#only a couple days where i wasn't able to sit down and i miSSED WRITING WITH U

[iinterstellars]

alcohol has made him bolder... or more like completely shameless, somehow. in any other case he would be appalled at the way too personal information being thrown his way. right now, his imagination is running WILD and he's more than okay with LETTING IT; as if toying with it in his mind he imagines her below him: her body, warm, wet and inviting. his common sense ends up winning the battle and a shiver runs down his spine which he plays off as being cold by taking a quick sip of his drink, though he does feel a very different kind of heat traveling all over his body... pooling on the tip of his ears ( not one to blush but that's his telltale sign of embarrassment. ) " a lot of people don't, for some reason. i don't really mind. " he can tell she's being serious too, which doesn't make things ANY easier but... that's all he's going to give. it's been more than what he'd be comfortable with sober, and he DOESN'T want to feel awkward when this liquid courage isn't going through his veins. " can't be the first... i still need to show you what to do. maybe third? " he retorts with a grin, feeling happy to settle back into non - dangerous conversation. even more so when she distances even FURTHER from it, allowing him the chance to think about something else, something inconspicuous such as cooking of all things. " hmm... i wouldn't really know, " he says first, but is still thinking about it. he DOES know how to cook, had to learn at some point. he considers it to be an essential skill for anyone. most of the time though he would do it for himself, to fit his own palate. he RARELY cooked for more than two people but when he did he didn't get any complaints. didn't get that much praise either so... he's not sure. " only cooked for myself back then and if it was up to me i'd say i'm excellent at it. i can follow recipes too but if you put me in the kitchen and said i need to come up with something to feed an entire group i'd be lost. " he shrugs, everyone has their own skills. " you said you were good at it, no? what's your favorite thing to make? or... what got you the most compliments? " he's curious now and it shows. most of the time they talk about HIM, his skills; or he's teaching her something new so they talk about things she's not familiar with. this was her forte and he's eager to see how she speaks about something she actually likes. thomas can't help but chuckle softly at her comment, completely missing the implications of it, how she's bundled herself up with the rest. " i don't think that's the case. there's implicit trust between people and most medics... plus you kinda have to be nice to the person that could potentially save your life if something BAD happens, no? " he's humble enough to try to look at it a different way. he doesn't say it's always been like this, even back in the hospital. he laughs again at her remark, " takes one to know one? " he replies, though he knows it's childish but all for the sake of having a good time. he shakes his head this time, hand wrapping around the glass while fingers tap against it absentmindedly. " nope, completely innocent. i don't ghost people... " one night stands WEREN'T something he did too often either but he thinks it's obvious too, almost implicit with how casual sex isn't his thing.

NOPE . NO . NO . NO . warning bells flash in defne's mind , but she immediately ( of course ) thinks about thomas on top of her , panting , kissing down her neck , letting out grunts that she can't even imagine what they'd sound like and her entire body feels like it might be on actual fire . her face goes slack , eyebrows raising so high that she considers whether botox in the apocalypse might still be an option . OH GOD . OH GOD . his words swim in her ears , through her mind . she could almost have a heart attack from glee . she stares at him , solid and unabashed , unable to compute . it's a LONG MOMENT before he breaks into a grin and tells her he's joking because of course he is and that's all this is but she can't lie and act like this - that , him - hasn't changed so much within her . " i - " she splutters , weakly . " safe sex is great . " she agrees . then , she decides , it's not fair that he can mess with her . she's meant to be the one making HIM flustered and uncomfortable . " i mean , i wouldn't blame you for the no condoms thing . i don't like them that much either . " she shoots it right back , but unlike him there's no joke . defne's worst trait is that she overshares but right now - HE DESERVES IT , hopeful it makes him half as flustered as he made her .

her mind locks onto his way of phrasing casual sex . it's not his thing . ok . so , great . but what IS his thing ? she'd love to know his type , but she barely sees him really engage in much conversation , let alone flirt . he doesn't talk about his sex or romantic life . she's dying for crumbs that he refuses to give her . at least if he did then she could rest knowing she DOESN'T HAVE A CHANCE . defne grins largely to him , leans in closer and playful . " are you going to be my first surgery patient ? " she jokes along . they both know she's far from capable . at this point , she's still doing bandaids and painkiller . at most ,antibiotics and temperatures ( which she often will still ask thomas if it's too high or if she's doing it right ) . OPEN HEART SURGERY IS A LONG WAY AWAY . " are you a good cook ? " she asks , with a suddenness that's on brand for her . " if you're so good at being exact, you'd surely make an excellent baker or cook , right ? " defne takes a considerable sip of her drink and has to thank whatevers in it because it's good at keeping her so warm and comfortable . or maybe that's just thomas' effet . she feels his eyes on her and looks over , surprised that he IS indeed looking at her but almost distractedly . she moves her arms over herself again , self conscious . defne knows thomas isn't looking at her in interest and she can't help but worry it's CRITIQUE or yet again a reminder that she's ' young ' . " stoner thomas mode unlocked . " she replies , in amusement .

as more people trot in , defne can't help but notice the trusted and warm way that most people greet thomas in . it's clear they want to engage with him , yet he's ever so diplomatic to only offer them a humble wave in return . it's almost like he's elysium's very own celebrity. " everyone here has a crush on you . " she says it with an obviousness but immediately regrets it because she knows she infers herself with it . her cheeks blaze red and she looks away , takes another big sip of her drink . it's good that someone swoops over to refill their glasses albeit she's sure she doesn't need more . she murmurs out a thank you before giving thomas a pointed glare . " you're a dirty player . " she says , as if she didn't start it , then takes another sip of her drink . " ok . " defne sets down her glass in faux - seriousness . " never have i ever . . . had a one night stand and ghosted them the next day . " she raises her eyebrows , meaningful and challenging .

[black-dragon1998]

Lone wolf Chapter 12

Summary: Clarke and Y/N resove their fight.

Notes: Trying to get back into writing for this story.

previous chapters: part 1- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8 - part 9- part 10-part11

Clarke quickly approached your joined tent, hoping you were there. When she only saw Lexa and Madi, her heart sank. Lexa could see the distress on Clarke's face as she neared the tent. What had happened, and where were you?

"Clarke, hodness. What happened?" It was hard for Lexa not to run to her distressed wife, but Lexa had an image to uphold in unfriendly territory. When Clarke was inside the safety of their tent, she couldn't hold back any longer, so she pulled Clarke close to her with the arm that wasn't holding Madi. Clarke couldn't stop her tears when she felt Lexa pull her closer, missing you.

"Lexa, I did something stupid." Clarke sobbed into Lexa's shoulder.

"It's okay, Clarke, I have you. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can talk about it." Lexa tried to reassure her wife. The three of you had had your arguments before, and they were usually resolved quickly.

"no, Lexa! You don't understand. I have never seen (Y/N) look at me like that."

