#lorraine eddy

[chaplinlegend]

Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson (left) and Marion Davies (right) at a party held at the Ambassador's French Room on October 31, 1928, to celebrate Marion's return from a three-month tour.

Second photo - Marion Davies with Buster Keaton.

In the third photo - Gloria Swanson, Charlie Chaplin, Marion Davies and Harry Crocker.

In the group photo, guests, probably not all, who attended the party - standing, from left to right: Lorraine Eddy, Matt Moore, Aileen Pringle, Louis B. Mayer, Gloria Swanson, Harry D'Arrast, Miss Davies, Louella O. Parsons, Ricardo Cortez, Charlie Chaplin, Norma Shearer, Irving G. Thalberg, Harold Lloyd and Robert Z. Leonard. Seated in the foreground are Harry Crocker, left, and William Haines.

The Ambassador's French Room was transformed into a Parisian café for a surprise party for Miss Davies on 31 October 1928.

On this occasion, heartfelt thanks to the friends of the "Charlie Chaplin for the Ages" group on the Facebook community site, for providing some photos for this post.

[soothemetosleep]

Nowhere Else To Go

"pairing": eddie munson & oc (lorraine seymour)

summary: when you almost died from an interdimensional monster but are even more afraid of coming home and having your mother see you looking like you just crawled out of a grave and on the verge of a panic attack, there aren't many shelters to choose from

words: 2.9k

disclaimer: mention of drugs, drug use, prejudices, use of bad words, minors with firearms

The cool night air wrapped around Lorraine as she exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards and disappear into the darkness. Its sharp scent clung to her like the grime on her clothes.

It was much darker now, the oppressive weight of nightfall transforming the world around her, but Lorraine hardly noticed—her mind was elsewhere, pulled taut with the strain of nerves that refused to settle, focused only on every rustle of leaves, every distant creak.

Her shoes scraped against the crumbling pavement that eventually gave way to the rough dirt of the poorer side of town, slowing her steps as Lori took in the change, her surroundings becoming eerily unfamiliar. Or perhaps she did know them, only they were distorted under the cloak of night and the haze of fear and drugs.

The joint between her fingers had burned down to a nub, but she took another long drag anyway, letting the harsh smoke burn her throat and keep her from fully grasping that new surreal reality.

There was the flicker of a streetlight ahead, its sickly yellow glow struggling to stay alive. Lorraine blinked, squinting as her brain tried to clear itself enough to process where she was. Was that the edge of town? Had she reached the farmlands?

No. It was perhaps worse.

Sitting on practically the outskirts of town, the Forest Hill Trailer Park came to view as a cluster of mobile homes, the unpaved roads Lorraine had followed leading to it like to a forgotten corner of the world. The trailers were lined up in neat, uneven rows, but the uniformity ended there. Many of the "homes" had their exteriors faded by the elements, with rusted panels and chipped paint. Others bore the scars of hasty repairs —duct-taped windows, tarps spread across leaky roofs, and sagging porches where the wood had long given up fighting decay. But despite that, life clung on in stubborn ways: a few children's toys scattered around, the occasional potted plant sitting on the steps of trailers that tried, in their own way, to be welcoming. Dim lamps cast warm light through curtains that had once been white, the sound of a television drifting from an open window, the occasional dog barking in the distance.

Despite never having been there before, Lorraine knew enough to feel the resignation that hung over the place. She was about to turn and leave when an unexpected name and a direction written on a napkin stirred in her mind: Eddie Munson lived there, didn’t he? What a fitting place for the one everyone dimmed as an outcast, the one who seemed the type to roll with whatever madness came his way. The type to not press for details, to not judge. He wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

It was incredibly funny how her dealer seemed to be the most dependable person right then.

Lorraine flicked the last of her joint into the ground, watching the embers sizzle for a second before snuffing out completely.

Perhaps it was the still-present fear that drove her to do something as crazier as to step into the trailer park.

A deafening guitar riff poured out from Munson’s trailer, rattling the walls with every fierce strum of the strings. Clearly, this wasn’t a one-time thing; the neighbors didn’t even bother to complain. Either they were used to it, or Eddie had long stopped caring whether they did.

Lorraine doubted he’d hear her over the music, but she knocked anyway—loudly, insistently, for she really didn't have anywhere better to go or anything better to do. And to her surprise, the music cut off abruptly. A brief moment of silence followed before she heard footsteps and the door creaked open.

Eddie squinted into the darkness, his face lit feebly by the glow of the single bulb inside the trailer. His eyes widened as they locked onto hers, recognition crossing his features.

“Lorraine?” Confusion laced her name. “What are you doing here at this hour?” He glanced down, finally taking in her disheveled state and, of course, lingering on the rifle slung over her back like some relic from a war zone. He didn’t do as much as freak out. Didn’t even look surprised. If anything, it was the gentleness in his tone that caught her off guard, like he didn’t want to spook her, even if, by his posture, she could tell Eddie was tense. “Are you okay?”

“Hey,” Lori forced a smile, though it felt hollow as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. As if hugging herself would keep her together. “I'm—It's fine, I... I'm sorry to bother you, really, I just...” Her voice faltered. That’s where her wonderfully laid plan ended. She hadn’t even thought of an excuse before knocking on his door, looking like she’d crawled through hell. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lori ultimately opted for a half-truth wrapped in vagueness. Let him fill in the blanks with whatever story made sense to him. It was better that way.

She watched as his throat bobbed with a subtle gulp before he stepped aside, silently agreeing to whatever version of what had happened he was constructing in his mind. “Come in.” 

The door clicked shut behind her, and Lori’s chest deflated with a very much-needed relief. She followed him into the cramped living room, Eddie motioning her toward the old, sagging sofa that had seen better days.

“Take a seat,” he offered, but Lorraine shook her head weakly.

She didn’t trust herself to practically collapse on the cushions, not when she was still caked in filth, even if her body was aching in places she hadn’t noticed until the adrenaline and the weed began to wear off. “I’m fine. I don’t want to mess up your place.”

Eddie glanced around, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as if to say you think this place is clean? Still, he didn’t press, shrugging instead. “Suit yourself. You, uh, want something to drink? Water? Maybe something stronger?”

“Water’s fine.”

Eddie gave her a small nod, disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Lori standing awkwardly in the living room. The girl took it in —mismatched furniture, clothes lying around the floor, empty beer cans, a clutter of magazines and cassettes strewn across the coffee table, a poster of some band barely clinging to the wall. There was a copy of The Return of the King sitting on the TV, its well-worn pages hinting at multiple reads. It was a small detail, but it tugged at the corners of her lips. Somehow, the lived-in chaos was comforting, especially when her own mind felt as entangled.

Eddie returned, a glass of water in hand, and handed it to her without a word. She took it, murmuring a quiet “Thanks” before sipping the cool liquid, hoping it would calm her down, if only a little.

He leaned against the arm of the couch, studying her with a laid-back but present concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

The question settled into her already heavy chest. Loraine felt guilty for having him think the worst, but again, telling him that a monster from another world had almost caught her would only lead him to think that she had taken too many puffs and had had a hell of an astral trip.

“Could I use your shower? Please?” The tremor in her voice betrayed her, showing just how desperate she felt to wash it all away—the dirt, the terror. She needed to scrub it off, to feel human again, to somehow reclaim the part of her that still believed in normalcy.

Eddie studied her for a beat longer, ultimately nodding towards the bathroom. “Of course, go ahead. I'll get you some clothes you can change into later.”

Lori would never call him a freak or anything like that ever again. In fact, she would seriously defend him against insults from Becky or any other cheerleader or asshole on the team.

She turned toward the bathroom, pausing for just a second before the door. “Thank you, Eddie. Really.”

He shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, but his eyes softened. “Shout if you need anything, okay?”

Lorraine sat curled up on Eddie's couch, her slight frame swallowed by the oversized T-shirt he'd lent her, an unknown band logo sprawled across the front. It was so big it might as well have been a dress, draping loosely over her as she cocooned herself in a blanket. The sound of the washing machine hummed softly from the other room, its rhythmic swish a kind of unexpected lullaby that soothed her in ways nothing else could at the moment. Her still-wet hair clung to her face, but even that was oddly comforting.

Her eyes roamed the room in quiet observation, though there wasn't much left to focus on. Eddie had picked up most of the mess she'd noticed when she first came in, the only thing left on the floor being her things, the firearm at reach in case anything went wrong, like the monster appearing through a crack in the ceiling or some other unbelievable-thing-that-wasn’t-as-unbelievable-now.

“I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, again. ” Her voice when she first talked after getting out of the bathroom came out slightly hoarse, the result of all the screaming she'd done in the woods. “You really don't know me beyond the fact that you sell me weed.”

Eddie glanced over at her from where he was sitting by the window, keeping a respectful distance —close enough to show he was there, but far enough to let her have her space. He smiled, easy and reassuring. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had a few people crash at my place before,” he said with a shrug, his casual tone making it clear that her presence wasn’t a burden. “Besides, you got me some business, and I’m not about to turn away a customer who promises to be a loyal one.”

Lorraine didn’t know how, of all people, it was Eddie Munson who was pulling a genuine smile from her. He let the silence stretch without feeling the need to fill it, allowing her to bask in a kindness she hadn’t realized she needed.

She exhaled deeply, sinking further into the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest as she tried to ground herself, remind herself that the danger was behind her. But even though Eddie's presence helped, no external stimulus drifted her mind back to the woods, the darkness, the monster.

“You were playing the guitar before I interrupted you. Could you continue? Play something? Anything.” Anything but that silence.

Eddie pushed himself up from the chair without hesitation. “Yeah, of course. Any requests?”

Lorraine shook her head, and nodding in response, he disappeared down the hallway, returning moments later with a red, geometrically sharp guitar. He sat down again, settling the instrument on his lap, fingers effortlessly finding their place on the strings. A soft, steady melody soon filled the trailer, a far cry from the intense riff he'd been playing earlier. It was something calmer, gently nudging away the lingering twitchiness. Lori found herself unexpectedly mesmerized: she’d always admired those who could play instruments, especially the guitar. When she was little, she’d wanted to learn it herself. But when she’d mentioned it to her parents, her father had enrolled her in piano lessons without asking. Perhaps he had viewed the piano as more proper for a girl, and Lorraine, eager to please, had gone along with it at first. She hadn’t hated it—not exactly. But the competitiveness of the music school, coupled with the strict expectations of her teacher, had drained the joy out of it. Eventually, she’d quit, her desire to play an instrument snuffed out like a candle.

“How many of those are yours?” The melodies were completely unknown to her —maybe because his taste in music simply differed from hers—, leading her to wishfully think that, if he had a band, it must mean he wrote songs, too.

Eddie glanced up at her, a proud smile spreading across his face. “About half of them,” he said, his fingers pausing for a brief moment on the fretboard. “The rest are covers. I've been working on an album, though...” His voice trailed off, a slight sadness coloring his tone. “But that's still in process.”

Lorraine perked up at his response. “You write the lyrics too?” There was something so revealing, so personal about what people decided to express through writing in a song, in a poem. Like a window into someone's soul. And now, sitting in that moment of unexpected tranquility with the boy who had taken her in, she found herself genuinely curious. What would his lyrics say about him, about the world he saw? She wanted a glimpse into that, to see him from a different angle, to understand something more about who he was beyond the surface.

“Yeah, everything,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug. “I've got a few songs I've been working on, but... I'm still trying to find the right sound, y'know? For the full, hypothetical album.”

Lorraine leaned forward slightly, her curiosity now fully piqued. Hypothetical was the kind of word someone used when they were unsure if a dream would ever really materialize. She wanted to know why. “Could I read some of them?”

Eddie let out a nervous laugh, caught off guard by her request. “You?” His grin was a little lopsided, his tone playful but edged with caution. “I’m not sure I want the poetess Mr. Hauser can’t stop praising to judge my stuff.”

Lorraine raised an eyebrow. Mr. Hauser? Praising her? That didn’t seem like the same man who rarely offered more than a half-hearted compliment in class. Especially compared to the enthusiasm he saved for students like that Robin Buckley. But even if Eddie’s words were a little exaggerated, the idea was flattering, and for a moment, it made her smile.

“Come on, I'm not even that good.” Lori brushed off. “Please?”

Eddie chuckled, but his defenses seemed to crumble under Lorraine's puppy dog eyes. “Alright, alright,” he finally said, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe what he was about to do. “I don’t usually let people read my unfinished stuff, but if you’re that interested...”

Lorraine watched as he disappeared down the hallway again, listening to the faint sounds of him rummaging through something in his room.

When he returned, he was holding a black notebook, the cover worn and torn at the edges, filled with stickers. He handed it to her with a grin, but there was a flicker of nervousness behind it. “Here. Just... don’t laugh at my horrible handwriting.”

“I won’t,” she promised once her fingers brushed against the rough texture of its cover.

