to forget how much you liked her before slamming her right back into your life.

You could hear the muffled sound of your brother’s laugh from downstairs. Your stomach twisted, nerves kicking in. You peeked out of your bedroom window and, sure enough, there was Ellie, leaning against the car, hands shoved in her pockets, that fuckass bun sitting low on her head. She was talking to your brother, but you barely registered him — all you could focus on was her smirk, the way her eyes squinted when she laughed, how the light from the sun caught on her freckles. Now that made you make a face, “ew why the fuck am i thinking like a poet.”

“Gotdammit,” you muttered to yourself. “Get it the fuck together.”

Your heart was racing, but you couldn't tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe both…. definitely both.

A sharp knock on your door yanked you out of your thoughts, and before you could even answer, your brother barged in. “Hey, Ellie’s here,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Come down and say hi, don’t be weird.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the weird one, you are. and plus i have to finish getting ready! i’ll be down in a second, get out!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just be normal for like five minutes, when you come down okay? I know you guys have this weird rivalry or whatever the fuck but its been like a year so please.”

“fine, but if she starts her shit don’t say anything.” you mumbled, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “fuck me.” you sighed and turned to finish getting ready.

—

As soon as you hit the bottom step, Ellie’s eyes locked on yours. That familiar spark of mischief shined in her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, grinning in that infuriatingly, cocky way that always made your knees a littttle weak.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, as if she already knew the effect she had on you. Which she couldn’t know… right? Right.

You swallowed hard, trying to act unfazed. “Ellie.”

Her grin widened, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn she looked you up and down. Almost like she was checking you out. weird. “Long time no see,” she said, stepping forward and pulling you into a quick, unexpected hug.

Your brain short-circuited for a moment, and when she let go, you were left standing there, blinking like an idiot, your skin buzzing from where her hands had briefly touched your back.

“It’s barely been a year. but yeah, long time,” you managed, trying desperately to sound casual but instead sounding like a dying cat.

—

The next couple of hours were spent catching up and you watching ellie and your brother play Call of duty.. or was it fortnite? you can’t really remember. all you can seem to focus on is how ellie’s hands look around the controller and how good they’d look around your ne- “hey. are you.. okay?” you jumped a little at being pulled from your thoughts by ellie and slowly realized how long you were staring at her hands. “oh um yea.. totally,” you chuckled nervously and turned your attention back to the TV trying to ignore Ellie's burning gaze on the side of your face. Like usual, your brother was oblivious to anything but that damn game, trash talking like crazy, while you kept sneaking looks at Ellie after that embarrassing ass moment. She didn’t seem to mind though; in fact, she seemed to enjoy catching you staring. Every time you glanced her way, she was already looking, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

At one point, you found yourself in the kitchen, you were hungry as fuck and being a third wheel didn’t exactly curb your hunger. Unfortunately, Ellie walked in not too long after you, her presence immediately making the room feel smaller.

“So,” she said, dragging the o and leaning against the counter with that same smirk. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You froze, almost crushing a chip that was making its way into your mouth in your hand. “What!? No, I haven’t. You're actually delusional, I don't know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Rightttt. I'm totally delusional.”

You turned to look at her, grabbing another chip out of the bag to eat before pausing and saying, “Okay, maybe I have. But it’s not purposefully !”

Ellie took a step closer, and you had to force yourself to keep breathing. “Oh really?”

“Yes really! I have literally no reason to avoid you. Don’t be dumb. i’ve just been busy with getting my esthetician license.. ” You bit your lip, trying and failing to seem calm. God, this was the exact situation you were trying to avoid. You wanted to tell her off, make her stop questioning you, but honestly… you kinda missed her (you’d never admit this out loud) and it was nice talking to her. Not to mention looking at her lips while she talked was one of your favorite pastimes.

Ellie took another step forward, so close now that you could smell her — that familiar mix of leather and something earthy. It was distracting as hell, and you loved hated it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

“Busy with your esthetician license, huh?” Ellie’s voice was low, almost mocking, as if she knew how much of a lie that sounded like, even if it was mostly true. “that’s hilarious because you seemed to have plenty of time to stare at my hands earlier.”

Your face burned instantly. “I wasn’t staring,” you blurted, probably a little too fast.

Ellie’s smirk widened, her eyes flicking down to your hands fidgeting with the chip bag. “Sure you weren’t.” She was enjoying this way too much, but instead of leaving you to drown in embarrassment, she stepped even closer, her gaze suddenly more intense, less mocking. “You know, I don’t typically care if you stare.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. Was she for real? You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest as you decided it’s now or never and maybe it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

You leaned in, your eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the playful tension between you both shifted into something else — something heavier. “is that right?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as you tucked a loose strand behind her ear with a smirk.

Ellie’s breath hitched and you saw a blush spread across her face like crazy. She was not expecting you to reciprocate her teasing. In fact, she thought you would get too flustered to even think. You giggled at her stunned face, body still alight with nerves and your mind screaming did i really just do that??? The room felt impossibly small, and you couldn’t focus on anything but how close she was. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her gaze flickered down to your lips for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

“I—” you started, but before you could even finish, your brother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, causing you to jump back from Ellie in surprise.

“Ellie, you better be keeping your hands to yourself…” he called from the living room, his tone half-joking but you could tell he wasn’t.

Ellie groaned in annoyance at the interruption. She raised her hand as if to hold yours but faltered at your confused expression, and dropped it with a sigh “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, as she turned toward the living room. “Jesus Christ.”

[hitlikehammers]

(not your average) seven minutes ⏰ ♥️

or: what if Steve had been ‘playfully’ locked into a room by his drunken not-friends at that infamous Halloween party in 1984, for 💕Seven Minutes in Heaven💞!

…and no one realized Eddie Munson was already hiding inside 🫥

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

rating: t ♥️ tags: s2 era, alternate meeting, that ONE HALLOWEEN PARTY (you know which one), steve meets eddie immediately after nancy does her drunken bullshit thing, seven minutes in heaven meets truth or dare, (weirdly more effective than you’d think), first kiss(es), fluff, humor, boys being boys, climbing out of windows (like a ninja🥷), getting together (?) ♥️

again: originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo forever ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because it’s going to have a sequel show up soon for @steddielovemonth—which I thank profusely for giving me the kick in the ass required to revisit and actually try to finish this series!

“Oh my fucking god.”