"Clarke, sweetheart. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Cause you aren't making any sense." Lexa said while leading Clarke toward a chair so she could sit. Madi immediately hugged Clarke the moment she sat down.

"hugs, mommy. Mama says hugs make everything better." Madi looked up at Clarke with a toothy smile. Clarke managed to give a tear-filled smile back. You had been right. Had anyone else caused this commotion, Clarke wouldn't have thought twice about your reaction.

After a couple of deep breaths, Clarke got her breathing under control. She hugged Madi tightly. Lexa, who had watched Clarke run through all the emotions, sat beside her wife as Clarke told her story through hiccups and tears. Lexa listened. It wasn't Lexa's place to choose a side. She just wanted everybody to be safe at home again.

Lexa suggested giving you some time. That way, both you and Clarke could calm down. So when you return, both of you can have a calm conversation. If there was one thing Lexa knew for certain, you loved her and Clarke.

Madi, who hadn't understood the conversation her mothers had been having, just sat there. The thing Madi did understand was that her mommy was sad and that her mama was gone. Seeing her mommy so sad made Madi want to do something about it. Maybe if she found you, you could come and give Mommy your hugs. They always made her feel better.

Sneaking outside, Madi immediately went to the three who would help her. Winter, Rain and Wood were close to the tent and got up when they noticed Madi approaching them. For them, Madi was the pack's pup and needed protection.

"We have to find mama. Mommy sad." Madi walked into the woods, surrounded by the three dire wolves. The wolves immediately tried to locate the scent of their master and started to lead Madi in that direction.

You had cooled off a little after your argument with your wife. You weren't able to go back to the tent just yet. So, you sat on a log and reviewed your emotions and thoughts. You Weren't mad at Clarke. Your feelings got the best of you after a hard couple of days. You also knew Clarke was under much stress, and your clashes with Bellamy weren't helping.

Sitting there for a few minutes, you notice someone approaching you. You ready yourself for whatever it is that comes through the clearing.

"Madi?" Hearing your voice, Madi ran toward you and flung herself at you.

"mama! Found you." You looked her over for any injury she could have gotten while walking through the woods. When you didn't see anything, you looked her in the eyes.

"what are you doing here? Do Mommy or nomon know you are here?" you knew the answer already. No way would your wives let Madi walk through the woods alone. Madi, however, seemed to be concerned about other things.

"mama! Mommy, sad. Sorry. Needs you." Madi wiggled herself out of your hold and pulled you toward the camp. When you didn't follow, Madi looked up at you with a pretty impressive glare. Clarke would be so proud.

"mama! Mommy cried." That did break your heart. Lexa nor Clarke cried easily. Meaning she must be feeling pretty big emotions. Sucking up your feelings, you pick Madi up and start walking toward the rest of your family.

When Clarke spotted you walking toward her, she flings herself at you. She was starting to apologize profusely. You let her ramble for a moment while holding her close.

"It's okay, Clarke. We were both at fault. I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me and should also have considered your feelings. I get more territorial around certain Skaikru." You kissed Clarke on the forehead before kissing her on the lips. You feel her sag against you and hold her closer. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Lexa smiling. Reaching out for her, Lexa picks up Madi and joins the embrace.

"I love the three of you so much." You confess. Having this rare moment of vulnerability reserved for your family.

You and Clarke eat dinner before taking a quick bath and turning in for the night. Agreeing that you would be taking a more back-seated role in the negotiations, limiting your contact with the Skaikru. Your best warriors would still shadow Lexa and Clarke. That was the only condition you had.

part 13

Taglist

@trikruismybitch

@fayhar

@scruffyumbreon

@nocturnal-ace

@poison-blackheart

@simp4panos

[lunalockley]

The Limo Driver (part one)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Very NSFW which is funny cause reader is in her workplace. Fingers exactly where you want them.

Summary: Jake has issues, yet has the audacity to be possessive.

Words: 4700+

Notes: Hiii! I wasn't posting for a while because I wasn't satisfied with my writing, but now save yourselves I'm backkkk

Masterlist

gif credit

Truth is… you’ve missed him. All this time you’ve missed him.

You have realized he never told you how old he is, where he is from, or what he does. You don’t have any substantial information about his personality, about who he is as a person. All you know is he answers to the name of Jake and you think he drives a limo for a living.

That’s it. That’s all you have on him. And half of it it’s guessed.

Yet, you’ve missed him. A lot. Which is pretty stupid. And annoying.

Because if you already have to deal with mornings you suddenly wake up breathing hard and sweaty just by the infuriatingly vivid idea of his warm mouth making his way down on your neck, or the roughness of his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer, deeper, harder… ugly, disgusting ideas you’re determined to call nightmares. At work, everything gets worse. 

There are days when the restaurant is full, no matter how late it is. So you move around on a nonstop cycle greeting, serving, and cleaning until your shift is over and you don’t have energy left to think about anything else than your soft, comfy bed. But there are also days when almost no one comes. Days when no one wants breakfast at 1 am, for some reason, so you don’t have anyone to reassure there’s still bacon and eggs available—even when the ‘24-hour breakfast’ slogan plagues pretty much every inch of the restaurant. Nothing to serve, nothing to clean, no repetition to follow. Nothing to concentrate on.

So all that are you left with it’s the constant hum of the ceiling fan, your thoughts and the fact that his usual seat pulls your attention like a gravitational force, taking over you against all your fucking will. Whether it’s being used by a stranger and you can’t escape how wrong it feels having someone else where it should be him, or when its emptiness seems to mock how you haven’t been able to forget him despite how long it’s been since the last time you saw him.

So of course it’s stupid and annoying… and stupid.

Because if he’s not sitting there frowning at his coffee and flirting with you whenever you got closer enough, as he did for weeks on end all these months ago, it’s because he doesn’t want to, right? It’s been nearly a half-year for fuck’s sake. Of course he doesn’t want to.

You know that. You do. Yet the kiss gets replayed on your mind all the fucking time. Because that’s the exact same spot where you felt his lips against yours for real, not like the not-good-enough vanished version of your drea—nightmares.

Even though you’d prefer those horrible nightmares than staying behind the counter with nothing to do but alternate your eyes between a smooching couple in one corner and an old melancholic man observing the night sky in the other, the only customers in the restaurant. No one else has entered the place in a torturously slow hour and a half. And there's still another hour left until your shift ends.

It’s embarrassing how all your life you had been proud of yourself for not letting anyone take over your mind as you’ve seen in cheesy movies and listened to in corny songs. You were fine, taking care of your well-being, working on as many jobs as physically possible, patiently increasing your savings, doing everything in your hands to follow your slightly unrealistic dreams. But this? This is straight-out dumb.

You think about him as soon as you wake up, you get distracted on your daily life, on your work. And the fact that any little silly thing has the power to make you think of him, to wonder what he might be doing, may have he eaten, might he be okay—it’s infuriating.