Lorraine flipped through the pages, squinting slightly as she tried to decipher Eddie's scrawled calligraphy. His lyrics were a chaotic blend of mythological references, dark imagery, and intense emotions, but there was one that stood out. It was about a wanderer, someone drifting through life on their own terms, free but burdened by a sense of isolation. She read it again, lingering on the rhythm of the words, focusing on the strong hit of syllables, imagining the kind of music that might accompany them.

“Do you have a melody for this one yet?”

Eddie, who had been watching her with a quiet intensity, shrugged. “It's one of my newer ones. I've got a melody in mind, but I'm still working on getting it right.”

He took the notebook back from her, resting it on his thigh to let his fingers absently strum a few chords on his guitar. Then he paused, his gaze shifting from the notebook to Lorraine. He studied her for a moment before speaking, his tone thoughtful but curious. “Have you ever tried to write down a song? Instead of just poetry?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I mean... I don't know anything about composing or music theory at all,” she replied, shaking her head.

But Eddie waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “You don’t need to know all that to write,” he said, casual but insistent. “And you sure as hell don’t need it to learn how to play the guitar.” Before she could protest, he practically tossed the instrument into her lap.

“Hey, wait—” Lorraine raised her arms defensively, the weight of the instrument pressing against her legs. “Really, I can’t do it. I surely suck at it—”

“No shit, smart ass.” Lorraine’s mouth dropped open at such sudden liberties taken with her. He got up from his chair and plopped down beside her on the couch. “Nobody’s born taught, so don't sell yourself short without even trying first.”

Lorraine ended up holding the guitar, her fingers awkwardly positioned on the strings. Eddie leaned in, his calloused hands guiding hers as he showed her how to form basic chords. The first few notes she played sounded rough, disjointed, and she winced slightly, but Eddie just laughed, nudging her encouragingly. “You’ll get it. Try this one,” he said, showing her a short, simple riff.

She wasn’t Jimi Hendrix reborn by any means, but there was something oddly satisfying about the way the notes came together, the way Eddie’s patience and easy-going attitude made her feel less self-conscious.

Turned out she enjoyed it more than she thought she would.

Want to read more?

[gillianthecat]

I found this 8 minute documentary that Dance Theatre of Harlem put together about the creation of Creole Giselle.

https://fb.watch/rIsmkx_R7w/?mibextid=w8EBqM

[letterboxd-loggd]

1941 (1979) Steven Spielberg

May 20th 2023

[tentothemonkeynine]

On March 23, 2023, Suzy Eddie Izzard appeared on the British talk show Lorraine. They spoke about Great Expectations, politics, and the origin of Suzy’s name.

This article from Pink News gives an excellent overview of the interview:

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) 1993

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" is a song written by Jim Steinman, and recorded by American rock singer Meat Loaf. The song was released in August 1993 as the first single from the singer's sixth album, Bat Out of Hell II: Back into Hell (1993). The last six verses features English singer Lorraine Crosby, who was credited only as "Mrs. Loud" in the album notes. While visiting the label's recording studios on Sunset Boulevard, Crosby was asked by her manager Steinman to provide guide vocals for Meat Loaf, who was recording the song "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". Cher, Melissa Etheridge and Bonnie Tyler were considered for the role. The song was a commercial success, however as Crosby had recorded her part as guide vocals, she did not receive any payment for the recording but she receives royalties from PRS. Crosby did not appear in the Michael Bay-directed music video, where model Dana Patrick mimed her vocals. Meat Loaf promoted the single with American vocalist Patti Russo performing the live female vocals of this song at his promotional appearances and concerts.

The power ballad was a commercial success, reaching number one in 28 countries. The single was certified platinum in the US and became Meat Loaf's first and only number one and top ten single on the Billboard Hot 100 and Cash Box Top 100. It also became Meat Loaf's first and only number one single on the UK Singles Chart, and was the best-selling single of 1993 in the UK. The song earned Meat Loaf a Grammy Award for Best Rock Vocal Performance, Solo.

American film director and producer Michael Bay directed the accompanying music video for "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)". The cinematographer was Daniel Pearl, particularly known for filming The Texas Chain Saw Massacre in 1973. Pearl says that this video "is one of my personal all-time favorite projects… I think the cinematography is pure, and it tells a story about the song." The video is based on Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera. Bob Keane did Meat Loaf's make-up, which took up to two hours to apply. The make-up was designed to be simple and scary, yet "with the ability to make him sympathetic." The shoot went over budget, and was filmed in 90 °F (32 °C) heat, across four days. The video, which was the abridged seven-minute version of the song rather than the twelve-minute album version, was put into heavy rotation on MTV.

Meat Loaf appeared in over 50 films and television shows, sometimes as himself or as characters resembling his stage persona. His film roles included Eddie in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and Robert Paulson in Fight Club (1999).

"I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" received a total of 77,7% yes votes!

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt. 55 (12.2)

part 1 | part 54 | ao3

A cop picks him up just outside Dinwiddie, two and a half miles from where he left his car on the side of the road. She’s plump and squat, with red hair and a midwestern accent, like Mrs. Henderson if she grew up in Minnesota.

“Wisconsin,” she corrects. “Hop in, I’ll take you to Lorraine’s.”

“Thanks, Officer…?”

“Greene.”

Steve accepts the offer because his fingertips are so cold they’re starting to burn through his leather gloves, and as she drives them to the diner in town he explains the flat tire — debris flying off an eighteen wheeler, a crazy loud clang followed by a flapping thud-thud-thud, the smell of burnt rubber as he eased onto the shoulder only to remember that he never replaced his busted tire jack.

“Coulda been worse,” Officer Greene shrugs, looking at him with a small grin and tapping a gloved finger against her temple. “Coulda hit ya in the noggin.”

“True," Steve chuckles, "could’ve gone four for four on the concussions.” He has to cover his laugh with a fake cough because he gets a flash of concerned crazy eyes in response, which is pretty fair, actually. Sometimes he forgets the details of his life all sound insane. “Uh. Sports," he amends. "I play— yeah.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Steve watches the woods, the shadows reaching like blunt fingers over the hills, and the snow turns to freezing rain and pools in all the potholes as they splash down the sad main street, past a junkyard and an old schoolhouse, past boarded-up windows and short, stubby buildings full of failing small businesses. Lorraine’s is a hole in the wall at the end of a neglected strip, half the bulbs on the sign blown out so it just reads Rain’s in flickering yellow light, and Steve thinks that's fitting because this place is shit. This place is shit, and he feels like shit, and he’s going to have to drive home to his shitty trailer and see Eddie’s van parked across the street or maybe it still won't be there at all and he— he fucking—

"Easy," Officer Greene says. "You'll chew a hole through your lip doin' that." She parks the car and turns to him, squinting. "You okay?"

Steve pinches the end of his nose.

In the diner, she slides into the booth opposite him and insists on buying him coffee and a short stack, because, "Well, no offense, young man, but you seem like you may be goin' through it a bit."

Steve winces over his coffee, cradling the warm cup with both hands. “Yeah, well,” he sniffs, “my, uh…" Your what, exactly? "I got dumped.”

He doesn’t know why he gives her the details — the empty bed, the sticky note. Sorry. Something in her eyes makes him feel like he can trust her, and when they finish their meal she reaches over and lays a hand over his. Tells him it sounds like he’s got a lot of other people who love him; tells him he should think about giving one of them a call.

With a lump in his throat and fresh tears in his lashes, he fishes quarters from his pocket and trudges over to the phone. Dials one of the few numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello,” Claudia greets, “Henderson residence.”

A truly ugly noise escapes him, wet and thick with phlegm.

“Hello?” she tries again. "Dusty, is that you? Are you okay?"

Steve’s not about to cry where all the waitresses can see. “Hey, Ma,” he croaks when he feels like he can breathe. “It's Steve. Can I... do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?” 

—

part 56

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[corroded-hellfire]

Sight for Sore Eyes - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: With both of Eddie's sons having respective issues at school, you feel more a part of the family than ever when all of the Munsons want you by their side.

Note: I thought this up in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, now here we are. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, dad!eddie, older!eddie

Words: 5.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It’s family movie night in the Munson house, but unlike most other quality times with you and the boys, Eddie can’t focus on the film that’s playing on the television. Ryan brought home yet another disappointing progress report. Not only is that unusual for his eldest son, but it’s also frustrating because when Ryan comes home to do his homework, he always understands it. Be it you or Eddie who goes over it with him once he’s finished, both of you can confirm that the kid knows his stuff. So why are his grades suffering?

At first, Eddie was concerned that Ryan was being bullied. He had brought up to you the idea of teaching Ryan how to fight, but you insisted it would be better to talk to Ryan’s teacher and see if she noticed anything. Mrs. Renner told Eddie that she had not seen anything out of the ordinary, but she would keep a special eye on Ryan. After two weeks of observing Ryan and other students throughout the day, she was able to report back to Eddie that everyone seems to like Ryan and he had no problems with anyone those entire two weeks. It was a relief, but Eddie was back to square one. 

Possibilities still running through his mind like crazy, Eddie absent-mindedly rubs his thumb across the small strip of your skin exposed as your t-shirt rides up. 

“My powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straight through your armor. Oooh! All right, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis…”

The small, red dragon's rant barely registers in Eddie’s mind as his eyes trail over to Ryan, sitting on the other side of you. His son’s face is all scrunched up as he looks towards the television, his small body even leaning as forward as he can in his seat. Eddie’s brows furrow as he watches Ryan for a few moments, and the boy’s facial muscles don’t move at all.

“Uh, bud? Ry? Can you see the TV okay?” Eddie asks. 

“It’s kinda blurry, isn’t it?” Ryan asks, scrunching his face up to squint even more. “Is it ‘cause it’s an old TV?”

You swivel your head towards your boyfriend and the two of you share a knowing look. Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief, a simple solution to an issue that’s nagged at him for weeks may be within reach. 

“It’s not blurry,” Luke blurts out from his place on the floor in front of the couch. His Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle coloring book is flipped open in front of him, half colored and half covered in butter stains from the six-year-old’s fingers that keep digging into the popcorn bowl. “TV’s fine,” Luke follows up, spewing a few kernels out of his full mouth. 

Movie pushed from your mind at this new revelation you may have stumbled upon, you turn yourself on the couch to face Ryan better. Eddie adjusts his arm that was around you to simply wrap his arm around your middle and lets his fingers glide softly over the cotton of your t-shirt. 

“Um, Ryan?” you ask, watching his adorable little face as it pinches up this way and that to watch the animated singing soldiers on the television. “Where do you sit in your class?”

Now Ryan’s face just scrunches up in confusion; to him, this question came out of nowhere. 

“By the bulletin board and the bathroom key hanging on the wall. Right behind Lorraine Poe,” he says.

“Oh, sweetie, no, I meant, like, towards the front, towards the back…” you trail off. 

“Kinda middle I guess,” Ryan answers with a shrug, turning back towards the movie. 

Eddie lets out a gentle sigh and you lean your body back against his. His large, warm hand rubs over your belly for a moment as he watches his son’s profile.

“Can you see the board okay?” Eddie asks. “At school?”

“Sometimes,” Ryan answers, the song in the movie pulling most of his focus. 

“Sometimes?” his dad questions.

“Yeah. Sometimes my teacher writes so small that I can’t always see what it says, though.”

You frown and tilt your head down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Have any of the other kids said anything about her writing being too small?” you ask. 

“No.”

“Ry?” Eddie clears his throat. “I think maybe we should take you to an eye doctor.”

This captures the eight-year-old’s attention back from the screen. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. It makes your heart ache at how small and vulnerable he looks like this, the fear of going to the doctor evident on his cherubic face. 

“Why?” he asks softly. 

“Well, it sounds like you’re having trouble seeing. The board at school is blurry, the television here is blurry,” Eddie points out. 

“I don’t want to go.” Ryan shakes his head.

“Why not, sweetie?” you ask as you reach forward to move some hair off of his forehead. 

Ryan’s fingers start to fidget where they’re pressed up against his jeans and he begins to gnaw on his lower lip—a few nervous habits he picked up from his father.

“What if there’s something wrong with my eyes?” he asks in a small voice. 

“Ryan, honey.” You lean forward out of Eddie’s grip so you can wrap your arms around the eldest Munson brother. “There is nothing wrong about needing some help to see. Plenty of people do.” You hold him against your chest and rub your hand up and down his arm soothingly.

“I don’t want glasses,” he mumbles. 

Being a kid is hard enough already. Add how soft spoken Ryan is and add new glasses on top of it, and you can understand where he’s coming from. Some jerky kids might say some mean things. But that’s not a reason he shouldn’t get his eyes checked out. 

“Hmm,” you muse. “You know, I can think of a very special little boy who wears glasses. He’s probably the coolest kid there is besides you and Luke.” 

“Who?” Ryan is clearly curious, but still hesitant about where you’re going with this. 