Steve honestly doesn’t know if he’s going to start crying or throwing up quicker, like which one’s closest to the surface; keeping his balance as the shock, the jagged parts that draw blood when your heart gets crushed to shards leaving him susceptible—pathetic, fucking pathetic— to the pushing and pulling and grabbing of the throngs of trashed partygoers shoving him away from the front door, pushing harder every time he tripped up the stairs, laughing and yelling and chanting and fuck, fuck he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t want this, and he doesn’t even know what the fuck it is, just that it’s not his car, and then his house, and then his bed where he can…let it all come crashing down and not have a fucking audience, just: goddamn.

As soon as a door’s thrown open and she’s shoved to stumble hard, catch his nails to bending, bleeding against the light switch as the lock clicks behind him—well fuck.

He gets it now.

Fuck.

“Not what you were expecting behind Door Number One?”

Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which is familiar and then, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s—

It’s a good voice, basically.

And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak, half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes but…it does something.

It does something Steve doesn’t want to dwell on, the kind of thing he’s kinda been working really hard and doing pretty fucking well and not dwelling on but then…maybe like, any other night, any other hour of any other night? Steve maybe would have turned, and at least tried to force the door open; maybe he’d have pushed it down like he’s been getting real good at, almost to the point where he doesn’t even have to think about it, the thing itself or the pushing it down: in fact he’s absolutely sure he’d have done just that. Any other night. After any other fucking night.

But it’s all bullshit anyway, so like, why even bother, what does any of it even matter, Barb’s dead, blood’s on his hands apparently for a pool he doesn’t even fucking pay for, his love’s fucking nothing and the voice from the corner, hell, even the jawline the flame’s casting sharp every other second, every flip open then stealing away with every flip closed: that’s something and so, like.

Any other night. It’d be different.

But it’s this night.

“I wasn’t expecting any door except the one on the front driver’s side of my goddamn car, man,” Steve sighs and throws his weight against a dresser—plain. Really plain—kid’s room. Not too young. Boy’s room. Little brother of…fuck, Steve can’t even remember whose house they’re in.

“I can see where this would definitely count as,” Munson’s tongue runs almost contemplatively over his lips as he tips his head; “a deviation from the plan.”

Steve snorts; he means it to sound amused, because he is that. Honestly he is.

But it sounds like it get halfway there, before it nosedives a little into a half-stifled sob.

Goddamnit.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Oh. So not only is he recognizable, he’s also recognizably not fucking okay.

That’s just great.

“My girlfriend says I’m bullshit,” Steve has no fucking idea what makes him just say it, to basically a stranger at that, and fuck, no, not a stranger: this stranger, who Steve knows enough of but who Steve’s pretty sure knows too many things about him for comfort, just—he doesn’t know what makes him say it. “That loving her is bullshit.”

Actually: probably that’s it. Bullshit, versus something. Munson’s eyes stay fixed on him the whole time, even as he keeps flicking the lighter.

“Does,” Munson starts, and in his good-voice, he sounds almost, like, hesitant. Which isn’t a way Steve really associates with the guy, if he associates anything with him at all but apparently yeah, he does, because he’s absolutely certain this shit’s out of the norm: “like, not to be a dick, seriously,” yeah, yeah: this is like a gentle voice. Careful. Care…caring?

And, like…why?

“But does that mean she’s still your girlfriend?”

Oh. Pity might be why. That’s fun.

“Shit,” Steve rubs his hands over his face, fucks his hair up even more than it’s been which is possibly not even possible. “Probably not.”

Munson lets out a breath that’s almost a whistle, and looks genuinely regretful—again, why, most of the people he hangs out with would probably celebrate Steve’s suffering, so like, what the fuck—

“That sucks man,” Munson says, honest, like, really honest as he para down his…surprisingly tight jeans until he extracts a pre-roll from the front picked and holds it out in offering: “on the house.”

Steve needs that shit bad enough for it to be maybe the only thing he doesn’t question in all of this.

“Thanks,” he says as Munson holds out a light and Steve leans in; the guy smells of party sweat and too many bodies, of Kate autumn air and cheap cologne. He smells…

It’s a good smell. It matches his good voice.

“You wanna?” Steve offers on impulse after he takes a lungful and maybe a little more, maybe a little too much—greedy, needy, bullshit—and holds it back to Eddie as he breathes out slow, tries to keep it all in as long as he can but not…not in a pushing-it-down kind of way. More a making-the-most kind of way.

“Do you wanna?” Munson asks, eyes so wide, like a baby animal or something. Like a cartoon character. Steve just keeps holding the joint out to him, close enough that his lips will touch Steve’s fingers if he wants them to, and in Steve’s head he feels like he’ll call him Eddie, in his head, if his mouth brushes his skin.

It does.

Eddie it is, then.

And Steve’s real good at shoving down things like the way his heart skips and fucking jumps, runs a little—he’s good at it.

But not tonight.

“They always double the time, ‘specially when they think they’re being funny,” Steve licks his fingers where Eddie’s mouth had touched because why the fuck not, and he slides down the simple preteen dresser and leans back on the palms of his hands as he sighs out the words and the remaining smoke in his lungs, but let’s go of none of the taste he’d lapped off the skin around his knuckles. Not that. “Probably longer than that if they’re as drunk as they looked.”

“Ah,” Eddie kinda, almost, hums through the purse of his lips before he offers the smoke back Steve’s way, and if Steve makes sure his lips drag over Eddie’s fingers, what fucking of it. It does make the space between his inhale and Eddie’s willingness to say any more words out loud a long quiet pause where Steve’s pulse runs high between his collarbones but it’s…it’s not bad. And Steve kinda wants to keep that in his back pocket, for later: the thing he’s gotten so good and pushing down might not feel so goddamn bad, up near the surface where it’s still able to breathe.

Huh.

“So you’re up here on a mission,” Eddie finally says, a little choked but not like you choke on a weird drag, y’know? Different choking. Steve feels the urge to smirk and while he doesn’t give into it?

It’s definitely there.

“As far as they’re concerned,” Steve says with…Steve doesn’t know what he says it with. How he says it. How he means it.

“You don’t look drunk,” Eddie saves him from dwelling on that particular unknown, lets him course correct with a little scoff.

It also distracts him from how Eddie sits next to him. Not too close, but still pretty fucking close.