You just never had someone on your mind… all the fucking time. 

And now it’s getting to a point you’re just mad about it. About how silly you were to open up to him, to share your dreams and fears when he didn’t even tell you his last name. About how naive you were to let him be part of your life so easily. About the stupid kiss, too. About how you still care, how you’re still hoping he’s okay. About everything. Even the soft buzzing of the coffee machine is getting on your nerves. 

You just have to… forget him. Somehow.

While you channel all of your frustration into cleaning the bar table for the eighty-sixth time you go through it again. You need a plan, you have to get over him. You need to go out, have a social life, get some new air. You’ll fucking do fifty push-ups every time he comes to mind if you need to. You won’t spend not even one more second thinking of him or his stupid lips, nor the lopsided almost-smiles he would give you every time you—

“Always working so hard, preciosa.”

A beat, and then you feel how your heart starts to race in your chest as all the oxygen seems to leave your lungs, getting replaced with too many emotions and thoughts you can’t process all at once. Everything feels like too much for a second. Too alive, too fast, too hot. And as if your body had a mind of its own, while you’re still trying to regain control of it, your head lifts and you’re certain you’ll finally find out you have lost your fucking mind. 

But you haven't. Because he’s right there, in his usual chair. 

Jake.

His brown eyes are the first thing that catches your attention, his gaze always having the power to somehow make you feel safe and exposed at the same time. Just like the first time you saw him, you weren’t able to look away even when he was drenched, limping, and bleeding. Another thing he never explained. 

The memory makes you examine the rest of his body. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a shirt and his chest is moving hard underneath, almost like he had run here. At least he doesn’t seem hurt this time. You also notice he’s not wearing his usual hat and you think this might be the first time you’ve ever seen his hair in full glory. Even if it’s slightly combed you can see it’s curly and fluffy and you try to bury deep down the stupid desire to lose your fingers in it. 

And you realize his whole body seems to be vibrating with some sort of energy, some sort of excitement you’ve also never seen in him before. And your own body, too susceptible to his, can almost feel it emanating out of him.

You search back for his eyes just in time to catch his slowly lifting from your body and when they make contact with yours they shine with something you rather don’t think about right now.

“It’s been a while,” he says still a little out of breath. And your heart is still in your throat while you wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Is he expecting you to say something back to that? After all this time? Oh, it’s been a while? I haven’t noticed. At all. It’s not like I’ve been worrying to death because of you. 

But even if you wanted to say anything at all out loud you don’t think you could, you’re still frozen in place working with way less oxygen than needed. So you keep taking each other in, staring in silence like two idiots waiting for the other to say something. And to your surprise, he gives in first.

“Did you miss me?” He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are bright and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, that flirty tone you know so well. The first thing about him that you can actually recognize because everything else feels out of place. The absence of his hat, the casual clothes, his whole weirdly happy demeanor. So you hold into it. 

Which is the worst thing you could do. Because your heart already struggling somewhere in your chest makes a mortal downfall to your stomach in response to it. And you feel it breaking a little bit more. Of the thousand if-he-ever-comes-back scenarios you had in your head you never picture him being almost… cheeky about it. He spends night after night for months bolted to that chair, talking to you, flirting with you, fighting any drunk who got too handsy, waiting for you on your late shifts to accompany your way home through dark streets, looking at you in that stupid bone-melting way he does… kissing you, just to disappear for six months and appear all of the sudden to ask if you missed him? The nerve of him.

“It’s good to see you, Jake,” you acknowledge, and you curse yourself for your slightly shaky voice. You’re still trying to gain your body back from the emotional overload. The adrenaline is still buzzing through your veins. And the way his gaze flick to your mouth once you pronounce his name doesn't make it any easier.

“Just black coffee?” You hear yourself ask, and you curse yourself once more for blurting out his usual order just like that. You shouldn’t remember those things after six months, should you? The thing is you’re not just trying to avoid answering his stupid question but you also need to have at least something to do with your hands. You can’t just stand there in front of him like an idiot, for god’s sake.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he answers dropping his gaze to the table and you take the opportunity to turn around away from his mesmerizing brown eyes and stupidly long eyelashes at least for a moment. “Always having fun playing with my heart, preciosa. You didn’t miss me, then?”

Again, the nerve of him.

“Clients come and go,” you toss carelessly back at him. Not facing him gives you a false sense of power. You have never been so ruthless around him, you never fully played along with his flirty comments but neither did you shut him down. Not being able to resist him. Stupid you. But no more of that.

“Mmm, just a client then,” he remarks in a meditative tone.

“Well, after all this time you’re not even that, are you?” You throwback a little too firmly, serving his cup of coffee a little too hard, almost spilling some on the counter bar. God, where is this passive aggressiveness coming from?

He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to. Instead he just looks at you. So you do the same, you can’t back down now.

As you observe him you notice part of his weirdly vibrating energy seems to have diminished along with his playful demeanor. He has realized you’re not playing around. And for a second you feel a stab of regret. Despite your annoyance, you enjoyed watching this new third expression his always serious face is capable of making, besides his usual grumpy, extra-grumpy murderous one you were already used to. Now all you have left are his rich brown eyes, which reveal more information than his words have ever done. Despite his will, you believe.

“How’s our cat?” Jake tries again, changing the subject. One you can’t resist.

“My cat. Just mine. And she’s fine. So big you wouldn’t recognize her.”

“Did you find her a name?”

“No. She’s still Viejita.”

Viejita. The way he called her when he brought her to you, tiny, malnourished, and full of fleas. He had found her alone in the streets. Said he had no heart to leave her, but he couldn’t take her home with him. Something about already having fish and cats not being discreet enough. So like the idiot you are you took her with you.

Not like you regretted though. You are pretty sure that tiny black-haired monster has become the love of your life.

“Viejita,” he chuckles softly. “That’s good. I approve it.”

You gasp, shocked. How dare he.

“You have no right.”

This time around he’s the one who seems shocked. After a brief moment, he says in perfect conviction: “Of course I do. I found her. I’m her father.”

“Yeah, you’ve missed half her life, that actually sounds like it.”

The silence rises again and his eyes, god, his eyes are looking at you with an intensity you’ve seen only once before: the night he kissed you. So instead of doing the grown-up thing and facing him once and for all, you do exactly the opposite. You turn around and pretend to be very busy doing literally nothing.

“And how have you been?” He asks a few moments later. Even when you can’t see him you feel his eyes pinned on you. You move things from one side to the other, pretending to organize them when you’re actually doing quite the contrary. You take a mental note to put everything back in its place before your co-worker arrives for her shift.

“I have work to do. Other customers to serve, Jake. Can’t spend the night chatting with you.”