“You don’t know?” you ask him with a smile. “You only read about him every night before you go to bed.”

Ryan gasps in delight, sitting straight up in your arms. 

“Harry Potter!” The excitement on his face has your heart gushing from the inside out.

“The Boy Who Lived!” you cheer. “He’s a super powerful wizard and he needs glasses to see.” 

A shy but genuine smile starts to appear on Ryan’s face and Eddie subtly gives your waist a small squeeze of appreciation. 

“There’s also Superman,” Eddie adds. 

“Clark Kent wears the glasses,” Luke corrects his father, eyes never leaving the TV. You do your best to hold in a giggle; wherever Eddie’s geeky knowledge ends, Luke’s begins. 

“And Clark Kent is Superman,” Eddie says, picking up a piece of popcorn and tossing it at the back of Luke’s head. 

Ryan seems more at ease now, his body posture more relaxed and less rigid as he settles back into the couch cushions. You go to snuggle back into Eddie’s side when Ryan looks up at you with those big brown eyes that are identical to his father’s and slips his small hand into yours. 

“Will you go with me?” he asks, voice soft.

You could almost cry at the question. He wants you to go with him. The love and trust he has in you in this moment of fear and uncertainty means the world to you. Eddie doesn’t miss the emotion on your face at the comfort you bring to his son. He knows he’s so lucky to have you, the woman of his dreams, but the fact that you and the kids wholeheartedly love each other as well? It’s enough to make Eddie tear up any time he thinks about it for too long.

Before you give Ryan an answer, you look at Eddie, wanting to make sure that this is okay with him and that you’re not overstepping. Eddie gives you a nod, his eyes shining with pure adoration.

“Of course I will, Ry.” You press a kiss to the top of his head, and he then lays it down on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he answers, just loud enough for you to hear.

There’s no reason he has to thank you. This moment, this trust and love he’s giving to you as a parental-type role means the world to you. You’re clearly not the babysitter anymore—you’re their dad’s girlfriend, but a new relationship is blossoming between you and the boys as well. The strong ties that always bonded you and the kids are being bronzed, never to fray or be broken. This is starting to feel in the neighborhood of motherly and it feels more amazing than you could have imagined. 

Ryan keeps his hand in yours the entire time you sit in the waiting room of the tiny optometrist’s office. The fact that you’re his comfort in this situation has you practically beaming enough to be one of the models on the posters that surround you of people who are overly excited to have a new pair of glasses. Ryan has always loved and felt safe with you, but this is different, and you both know it—even if neither of you know how to put it into words. 

“Ryan Munson?”

His small hand is surprisingly strong as he grips yours like a lifeline at the sound of his name. Before you stand up, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“I’m going to be right next to you the whole time. I promise.”

The words have Ryan loosening his vice grip just enough that you’re able to feel your fingers again. The two of you are led into a small office that has model after model of the human eye and a large chair directly in the middle of the room.

“You must be Ryan,” the doctor says as he steps into the office and shuts the door behind him. He’s an attractive man with a kind smile, right around Eddie’s age. “I’m Dr. Barnes. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Ryan gives him a nervous smile as he climbs into the large chair. “Nice to meet you too.”

You take a seat in a yellow hard plastic chair near the door and the doctor turns around to introduce himself to you as well. After he shakes your hand, his attention goes back to his patient.

“Tell me a little bit about what’s been going on with your eyes, Ryan,” Dr. Barnes says as he sits down on a rolling stool. 

The boy shifts in the large chair, the nervousness still very prevalent. “Um, well I-I haven’t been able to see the board very good at school. A-And at home the TV is all blurry.”

“Well, we definitely have to fix that!” Dr. Barnes says with a sympathetic sigh. “Gotta be able to do your work at school and then come home and watch cartoons. It’s a good thing your mom brought you in.”

You freeze, half a sputter coming from out of your mouth because you don’t know what to say. It’s a logical assumption on the doctor’s part, but if you let it slip by without correcting him will Ryan think that’s weird? If you correct the doctor will Ryan take that as meaning you don’t want to be called his mother? Or would Ryan feel like you’ve crossed a boundary if you just go on letting Dr. Barnes think that you’re his mom?

“She’s the best,” Ryan says, saving you from speaking at all. The anxiety immediately leaves your body at his words. The way Ryan smiles at you from his chair while the doctor sets things up has your heart soaring. His look practically says, yeah, I said you’re my mom because that’s what I want.

Somehow you manage to keep it together without crying—you’ll do that in front of Eddie later. Dr. Barnes turns out the main lights and puts a focused light on an eye chart just above your head. You watch as he tests Ryan’s vision by looking at different charts and signs full of numbers and letters of all sizes before he lowers the phoropter in front of the eight-year-old’s face. Ryan almost goes cross eyed trying to look at the machine as it gets closer to him, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I’m gonna show you two different lenses and you tell me which one is clearer while looking at that chart. Sound good?” Dr. Barnes asks.

“Uh huh,” Ryan says as tries to find the right angle to look into the machine. His voice is much steadier now. 

“One or two?”

“Uh…one.”

Multiple strengths are tried out and it seems like Dr. Barnes asks Ryan to pick between “one and two” about a million times. Even you’re getting fidgety in your seat by the end of it, so you can only imagine how antsy Ryan is. 

It was pretty evident to you that Ryan would end up needing glasses, but the little boy looks less than thrilled when the two of you head back out into the main area so you can find some frames.

After spotting a few pairs that he likes, Ryan starts to find it fun, seeing which ones look better on him and which ones make him look silly. In the end, he settles on two different sets of frames—which Eddie already said he’s cool with because he’d bet good money that one pair would either get lost or broken before the year is out. 

As you’re paying, Dr. Barnes makes sure the copy of Ryan’s prescription is all filled out before he hands it to you. The paperwork comes with a smoldering smile from the optometrist, and as flattering as it may be, it still makes you feel a tad awkward.

“I suppose I’ll see you back here in a few weeks, huh?” Dr. Barnes asks, directing the question at you instead of Ryan.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard by the flirting. You look down and shake your head, but you see your ringless hand and understand why the man probably thinks you’re a single mom. “His dad,” you start, wrapping your arm around Ryan’s shoulders, “he, um, my boyfriend will probably be the one coming here to pick up the glasses with Ryan.”

“Ah,” Dr. Barnes says with a nod. “I guess I’ll see you soon then, Ryan.”

You look down to see Ryan squeezing his lips together, trying not to laugh as he nods his affirmation. He clearly understands what just happened and his expression makes it difficult for you to keep your laughter held in as well. 

The glasses will be ready in about two weeks and the little Munson doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he has to wear them anymore. 

After the eye doctor, you take Ryan out for lunch at Schoop's Hamburgers, just the two of you. Both of you order milkshakes and you hold a finger up to your cold lips.

“Don’t tell Luke or your dad, they’ll be so jealous!”

Ryan just giggles and takes another sip of his strawberry shake while trailing an “X” over his heart with his right index finger. 

“Daddy’s taking me to pick the glasses up?” Ryan asks as you’re throwing away your garbage.

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug. “Depends on our schedules that week. But I have a feeling your dad will want to be the one to take you.”

“Because the doctor wanted to kiiiiiiss you?” Ryan asks in a mischievous little voice that you’d expect from Luke more than him.

“Yes,” you acquiesce with a chuckle. “But I’m sure he’s just as excited to see what your new glasses look like.” But it’ll definitely be mostly about Doctor McFlirty, you think.  

When you get home, Eddie’s at the kitchen table, looking over some bills. As soon as you and Ryan walk through the door, Eddie pushes it to the side and stands up.

“Hey, how’d the appointment go?” Eddie looks back and forth from you to Ryan, not sure which one of you will speak first. 

“He did great,” you tell Eddie, throwing a wink Ryan’s way.

“I picked out some glasses and they’ll be ready in two weeks!” he proudly tells his dad. Then his eyes light up and he lets out a small giggle. “And the doctor wanted to steal your girlfriend, Daddy.”

“What?” Eddie’s immediately defensive and looks towards you, eyebrows raised.

You can’t help but giggle right alongside Ryan at Eddie’s expression. “He tried flirting with me, but I told him I was with you.”

“He was bummed,” Ryan adds.

“I’m taking you to pick those glasses up,” Eddie tells his son, jabbing his thumb into his t-shirt clad chest. 

“You were right!” Ryan says with a laugh, looking over at you. 

“Do I know your Dad or what?” you ask as the two of you high five one another. 

A couple of weeks later, the glasses are finally in. Eddie takes Ryan by the office after he gets off work to go pick them up. 

The smell of roasting garlic fills the air as you make dinner and Luke is watching television when they get home. Ryan bounces in, excited about his new glasses. There’s a proud gleam in his eye as he stands in the middle of the entryway, taking in the view of the apartment clearly for the first time in a while.

“Let me see, let me see!” you say as you step out of the kitchen. “Aw, Ry! They look even better than the display ones you tried on at the store!”

The rectangular black frames complement his dark eyes and honey brown hair. You’re overcome with how handsome of a young man your little Ryan is turning into. 

Luke kneels on the couch cushion and turns around to see his brother. 

“Lemme see.”

Ryan does a one-eighty to show his little brother. All Luke does is give him a thumbs up before he goes back to watching The Fairly Odd Parents.

“It feels kind of funny,” Ryan tells you, rubbing his left eye beneath the glasses. You can already see fingerprint smudges on the lenses and you’re grateful you remembered to buy lens cleaning cloths the last time you went grocery shopping. “What does? What feels funny?” you ask.

“Seeing things that are far away!” he says, both excitement and a slight bit of irritation in his usually calm tone. “Almost makes me a little dizzy.”

“Doctor said that’s normal,” Eddie says, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Your eyes will get used to them real quick, then it won’t feel that way.” He raises an eyebrow and looks at you. “And this doctor also seemed a bit nervous around me.” 

You giggle and bound over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “He’s threatened by what a wonderful, sexy man you are.”

“Gross,” Luke mumbles from the couch.

Soda almost sprays out of your nose at Eddie’s story about a difficult customer who came into work this morning, when one of his co-workers pops his head into the breakroom.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says, rubbing a hand over his bald head, leaving small streaks of grime behind. “There’s a phone call for you.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says. He crumples up the tin foil you brought his sandwich in and tosses it in the large trashcan behind him. Not in a particular hurry, Eddie stands up and stretches his arms over his head. He smirks and presses a quick kiss to your lips when he sees you checking him out. Your gaze continues to look him up and down as he takes the few steps over to the phone on the wall. 

“Hello?” Eddie asks.

The chicken sandwich lying on the table in front of you looked good when you first arrived to have lunch with your boyfriend, but now that you’re full it looks as if it’s taunting you. Crinkling fills the room as you pack it back up in its foil. Just as you’re lifting your can of diet Dr. Pepper to your lips, Eddie’s face clouds with worry and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll be right there,” he says into the phone. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, slipping your leftovers into your large black purse. As Eddie hangs the phone back up, you walk over to stand at his side, careful of getting your clothes dirtied by his coveralls.

Instead of answering you, Eddie lets out another sigh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Gimme a second, baby.”

You watch, confused, as Eddie steps across the hall into his boss’s office. There seems to be a short, quick conversation before your boyfriend comes back out and slips his hand into yours.

“It was the school,” Eddie tells you as he leads you towards the exit and out into the parking lot.

“Are the boys okay?” you ask, feeling your heart rate pick up as you walk briskly towards his truck. 

“Luke’s in the principal’s office,” Eddie tells you with an agitated huff. “He got into a fight.”

“He what?” Your eyes almost pop out of your head. “Is he okay?”

“Just a little banged up, according to the principal,” Eddie says as he opens the passenger side door for you. 

“Poor baby.”

Long strides lead Eddie around his truck, and he situates himself in the driver’s seat. He gives a humorless chuckle as he starts the engine.

“Wayne wasn’t fucking kidding when he said Luke is a little version of me.”

“First of all, we all say that,” you tell him. “Second of all, you fought at school?”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a soft laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Remind me to tell you some stories when we get home.”

When you get to the school, you and Eddie practically jump out of the truck and head towards the building. Once you’re both inside, you feel rough calloused fingers tangle with your own. His eyes are straight ahead but you can tell Eddie’s nerves are on edge as he gives your hand a soft squeeze.

Luke is sitting on the bench outside of the principal’s office, his legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth. He’s watching his black and white sneakers disappear beneath the wooden seat before reappearing again, taking no notice of you coming down the hall. Only his profile is visible from the angle you’re approaching from. 

“Luke,” Eddie says as the two of you walk up to him.

The young boy jumps off the bench and turns to face the two of you. You’re startled to see his eye already bruised and purpling, along with a small cut on his bottom lip. There’s the instinct to pull him into your arms and take care of him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But Luke’s grinning up at the pair of you; a stark contrast to the evidence of the brawl on his face.