“I know my limits.” Which is why he takes back the joint without a single thought and does the maybe-too-much thing, because it feels good, and lets himself look for the taste of Eddie on the paper: salt and a tang of something and then sweetness, like fucking candy.

It’s a good taste.

“I’m probably a little drunk,” Eddie declares without sounding it at all, and taking to the eeed again without a secondly hesitation; “more like tipsy, really, if that, but still, totally not my style,” he frowns, like it really isn’t, like he’s disappointed in himself. It’s kinda…cute.

Fuck.

“I don’t touch shit at these parties but I was thirsty as fuck,” Eddie gestures with his free hand, and it’s the first time Steve’s notices how his run at glint: good hands; “haven’t eaten all day and thought I’d beat the punch spiking.”

“Aww, man,” Steve moans on Eddie’s behalf, sympathetic; “the punch is always pre-spiked.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie nods, holding the joint to Steve’s lips straight on this time, and Steve thinks nothing of breathing in without touching it himself, letting Eddie decide when to pull it back. “Point being, on an empty stomach, even one such as myself,” Eddie gestures broadly at his person with the nearly-spent smoke: “is not immune.”

Steve huffs a little laugh; he kinda wants it to be bigger but he’s feeling…soft. Nice.

Good.

“So we’ve got somewhere between seven and…” Eddie glances at his wrist as if he’s expecting a watch there; Steve wants to know if he forgot one he normally wears or if it’s all for show: “thirty minutes, by your estimation?”

“Thereabouts,” Steve shrugs. You can never really know for sure.

“You umm,” Eddie ventures after a few seconds; “you want to talk about, umm,” and he trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Not,” Steve’s saying before really thinking;“not really.” It’s actually kind of weird how much he means it, too. “I was trying to get home.”

“Drown your sorrows?” Eddie surmises, but Steve shakes his head.

“Wasn’t even gonna bother,” and his asshole father’s got the good shit, too; Steve probably could have managed a decent bit of wallowing with minimal hangover. “Just wanted to get out, clear my,” he clears his throat, though he’s not sure why, doesn’t really thing he needs it: “head.”

Then Steve turns to look at Eddie only to find Eddie already looking straight at him.

That’s…that’s something.

“Then they shoved me in here because they’re all fucking assholes,” Steve chuckles a little, does his damn best to make it clear he’s only calling the dickheads downstairs assholes; not…not Eddie.

Like it was an asshole move to shove him in here but, not because of Eddie.

Like, at all.

“And drunk off their asses,” Eddie grins, a very good grin, and Steve matches it as best he’s able because it means his comments landed okay, the right way; “swear I didn’t sell anything hard enough to be the culprit.” Steve snorts, and Eddie matches that and all the matching feels…it feels.

“It’s funny though,” Eddie comments, a little idly once the laughter’s echoed out. Steve tilts his head, all question.

“No one knew I was in here,” Eddie gestures to the whole of the not-very-big room. “It’d be one thing to prank you and shove you in here with me, ha ha,” he tosses his head back and forth and sticks out his tongue like Steve knows he’s done on the tables in the cafeteria more than once but it’s softer, here, it’s almost warm or playful and maybe a little self…deprecating? Steve thinks that’s the word but whatever the word is, Steve doesn’t love that it’s there alongside everything else.

“I mean, insulting as shit to you, so they probably wouldn’t have done that to you,” and Steve frowns because yeah, these parts are thinks he loves at all; “you’re still royalty,” and Eddie pops on an accent and bows his head and it’s not mocking like it would be in school, but.

Steve doesn’t fucking love that either.

“Fuck that,” Steve’s quick to kind of…bite out. Like, hard. “And hell, if I am fucking royalty,” he air-quotes the word because fuck it, fuck it all; “it’s not for much longer.”

Eddie settles, and watches Steve almost…careful. Like maybe he’s looking for something. Or else, he’s taking the time to really get something from whatever he does see.

It’s weird. Steve doesn’t know what to do with being looked at to be seen.

“Think I’ll be glad to be rid of it, to be honest,” Steve says, picks at the beds of his nails a little, something he’s learned from all the girls he’s dated for a few days here and there—distraction.

But he means it, he realizes that for absolute certain as soon as he says it.

“Huh,” Eddie finally says, and it’s said…like it means something.

Something maybe…good. Or like it could be. Can be.

Huh.

“Anyway, they would have thought the room was empty,” Eddie picks back up, stretches a little and oh. Oh wow, he’s got a long neck when it’s all stretched out. It’s…it looks good.

Then Eddie cuts his gaze sly toward Steve and smirks: “Who were you supposed to fucking have your seven heavenly minutes with?”

Steve rolls his eyes and smirks lazily back in Eddie’s direction.

“My hand?”

Eddie’s eyes widen a little, and they’re…they’re really close, like, either Steve didn’t notice before or they’ve gotten closer.

Eddie’s lips are…really close.

“Oh, well,” those close lips are saying, but that good voice is kinda too-soft for the tease: “don’t let me interrupt.”

Steve blinks a couple times, to make sure he heard right.

“Sorry, that was—“ Eddie starts to walk it back but once Steve’s done with his blinking?

He fucking busts out laughing. Like…the embarrassing, snorting, pitchy kind of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasps a little, waving Eddie’s concern away because it was, it was: “That was funny, man.”

Maybe Steve thinks it’s too funny. But once Eddie shifts from shocked to something more like pleasantly surprised?

It feels like it was the perfect level of funny.

“Okay,” Eddie says as his grin grows but gets ducked into his chin, as his hand fumbles for a stand of his hair like he can hide behind it, which is silly, and weird.

And…endearing. Steve wants to see what that strand of hair feels like.

Also weird. Maybe silly. Maybe too much, maybe bullshit—

“Hey,” Eddie’s leaning toward him, and if Steve thought they were close before, that was a fucking lie in comparison because holy fucking wow, is Eddie close. He’s got freckles on his nose. Steve never would have guessed. “Want me to be funny some more?” He asks, a little loud, a little too bout any and bouncy and…like he means it, like he wants to be this thing but not so much for himself, or else not just for himself, but for Steve.

No one does shit like that for Steve.

“Your eyes are too pretty to be sad.”

Steve’s eyes aren’t too fucking pretty to nearly pop out their goddamn sockets when those words register in his ears, in his brain, make his chest tight in a kinda fucking terrifying way but such a good way and Eddie looks so scared, and Eddie’s eyes are too pretty to be scared and, oh shit.