“Yeah, sure, I see that. You’re drowning in orders,” you hear him grumble as you make your way to the table of the smooching couple that just left. They just had coffee and waffles, but you make the most of it taking as much time as you can carrying the mugs to the kitchen. Yet, it still takes too little. By the time you’re back at the counter top, there's still a half-hour of shift left. And Jake is right where you left him, his coffee untouched.

 “C’mon bonita, talk to me.”

You had forgotten the power his dark raspy voice has over you, breaking goosebumps all over your body. One more reason to hate your work dress too short everywhere, leaving your arms as exposed as your legs.

“Stop—Stop calling me… things in Spanish, please.”

“But you are bonita. Muy bonita. Preciosa.”

Fuck him, why does it sound so good? You’ll listen to Spanish ASMR tonight. Not having him in mind, of course.

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t fight it. I’ve gone that way, too. But is just denial.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He’s doing that thing where the corner of his lips is slightly raised and his eyes shine with mischief. You can’t help yourself. You fall right in.

“What were you in denial of?”

“You.”

Ok, no. Abort. Don’t go that way. Change the subject. Fast.

You fill the air with meaningless sounds until you actually find something to say. “What’s with the new style? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… so casual.”

He doesn’t smile but you see it in his eyes, your reaction pleased him. But then he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat a little bit, along with a subtle change in his demeanor. Almost defensive, but you’re not sure. “Borrowed.”

“Borrowed?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you need to borrow them?”

“Circumstances.” He answers with a shrug.

“Ok. And… what have you been up to?”

“Work.”

Single-word answers. A mimic of a response but not actually giving anything away. Keeping himself clean, not exposed, not involved.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

“I’m talking t—”

“No, you are not,” you interrupt him. You see a muscle appear on his cheek. “Why are you here? Why you came back?”

“I came back—came back to you. Didn’t want to leave.”

“But you did. So what does that mean?” You ask defenseless, tired of trying to figure him out. 

He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything at the end. All you get is a head shake and a shrug as an apology. He won’t say anything, he never does.

“Nice talk.”

There are still almost twenty minutes left but you don’t care. The old melancholic man, the only customer besides Jake, is still sipping his coffee. He doesn’t need you.

You go and take your backpack to the bathroom. You’ll change and kill the time in there until your shift ends. But as soon as you close the door it opens again. Jake storms inside, you didn’t even hear his footsteps.

“Jake, what the f—”

“What’s wrong? What changed?” He interrupts you, positioning himself against the door. Blocking any way to escape him, forcing you to face him.

What changed?!

“Please, this isn’t—just…” you pause to take a big breath, putting all your effort into channeling the remaining patience you’ve got left “just leave me alone.”

“Why?” He asks softer than you expected, taking a step closer. But despite the tone, despite the cautious way he's approaching you you can see he’s holding back. You can feel his body tense with restraint.

“Because I want to be alone. I don’t want to be near you right now.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

Is too fucking small here, this bathroom can barely fit two people. And he’s gotten closer. You can feel the heat emanating out of him. The audacity to come here and perform a little interrogatory when he never answers any of your questions.

“Jake, please—”

“Answer me. Why don’t you want me near you?”

“Please, stop being an—” an asshole, you want to say. A selfish idiot who just takes and doesn’t give anything back. But you don’t. “Just leave.”

“Tell me why.”

That’s it.

“I don’t wanna be near you because you’re being a fucking asshole and I hate assholes and I hate your stupid chair and I hate that you leave only when you want to and not when I ask you to, like when you kissed me and you just fucking left! I hate that you don’t answer any of my questions but you come here expecting me to answer all of yours, and I hate that you are so close to me,” you snap, trying to push him away full force but he doesn’t move an inch. “And I fucking hate you too so get the fuck off m—”

It’s so fast. His hand on the back of your neck is what silences you. He’s suddenly pulling you closer, caging you by taking over your waist with his whole fucking arm. And when you are millimeters from his face his eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on but they immediately change into something primitive and dark, halfway to insane.

And then his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you. Hard.

All you can feel is him. His scent. The low hum when his tongue invades your mouth. The hand holding the back of your head, the other moving over your back and pushing you towards his torso. All hard muscles and heat. His pulse jumping under your fingertips. His upper thigh between your legs. 

Is this how it feels when he loses control? Is this how it feels when you lose control?

It must be. Because for sure you’re not in control of your body right now. Not for the way is pushing back to fit every part of his. Nor for the way you moan when he bites your lower lip. Or for the way your fingers trail down and get into the waistband of his jeans, desperate to feel more of him. The contact makes him shudder and growl into your mouth. But you can’t go any further because he’s suddenly turning you around so fast you barely get to hold your hands into the mirror before completely losing balance. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him, making you feel the heat of his hardness and punching another pathetic moan out of you.

In response a pleased hum rose in his throat, the sound deep and husky. He slowly raises one hand through your body and wraps it around your throat, bringing you even closer to him. The other hand travels down your thigh. The look in his eyes wild and sharp, almost black when they click back on yours through the mirror's reflection. “Not so desperate to get away from me now, are we muñequita?”

You can’t breathe. Not when his fingertips find the hem of your dress. Not when he lifts it so, so slowly up to your waist. Not when he starts playing with the elastic of your panties. Not when he leans his head over your shoulder to get a better look. Not when he briefly brushes your clit through the fabric. Fuck.

You gasp at the contact. Jake removes his hand as his eyes immediately search for yours over the reflection, the intensity of his gaze as if his life depends on your answer.

“Do you still want me to leave?”

He’s not just asking for confirmation, he’s giving you a way out. If you say yes he will leave just like you said you wanted him two minutes ago. Perhaps he won’t ever show up again and you’ll finally get a chance to get back to your normal life before him. That’s what you should do. But you know won’t. Because whatever your common sense is shouting at you gets pushed back to the background. Too caught up in the way his body feels against yours. Too absorbed in what his next move might be, what his next words might sound like right there next to your ear. But you can't get yourself to recognize any of that out loud, so all you do is shake your head, utterly defeated.

“Mmm, what you want me to do then?”

You take his hand and try to take it back to your pussy but he takes it away before you can’t get any relief. It’s not fair. Instead, he raises his hand to move your head to the side, exposing your throat.

“Too bad. I’m not giving you what you want until you act right,” he says lowly and the baritone goes straight into your core. It’s too hot. You feel too hot. Overheated. There’s a faint sheen on your neck and now he’s licking it and you feel like dying. He lets out a noise that’s halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Months waiting for a fucking chance to get here and once I do you can’t fucking behave yourself. Now how was that? You hate me you say?”

“No. Jake, please,” you whine. Unable to stop yourself.

“No?”

“No,” a mere whisper. You don’t even know what are you answering. Your body wants him so bad isn’t even processing thoughts.

“So you don’t?” 

“Jake.”

“You sound so sweet. But I need to hear more, preciosa.”