“Oh, hi! They told me they called Daddy, but I didn’t know both of you were coming!” The excitement on his face to see both of you is adorable yet seems out of place since he must know he’s going to get in trouble. 

“Luke, what happened?” Eddie asks at the same time that you ask, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Luke answers your question with a shrug. “My hand hurts more than anything.” The boy cradles his right hand against his chest and it’s the first time you see his scraped and bruised knuckles.

“What happened?” Eddie asks again, this time with less patience. 

Luke’s eyebrows furrow, a little “v” creasing his forehead. The pride from the fight vanishes from his eyes as he recalls the situation. 

“Stupid Trevor Brown opened his big fat mouth on the playground!” Luke says sternly, even louder than he usually is. “He said to Brandon Simpson that Ryan’s glasses made him look like a loser.”

“So you hit him?” Eddie asks.

“No, I told him he better shut his damn—uh, dang mouth. Trevor just laughed and said Ryan was a nerd! Then I hit him.”

Eddie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes closed. Secretly, he’s proud of his son for sticking up for his brother, but he has to compose himself so he can tell Luke he shouldn’t have done that. The paradox of being a parent.

“Luke, you should have told a teacher instead,” Eddie tells him. “Hitting someone is not the way to shut them up.”

“Well, punching him in the mouth did the trick,” Luke points out. 

You try not to laugh, covering it up with a cough. Eddie’s better at keeping himself composed but you know he would be grinning if he could.

A door squeaks open and the principal steps out of his office with another young boy, a huge bruise blooming on his jaw and dried blood caked under his nose. Luke definitely came out the winner of the fight. 

“You sit here and wait for your mom now, Trevor,” Principal Andrews says, gesturing to the bench Luke was just sitting on. “Ah, Mr. Munson. Thank you for coming.”

“And this is his girlfriend!” Luke announces proudly, coming to stand in front of you. The small boy is wiggling his way out of any trouble with you by seeming so thrilled to have you there and showing you off proudly.

Eddie nods his head at the principal, ignoring Luke, and shakes the man’s hand. You gently pat Luke’s curls, hoping he takes the hint to shut up.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Eddie says, and you silently wonder how many times Wayne had to say that to Eddie’s principal growing up. “This one is in for it, I’ll tell you that.” Eddie nods his head towards Luke. “Can someone just let Ryan know Luke won’t be on the bus coming home?”

“Of course,” Principal Andrews says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke. We’ll be better behaved then, won't we?”

Luke turns to head down the hall without answering, but Eddie grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls him back. He puts his hands on Luke’s shoulders and spins him around until he’s facing the principal again.

“Luke,” Eddie warns him.

“Yes, Principal Andrews,” Luke says in a monotone, eyes on the shiny white linoleum tile below his sneakers. Deciding he’s done with talking, he slips his smaller hand into yours, deciding he’d rather hold your hand than his father’s right now.

“Thanks again, Principal Andrews,” Eddie says before the three of you walk down the hallway towards the exit.

It’s utterly silent until you get into Eddie’s truck. You’re not sure what to say, because this is between father and son. Eventually, you decide you’ll just be a referee if it comes to that. 

Eddie silently pulls the truck out of the parking lot and starts to head home.

“Luke,” Eddie finally says after seven minutes of terse silence. It feels like he’s said his son’s name about a hundred times already today. “I don’t like that you hit someone. But I am proud of you for sticking up for your brother.”

In the rearview mirror, Eddie can see how Luke grins at that, which makes Eddie smile in turn. 

“I wasn’t gonna let those buttheads talk that way about my brother,” Luke says. “I know I’m not s’posed to hit—I do. But if someone says something about a person I love, I just get so mad, and it comes out all violent.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear. “He is my mini-me.”

When you get home, you take Luke into the bathroom so you can clean up and bandage his wounds. His knuckles are still sore and stinging when you finish, so he sits on the couch with a bag of frozen corn on them. Eddie plops down next to him as you lean against the wall between the bathroom and living room, wiping off some antibacterial ointment that you accidentally got on your own hands.

“You know I have to punish you, right?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at his youngest son. 

“I know,” Luke says with a sigh. 

“I want you to go in your room until dinner time. Try and work on your homework if your hand starts to feel any better. And no dessert after dinner tonight.”

“And then?” Luke asks, looking up at his dad nervously, afraid of how long he’s going to be grounded.

“And then tomorrow you wake up, get ready for school, and keep being a wonderful brother.”

It takes a minute, but a smile slowly spreads to Luke’s face as he realizes there’s no punishment besides the minor consequences he’ll have to endure tonight.

“Now, go on. Get to your room,” Eddie says.

Luke gets up and heads towards the hallway before stopping and turning back to face his father.

“Don’t tell Ryan what happened, okay?” Luke says, wincing at the chill from the vegetable bag against his scrapes. “I don’t want him to know that someone said mean things about him.”

“I won’t tell him,” Eddie assures his son. Luke turns back towards the hallway, but Eddie calls him and he faces his dad again. “You’re a really good brother. Ryan is very lucky to have you, and I know he’d have your back too. I’m very lucky.”

“Aww, Dad,” Luke says, wrinkling up his nose. “So mushy. But… I know I’m lucky too. Always felt that having you and Ryan. Never with Mom though. But now I got someone pretty cool who loves me like I’m her kid and that’s even better.”

Luke continues down to his room and Eddie is filled with the overwhelming feeling of love. Love from the kind words from Luke—which are rare within themselves–the love that his two sons have for one another and that special bond, and love at the fact that Luke recognizes that you love him and Ryan as if they’re your own children. You practically see them that way anyway. 

You walk in from where you’re holding up the wall, emotional yourself over Luke’s words, and take a seat next to your boyfriend on the couch.

“How ya feeling?” you ask, bringing your hand up to play with one of Eddie’s stray curls.

“I’m so fucking proud of my son,” Eddie admits with a hushed laugh. “I know I had to tell him the whole ‘violence isn’t the answer’ spiel, but I would’ve done the exact same thing that he did. When I was a kid or even now.” 

“He’s such a good brother,” you say, an adoring grin on your face as well. 

Eddie wraps his arm around you, and you snuggle into his side.

“So, I believe you had some stories to tell me?” You tilt your head up to smirk at your boyfriend. 

Eddie chuckles and gives a shake of his head. “Oh, you better buckle up, princess. I’ve got some wild tales.”

[crazyunsexycool]

My Little Love

Chapter 35

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: fluff, Lottie being a cute, Henry being sweet,

A/N: This is just a filler chapter and I'm not super in love with it. I wanted to set up Sugar and Honey's future friendship. Also because Honey and Steve are not a thing yet in this series Lottie gives Honey a nickname of her own...

Series masterlist

The new house was almost completely furnished so it was a no-brainer that you’d moved in already. The master bedroom was a dream come true with a giant walk-in closet, en-suite bathroom and a private balcony that looked out to the back yard. You loved that it was still on the compound grounds but separate. The best part was that Tony was having one made for everyone on the team so it would be like a little community with just your friends. Most of the houses were halfway finished too.

You had been surprised when Tony offered your father a position as a part time instructor for the agents in training. Eddie had been in the military and had the knowledge so he accepted, he even took your old apartment. He’d decided to rent out the family home since it was just him now. Luke and Molly of course had their own place. Josh and Sofia were still in college and living in the dorm rooms. Living at the compound made more sense to Eddie and now he was closer to all of his kids. It would be best for him since he wouldn’t be as lonely anymore. Not since Lorraine disappeared, to them at least. You knew the truth and you couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d tell your family or how you would handle the situation once she was found. 

There’s a dip at the end of the bed that pulls you out of your thoughts. You close the book you stopped reading a while ago and look up to see Bucky crawling his way up towards you. He smiles before giving you a quick kiss and then settling down over your lower half. Bucky snakes his arms around your hips, his head rests over your midsection and his eyes close as he sighs peacefully. You run your fingers through his hair, down his shoulders and back up. Bucky groans at the sensation. The engagement ring catches your eyes for the thousandth time that day and you can’t help but smile. 

“We should get married.” You say after a moment of silence. 

“What do you think the ring was for?” 

You giggle. “I mean we should start planning.” 

“Sugar, as long as it’s me and you in front of an officiant I don’t care where or when we do it. We can have a big wedding or we can elope. The final choice is up to you as long as you become my wife and no one objects because I really don’t want to murder anyone on our wedding day.” 

“You can’t murder anyone on our wedding day.” 

“I can’t make any promises. But what I can do is help plan. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever you want.” Bucky says confidently. 

“What about the rest of our lives?” 

“I’ll definitely help with that. Let’s see, we have jobs and a house.” Bucky starts saying.

“What about kids? We have two already.” 

Bucky shifts slightly so that he can look at you. “Do you want more kids?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I’d love more kids.” 

“How many is ‘more’ to you?” You tilt your head to the side. 

The conversation gets put on hold when Lottie stops in the hallway.

“Hey.” Lottie calls out from the doorway with a little pout on her lips. “Wanna cuddle too.” 

“Then come up here.” 

She jumps on the bed and you point at Bucky’s back. Lottie giggles before throwing herself on top of Bucky. He grunts when she lands on his back. Her little arms fall around his sides and she even tickles him. You can’t help but chuckle as Bucky pretends to feel ticklish for his daughter's sake. Henry steps into your bedroom a few seconds later with Alpine in his arms. He takes one look at whatever is happening on the bed and furrows his brows in confusion. 

“Bubba help.” Lottie yells with a laugh when Bucky flips her off his back and tries to grab her. 

Henry places Alpine down and  jumps on the bed and then on Bucky. 

“Aren’t you gonna help, Sugar? I’m being attacked from all sides.” Bucky says from under the two kids who have now overpowered him, supposedly. 

As you reach for Henry he turns invisible and takes Charlotte with him. All you hear is the echo of their footsteps and laughter. They even taunt Bucky from somewhere in the house that he can’t get them. Bucky props himself up on his elbows and looks at you with a dreamy look in his eyes. 

“I want more of that with as many kids as you’ll give me.” Bucky answers the question you’d asked him before Lottie walked in. “I don’t care if it’s one or four or ten.” 

“Not ten.” 

Bucky chuckles. “The point is that whatever happens, however many kids we have, I’ll be more than happy to share all of that with you.” 

You smile softly at him then lean forward and kiss him. 

“We have some kids to catch.” You say against his lips.

Bucky huffs a laugh, his eyes and nose wrinkling. He gets up and holds a hand out for you. 

“Ready or not, here we come.” You announce loudly, receiving a scream from Lottie. 

You were panting, hands on your hips and sweaty. Even though you weren’t an active member of the Avengers anymore you still kept up with your training, just in case. It was a beautiful day outside so you opted for a run. You’d just finished and were catching your breath when Bruce’s lab assistant walked up to you. She played with the pearl necklace she was wearing as she moved closer. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” You say her name and smile.

“So I hate to do this but I was wondering if I could get your help.” She states.

“Well I can try. What’s going on? Are Bruce and Tony up to something?” 

She shakes her head before placing her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. 

“There’s this piece of equipment that was brought from the tower but they couldn’t get it into the building the normal way. It doesn’t fit through the hallways. Tony was able to get a window off the building but it’s getting complicated.” She sighs in frustration. “I was wondering if you could, you know.” She brings a hand up and wiggles her fingers. 

You chuckle but nod your head. 

“Lead the way.” You turn to see that Henry and Lottie are standing beside Bucky while he’s putting the recruits through some training. The kids are cheering them on and even handing out water bottles to some. 

**** 

You stood at the far end of the lab where Tony had the glass pane removed. Outside on the lawn sat a pretty big machine wrapped up in a tarp. With your hands on your hip you consider how to best move this thing. 

“Where do you want this?” You turn back and look at Bruce’s assistant. 

“Here would be fine. If it’s not too much trouble.” She answers while pointing towards a corner of the room. 

“Ok.” 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes while concentrating on the machine below. Slowly and evenly the machine starts to levitate and then move higher until it’s at your level. Then you manipulate it to move toward the building. 

“Does it look like I can actually pull it in?” You ask as you survey the entry point. 

“You have enough space to bring it in without hitting the other windows.” 

You nod and walk backwards, pulling the machine in your direction until it’s in the room.

“Can you take the cover off before I set it down?” 

She rushes over and removes the tarp with a small smile. It’s obvious she’s excited about this because you don’t see her smiling that much. With whatever this machine is in place you finally set it down. She inspects it and nods in approval.

“Thank you. Tony was taking forever in getting his bots to fly this up.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile at her. “Listen, I was if I were to invite you for dinner-“ 

“No.” She said way too quickly it almost made you chuckle. “Sorry I just- I’m not good with the whole friend thing.” 

“It’s ok. I was just going to invite you to dinner on Friday night at my place. Steve will be there too, if it makes you feel more comfortable. Don’t feel pressured to go but the invitation stands. Not just for Friday but any day.”