“Truth or dare?”

The question kinda just pops out, which is…not ideal but better than his eyes doing that, so: win. And Eddie’s eyes shift from scared to stunned, confused—both better options. Double win.

“What?”

Steve clears his throat this time because you genuinely fucking needs it. “Gotta do something to pass however many minutes they leave us here, don’t we?”

Because it was definitely a seven-minutes-in-heaven set up. And Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve passed so far but he wants it to be a while longer that they’ve got left and distractions, distractions to keep from dwelling—

“Truth.”

Oh. Alright.

“Just my eyes?”

That, Steve clocks right after saying it, is the exact opposite of not fucking dwelling. He feels a little sick.

But his heart’s leaping like it’s never been free of a fucking cage until this moment, so it’s confusing.

Eddie looks confused too, so on top of it: Steve’s not even alone. In being confused.

And Steve’s alone so much. This is���kinda nice.

Kinda good.

“Is it just my eyes that are too pretty?” Steve says, for clarity. And Eddie swallows so hard Steve can hear it; fuck, he swallows hard enough it has to hurt.

“No,” Eddie says, tiny and faint before he straights his spine and looks Steve straight on: intentional.

Bracing for impact.

“Truth or dare.”

Steve’s kinda tired of being daring on principle. Generally. He’s terrified of the truth but…shit.

“Truth.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eddie doesn’t say it mean. But he does say it in a way Steve couldn’t have lied to him about if he wanted to even try.

He doesn’t though. Want to try.

“Literally or, like, figuratively?”

The implications of that answer hit a little belatedly and Steve feels his cheeks go read as Eddie’s breath punches straight out of his lungs:

“Jesus H. Christ—“

“No, to both,” Steve answers quick before he loses his nerve, because maybe the truth was as daring, more daring even, than anything else. “Not even a little bit. For either.”

Eddie’s throat works around words he doesn’t say for a long stretch of seconds. Steve’s heart’s in his throat so, he thinks he kinda gets the feeling.

“Truth or Dare,” he forces out. Because it’s his turn.

“Dare,” Eddie barely breathes. Steve wasn’t expecting that, but the ready response makes it clear that deep down, he was hoping.

“Give me my seven minutes.”

Eddie freezes. Coughs. Pales a little before he stumbles over words less like he’s avoiding anything and more like he’s really that unbalanced. Shocked out of sync.

“With your hand?” he asks, a little squeak in the pitch of his voice. “Like, turns my back, cover my ears?”

Steve huffs a nervous little laugh. Nervous but…undeniably fond.

“No, dipshit.” The implication is…pretty fucking clear.

“You’re heartbroken,” Eddie points out.

“Maybe less that I thought I’d be,” Steve answers honestly, surprises himself; and maybe that’s for a damn good reason, too. “You’re ‘tipsy’.”

“Increasingly less so by the goddamn second,” Eddie confesses, his eyes fixed to Steve’s lips before flickering back up, so so wide:

“Harrington,” he whispers, sounding kinda lost; “I don’t—“

“It’s fine, if you,” Steve’s quick to regroup, even though his pulse is trying to choke him—stupid, needy, idiot, too much, greedy, dumbass, fucking bullshit; “you can forget it.”

Steve would like to forget it, kinda immediately; letting himself want. Letting himself try.

“I don’t,” Eddie starts again, but Steve can’t stand it, can’t beat it: that good good voice trying to make this anything but a goddamn catastrophe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t like, mean to,” and fuck, Steve’s not only clearly suggested some very dangerous things about himself he’s only starting to even be willing to think about coming to grips with but what about what he’s assumed, implied about Eddie, guys don’t take lightly to that shit, oh fucking hell; “I don’t, you know, like, do this,” he tries to salvage, and even he knows it’s a pathetic attempt; “like this—“

“I don’t fuck around with straight boys as a rule, see,” Eddie blurts out in a rush, color high on his cheeks; “keeps my poor squishy gay heart from bruising.”

And Eddie; oh, oh—

Those eyes are too damn pretty to look so scared.

And maybe it’s less about truth being safer than a dare, maybe both are a risk in their own way and maybe…maybe both just require that you’re brave.

Steve can try to be brave, maybe. Just this once. This one night that’s different, where he’s not pushing it all down.

“If I told you,” he says slowly, so slowly because it’s hard to fight what he knows so we’ll; “if I said I didn’t know, yet, how much of a bend there might be in my kind of…straight?” Steve frowns, brow furrowed; that came out so goddamn weird, but he makes himself look at Eddie when he asks:

“Would that change anything?”

Eddie gapes at him, a little like a fish, and Steve goes back to the beginning: he’s equally likely to start sobbing as he is likely to throw the fuck up—but Eddie blinks, and his head tilts and he reaches slow, tentative, like he doesn’t know if he’s really allowed but also like he wants to make sure Steve can cut and run before his hand meets Steve’s cheek.

He is allowed, though. He’s…Steve is pretty sure he’s fucking welcome.

“Would,” Eddie murmurs incredulously, thumbing Steve’s lower lip before he does the slow thing, leaning while leaving an out but Steve doesn’t want a goddamn out.

He moves forward in a blink and kisses Eddie with all the skill and know-how he’s woven together into making the people he kisses feel good, and he puts his whole self in, all the concentration and focus and investment he’s got to make it…great, if he can.

But then something kind of wild happens.

Because it kinda feels like Eddie is…doing the same thing. Like Eddie wants Steve to feel all those things just as big and sure.

Steve doesn’t…Steve’s never been kissed like this. Like that. Like his half of the deal isn’t just a given.

Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, though: Steve has to run on pure instinct; his partner never does that shit first.

It’s fucking amazing. And given the moans he gets, the wet sucking sounds and the panting before they reconnect again, then again: Steve’s willing to bet his instincts are pretty solid.

They finally break for more than a second and Eddie’s hands come to Steve’s chest for balance as he gasps, as his hair falls in a curtain between them and Steve’s barely got the breath in him to speak yet when he covers one of Eddie’s hands with his own and half-whispers.

“Come on,” and he’s tugging Eddie to standing, both of them a little wobbly on their feet for a second or two before Eddie stills.

“We’re locked in,” he seems to remember in real time, like the whole kissing thing—not quite seven minutes; maybe more than seven minutes; not e-fucking-nough either way—knocked reasonable thought out of him for a second, there.