“Please, Jake, I’m so wet.”

That seems to push a bunch of air out of him. Almost like he couldn't help himself, he moves his head back over your shoulder to watch as pushes the panties to the side with his thumb. His index and middle finger beginning to collect your wetness, the touch so soft you can barely feel it. Torture. Not even close to enough.

“Just fucking touch me already please or I swea—”

The rest of the sentence is muffled as his two fingers fill your mouth, a pinch of something pungent and salty. Your own taste.

“Told you to behave yourself,” he slowly moves his fingers out to your lower lip just to get them back inside to the knuckle. The movement, the words, the tone coaxes a whimper out of you. You’re burning inside out. “Now tell me, does it taste like you hate me? Mmm?”

Before you can even try to answer he turns your head to the side and meets you halfway to kiss you. His hand on your jaw, his tongue dominating yours, his voice raspier when he speaks again. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He keeps kissing you as he begins to trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. And you feel yourself melting against him. His touch is so smooth and the effect that it has on you is so powerful. And he knows it. 

“You just can't get enough of me, can you?”

And then when he finally starts working on your clit you lose it. God, you had no idea. If two of his fucking fingers have made this trembling, needy, overheated mess of you, you better don’t even imagine what he could of you if—No. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell, you wish you could even talk but language has left your fucking brain. All you can do is whimper as he keeps talking you through it.

“Does it feel good?”

“You’ve needed this all this time? Needed me?”

“Say it then.”

“Say it. Say that you need me.”

“Say the words, baby.”

“Would you like it better if I fuck them off of you?”

Your body makes a sudden jerk when he stops the movement, demanding an answer. But no matter the state you are in there’s still a little corner of your fogged brain fighting. Fighting for not giving him what he wants, no matter how much you want to. No matter if he’s only asking you to admit what you know is true. His hand finds your jaw and positions your head straight into the mirror, forcing you to look into his eyes through the reflection.

And you give in a little. 

“No-o one gets under my skin the way—the way you do,” you manage to say, panting and trembling. Yet, you catch it. As soon as the words leave your mouth his gaze softens. His expression doesn’t seem to change, not anyone could see it. But you can. His eyes look pleased. The storm calms down a bit.

And while you're still spellbound, immobile under his gaze and unaware of anything else but his brown deep eyes he slides two fingers in. The stretch ignites fire from the inside. Your head rolls back into his shoulder as his head falls back into yours.

“Fuck.” The words sound muffled on your neck, low and delirious. “Fuck, baby. Those pretty little noises you’re making will haunt me till my last living night.”

You can already feel it. The way your muscles tense, the way your pussy is squeezing his fingers. So close, so close, so close, so fucking close. And then—

A knock on the door. Your co-worker is calling up your name.

Jake slips his fingers out and takes a step back. The movement sinks down into your stomach. Is he regretting it? Will he disappear again just like last time?

“I–I’ll be there in a minute,” you pronounce as clearly as you can, hoping she won’t notice the tremble in your voice. 

Slowly, you come back to your senses. Your legs barely hold you up. A minute goes by and he still doesn’t say anything. You take your jeans and put them on. Deep down you already knew it. This doesn’t changes anything. He won’t let you in. And you’ve got enough of it.

“I don’t unders—All these months I’ve been so worried, and confused, and angry at you. And on top of that, I missed you so much that I even got tired of it. Physically tired of it. But you know what the worst part was? The more time you spend in my head the more I realized I don’t know anything about you. I barely know your first name. And you, somehow, managed to get any stupid little detail of me out in the clear and that makes it even—”. You finish taking off your dress and you put on your shirt. He's looked at you through the mirror throughout the whole process, his eyes dark and stormy again. You close your backpack and turn to face him. “The point is even this ridiculous little 30-second monologue of me being honest about how I feel it’s more than anything you’ve told me about you. I don’t know you, Jake. I’m not the one who needs to act right. And whatever this is,” you say pointing between the two of you, “is over.”

He’s taking deep breaths, his body tense, restrained once more. Controlled. With a last look in his eyes, you recognize what you couldn’t get your finger on earlier on. It’s vulnerability. But after a few blinks it’s deep down hidden again.

You think he might stop you once you open the door and walk away, but he doesn’t.

———————————————

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———————————————

Sorry if I tagged you and you only wanted to be tagged in the I wanna be yours series! I'll be posting very soon there. Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged in part two of The Limo Driver so I can remove you! <3

Also I don't remember who started calling Jake fancanon cat Viejita but please all credit to them!

[allkindfangirl]

hiii, could you do something where it’s taken place in szn 3 and it’s when all the pogues come back to obx. (you were a kook but you went with the pogues because Sarah has been your best friend). you went to the country club and rafe (your ex bf) sees you and tries approaching you to talk to you because he loves you but you hate him so you blow up on him and leave.

but later that day Sarah and you got into a fight so you’re laying down on the beach not knowing where to go until rafe sits next to you and you talk for a bit until you kiss him unexpectedly. you pull away quick and excuse yourself so rafe gets up and tries to talk to you until you blow up on him again saying that it would never work. sorry if this is hard to understand but A LOT ON ANGST PLEASE!!! also I LOVE your writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

pairing: rafe cameron x reader warnings: obx3 spoilers (kinda)!

Being home felt like a dream. Clean clothing, showers, real food. Being on an island with your friends had been an adventure, still you were glad to be back home.

It took you a couple of days though to finally get out of the comfort of your house. It just felt weird being among other people, being able to walk around the city and get back to normal life.

You knew you couldn't avoid going to the country club forever. Especially since your parents had told you they would spend their day there and you really wanted to catch up with them and people you knew at the country club.

When you arrived there, the first thing you did was go to the bar and get a drink. The room was empty, since it was only 2pm. You got your favorite drink and chatted with the girl that was serving that day for a while.

"You're back." The voice next to you send a shiver down your spine. It didn't even took you a second to know who it was. You would always recognize this voice out of a million.

Your heart started beating faster when you laid eyes on Rafe, though you didn't know if it was love or hate that you felt.

His hair was short, his piercing blue eyes looking at you. It took all your strength to not get lost in them.

"You're back too." Your jaw clenched, thinking about all the things he had done, everything he got away with. It almost made you cry about how angry you were, how much pain you felt when looking at him.

Of course he had a drink in his hands too. Still, he looked good, healthy. His skin was glowing and he had a light smirk on his face. He was happy to see you, he couldn't deny it. He had missed you. On some days he was going crazy not knowing if you were alive or not. If he was honest, he just wanted to hug you, feel you. Though you guys broke up he didn't loose feelings for you. Not for one second.

"How are you?" His voice sounded serious. This wasn't small talk for him. He wanted to know how you were and what was going on inside of you but your feelings overwhelmed you. You couldn't bare the hate and love inside your body that was fighting each other.

"I can't do this."