“I uh-“ 

“Mama.” Lottie calls out for you with a sing songy lilt to her voice. The double doors slide open and in walks your daughter with a smile on her face. “Oh hi mama.” She turns and greets Bruce’s assistant. 

“Hello Charlotte. I saw you training the recruits.” 

Charlotte’s smile grew brighter. “Am helping dada.” 

“Well you’re doing a good job.” 

“Tank you.”

“Well the offer stands.” You said softly. “Even if it’s just for coffee or if you need anything at all.” 

She gives you a small nod and thanks you again for your help. 

“Alright sweet Angel, say goodbye to doc.” 

“Duck?” Lottie looks confused. “Mama is no duck.” 

“I said doc like doctor, sweet Angel.” 

“Oh, duck is cute, wike a duckie. Can be my duckie?” She looks up hopefully at the other woman. 

She puts her hand on her chin like she’s thinking about it for a moment. Lottie is practically holding her breath.

“Ok you can call me Duckie. But only you.” 

“An bubba?” 

She smiles. “Sure and bubba but no one else ok?” 

“Ok, Duckie.”

“Alright sweet Angel let’s go. I need a shower.” 

“Yeah, mama you gots stinky butt.” 

“How. Dare. You?” You said, acting shocked. 

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide before she started laughing. You moved to grab her but she ran. 

“I’m gonna get you and make you all stinky.” 

Charlotte lets out what sounds like a mixture between a shriek and a laugh before running toward the sliding doors. You smile and say your goodbyes before leaving. Charlotte runs back into the lab.

“See you Fwiday. I see it, bye.” She calls out before leaving again.

The newly nicknamed Duckie stands there amused at Lottie’s behavior. 

Friday had arrived rather quickly. Bucky has kissed you goodbye about ten times already and he jogged up the porch steps one more time and gave you two more just to keep the kisses even. You laughed and pushed him toward the car you used to get to and from the compound. 

“Dada wait!” Lottie ran out of the house and stopped him as he started to reverse. 

Bucky parked and got out of the car to meet her. 

“What’s up, Doll?” 

“One mo’ hug.” She stretched her arms out in order for Bucky to hold her. 

“There’s always time for one more hug.” 

He kisses her all over her cheeks and forehead before letting her down. 

“Good wuck dada. Lobe you.” Lottie waved him off from the porch. 

Just as you were about to turn to head into the house the sound of a golf cart got your attention. 

“Duckie!” Lottie cheered as Bruce’s assistant got out and stood at the bottom of the steps.

You said her name with a smile, “I’m glad you came by.” 

She had her hands in her pockets and she looked at the floor before giving a small nod. 

“Well Charlotte said she saw it and Steve encouraged me to come over.”

“That’s good, come on in.” 

She walked up the steps and let Lottie take her hand. Lottie pulled her into the house while you reminded your daughter to be gentle. After leading her newest friend with you Lottie disappears into her playroom. 

“Want anything to drink? We have water, soda, beer, wine and juice boxes.” 

She smiled before asking for water. You placed a glass in front of her. 

“So…” you both say at the same time. 

“Go ahead.” 

“How did you and Steve become friends?” She asked. 

“I called him out on his bullshit immediately and will continue to do so happily.” 

She nods in agreement. “Good plan.” 

“How about you? How did you two meet?”

“I walked into my lab and found him alone. It was about a month after you had been taken. He was really upset about it.”

You nod and give her a tight lipped smile.  “Thank you for being there for him.” 

Henry walks in and stops when he sees there’s a guest. While he’s now used to having people around he still gets shy around unexpected guests. He smiles shyly before taking his place beside you and asking how he can help. You have him set the table and then get himself and Lottie cleaned up.

**** 

You sat at the dinner table with Henry and Duckie. Lottie was on your lap but you didn’t mind. Since you came back whenever Bucky had to go on a mission she would cling to you whenever possible. That didn’t stop her from playing little hostess though. She made sure to ask Duckie questions and even extended an invitation to a tea party later. 

“Habe some mama.” Lottie holds up her spoon, offering some dessert to you. 

“Mmm, that’s so yummy. Thank you for making dessert bubs.” 

“Henry, you made this?” Duckie asks. 

“Yeah. Mama taught me how to make a lot of things.” 

“He’s a natural in the kitchen. I just taught him the basics. He’s learned a lot on his own.” You smile proudly at your sweet boy.

“Amazing. You should be really proud of yourself. I can’t cook to save my life. So thank you both for feeding me.” 

“Well you can always come here to eat, right mama?” Henry looks at you for confirmation.

“Absolutely. Especially for Henry’s pastries they’re to die for.” 

“Yeah, is so yummy.” Lottie adds before spooning more dessert into her mouth. 

****

Once everyone was done you cleaned up the table, being joined at the kitchen sink by Duckie. She was glad to help with washing dishes.

“You’re a good mom.” She says quietly.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.” She says and it makes you stop to look at her. “I know it must’ve been difficult at the beginning but I see that you truly love them and they love you.”

You could tell there was something behind the statement but you didn’t want to push her. 

“The beginning wasn’t easy but they just needed some patience and love and I do love them so much.” 

She gives you a small smile and you both turn to finish washing up. Just as the last dish is done you offer some wine which she accepts surprisingly. The two of you talk for a little longer, keeping the conversation light. You both share more about your jobs and how you got started. 

There are quick steps down the stairs, which you now know is Charlotte. You turn just as she stops in front of the door. A few seconds later Bucky is walking in with Steve following behind. 

“Dada.” Charlotte launches herself into Bucky’s arms. 

“Hi doll. How did you know I was going to walk in just now?” He asks in almost a joking manner.

“I see it.” She smiles proudly. “Hi Steebie.” 

Bucky gives Lottie a kiss on her forehead before handing her over to Steve. Henry surprise attacked Bucky by jumping on his back while invisible. 

“I thought you had a three day mission. What happened?”

“Halfway there we were informed that local authorities had raided the warehouses. Apparently they had been doing an undercover investigation for about a year.” Bucky shrugs before making his way to you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Good, we missed you already.” 

Bucky greeted your guest before excusing himself to change into something more comfortable. 

“We have leftovers, I’ll make you a plate. Steve, are you staying?” You tell him.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” He smiles at you before turning to his newest friend. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Yeah, it was nice.” 

You smile and give them a moment alone by heading into the kitchen. Lottie follows you and offers to help somehow. She’s just happy that Bucky and Steve are back. 

Just as the microwave is done Bucky makes his way back out. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He takes a seat at the table and Lottie makes herself comfortable in his lap. She rested her head against his chest while he and Steve ate. 

The four adults and Henry are talking and joking around. You’re happy to see Duckie opening up around you a bit more. Although you know it has to do with Steve being here. 

“She’s asleep.” Bucky says softly while looking down at his daughter. “I’ll be back. I’m going to put her down.”

“I should be going. Thank you for having me.” 

“Of course,” you say to Duckie as you walk her out. “Remember you’re always welcomed here, for whatever you need.” 

“Thanks. Good night.” 

“I’m going to go back home too.” Steve says before giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“How convenient.” You murmur loud enough for Steve to hear.

He rolls his eyes but heads out anyway and offers to accompany Duckie back toward the main compound building. 

Upstairs, Bucky sets Charlotte down and then helps Henry get settled for the night. 

You’re writing something down in your notebook as Bucky walks into your room and settles down next to you . He’s watching as you continue your writing with a smile.

“What’s that smile for?” You ask without looking up.

“I’m glad that I could be home instead of out on that mission.” 

“We’re glad you’re home safe too.” You finally finish writing and set the notebook down before turning all of your attention to him. “What do you think about the end of August?” 

“For what?” 

“For the wedding. It would be before school starts and warm enough that we could have an outdoor weddingng.” 

Bucky smiles and nods. “That would be great.” 

“How about a small wedding?” 

“That could work.” 

“Alright,” you lean in and kiss him. “Let’s plan a wedding.” 

Ch. 36

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Meeting The Eddie Munson

"pairing": eddie munson & oc (lorraine seymour) summary: going into the trees to smoke a joint to de-stress from school life ends up becoming a meet and greet with the most famous freak of hawkins high words:3.1k disclaimer: mention of drugs, drug use, prejudices, use of bad words

That day's practice had been more exhausting than Lorraine anticipated, leaving her more eager than ever to smoke the last joint she had tucked away in her bag—not that anything looked like the perfect excuse at that point.

Taking advantage of Chrissy’s early departure, Lorraine excused herself, walking Chrissy to her mother's car, all the while feeling the pull of the woods that loomed just beyond three-quarters of the school grounds. Once Chrissy had driven off, Lorraine didn’t hesitate. She veered away from the parking lot and headed into the trees.

Two weeks ago, while scouting for a secluded spot to smoke her worries out, she stumbled upon a picnic table nestled relatively deep in the woods. The table and benches were in rough shape, the wood weathered and covered in scribbling and doodles, but that could only mean not many bothered with it. As she approached, she caught the faint, familiar scent of pot in the breeze, which at first didn't alarm her: the smell had already seeped into the wood long before she found it. She didn't think someone else would be there.

“Shit,” Lorraine muttered to herself as she spotted the unknown figure sitting at the picnic table, long dark curls resting on their shoulders, their head bobbing to the tempo of a music only they could hear, thin trails of smoke curling up around them.

Just great. Lorraine’s luck seemed to be spiraling downward at a frightening rate. Her reputation as a trusty good girl who doesn't get into trouble was about the only thing she had left after her status as a star student had already taken a hit, and the last thing she needed was to blow it up entirely by getting caught there, of all places, by someone that... Was that Eddie Munson? That just made it even better.

She started to back away, hoping to retreat quietly before he noticed her when a twig snapped under her foot. The sound wasn't that loud, but it was enough to make the Freak's head whip around as he took his headphones off. They both froze. Lorraine saw his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw slackening slightly as he fumbled to hide the joint under the table as if the telltale smell hadn’t already given him away.

“Um… Sorry,” Lorraine stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I didn’t know this spot was already taken.”

Eddie's brain seemed to be working overtime, processing the situation. Finally, he shrugged, trying—and failing—to look nonchalant. “Eh, it’s fine, I wasn’t really doing much. You can sit down if you want.” He gestured vaguely toward the other bench, ‘discreetly’ looking behind her in a comical display of panic.

Lorraine's smile tightened as her gaze dropped to the ground, her hands clutching the backpack handle. Now, being in that place only made her uncomfortable. Because of him.

Lori didn't want to be judgemental and superficial, but everything she had heard about him or his father wasn't exactly good things, and she didn't know him well enough to challenge those views, let alone trust him.

What if he went around telling people he’d seen her there? Maybe even twist the truth or make something up to make her look bad? Though, why would he? He had no reason to... right? Moreover, it wasn’t like anyone would believe him over her. She had the benefit of the doubt on her side, unlike him. And if it came to that, she could easily turn the tables on him.

Besides that, the craving to smoke was growing stronger with every whiff of the joint still hidden under the table, and it wasn't like Lorraine had much time to find another spot before she had to return to the library. So, screw it.

Lorraine exhaled softly, her artificial smile relaxing just a fraction as she met his gaze again. “Thanks,” she said, more out of politeness than gratitude as she walked over to the opposite bench and sat down on the opposite end where Eddie was, dropping her backpack beside her. The wood creaked slightly under her weight as she shifted to look for her pot.

“Didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” Eddie broke the silence, his voice shifting to a more casual tone, still tinged with uncertainty as he tested the waters with the newcomer.

“Yeah, well... I guess we have that in common,” Lorraine replied flatly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave it at that. Rummaging through the interior pockets of the backpack, her fingers reached the joint, but the lighter was nowhere to be found. Lorraine clicked her tongue: for sure, some airhead from either sports team at Hawkins had added one to their collection, intentionally or not. Lori glanced up, not bothering to change that serious resting face Olivia had once commented could come off as intimidating to those who didn’t know her well, but being Eddie Munson at the receiving end didn't make her care. “Could you pass me your lighter?”

“Uh—" Eddie blinked. “Sure thing.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his lighter, holding it out toward her with an affiliative smile.

Lorraine took it by the end, purposefully avoiding any unnecessary contact, then pressed the joint to her lips. The flame ignited the tip with a quiet hiss. She left the lighter on the table, and as the first inhale filled her lungs, she felt her body ease, her eyes flutter close, every possible strain melting away with just one puff. The girl didn't need to look at Eddie to know he was staring at her, probably dumbfounded. He hadn’t moved an inch when she opened her eyes, still holding his own joint under the table as if what he’d just witnessed was a hallucination. After a few seconds, though, his expression shifted, and he relaxed. With a newfound sense of trust—or maybe just shared complicity—he pulled his joint to his mouth, no longer bothering to hide it. Now, they both had dirt on each other.

He took a slow drag, his amusement clear in the way he spoke next. “So that’s what someone like you is doing in here?” He was playful, maybe even teasing, but it struck a nerve.