“The window,” Steve’s prepared for it, leads him over with their hands still kinda just covering each other, kinda holding one another, kinda a lot of things. “I’ve been here before, we can get out,” because yeah, he knows the house even if he still doesn’t remember who it belongs to; “and you haven’t eaten,” Steve remembers that clear as day, frowning at Eddie, almost scolding him.

Eddie lights up, though. Like maybe there are things no one’s really ever thought of for Eddie, too. Like, maybe Steve wasn’t the only one finding out someone could…pay attention.

Like he was worth paying attention to.

And like…Eddie? Steve doesn’t know exactly what to do with all the things that are tied up in everything he pushes down, where they’re bubbling up and seeping from his pore or some shit, but what he does know, without a doubt?

Eddie Munson is very much worth paying attention to.

“What the hell’s even open,” Eddie says, and Steve takes a second to add it up—food, he needs food—and he grins, and like…he kinda can’t help it? He definitely doesn’t think about it before he kisses Eddie, hard and quick and more smile in it than…he kinda remembers having, or giving, like…

More than he remembers. At all.

Huh.

“Benny’s if we’re quick,” Steve breaks off and pushes the window open; “otherwise the kitchen at Casa Harrington makes a hell of a TV dinner this time of night,” he tosses a grin Eddie’s way that’s nothing like he uses on the girls, he can tell, can feel it: it’s goofy and sincere and…yeah. “Probably got like a Salisbury steak one.”

It’s Eddie who leans, quicker and more like he’s stealing it, like he’s sneaking it and jumping back quick just in case he gets caught and it’s in doing that exactly that Steve has the incredibly clear sense, amidst all the unclear shit in his chest and his brain and his everything, that he…wants to catch Eddie.

“Fancy,” Eddie grins, and oh fuck.

Oh fuck, those dimples.

“Only the best for my honored guests,” Steve pokes one of those heavenly fucking dimples and oh.

Oh.

Steve’s making sure the window won’t fall on them as them climb down when Eddie leans close, looks down, and talks really close to Steve’s ear:

“They’re a reason we didn’t bail from the get-go?”

Steve wouldn’t hide the way he shivers if he tried.

“Honestly?” Steve chuckles, light with it, maybe…and he’s not sure okay, he could be making shit up and talking out his ass but, like, maybe he’s…

Free with it. Free with it?

He looks at Eddie who’s still grinning, dimples and all.

Free’s close enough.

“I don’t know, wasn’t really thinking,” Steve admits, and then tries the brave thing one more time: “truth or dare?”

Eddie’s answer is immediate, leaned close again against Steve’s shoulder, close at his ear:

“Truth.”

“Will you be angry if I said I wasn’t mad,” Steve turns, and their lips are so close: “that I didn’t think of leaving from the start?”

“Oddly enough?” Eddie grins so near that just the motion brushes their mouths. “Not even a little bit.” Then Eddie leans closer, means to, and doesn’t run like he’s stealing anything this time when he kisses Steve like he means it.

Then he’s speaking straight against Steve’s lips: “Truth or dare?”

And fuck it; everything’s been mixed up, shattered, rebuilt, turned inside out tonight. So far it’s turning out way better than Steve could have guessed. Definitely so much better than it started.

Might as well keep running with it.

“Dare.”

Eddie grins but there’s a heat to it, but then alongside, there’s something…mischievous. And then Eddie’s bumping his head into Steve’s and murmuring close:

“You climb down first and catch my ass when I inevitably fall halfway,” he issues his challenger; “I��m uncoordinated as shit.”

And Steve was wrong before.

The kiss he gives Eddie has more smile in it than he’s ever had, or shown, or shared before; not once in his whole goddamn life.

He could get used to it.

🧡

also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[swamp-chicken]

PACIFIC RIM AU PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ

I originally started writing this for hermicraft big bang like ... two years ago? and i was going to emotionally blackmail danya into doing the art. but then I kind of lost all interest in writing. still, I have a solid 1/6 of this fic written! i should pick it up again someday

an excerpt below.. ignore my notes to myself

Etho, the Etho, was a legend. Never mind that he was Bdubs’ inspiration to start piloting in the first place. The man had revolutionized the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, starting in the early years when he was an engineer working on the first generation of jaegers. And then, not satisfied with helping create one of the most advanced machines in the world, humanity’s only hope, Etho chose to step inside the jaeger he had helped design and became one of the first pilots. He had been the only scientist brave enough to step into the jaeger himself.

**with pause and beef???***He did it with full knowledge of the risk it entailed. Back then, piloting was even more dangerous than it was now. It wasn’t just the kaiju you had to worry about. Those days were pre-fission, pre-drift. There were the unshielded nuclear reactors, leaking radiation into the cockpit. There was the incredible neural load placed on the pilot as he maneuvered the jaeger solo. But still, Etho soldiered on.

And he kicked ass. 

For years, he was the hero of the world. You could run up to any civilian in the street and they would know who Etho was, as well as at least three random facts about him— what his favorite color was, favorite band— you name it. He was famous famous. His image was plastered on every PPDC commercial, he was sitting at every PPDC press conference. But the reason people really went crazy over him was how humble he seemed, like the perfect selfless hero. He sat quiet in the press conferences, he smiled and waved when it was needed. He started wearing a mask at some point, and whether it was out of shyness or germophobia no one every knew. But no one cared, it just added to the mystique. 

And Bdubs, well, Bdubs wasn’t different than anyone else, really. But his interest in Etho was maybe a bit stronger than his peers. He watched every fight, every press conference, every commercial. He typed out furious defenses of him in online forums, and stealthily saved photos of him to his hard drive.** more here

Etho granted only one private interview the entire time he was a pilot. It was an intimate half-hour, tastefully lit. Bdubs had stayed up past his bedtime to watch the interview live. He hung on Etho’s every word, memorized the nervous way he shifted in his seat, how he stumbled through his answers. And then the interviewer had asked it— The Question. “Why do you do what you do?”

Etho’s answer changed Bdubs’ life. He had shrugged, tentatively glanced at someone behind the camera. “Um,” he hummed, maybe trying to buy time. “I guess… I just like fighting aliens, I guess.”

Bdubs signed up for the PPDC the next day. 