You emptied your glass in one swing. You left without looking at him again. Your heart was beating.

"Y/n." Of course he was following you. Nobody just left Rafe standing there like that. Rafe would be the one to leave.

You heard his footsteps behind you while you were walking towards your car. "Y/n. Please. I still love you."

His words made you stop for a second. Deep down you had hope that his feelings were still there, that he still loved you. But this time you had enough self esteem to leave him standing there.

- "What a shit day.", you said to yourself and took a sip of your beer. There you were sitting on the beach, just you and your beer, looking out in the open water. The sun was just setting and you didn't wanted to be alone but somehow you managed to push everyone away. Being back home wasn't as good as you hoped. All your problems and all your friends problems didn't just go away with being home again.

You didn't get into fights with Sarah very often, but when the two of you fought, it was always about Rafe. She didn't understand why you still loved him after everything, and sometimes you didn't had an answer to that either.

"I knew you would be here."

You sighted when you heard his voice for the second time this day. "You got to be kidding me."

Rafe sat down next to you. The two of you had spend hours at this beach, looking at the sunset, dancing in the moonlight. It had been your beach. It was the beach he had kissed you for the first time, the beach the two of you fell in love with each other. It was the beach where Rafe realized how good you were and how you made him better.

"I meant what I said earlier." His voice was soft. He was calm, maybe a little nervous even though he would never admit it.

You didn't say a word. You were just looking out at the ocean. You knew it would break your heart just by looking at him. All those past weeks he had been the one in your dreams and now he was here with you, it felt like a nightmare.

You laid your head on your knees, looking over at him. He was already looking at you. "Fuck I missed you so much.", he whispered. Your eyes wandered to his lips as he spoke. Those lips you knew so well.

You knew it was the worst idea and you hated yourself when you leaned over to him. You couldn't resist him although you wanted to.

Your lips crashed against his and he let out a surprised soft moan. Your hands touched his neck, his buzzed hair against your skin and you pulled him closer to you. The kiss lasted for a couple of seconds until you came to your senses. You pushed him away, maybe a little more harsh than intended.

"I have to go.", you stumbled back onto your feet, feeling the cold sand beneath them.

"Don't." Rafe couldn't just let you go. Not when you had kissed him like you still loved him. "Please don't leave.", you heard him behind you.

"I'm sorry." The tears were forming in your eyes. "Rafe, this will never work. I though it would all be good back home. But it's not. Nothing has changed. We can't just ignore everything that happend. We're done." The words coming from your lips broke your own heart. It hurt so much, him standing in front of you in his white button up shirt. He looked like a dream in the setting sun. Everything you had dreamed of but you knew that reality looked different. You knew you would just go round and round in circles again if you didn't leave.

-

sorry, i don't really like it but i hope you do! xx

also sorry if my english sounds weird sometimes, it's not my first language.

requests are still open!

my masterlist

[teagballs]

michael bluth x reader where reader also works in business and has a bad day or something and since michael is at work (they work in diff places) he goes drinking with gob once he is done. michael taking care of a drunk reader lol. i love ur writing

take them home | michael bluth x !drunk reader

authors note: did u miss me hiiiii definitely hasn't been three months or anything. SORRY YALL im in the middle of exams rn im struggling so hard 💔 motivation to write came back when i should be studying tho ??? wtf ???? idek. anyway heres some sweet michael for the SOUL he'd be the best bf ever!!!!!

cw: drunk reader, drinking too much, vomiting. other than that just fluff!! enjoy

----------------------------♡----------------------------

You swear you could have cried when the clock finally struck six. Today was terrible, putting it simply. From an early start to annoying co-workers to an abundance of paperwork, it seemed you couldn't catch a break. To make matters worse, you knew Michael wouldn't be home till late. The responsibility he had in his position left him working after hours. You needed to release some of your built-up stress, you needed a drink. But who would you go to? Who would be without responsibilities or cares and would be willing to get wasted with you?

"Hey Gob, do you wanna get a drink?"

He was more than happy to hit the bar with you and also a terrible influence. Drinks seemed to tally up within minutes when it had actually been hours and hours. He definitely could handle his drink better than you. Because while he was still able to form a coherent message, you were a blubbering mess.

"Another!" You slur out.

Gob discourages you finally, "Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Who cares! All- all those pieces of shit can go- can- can go fuck... themselves" you stutter.

Gob wasn't having fun anymore. Now he was just taking care of a drunk person - he didn't want that weighing him down. So he called Michael to come pick you up.

Michael was not pleased to hear that after his 12 hours in the office, he had to pick up his absolutely shit faced partner up from his brother.

"You let them get that drunk, Gob? What's wrong with you?" Michael barked as you rest against his shoulder.

You lean against his form, looking up at his tousled locks. He definitely had them in his stressed grip a couple of times today. You play with the bottom of his tie as he speaks. Gob shrugs his lecturing off and leaves the pair of you.

With some difficulty, Michael gets you into the stair car and drives you to your apartment. He guides you up to your place and gently guides you to the sofa. He makes quick work of getting you a glass of water.

"Here, drink this," he hands you a glass. It's a chipped and old looking glass, just in case. You ignore the glass and instead try to get him to sit down with you.

"Michael, you looked tired, come lay down with me," you dragged, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could. You were spread across the sofa ungracefully, limbs anywhere they would be comfortable.

"You need to go to bed," he tells you gently. You whine out like a toddler.

"Come on! I wanna stay up with you!" you say before shifting up into a sitting position and giggling.

"You have work tomorrow," he sighs at you. He, too, has work tomorrow and would love to stay up with you, but can't.

"So? I hate that job! Who cares if I'm off cause of a-" you cut yourself off by covering your mouth and dry heaving, "a hangover-" you bolt up right and stumble to your bathroom, stabilising yourself on the walls. Michael follows closely behind.

He runs hand up and down your back and holds your hair as you throw up. The vomiting must have sobered you up a little because you suddenly feel the not so fun effects of alcohol. You rub your face, feeling hot a clammy. Michael looks at you with only concern as he hunches on the floor with you. He cups your face, and you lean your face away.

"Don't..." you grumble. "I'm gross and drunk."

Michael smiles as he smoothes over your cheek, "That may be true, but I still love you," he chuckles. You're unsure how he's even facing you with how bad your breath probably is.

"I'm tired," you sigh deeply and sniffle a little.

"I'm sure you are." Michael agrees, doing that knee slap thing as he makes his way to his feet again. "C'mon," he holds out his hand for you to take. Supporting one hand on your bath, you use the other to take his.

He guides you to your bed where you flump down. With effort, he takes your shoes off, and you turn over and wrap the duvet tight around your frame.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'm off. I'll see you tomorrow," Michael murmurs and watches your exhausted form.

"No!" you exclaim. "No, don't go!" Suddenly frantic, you unwrap yourself from your duvet cocoon.