“Someone like me?” she repeated, her biting voice laced with a quiet challenge. She hated those kinds of assumptions, those remarks. People always thought they had her figured out just by looking at the image she sold when they couldn't possibly know the half of it.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, easy there, hurricane. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just... you know,” he gestured vaguely up and down at her, the words trailing off under the weight of the pointed look Lorraine was giving him. He quickly took another hit from his joint, using it as an excuse to avoid finishing the thought. “I mean, no offense or anything, but you're not exactly the type I usually see hanging out in the woods, you know? But hey, more power to you if you're down to blow off some steam, right? I get it. Sometimes you just need to get away from all the bullshit.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes, shifting them to the ground as she pulled her legs up onto the bench, crossing them as she took another drag. She could feel the tension starting to seep away, the sharp edges of her frustration dulling with each breath of smoke. She realized, with a pang of guilt, that she had just lashed out at him for no real reason. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight—he was just making conversation, maybe trying to be nice, and there she was, acting like a bratty teenager.

She let the smoke flow out in a measured sigh. “Sorry. I’m just... a bit on edge about everything lately.” The words felt hollow, echoing the state of perpetual exhaustion the constant pressure and expectations had worn her down to. She didn’t expect Eddie to understand, but she also didn’t care as much anymore.

Munson blinked again before his lips curved back into that playful smirk. “Apology accepted, no worries,” he said after a beat, letting the ashes of the finished joint fall to the ground before tossing the butt to the side. His shoulders had loosened as if her apology had taken a weight off him, too. “Life's a bitch, I should know.”

A snort of laughter escaped Lorraine, having not contemplated that comment at all. A sardonic smile tugged at her lips as she considered the irony of the situation: getting high with the school’s most notorious outcast in a secluded spot in the woods, only to find that maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

The usual storm of thoughts in her head had calmed, and Lorraine found herself more aware of the stillness around them, filled only by the muffled hum of music coming from Eddie’s headphones, serving as a background track to their unlikely conversation.

“What were you listening to?”

A knowing smile graced his lips as he pointed to his Walkman. “Oh, just some Iron Maiden. Nothing special,” though his face told a different story. “The Number of the Beast, just one of the best albums of all time.” His tone was light, teasing, which earned him another amused snort and a roll of the eyes from Lorraine. “Hey, don't laugh when you don't know what you're talking about. Here.” He held out his headphones to her. “Judge for yourself.”

“Oh.” Lorraine glanced at them, then back at Eddie, her expression blank but with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. After a bit of dithering, she reached out and took them, placing them over her ears. As the heavy melody and driving rhythm filled her head, her furrowed eyebrows began to loosen, her head nodding almost imperceptibly to the beat. “It's actually pretty good,” she admitted, not without a note of disbelief. “They’ve got a nice riff.”

Eddie couldn’t but smile wider at her reaction, his chest swelling with satisfaction. “Told you. Iron Maiden all the way,” he said, not making any move to take the headphones back. Instead, he leaned forward on the picnic table, his necklace swinging slightly with the motion. It caught a flicker of light and, in turn, Lorraine's attention. The chain had attached a black guitar pick, which was worn and smooth from use.

“You play?” She motioned toward the pick as she moved one headphone away.

Eddie nodded, his fingers instinctively reaching up to trace over the edges. “Yeah, guitar. I’m actually in a band. We’re called Corroded Coffin.” He couldn't resist adding a dramatic flair to the name, moving his hands theatrically as he said it, dropping it when Lorraine just stared back blankly.

Her eyebrows were furrowing again as the name tugged at something in her memory. “Corroded...?” The gears turned in her mind when, suddenly, it clicked. “Oh, shit!” The realization burst out of her, the filter that usually kept her more reserved breaking down thanks to the haze of the high. “You played in that talent show a few years ago, in middle school.”

Eddie's eyes seemed to lit up with the kind of hope that only comes from someone who’s not used to being recognized for something they’re passionate about. “Yeah, that's us! Did you see us perform?” He leaned in slightly, eager to hear more, as if her answer might validate the hours he’d poured into his music.

“Yeah!” Lorraine's smile widened, perhaps the most genuine one she had ever directed at Eddie Munson. “And you were, like... pretty great. One of the most memorable performances, too.” She chuckled softly. “The name was quite impactful.” His infectious grin was impossible to resist. She studied him for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she tried to picture him on that day. “Weren't you, like... bald, back then?” She pointed at her hair, the image of a scrawny skinhead kid with a guitar too big for him flashing in her mind.

Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I was. But I got tired of shaving my head, so now I just let my hair grow out.” He explained, running his fingers through his brown mullet.

Lorraine nodded in approval. “Good choice. It suits you.” 

She picked up how his cheeks flushed slightly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his fingers once again brushing through his hair as if to make sure it was still there. “I've always been into the metal look,” he added, trying to sound cool, but a hint of embarrassment still colored his voice.

It was kind of sweet —having a guy blush at her compliment instead of trying to embarrass her or fish for them himself.

Lori found herself starting to see him in a different light: yes, he was peculiar, but he wasn't the ‘freak’ everyone made him out to be. He was actually nice to speak with.

The cassette tape had reached its end, so Lorraine gently removed the headphones and handed them back to him. “Thanks for letting me listen.”

Eddie accepted them with a nod, his earlier bashfulness fading into something more comfortable. “Anytime,” he replied, tucking the Walkman away.

"Oh." Lorraine paused, realizing they hadn't introduced each other formally. Third-party hearsay didn't count anymore. She extended her hand, a friendly smile on her face. “I'm Lorraine.”

Eddie looked at her outstretched hand, stupefied by the gesture —like anything she'd been doing the whole time there—, but ultimately shook it with a firm grip. “Eddie,” he replied with a small smirk. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

In all the time they'd been talking, she had completely forgotten about the joint in her hand, now almost entirely burned out. She glanced at it, detached, before pressing the last embers against the table to extinguish them. She flicked the remains to the ground without much thought, her mind already drifting elsewhere.

“You know, you're not so bad. For a cheerleader.”

Lorraine perked up, her eyebrow arching as she shot him a look, her infamous intimidating resting face making a brief appearance. But she quickly caught the playfulness that hinted he was teasing her.

“And you’re not so bad yourself,” she retorted, her own smirk turning slightly cynical as she tilted her head, mirroring his tone, “for a freak.”

He was clearly enjoying the banter, judging by how he beamed brighter. "Well, now that we've established that, if you really liked my band back then, you should come check us out sometime. We’re playing at The Hideout next Saturday." He reached into his bag, pulled out a slightly crumpled flyer, and handed it to her. “I promise you, we’ve improved since then.”

Lorraine took the flyer, examining the address of the place and time of the performance. “Perhaps you’ll see me there.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the ground, nodding once. He bent down slightly, rummaging through his backpack, and Lorraine’s eyebrows shot up when she saw him pull out another joint. He lit it with practiced ease, inhaling deeply as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The sight made Lorraine haver, but curiosity gnawed at her. If he was this casual about it and seemed to have a steady supply, what harm could there be in asking? She bit her lip, considering her words carefully.

“Um, Eddie,” she began, tentative, trying and failing to sound laid-back. “I was meaning to ask you… Would you happen to know… someone who sells?”

The brunette raised an eyebrow as he locked eyes with her again, an amused glint in his eye. “You mean, like, weed? Because if you're looking for someone, you've found the right guy. I can hook you up.”

“Ah.” So the rumors were true after all. “Alright.” She wavered, unsure of how to navigate how absurd it all suddenly seemed. “So... how does it work? I just... hand you the money and we make an exchange, or...?”

Running a hand through his hair, he simplified, “Something like that. So... You're kinda lucky, Lorraine, 'cause I've got a stash right here, right now. And this place is almost always deserted.” He patted his bag, emphasizing the convenience. “And in other good news for you, uh… flattery works with me, so... how about a twenty-five percent discount for the half? Fifteen bucks.” He made a grand gesture with his hand. “A bargain for you and a robbery for me.”

Lorraine chuckled, charmed by his sudden blarney. “A great businessman, I see.” She considered the offer but then frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. “Well, I'm... very grateful, but I don't have any cash on me right now.” Her nervousness crept back. “Can we... meet up another day or something-? As soon as possible?”

Eddie paused, thinking it over before nodding. “Sure. We can meet up tomorrow after school, right here in the woods. Or...” He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pen and a napkin, quickly scribbling something down before handing it to her. “You can swing by my place if you just... happen to walk by the trailer park.” Lorraine took the napkin, her eyebrows classically furrowing as she read the address scrawled on it. “And don't worry, all of this will stay between you and me.”

Lorraine's smile tightened as she processed the idea of going to his... house. One thing was unplannedly hanging out in the woods behind the school with him, and another very differently was specifically seeking him out in his own house, alone and in a closed space. Kind or not, she still didn't know him enough to put so much trust in him. 

“Thank you, but I think I have time tomorrow after classes. Here, at the same spot?”

Eddie nodded, his smile reassuring. “Yeah, same place.”

Lorraine felt a wave of relief wash over her; the matter of how she was going to find more weed finally settled. She stood up from the bench and grabbed her bag. “Okay. Thank you. It was nice... hanging out with you.” The words felt strange on her tongue, something she never would have imagined saying to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson of all people. But life had a funny way of throwing curveballs, and today had certainly been one of them.

He leaned back on the bench, his signature playful grin on check. “Yeah, I guess it was. See you around, hurricane.” The brunette winked at her, then turned his attention back to his Walkman, casually rewinding the cassette tape as if it all was just another ordinary day for him.

Not so ordinary for Lorraine.

Want to read more?

[keeksandgigz]

thinking of eddie helping you braid your hair when you’re getting ready to spend the night

made this about eddie and witchy because i cannot stop thinking about them- this is also for the anon who said they can't stop reading it (thank u hehehe)

fluffy fluff below the cut, witchy being jealous and thinking of hexing his exes <3

He had to drag you into his apartment.

In a hilarious turn of events, due to some kind of San Francisco strike, all metro routes were suspended and there was no way you were going to walk in heeled boots all the way to Twin Peaks.

"Why call an Uber, baby? You can literally come upstairs at mine" Eddie says, watching you huff as you read over the e-mail about the strike.

"No Eddie you don't understand. I need to be home. I have a whole ritual! And silk pillowcases! Why can't you just drive me?" you whine, hoping he'll fold to your requests like he always does.

He grabs you by the shoulders, giving you a tender look.

"Because, my lovely witchy, metro routes being down means there will be absolute pandemonium in the streets. And I'm not trying to stay fifteen minutes stuck in downhill traffic" he laughs as you follow him around the store.

He's still working, you got off an hour before and after walking around the vintage stores for an hour there wasn't much else to do. It's just him in the record shop, working the closing shift. You follow him around trying to convince him to drive you back as he puts back the vinyls in the milk crates, folds band t- shirts, and rearranges patches in the display case.

"C'mon, witchy, just go up. I have Chinese takeout from last night or spaghetti if you wanna cook, I'll stop by the hair place across the block to get you a silk pillowcase. Promise" he says, leaning over the counter to kiss your forehead he opens up the cash till.

"But Ed-" you whine, you've never slept outside of your apartment before.

"No buts, I'm sorry witchy. Now get your cute butt out of here, I've got money out" he says, puckering his lips, ready for a kiss.

You lean over the counter and give him a quick kiss before he hands you the keys to his apartment.

"Don't forget to call Lorraine to get her to feed Circe!" he exclaims before you're out the door. You roll your eyes, of course you'll call Lorraine, your neighbor, if Lorraine existed.

But he doesn't have to know you can feed Circe with a snap of your finger whenever you forget to leave food out in the morning.

So you groan and you go through the backdoor of the store to reach the small, dingy courtyard of his apartment. Second floor, apartment 5C.

This building is so old it doesn't even have an elevator. You reach the door and open it, the rattle of keys falling over the counter is the only sound that can be heard, along with the clack of the short heels of your boots.

You take your shoes off and go through his fridge. Day- old Chinese takeout, a carton of eggs and milk. Three cans of Sierra Nevada, a half- drunk bottle of Coke Zero. You open his freezer.

Honey walnut shrimp and fried rice from Trader Joe's, a bottle of vodka, and a tub of ice cream from the last time you were craving it.

You roll your eyes and pick up the phone.

"Hey Ed, you have jack shit in your fridge. Can you stop by the Greek place down the block? I’ll have a gyro with chicken and falafel on the side” you request, hearing his groan at another chore he has to do post closing.

“Baby the Chinese food in the fridge is pretty good, it’s from the place we always go to” he’s not very convincing, but he’s tired and now lost count of the cash he was counting.

“‘kay i’ll put an online order for it so you just have to go pick it up, sound good?” you ignore him.