For Bdubs, Etho was the inspiration. He inspired Bdubs to quit the latest of his dead-end jobs, inspired him to move across the country—towards the danger, instead of away—against the urging of his family, his friends, and his own common sense. He inspired Bdubs to enroll in the PPDC, to persevere through the rigorous and often discouraging training process. And it all worked out. After a rough start, Bdubs’ high drift compatibility scores starting rolling in and he was fast-tracked towards becoming a pilot. 

But during Bdubs’ training, things started changing. The jaeger, once unstoppable machines of destruction, were faltering. The kaiju were emerging bigger and more ferocious, fill of poison and spines and slavering for destruction. The jaegers started falling.

He still remembers where he was the day it happened. It was late November, close to 1 AM and the pilot trainees were clustered around Scar’s phone. Somehow he had managed to smuggle one in despite there being an explicit ban on outside tech. A new kaiju had appeared— a mark 3, the biggest one yet, and Team Canada had been sent to dispatch it. The footage was blurred with rain, the pacific rocked with an early winter storm.

Peering over his comrade’s shoulder, squinting at the tiny screen, Bdubs could barely make out the kaiju and jaeger battling. The kaiju stood almost twice the height of the jaeger. The video was shaky. The film helicopter must be miles away, using a telescoping lens.

The jaeger threw a punch that the kaiju, snakelike, easily avoided. Then the kaiju belched and bright acid exploded from its mouth, drenching the jaeger’s left side. 

“Oooooh!” the trainees chorused, and Bdubs felt a pit in his stomach.

“Look,” Grian pointed out. “I think their arm is disabled.” And it was. The jaeger’s left arm hung limply. The acid must have eaten through the muscle cables.

“They’ll be alright,” Bdubs said, but he couldn’t keep the nervousness out of his voice. “Etho only needs one arm anyway.”

“Such an Etho stan,” Grian mocked. They all had discovered his obsession early, and ruthlessly teased him about it. “I don’t know, dude. This doesn’t look good.”

The jaeger struck out again, this time with a nearly-executed kick. It made sold contact with the kaiju’s leg, bringing it down. Then, in a move so smooth it looked choreographed, the jaeger brought its right arm down on the kaiju’s head, smashing the creature below the waves.

“See?” Bdubs crowed, looking around the room triumphantly. “A broken arm can’t stop him.”

But no one looked up. “Bdubs…” Scar said. 

Bdubs glanced back at the screen.

The kaiju had some kind of tail. It was prehensile, it was clawed. And it was tearing away at the jaeger cockpit.

Bdubs leaned forward. On the tiny phone screen, it was impossible to see details past the rain lashing the camera. Suddenly, the footage seared white, and then, darkness. The entire room held its breath.

Gradually, the footage resolved. Nothing was visible absent the helicopter spotlight, panning across the uneasy waves.

The video cut, and the tinny voice of the newscaster filtered through the static in Bdubs’ ears: “…no life signs from… could mean they have been removed from the pons… not necessarily deceased…”

The room was dead silent. Then: “Shit,” Grian whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

For Bdubs, there were no words. 

Later, he would learn that Beef and Pause had been ripped from the cockpit by the kaiju, killed while still tethered to Etho through the drift. And that Etho, controlling the jaeger on his own, had still somehow managed to bring the kaiju down, jamming the jaeger’s plasma pulser down the kaiju’s throat and discharging until he there was nothing left. 

The found the jaeger collapsed on a remote stretch of coast on Vancouver island. 

And then… nothing. No news from the PPDC, no media appearances from Etho. There were tons of rumors, of course. The solo drift had fried his brain. The radiation had finally caught up to him. The emotional and physical pain of his partners dying in the drift were enough to cause a psychotic break. But regardless of the reason, Etho was never heard from again. 

It was a year later that Bdubs got his pilots license. When he first entered the drift, it was in a very different world than the one Etho had fought in. The kaiju were bigger and meaner. The jaeger tech always seemed to lag a step behind. And the humans were losing.

But now he was back. And he wanted to drift with Bdubs. 

Cleo cocked her head at him. “Do you want to maybe come with me to command?”

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

y'know, i've taken the time to calm down from what happened minutes ago and this might be the distraction i need. hey, the Karen and Swag dynamic is back (for real this time) and i got myself some instant ramen :)

(the following is my life reaction:)

hey luke, oh that's right the murder drones merch ofc

ah yes, just innocent child imagination. very nice :)

dude, it's good to see Karen and her kids again

THEY BROUGHT IT BACK LET'S GOOOOOO

and the corporation is at it again. OMG seriously leave Karen alone bruh

well, ig she didn't technically finish the job of killing Marty (nope i'm still not over that btw)

well we at least know what Karen has them under in her contacts, "Hitman inc"

YES YES YESSSSSSSS THE SMG4 KIDS ARE BACK BABYYYYYY

i have been WAITING for this to happen, i can check this off the bucket list

can they be friends PLEASE?????

oh hang on i gotta pull a Pitch Meeting (TM) here, give me a second...

Writer!Ink: "..And Frankie said that Beeg4 claimed the playground right before they did." Producer!Ink: "Wow, it's going to be hard to go against Beeg. I mean, this is the kid known to start fights with other kids to get what he wants, like that one time with the ice cream." Writer!Ink: "Actually, it's going to be super easy. Barely an inconvenience." Producer!Ink: "Oh, really?" Writer!Ink: "Yeah, because Zach is just going to poke Beeg with a stick and that should pretty much do it."

Producer!Ink: "If only we could do that irl... but wait, if they're in their imaginary world, could the stick be a stand-in for a sword or weapon in general? I mean, it was the same stick they used to execute that guy." Writer!Ink: "Well, sir, we're already pushing boundaries on what YouTube is allowing Glitch Productions to do. We're already doing the Knights of Guinevere and, with Dana Terrace and TOH team onboard, there's not enough in the budget to show a kid getting stabbed even though it's pretend." Producer!Ink: "Oh yeah, YouTube will definitely going to kick our ass for that. We got away with it last time with Terrence." Writer!Ink: "Also, death is sometimes not real." Producer!Ink: "...What?"

...let's just move on

sad moment for Beeg for sure, but I just like how he rolls around like that

Swag, my dude, no....

that was cute for Swag to call Beeg little buddy

EGGDOG NOOO (well, they are kids, they probably didn't realize how much it's affecting Beeg, even if it's pretend)

SWAG FLASHBACK? i did not see that coming

also these grown-ass men clowning on a kid, bruh how about you mind your damn business

this really sweet though and very on brand for Swag to go against a bunch of kids

*holding out for a hero shrek 2 version mp3 plays in bg*

yep, everyone in SMG4 has trauma 😀👍

"OMG IT'S SPIDER-MAN" *look at the camera* how did I get in this show? am i cory this whole time?

guess who's back from that call?