"What do you want me to do?" He forms a lips pressed together smirk, he finds your pure distraught at the idea of him going home and getting a good night's rest awful amusing.

"Stay here! Stay in my bed!" you beg your boyfriend. In the morning, you'll remember how drunk and pathetic you were last night and grimace.

"But I have work in the morning. I'll need to go home and get ready." He toys. He already knows he'll be staying the night. He'll just have to get up early and grab his stuff for the office. Or maybe he'll take the day off, he deserves it after all.

"No, please!" You whine out again and tug on his hand. He laughs heartily and drops onto the bed, making sure to squash none of your limps.

Finally satisfied, you wrap your legs around him. You're both still in your work clothes, but who cares? You're cosy.

Tucking your head into his neck, you slur out a, "love you,"

"Love you too," he smiles, exposing his little tooth gap.

----------------------------♡----------------------------

[svltzmans]

for worse or for better - h.m.

a/n: good morning! another banger request from ??? anon lets all thank them for their contributions to my blog 😭 this is the last fic in my request box so if any of y'all have something in mind you want me to write now is the perfect time to send it in <3

warnings: kinda angsty??? but then fluffy so its fine <3, mentions of periods, unnecessary cursing bc i am a sailor

y/n knew when she woke up that her day wasn't going to go well.

the squeezing pains in her abdomen had already started, and she wasn't having it. not even a little.

messily making her bed and getting dressed, she realizes that even the most mundane of tasks are stressing her out.

much to her dismay, she still had to go to class. and wickery practice, and to study group, and...

ugh.

more than anything else, y/n just wants to stay in bed. maybe shed a few tears and order a pizza. but that is a complete pipe dream.

"y/n! hi!"

it's lizzie, and she's in an annoyingly good mood.

"hey," y/n manages, her mood shining through in her tone.

lizzie feigns a frown. "someone didn't sleep well, huh?"

"i slept fucking fine, if you must know," y/n sneered, becoming irritated by lizzie's ever present charm.

"jeez, y/n. i'm gonna walk away now."

and she does, and y/n immediately feels bad. she knows she's pretty irritable on her period, but she thought she'd be able to control it.

but as it turns out, she's not in as much control as she thought.

y/n takes her usual seat in potions class, usually right next to her girlfriend, hope.

except hope's not there when class starts, and y/n is irritated. the one person that makes her feel better decided not to show up.

she sighs, resting her chin in her arms. she knew class would feel extra long without hope next to her, cracking jokes and sharing the doodles she draws instead of focusing and taking notes.

an hour finally goes by after what feels like three, and y/n is exhausted. she knows she has to go to wickery practice or face the wrath of penelope park.

does she care about that? not much, but she forces herself to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts and make her way to the field. she's sure hope will come eventually, considering that wickery is much more fun than potions class.

the team has already started practicing when y/n arrives, and she decides to just jump in.

making a few decent passes, she thinks her day might just be turning around. still with no sight of hope, y/n's disappointment grows in the pit of her stomach.

she forgets about her misfortune momentarily when she spots lizzie, preparing for the next play. she makes her way over, feeling unnerved that the blonde is still angry about earlier.

"lizzi-"

"y/n, don't apologize. i have a period too."

"how did you...?"

"i just know. that's the only time you ever act like that. well, that and when you haven't had caffeine in a couple of days."

"you know me a little too well. now, give me the ball."

toward the end of practice, y/n sits down on the bench, sipping some water. she scans the field for hope, thinking she might have missed her, but she's nowhere to be found.

it's not exactly unlike hope to miss class, and maybe even an occasional wickery practice, but y/n is getting frustrated. she hasn't seen her girlfriend all day, and hope hadn't made any effort to see her.

as if her thoughts could be read, hope plops down next to her, in her wickery uniform.

"what'd i miss?," she asks, placing a gentle kiss on y/n's cheek as she settles.

"uh, well, where do i start? potions, almost all of wickery practice... where have you been all day?"

"dr. saltzman needed me, we had to go-"

"well why didn't you tell me, hope? i've been worried about you. you can't just disappear all day. you didn't even put in any effort to let me know that i wouldn't see you at all today."

with that, y/n stands and starts walking away. she knows she needs to be alone before she starts saying worse things she doesn't mean.

hope is left completely blindsided by y/n's reaction to her presence. y/n never gets frustrated in that way, especially not with her. she figures something must be bothering her, and without much consideration at all, she comes to a conclusion.

after coming down from her anger high, y/n is consumed with guilt from the way she treated both hope and lizzie. she at least had attempted to apologize to lizzie, even though lizzie had practically done all the work for her.

she decided that she couldn't face hope, not like this. she is almost ashamed of the way her eyes are puffy from the tears that had streamed (and are still slightly streaming) down her flushed face.

just as y/n starts to prepare to sleep, there's a quiet knock on the door.

"y/n? it's me, are you in there?"

it's hope, and y/n decides that she has to talk to her eventually.

"yeah, i'm here," she mutters, voice still weak from crying.

hope creaks open the door, shutting it gently behind her, and sits at the foot of y/n's bed.

"are you okay?"

"totally fine."

"it looks like you've been crying."

"nope. just... allergies."

a silence falls between them, with a worried look on hope's face as y/n avoids her gaze.

"y/n..."

before hope can even start her sentence, tears are welling in y/n's eyes. she crossed her fingers that hope wouldn't notice, but soon the few tears turned into a small stream.

hope moves closer, wrapping her arms tightly around y/n's torso. "oh, baby... it's okay. you're okay," she whispers, gently scratching the back of y/n's head.

"hope... i am so sorry, i don't know what got into m-"

"shh, hey, it's okay. i understand. i get a period too, you know."

"lizzie said the same thing! like exactly!"

y/n can't help but laugh, and hope soon joins her.

"c'mon, let's get some rest, yeah?"

"only if you'll stay tonight."

"y/n, if you think i'm going anywhere, you have lost your damn mind. but, i think i need to borrow some of your pajamas..."

"say less."

before she knows it, y/n is dead asleep, hope's arm draped lightly over her girlfriend.

hope pulls her closer, planting a light kiss on her forehead.

"sleep tight, don't let penelope park bite," she whispers, giggling quietly to herself.

[anundyingfidelity]

NOT MEANT TO BE — Talos x female!reader

Summary: Talos survived to Gravik's attack. Now you are taking care of him after he inexplicably left you years ago.

Word count: 1.9k.

Warnings: hints to sex and infidelity, spoilers of Secret Invasion?, fixing Talos death in Secret Invasion fic (that is not canon, I am against it). The usual spoilers of Secret Invasion but I bet everyone forgot about it now. Forbidden love. Angst but also fluff.