“Ugh fine but I better get, like, the biggest kiss in return.“ he groans, but it’s true. He is a weak, weak man when it comes to you. “Get me the pita wrap with lamb and fries, and lemme also get seasoned fries on the side. Thank you witchy, love you gotta go” he says, hanging up the phone.

So you order the food and then sneak in Eddie's bedroom to change into something comfortable. Getting rid of that fine line when clothes felt too much like clothes, the stitching pressing into your skin, the cuffs of your sweater feeling a bit too tight against your wrists, your jeans too tight on your legs.

So you venture in his closet and steal a pair of sweats and a ratty black t- shirt. One of his many. You go to the bathroom and notice there's no mirror. This dude.

So you tie your hair away from your face and use the nice face wash you got him- which you're sure he rarely uses- and wipe the makeup off your face. You go look for a clean towel, 'cause God knows you will not be wiping your face with the hand towel sitting on the rod on the wall.

After your face is clean you plop yourself on the couch and watch TV to pass the time.

Thirty- odd minutes later a rattling of keys startles you. Eddie walks through the door with his arms full of plastic bags. He places them on the counter.

"Hey witchy, I see you've made yourself at home?" he says, as you walk towards him and bury yourself in his arms. At least he smelled nice.

"Hmmm missed you, Ed" you mutter against the fabric of his t- shirt.

"You missed me?" you give a little nod, followed by a hum. His heart beats a bit faster, it's nice knowing you think of him when he's away.

"Aw, witchy. I missed you too, are you hungry?" he says, giving you a sweet kiss on the head as he detaches from your grip and reaches for the bag with the food, taking out the boxes.

"Also stopped by the hair place, got you that silk pillowcase and some shampoo and conditioner to keep here. Doubt you'll wanna use my three in one shit" he snickers, and you blush timidly. He's not sweet in the way that he'll kiss you in the middle of the street, but he is for sure sweet in the way he thinks about you an embarrassing amount of times a day.

"Thanks Ed, you didn't have to do that" you say, and he blushes, the boy tinges himself pink because you appreciate him.

"Y'know, anything for you" he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he brings the takeout boxes to the coffee table.

You follow him and plop down on the couch "I was watching 'Sex and the City' while you were gone" you explain, biting into your gyro.

"Was Samantha being her usual crazy self?" he doesn't even know who Samantha is, but he thinks it's funny to ask you every time. You giggle as he puts on a random show for you to watch.

After an episode Eddie stands up and stretches.

"I'm beat, I think it's time for bed" he says "c'mon, witchy"

You rise from the couch and follow him into the master bathroom.

“I have a toothbrush here for you, I kinda uh-“ from his tone you can tell he’s embarrassed “I got one for here the first time you came over, in case you ever, y’know, wanted to sleep over” he says sheepishly, while you wrap your arms around him.

He offers it to you, it’s pink. Your favorite color.

“Aw, Ed. You’re so sweet, thank you” you say and you swear you can see him blush as you place a delicate kiss on his warming cheek.

This slice of domesticity taken away from the mystic vibe of your apartment really makes you wonder. It makes you think about a normal life, with him.

The way he washes his face like a madman (without face wash), letting the water wet his bangs instead of pulling his hair back, the way he ties his hair up before brushing his teeth.

You take the toothbrush out of your mouth "Ah shtill don' undestand why you don' have a mirrah" you sputter, mouth full as you spit the toothpaste in the sink.

"Why I don't have a mirror? Previous tenant broke it and my asshole landlord still won't fix it" he says, taking off his shirt. Your eyes linger on the lines of his back a little too long, bordering the line between looking and staring.

So you turn around and you try to braid your hair without a mirror, but to no avail, every strand seems to be three different sizes.

You groan in frustration as Eddie approaches you.

"Lemme help, witchy" he says, standing behind you and tending an arm out for a hair tie.

He divides the hair into three strands. Your hair is so soft between his fingers.

He wishes he could stall so that he could caress it for longer, but an impatient yawn escapes your mouth as his hands deftly get to work. Over, under, over, under-

"Where did you learn to braid hair?" you ask, feeling the way he softly holds each strand, making sure he's not pulling at your scalp. You don't see him, but a smile forms around his tongue, peeking out of his lips in concentration. Over, under.

"I had girlfriends before you, witchy. They taught me to braid my own hair" he chuckles, as you try to tune out the word girlfriends. Under, over, under.

He can see a pout form on your lips, he smiles.

"Why'd you need to braid your hair?" you huff, thinking of going on a spiraling rampage and hexing every one of his exes. Over.

"Well" he begins "one time, an ex braided my hair and it came out super curly, so I wanted to try it myself. Turns out it needs to stay in the braid for a while for that to happen" he shrugs.

Under, over, tie.

"All done," he announces, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Thanks, Ed" you examine the braid, flinging it over your shoulder "looks really nice" you say, and give him a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He gets himself into bed. His bed is oddly comfortable and his sheets smell of laundry detergent.

"I might have been washing my sheets every other day in case you wanted to sleep over" he confesses, blushing, as he lifts his arm, opening the warmth of his chest to you.

"You" you give him a kiss "are literally" another kiss "the sweetest guy" another kiss "in the history of always" last kiss.

He gets flustered when you call him sweet, because under the hardening exterior of black chains and shirts with exploding heads and hooded skeletal figures, there's just a sweet guy who loves you and wants you to like him for being himself.

"Just want you to, you know, have a good experience with me" he says, caressing your head.

"You get an 11/10 Yelp rating, can't recommend to anyone, though. You seem to be preoccupied with a really cool girl, and it seems it's going to go on forever" you giggle, as he smiles and gives you a kiss.

"Go to sleep, cool girl. Goodnight, love you" he says, before turning off his lights.

"Goodnight, Ed" you say, turning over so he can spoon you.

"You have to say it back" he whispers in the quiet of the dark room.

"Right, sorry. I love you too, Ed" you correct yourself and close your eyes, falling into one of the best sleeps you've ever had in your life.

The morning after, Eddie wakes up to his landlord bringing in a new mirror, his hair extra curled and all his exes blocked on his social media. But he doesn't have to know about that last one.

[chococara25]

Of Poltergeist and Sweet Treats

There is an intruder in his house. 

That, or for some odd reason, his house is currently haunted by a food poltergeist. 

Tommy pulled a face at that thought before gently closing his currently stuffed full to the brim fridge and cautiously stepped away from it. He rubbed his face tiredly (he was back from a very gruelling 48-hour shift) and to be honest, wasn’t mentally (and physically) ready to figure out what the hell was going on. 

All he wants is to grab his (most likely expired) orange juice so he can drink it before he can crawl into his bed and sleep, damnit!

He deeply sighed again and opened the fridge again and haphazardly grabs one of the loaf, eyeing distrustfully at the neatly typed label (cherry tomato, watermelon radish and rosemary focaccia bread), breathing in the delicious scent of rosemary and fresh bread and couldn’t resist biting into it.

Dear God.

Tommy couldn’t help the moan coming out of his mouth as he enjoyed the crunch of perfectly crust and the sweet and peppery taste of the cherry tomatoes and watermelon radishes baked into it. He had to make himself put down the delicious loaf of bread and pull out another wrapped package, this time a small pot pie (Quiche Lorraine; warm first!!) After following the instructions on the label and warming it using the microwave, bite into it; the delicious combination of buttery pie crust paired with the savoury egg custard, smoky bacon, smoky bacon, nutty Gruyère cheese, and shallots danced across his palate. 

After finishing the frankly divine pie, he turned to the fridge and began to catalogue its content, counting 5 different loaves of cake and bread (one banana and walnut cake, one vanilla and raspberry mascarpone loaf cake, one carrot cake loaf, one mixed nut loaf, a whole wheat sourdough loaf), 3 types of scones (a batch of sweet potato scones, half-a-dozen of savoury chorizo and manchego scones peppered with paprika, and a container of mixed berry scones), one very decadent box of chocolate fudge brownie just the way he likes it, 4 different types of soups (butternut squash soup, a savoury broccoli cheddar soup, a very filling savoury potato and leek soup and an oddly familiar-tasting chicken and mushroom soup that he simply couldn’t resist heating up and eat for his brunch) a box of red velvet cupcakes topped, what he can tell from just smelling it, cream cheese and a splash of peppermint and several portioned-for-one pans of lasagnas. 

Heck, whomever invaded his house even restocked his fridge and pantry with much needed groceries and even got him a case of that rare pale beer he liked!

Taking a pic of the well-stocked fridge, he texted Lucy and Eddie, two people of the four people who had keys to his place that could be the culprit (Melton was working the same 48 hour shift with him and most likely passed out at his place and Sal was in Philadelphia, vacationing with his in-laws). 

Tommy - Right, which one of you gremlins did this?

Biting into the decadent fudge brownie (He may or may not have shivers dancing down his spine while biting into the frankly sinful dessert), he turned to his phone when his phone vibrated, signalling the replies coming through. 

Lucy - Brave of you to assume I know how to bake. 😤 😤  Lucy - Damn, are those red velvet cupcakes? Lucy - Share them with me 🤤🤤🤤 Eddie - Dude, I’m not even in LA right now?! Eddie - Didn’t I tell you I’m moving back to El Paso?

Tommy frowned. Eddie’s moved back to Texas? But what about Ev- Buck?

Tommy - You moved? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sent you off man!

He hesitated before typing again.

Tommy -Why did you leave Buck?  Tommy -Is he doing alright?  Tommy -Have he moved on? Tommy -If I tell him I’m sorry, will he take me back?

Deleting the texts, he opened his group chat with Evan, and Tommy began texting him. Are you alright?

Staring at the last text message, he rubbed his face and deleted that one as well, instead opting to try one of the red velvet cupcakes. 

It was delicious and yet tasted like bitter regret to him.

-----------

Tommy came an hour early for his shift the next day as he, once again, couldn’t sleep. Rubbing his face tiredly (and making a mental note to shave before Captain Pruitt sees him and give him another verbal reprimand on personal hygiene) when Harbor’s latest probie pilot, Nell ‘Twitch’ Andrews, lurched toward him and pushed a basket full of cookies at him before walking off. “Someone left this for you earlier today.” She called out before walking into one of the desks. 

Tommy winced before pulling the poor kid away from the table. “Did you get the name of the person who dropped this off?”

“He didn’t say. Just tell me to give it to you and only you.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. 

“Ok, what does he look like? Maybe he’s one of my friends.”

The probie just blinked tiredly at him and gestured vaguely over her head. “About this high? And he has a pretty smile? I,” She yawned tiredly, “didn’t pay attention, sorry.”

“It’s your 4 days off after this right? Go catch some sleep before you hurt yourself.” Tommy grabbed some of the cookies and gave it to her. After making sure she left with her brother, who came to pick her up, Tommy looked into the basket and admired the beautifully decorated christmas themed sugar cookies, the gooey smores cookies with the marshmallow center, chewy looking red velvet cookies and his favourite, decadent looking triple chocolate cookies, all labelled just like the ones at his place but this time each labels had some cheeky christmas cheers and jokes on it. 

“What’s that?” Melton and Lucy appeared out of nowhere, followed by fellow Aeromedical pilot Miriam Kareem and her co-pilot Zack Black, surrounding him and his bounty. 

“Cookies!!” Miriam made grabby motion toward the basket and pouted when Tommy simply held the basket over her head. 

“Come on, you can’t finish all of them by yourself. And you already have all that snacks in your fridge. Where’s my cupcakes anyways?” Lucy groused.

“Snack? Cupcakes? And you weren’t gonna share?” Everyone began complaining loudly, especially when Captain Pruitt came over, attracted by the noise. A brief scuffle then ensued where Tommy escaped the horde with less than half of the cookies intact. He immediately hid in his favorite secret nook (the fire escape on the second floor that overlooks over the entire airfield) and ate most of them, while scrolling through his social media, lingering over old photos he took with Evan and their text messages, typing and deleting every single sentence he typed in the chat.

---------

Buck didn’t plan for this to happen at first.

It was by coincidence that he was even in the same place as Tommy that night.

Buck had run out of flour (again) and instead of doing the sane thing and sleep, he decided to do a midnight run to the store. 

There he was, at the baking aisle, trying to figure out if he should buy the whole grain flour and make mini pizzas to bring in for work tomorrow when he saw Tommy blearily staring at the colorful cereal boxes in front of him.

Taking in his unkempt look, the unshaved beard and the dark circle under his still beautiful blue eyes, Buck’s first thought was who was taking care of him now?

His second thought, what the fuck, I’m still mad at him.

His third and fourth thoughts were fretful. Is he sleeping well? He looks so thin; is he skipping meals?

So yes, he wasn’t proud of what he did next but staring into Tommy’s empty fridge with the expired carton of orange juice when he came by to put some prepped meals and snacks he made for him, he knew he was doing the right thing.

After restocking the fridge with more homemade soups and some chicken and leek pies for Tommy to enjoy after his shift, Buck wandered around the house, sighing when he saw the loads of dirty laundry waiting to be cleaned in the laundry room.