Swag, you're so dead. RIP already to you dude

(also weird how in the same week, the fandom found out that Kevin was going to be in a boxing tournament, huh...)

that R roll though, hold onnnnn

i really do love the switch between their game of pretend and irl

using a HIGHLY EXPERIMENTAL GOVERNMENT DEVICE on CHILDREN in a PLAYGROUND....

huh *sweats nervously* this isn't new, very on-brand for Swag to do, but... oh god they read my episode concepts /silly

honestly that's a good question Karen, finally someone says it

SWAG

This is giving "The Incredibles" vibes and i'm somehow here for that, hell yeah

PFFT HAHAHA YEAH KAREN FUCK THIS GET THEIR ASS

well Swag you did dare them to "stomp out" your spell

OH BEEG HE'S JUST A BABY 😭

YES YES THIS IS WHAT I WANT YESSSS

WAITER WAITER I WOULD LIKE SOME MORE 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥

*LE GASP* WE CAN HAVE SMG4 CREW MINI WITH ALL THE KIDS

...huh *to self, don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4*

i'm going to point at whoever wrote this scene intentionally. you, yes YOU, if i'm thinking exactly what you are putting down, touché

OH SHIT GET THE KIDS KAREN

F in the chat for Swag o7 (ik he's not dead)

WOAH WOAH WOAH HOLD UP NONONONONO TEAM YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THAT ON US! ON ME!

oh fuck dude, that just slapped me across the face. "Reckless and chaotic", huh? WHO THE HELL IS THE KIDS' BIO FATHER? For all we know, this guy might be dead. divorce is an option, sure, but the way Swag's sacrifice caused a lot of destruction...

the implications, guys... i can't believe this...

ANYWAY Beeg4's little hops 💙 like father, like son

andddd Swag's not dead, i knew it. and in the sky just like Old Man who's also not dead btw :)

Congrats to choripandia for your art being featured in the credit 🎉 love the art, dude

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

omg... what an episode! This has been fantastic, honestly!!! Everything from the plot to the animation, all of it was SOOOO GOOD. It's crazy and wacky and I love it! It featured side characters the whole time, love those kinds of changes! and we got character backstories which WOAH that was a nice surprise :D

AND AND i get a dose of the Mini Crew? HELL YEAH

this has been phenomenal and I truly think this might lead to something. Aside from the imagery the Team likes to tease me and goop!4 theory with, this could lead to an arc, likely on Karen. A non-Mr.Puzzles arc, I'm all for it.

(and y'know me I would've called it the most non-Puzzles Puzzles arc potential of all times, that doesn't seem that it's linked to Puzzles in any way but it could be brought back bc character development. after all, Karen is linked to Marty, Puzzle Park, and the corporation and Swag to episodes related to IGBP. but for our sakes, let's not have Puzzles this time, it'll be a very creative challenge for the Team)

If there's no arc, that is totally fine! I am more than happy to just have more episodes like this without it being in an arc. not necessarily non-plot relevant bc of the corporation and Karen's mystery husband. it's still insane that the Team dropped that in for us and Swag's backstory like that. Amazing job, truly.

Now I know some people might've been confused about Mario being in the thumbnail and not in the episode. I get it really. According to Ben, he didn't see the episode itself until after its release and this thumbnail was what the Team sent him to do. It's crazy ik, but do understand that they're working on a tight schedule.

Take it from me: I work as a major editor for a publishing group (that i'm not going to specify) and we have to release a new thing every two weeks. It's not of "one team works on this and then passes it on to the next" like a factory production line. All teams are working at the same time and have to deliver at the same time, regardless of the amount they were given in the first place. And there are times when something's missing, we have to improvise (but still maintain good quality) just so we could meet the deadline. Even if we have good communication with each other.

Obviously for the SMG4 Team, they have a lot of things going on in their lives, other projects to work on, timezones to get through, and yet they still have the moment for this show. Perhaps when Ben was sent the request, they planned to have Mario in the episode but the writers (Aaron, Paul, and Wiz) decided to write him out. Who knows? Just imagine doing a thumbnail and then the group chat tells you to make a different one quickly before they release it. Plus, his computer is holding on by a thread from all the rendering, poor Ben

i know how that feels, man 😔 there goes my program crashing

For what it's worth, it's okay, the episode was still great. Thanks as always, Team. Anyway guys, that's all I have to say for now, really enjoyed nice little distraction. And remember: numbers go first!

I'll see you all next time!!! 💙

[mielgf]

no social experience has felt quite like being a 20-something year old managing people significantly older than you

[arachnits]

time for another kh doodle dump

[ghostboyhood]

no fucking wayyy dude

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

I don't not mean this offensively at all but is blows my mind that you are a lawyer but also writing jjk fics bc I work at a law firm and cannot for the life of me imagine any of the lawyers that work there writing fanfiction LOL kudos to u seriously I know how busy schedues can get due to court dates haha

im working in like. big city criminal law stuff right now and have been told by people in my office that i come off as a very deadpan and straight-laced legal nerd so i don't think the people who know me from my attorney life are imagining me writing jjk fanfic in my free time either

[tarpitbell]

11:23

I'm a damn leech. That's all I am

[aaron-taylorfuturelife]

Welcome Everybody to my page of Mr.Aaron Taylor. The man, the muse. I’m so excited to start this blog and meet mutual other fans of Aaron 🤭☺️

[astridthevalkyrie]

feeling like you’re 12 when you’re 22 is genuinely such a humiliating experience.

[tith]

Today’s my birthday and this week when Steven was having a hard time beating a level of a video game he passed the controller to me and I beat it instantly and that was the very first time I have actually assisted in a hard part of a video game rather than being the one who needs assistance… so I guess I have grown!

[rosicheeks]

F- favorite song?

M- middle name?

S- song last listened to

Y- your last hug?

F - Favorite song (at this very moment)

M - Dona 🫶

S -

Y - my friends 🤗

[belovedspector]

.