Tommy really did hate doing laundry. 

He quickly separates the clothes according to color and starts the wash before going to Tommy’s bedroom and sinking into his bed, breathing in the scent of cedar and rosewood. 

He know what he’s doing is wrong and creepy as fuck but someone needs to take care of the man since clearly he had been neglecting himself for the past month! ( Serve him right for breaking up with him, hmph! )

Buck rolled out of bed and began to change the sheets so Tommy can sleep easily after his shift, making sure the pillows are fluffed just the way Tommy liked it, remembering the times Tommy did the same for him. 

Damn, he missed having Tommy doting on him and him doting on the stupid dork.

After cleaning up the rest of the house and folding the laundry away, Buck left the house the same way he came in (through the kitchen door and the backyard; Tommy forgot he told Buck where he kept his spare kitchen door keys, the very same way Tommy forgot they synced their google calendar months ago hence how Buck knew his schedule), taking with him one of Tommy’s LAFD hoodies. 

What? He deserved some treats too!

Plus he missed sleeping in Tommy’s clothes, surrounded by his scent.

Tommy stumbled into his place, yawning. Thankfully the 24 hour shift was a Q-word shift and he ended up burning up the sugar rush by being a menace with his clipboard, running maintenance on all the helicopters in the hangar. 

(Lucy may have sneakily taken a picture of him and sent it to Eddie, who blanched all the way from El Paso, Dear God, there’s two of them! Did Buck infect Tommy with his clipboard persona? Is Chris next? They did spend a lot of time together while Chris was growing up. Eddie thought, looking suspiciously at his son, who looked weirdly at his father.)

----------

Tommy entered his house and tiredly dropped his bag onto the floor. Taking in the afternoon sunlight bathing the living room, he noticed a hoodie hanging over his couch. 

Ah, his intruder was here again. 

As he passed the couch with his bag of dirty clothes, he swiped the familiar looking hoodie with him as he made his way to the laundry room. 

As much as he wanted to ignore the pile of dirty clothes and sleep the shift off, he knew he needed to get a head start on it or end up regretting it. So it was to his surprise when he saw the empty baskets and the neatly folded towels on top of his dryer. He immediately ran to his closet and there it was, his freshly laundered clothes hung neatly, separated by colors and types. 

Hmm… 

He then turned to his bed and to his surprised pleasure, the bed sheets were changed. He couldn’t resist and sank into the freshly made bed and dragged the hoodie close to his face, hugging it tightly as he breathed in the familiar faint smoke, musk and mint scent.

“Evan, why are you being too nice to me?” He groaned, falling asleep surrounded by his ex’s scent. 

tagging: @cannibalhellhound @weewookinard @herrmannhalsteadproduction @leashybebes @blue-arts-stuff @cjlouwho @peppermintquartz @aringofsalt @bidisasterevanbuckley

[buddiedaydreamer911]

in light of 911onABC posting this 911/Glee comparison:

and including Jennifer Aspen! (Lorraine-911/ Kendra-Glee)

Id like to use this post as my pitch on how I think Ryan Murphy should create a 911/Glee crossover.

Should every glee character cross over? no. they’re all grown up, some of the characters clearly have a double life in 911. But out of all the characters, I think the only two who should crossover (whose actors has not made a new appearance on 911 as of yet) should be Blaine and Kurt.

Klaine was a huge ship for a tv show in 2009-2015 when same sex relationships wasn’t socially accepted yet. But Ryan Murphy did it anyways which lead to (helped contribute) a whole new community form (LGBTQ+) in a new light.

Now years later, here we have Buck and Eddie. Buddie, who lots of fans passionately want to see them be together. Now in an age where same sex relationships ARE socially acceptable, yet we’re just not getting this ship yet.

I think it would be cool to have Blaine and Kurt, years later- still married with kids- come in and somehow influence Buck and Eddie to make the final push to be together. (either purposely or by total accident.)

and of course, a song sung by Kurt and Blaine. obviously.

[kissproof]

Could you possibly do something with both mr.orange (readers boyfriend) who finally goes out and meets the rest of the dogs after giving Mr.orange a lovely hickey to show off. The dogs obviously give him a hard time about it but Mr.white just admires her handiwork and comments something like "that must have felt good" or "that must make him crazy worked up if you were able to get it that dark" until the reader offers to give Mr.white one as well. Which ends up possibly as a threesome.

thank you for your request loveeeee <3

SUMMARY: a hickey is worth a thousand words

WARNINGS: mature themes!

to say it was bad was an understatement. the goddamn thing was like europe threw up on the side of orange’s neck. you’d given it to him the night before in the back of a bar where the two of you giggled and got handsy like teenagers. it had only further developed since the darkness fell over it and left orange looking undeniably wringed out.

after hours of useless fretting over it, he wore the hickey proudly. he told himself that it was just another piece of you; a deliciously painful memory of your lips that he could carry throughout his day. plus, you were gonna meet the other dogs today. with you on his arm, it was like another trophy attached to its olympian.

as you strolled up to pat lorraine's, eddie and vic were already outside, stalking like gravekeepers with their smoking cigarettes. they eyed you both through sunglasses of varying tints, eddie making sure his pretty eyes got protected from the excessive californian UV.

“ain’t she somethin’?” eddie whistled within ear shot, marveling at the paint job of fred’s car as he curled it round the parking lot and stopped it at their feet. it was funny eddie said anything at all. he could’ve bought twelve of fred’s car plus the one he sat in now.

“well, she ain’t yours, pal,” freddie retorts with a smirk, yanking the gear in place with his head out the window.

“wasn’t talking about your girl.” vic squints, unwavering in his cloud of smoke. “but…now that you mention it…” he drops his sunglasses further down his nose and winks at you through the windshield.

with an eye roll, fred gets out of the car and your eyes follow his hurried footsteps along the asphalt, biting your lip as you wait. you hear your door jack open and shut, a rush of hot air hitting your arm.

“thank you, baby,” you hum with a smile.

“holy shit!” eddie cries, beside himself. “what the fuck is that?”

your attention is brought quickly from your body to the ever-so-obvious mark on freddie’s neck now that you were both gleaming in the sunlight.

“oh… i-" you stammer.

“i haven’t seen one that big since you got out of jail, vic!”

“fuck you, cabot.”

“what the fuck is taking you dicks so long— jesus, orange, your neck." a new voice emerges from the left of you followed by a pair of goofy long legs.

“i know," freddie grumbles, turning his body away and pinching his nose bridge.

“sorry. i’m pink--mr pink. nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you,” you say politely, forming your hand to his as he extends to greet you. you note that all of them smell of the same smoke.

“you do that?” pink asks, in awe, and you can only blush.

“let’s go,” freddie sighs and walks you inside, a hand on your back as you make it through the doors and spot two more men sitting down at a large table.

“hey! there they are! hello, beautiful.” the older man, who you know to be white, stands up with his arms outstretched and kisses your cheek as they all file in and sit down in their respective seats, leaving one open for you next to orange.

“hello-“

“what the fuck happened to you?” brown recoils, interrupting. his arm leaned on the back of his seat, yet another cigarette parked between his big fingers.

“what does it look like?” freddie cocks his hip, totally flustered.

“sweet thing gave our boy a real juicy kiss!” eddie laughs.

“it’s bigger than my hand!”

fred finally sits down next to you as white does the same, sandwiching you between them. “mustve taken a while…" he trails, eyeing your lips and imagining fred's neck. "t'get it that dark”

you eye white, curiously. “what? you want one, white?” brown smirks. a few scrapes of silverware is heard over the sudden silence of the table.

“just sayin… it’s a beautiful job.”

orange reaches his arm around your chair and hugs close to you. “well, you can all get a good look ‘cuz im done talking about it.”

“awwwwwww!”

“lover boy's embarrassed!”

you look back at freddie, then back to the guys. you shrug. “i’ll give you one too if you like it so much.”

“oh, yeah?” white adjusts himself in his seat and smiles, his face turning red.

freddie furrows his brow before poking his head in to get closer to white.

“in your dreams, white. she’s kidding.”

“i'm not!" you whine.

“baby-“

“it’s just a little kiss…”

you can't help but feel all the dogs' eyes watching you and orange as you look at each other, negotiating with the micromovements in your eyes. they'd never guessed orange would date someone who'd be so charitable!

eventually, freddie sighs, scooting himself back to face the other side of the diner, “…fine.”

you can imagine what happens next.

[ragdolls-and-such]

sorry guys. back to the future au

i saw back to the future on broadway and then the absolute fucking worst au idea popped into my head. sorry

Random is Marty, Ford is Doc, Arthur is George, and Trillian is Lorraine or whatever her name is. Zaphod is Biff and Eddie's the delorian. idk whats going on with Marvin.

the twist ending is that Random fails to get Arthur + Trillian to hook up, so in the future, Trillzaph + Fenforthur are canon. Random's like "how the fuck was i born then" and learns about . sperm bank <3 See this au is a perfect fit if you just see my vision

^^^ bonus teen fenchurch that i drew alongside teen arthur and trill

I would have drawn zaph biff (ziff?????) but my tablet hashtag died. also im still deciding whether zaph is human or alien in this au

[satashiiwrites]

Writers Wrapped

Tagged by @missanniewhimsy—thanks for the tag dear!

Favorite Story you've worked on this year: oof. Uh, maybe from an accomplishment of finishing it I’d have to go with Choices and Regrets—it started as my NaNoWriMo/Rough Trade project in Nov 2023 but it really got edited and finished in 2024. The source of this 911 semi-fusion is Dark Matter the book by Blake Crouch/tv show and I have yet to really see anything else done with this trope. It’s dimension hopping, doppelgänger, stolen identities and true love kinda all wrapped into one thriller of a fic. I hope I did right by the inspiration source as it’s been one of my favorite books for years.

Favorite Character that you've written this year: Probably Eddie Diaz. I feel like in the 911 fandom a lot of people tend to favor Buck’s pov and some days Eddie just speaks to me in a very different and clearer way. With the final chapter of Family, Familia, ‘Ohana finally completed this year, I really struggled with this chapter until I realized I needed to change the POVs order around and let Eddie have his moment to play vanguard for Buck.

The other character I’ve been having a lot of fun writing is Danny Williams in Jersey Boys which so far has been his POV. This is Danny pre-series, he’s more jersey in all the jersey ways. Also, his partner who’s an OC, Lorraine, has real main character energy and give’s Danny a run for his money. So far, the fic has been really fun to write because of how bombastic these two are.

Favorite scene you've worked on this year: There’s a few to chose from but I’m going to mention the scene where Jonas Taylor and Owen Grady meet in Scratching an Itch. This is a complete and utter crack fic with a crack pairing—there is no way that these two characters could meet as they’re in different movies… yet there’s a thread of craziness that connects them. Owen walks into Jonas’ neighborhood bar and terrible pickup lines aside, they end up going home together. Jonas’ POV is vey clear cut, cynical, and down to uh, ‘have fun�� (the whole fic is a pwp with a plot holding it together with duct tape). It’s just a ridiculous fic overall but it was fun writing in Jonas’ POV and going for it. And why not have a Jurassic World/the Meg crossover?

Favorite piece of inspiration you've used this year(i.e. song, movie, art):

The finale/epilogue of Family, Familia, ‘Ohana was always going to Home by Jack Johnson. Similarly, Choices and Regrets was always going to have its epilogue built around Semisonic’s Closing Time. I write a lot based on emotions in certain lyrics or the song itself. Both of these songs evoke the feeling I’m going for in these chapters and both were long fics that feel like a huge accomplishment to have finished.

Favorite line or lines you've written:

uh, well, I’ve been collecting terrible one-liners lately (see Scratching an Itch or Jersey Boys). There’s a few honorable mentions, but the one that made me sputter and fall off my chair laughing as I wrote it was from Chasing My Ghosts Away (If Only For Tonight) which is a one-shot set in The Lincoln Lawyer season 3 and is basically an excuse to have Mickey taken out of his spiraling thoughts by Omar the bodyguard.

“And what do you call this?” Mickey asks helplessly, clenching down rhythmically, trying to encourage Omar to give him a real thrust, feeling his peak vanish out of reach. 

“I call this stamina, hermoso,” Omar says with a smirk before withdrawing and giving Mickey a real thrust, making him yelp, before catching his mouth and fusing their lips together. 

Writing piece or accomplishment you're most proud of: I finished Family Familia ‘Ohana. This fic took me years to write. I’m so damn happy to have it finished and out there. Give me a month or two and I’ll clean up a few things and start posting the sequels. The Bobby POV fic What Becomes of the Broken Hearted will be next with probably A Final Vow (David ‘Deacon’ Kay/Daniel ‘Hondo’ Harrelson) fic to follow.

Tagging @tiny-reader @rosieposiepuddingnpie @tkwritesdumbassassins @harleyjquinwrites and anyone else who wants to play along