[sexyleon]

I officially completely unplugged myself as much as I can 🙃🙃🙃 I’m way too reliant on my phone and waiting for people to talk to me is super unhealthy and has made me very anxious. I literally turned off ever single possible notification and will purposefully not be responding to messages because I just need time a space to figure out how to navigate myself without validation from others.

[boowhumps]

|WHUMPRIL 2023|

|Day 25 ~ Heart Racing|

(@whumpril)

⚠TW⚠

- Mention of Guns

- Swearing

- Mention of Murder

- Mention of Rape

----------------

The air was suffocating, and it didn't help having an officer with a gun directly behind me.

My old social worker sat next to me, and I could feel her eyes staring at me even when my gaze never left the floor.

Another officer paced in front of me, seemingly deep in thought.

Finally she cleared her throat and spoke.

"Alright Ka-"

"That's not my name." I growled.

Silence filled the room once again. My social worker sighed. I slumped further in my chair.

"Okay, we got off on the wrong foot, let's start over. I'm Officer Claire.. and you are.?"

"..May.." I mumble.

"Okay May, I was the one in charge of your case the day you disappeared. Can you tell me what happened?" Claire asks.

I stay silent.

Claire sighs and walks over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinch away at the contact.

"I think we need to speak alone. Could you both leave for a few minutes?" Claire asks the other two.

I assume they agree because in a second they are both out the door.

Claire pulls up a chair in front of me. "Now.. I need you to tell me what happened."

I wrap my arms around myself. "I can't.." I whisper.

Claire frowns "Why not?"

"I can barely remember.." I reply.

"Well, I'll read my reports and see if we can trigger your memory." She says.

"Let's see here.. The day was May 16.. your birthday, correct?"

I shrug.

"You were in your 6th placement, and your foster father was Richard Norman."

The name is familiar, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

"We got a call that night, around 9 pm.. the neighbors heard screaming. When we arrived, Richard was dead. There was a stab wound from a broken beer bottle right where his heart was.."

My nails dig into my skin.

"Upon further inspection.. We found more blood on the bed in the master bedroom, as well as in the bathtub of the master bathroom.. Testing revealed that it was your blood."

I dig my nails further, drawing blood.

"Did he hurt you, May?"

I can't respond.

"May.. Did you kill him because he.. raped you-"

Claire barely manages to get that sentence out before I break.

"SHUT UP-!" I scream.

"May, calm do-"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" I yell as the door suddenly opens.

The cop has his hand next to his gun, as if he's preparing to fire. My social worker looks scared.

Claire immediately puts her hands up. "Don't worry Carson, everything's fine-"

At this point I'm having a full meltdown, and I'm nowhere near okay as Claire says. I sink down to the floor, hands gripping my hair.

Claire stands up. "We'll.. just give her a minute to calm down.. She just needs alone time."

And with that, I'm locked in a room by myself.

Without thinking, I start banging my head against the wall. It's painful, but also comforting.

My eyes scan the room, and I spot a window.

I quickly stand up and drag a chair over to the window. I stand on it and try to open the window.

Locked, as I suspected.

I throw myself against the window, trying to break it.

I look down at my hands, then back up at the window, and I suck in a breath and punch the window with all my strength.

Pain erupt in my knuckles as they collide with the glass, but the window breaks.

I jump up and begin to pull myself through the window, glass digging into my skin.

The second I pull myself through, I hear the door unlock.

I force myself to stand and I start to sprint. I run as fast as I can, not heading towards any specific place.

After what felt like forever, I stop to catch my breath. My hands scramble for my phone, and I dial the only number I can remember off the top of my head.

'ring'

'ring'

'ring'

"May?"

I gasp in relief that Kai actually answered.

"Kai- I.. fuck-" I trip over my words.

"May, what's wrong? June said you disappeared-"

"I need- help-" I struggle to catch my breath.

I hear the jingle of keys on the other side. "Where are you?"

"I don't- know.." I say as I feel tears fall down my face.

"Look around, do you see any signs?" Kai asks.

My eyes dart around until I spot a sign. "Garden.." I manage to say.

"Eve's Garden? That's where you work May, remember?" Kai says.

"Uh huh.."

"Okay, I'm coming now. Can you wait somewhere?"

"No.. They find- me.."

"Who? Who'll find you May?"

"Bad.."

I hear voices behind me, and I gasp and run into the nearest alley to hide.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kai asks, but at this point I'm a crying mess that I can't physically answer.

My chest is tightening and I feel like my lungs are closing in. I gasp and try to breathe but I can't.

Black spots blur my vision along with tears.

"May, talk to me. Focus on my voice." I hear Kai say.

I slump against some old boxes, phone against my ear.

"Please.." I barely manage to say.

"May, I'm 2 minutes away, just stay on the line.

I grip at my shirt and that's when I realize how much I'm bleeding. Small cuts litter my arms and knees.

"..'M bleeding.." I mumble.

"May I'm here, where are you?"

"Don't know.. tired.."

"No, don't you fall asleep. Tell me what you see."

"Red wall.. boxes.."

"Are you in an alley?"

"Mhm.."

"Okay, hang tight."

I hear footsteps approaching, and my heart almost beats out of my chest.

I hear a 'fuck' and there's arms around me. I cry and try to fight back, but my muscles give up.

"Hey! It's me May! What's wrong?!"

I shrink away from his touch that feels like needles.

"Fuck.. you're bleeding.."

Those same needle hands pick me up despite my protests.

I open my eyes slightly and that's when I see the night sky. Somehow, I feel calmer just by staring at it.

The calmness slips away as I'm put into a car, away from the stars. I whine as I hit my fist against my head.

"You're okay.." A voice whispers.

I feel my shoulders jerk up and I grunt uncontrollably.

I feel something heavy placed on me, and my body calms a bit.

"Hold on, we're going home."

I grunt softly in response.

A phone rings, and I cover my ears at the sound of it.

I keep my eyes closed as Kai responds to the call.

"Hello? Woah- hey it's fine. I got her."

...

"Yes.. she's okay, for now anyways."

...

"She's injured, you should call that one lady- yeah her."

...

"Pretty bad. Cuts all over her arms and legs.. and a pretty large gash on her arm."

...

...

"She's resting right now, she had a meltdown I think.. Yeah, one of those."

"I don't know if she is.. that's a question for another day though."

...

"Okay, I'll see you soon, bye."

I feel a hand rest in mine, and I give a small squeeze in response.

"It's okay.. rest. You'll be okay."