Notes: so I feel this is very late and we're only 3 Talos stans, anyway I need some domestic Talos in my life, but most important I need to fix this character because he deserves the world. *sobs*. Shout out to the anon who requested this.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

I'm also sorry if this is boring and forgive me for any errors as my main language is not English.

GEN MASTERLIST!

i. In which you wake up

In silence, you sat down in the dark, hospital-like room. Two days passed and he was still sleeping, unconscious. Nothing more you wished but seeing his eyes again. His real eyes.

How? It didn't matter how, either in his real skin or his human disguise, you missed him and he was once everything for you. And that never changed. A book was lying on your lap but your attention was focused on other things. On him and the memories you were trying so hard to forget, until you realized that would not happen. His memory was strong in your head.

You wished somehow your paths would cross one more time, to give yourselves a chance again. However, this wasn't how you wanted it to happen.

Years before, Fury presented both of you for a mission. You started with SHIELD at a very young age, so this was a huge step in your career inside the organization. But it was also the downfall of your heart.

Talos and you spent more than a year together in Europe, him in his human skin most of the time as it was required. And you fell for him - hard. The thoughts of your last night together in that hotel room were vividly in your head... it was perfect. His touch, his words, his warmth, his lovely words... Until you woke up to an empty spot on the bed, with a small note on the boudoir saying:

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

And that was it.

Until Fury called you, inexplicably, and you didn't have a heart to say no to this situation. So Talos was sleeping on the bed of this room, with you taking care of him until he would be awake again. A sigh left your lips, wishing he would finally open his eyes and you'd be able to see him, and talk to him, to feel him. With a sigh, you went back to the book you had, looking over his serene figure sleeping on the bed by your side. Hopefuly he was going to wake up soon.

It was about half an hour later than you forgot about your book and observed how he slowly blinked, trying to get used to the dim light in the room. He was back, just a little. Weak, but it was something. He started to move his hands slowly, looking around the place and feeling strange.

"G'iah..." he whispered with a raspy voice.

"She's okay," you soothed, lacing your hand with his own, carresing his real skin in a tight grip. "She's fine, you need to rest."

Your name comes out of his dry lips and it was hurting you. Quickly you took a glass of water from the nightstand and pour small sips on his lips while you helped Talos to sit down on your mattress.

After a moment of realization of where he was and what had happened, he looked at you as if a ghost appeared in front of his eyes. Your hand cupped softly his cheek and he leaned into your warm touch.

"Rest, we'll talk later."

"How many time..." he whispered, but couldn't finish the question.

"Just a couple of days. Rest, you need it, G'iah is fine," you assured him, taking again his hand between yours.

"Fury?"

"He's doing fine too, don't worry about that old man," you smiled sweetly. "Fury called me, he brought you here."

"Where?" Talos breathed, you squeezed his hand softly, afraid of what would happen next.

"My home."

ii. In which you confront

You were not ready for this, but you accepted to take care of the former general skrull during his recovery. It was a hard thing to do, considering your history together and the fact that somehow you never got over him. Even if you forced yourself to do so.

It wasn't an easy task to do. G'iah somehow sent you a serum to inject his father as he came unconscious to your place. He was healing at a slow pace, but he was looking better now that he was up having a small dinner in your dinning room.

"So a super-skrull, huh?"

"That's what she is now, at least as far as I know."

Talos nodded completely focused on the food on his plate, he was really hungry. Poor thing, a lot of things were happening in his life. "This might be a bit shocking or weird for you..."

He shook his head, looking at you with his big purple eyes. "Not as much as I thought," he said while he took a bite. "Y'know, things are crazy after the Blip... And being honest, I thought I'd be dead by now."

You tried to chuckle, but brushed it off. He was still here. Alive. With you.

"Your daughter is so brave. She really saved you, Talos."

He breathed, you were sure he didn't know he was holding all that air inside his lungs.

"I really don't know what to say to that. She's gone again. Feels like I never had her back."

"Hey, I will contact her."

"I'd love that, but first, could we talk?" Talos locked his eyes with yours for the first time that day.

"About what?"

"About what does this mean," he whispered.

"You're the one who left and years later I am here taking care of you, and now you're questioning me?" it was more an affirmation than a question. "Incredible. You should sleep now."

"I'm not- Listen, I'm not trying to make you say something. I know I'm the one who has to apologize," Talos stuttered with his words, he looked and felt guilty.

But you also did feel that same way for years.

He was with you during your long mission, pretending something was happening between you and him, but he was still married in the end. Talos had a wife and a daughter, and for some time you ignored the reality. His reality. And you knew you were selfish, hurting someone you didn't even meet before just to feel loved and safe once in your life. However this was a game for two. And Talos never pushed back, he wanted it as much as you did.

Maybe the guilt suddenly appeared. Maybe it was Fury calling for him because of an emergency. Anything. After he left, you received a message stating the work was done. So you went back to your reality. Talos was still the general when you messed up, and he was looking for a new planet to call home so nothing was guaranteed. He would never give up his family or his people for a human like you. But in the end, you accepted his words. Because they were true to you. And he was all you had right now.

"I want to say sorry too," you mumbled. "We did bad things and they were not right."

Talos accepted your apology in silence. He knew too well what both of you did. Soreen eventually found out, but that was another story. Still, he loved her until her last day. He would love her forever. But she was long gone now.

"Maybe we should start again," he suggested after a moment of silence.

"Maybe."

iii. In which you start again

Seven days passed after Talos woke up at your place and he was basically healed by now.

The wound on his chest was almost gone and you were glad he decided to take a break before speaking to Fury once again and running behind him.

Talos started to get his human form again, with the face of the former boss of Fury. You liked him both ways, in his own skin or not. He was still as beautiful and kind as you remembered.

Though the routine was the same every day, you felt peace beside Talos, something you were missing in your life. His presence did make you feel better. So here you were, head on his shoulder while he read a book, both of you sitting on the couch of your quiet living room after dinner.

His voice soothed you, and for the first time in years you felt at home. Talos was reading a very old book of fairytales that he found fascinating for some reason. It was nice to see him enjoy something as mundane as a human book. But then, meanwhile his deep and soft voice read the words on the pages, you remembered that this was not going to last forever. It was already a problem that you wished it would continue.

Talos was going to leave someday, encouraged to find the home the skrulls missed and you will have to move on one more time.

"What's on your mind?" Talos voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Nothing."

"I just finished this chapter and you said nothing."

You chuckled. He was waiting for your comment or random fact that came out of nowhere.

"Sorry... I guess I'm sleepy right now."

Sitting properly on the couch you still remained by his side, he was warm and for some reason, he remained in his human disguise since a couple of days ago. You knew his face was another person you never met, but you couldn't stop yourself from admiring him when you were this close. You were so close you could kiss him.

"Your eyes are so blue," you mumbled. "I like them."

His lips curved on a smile and his puppy eyes were shining in the dim light, looking directly at you. "Maybe I should stay like this forever," he joked, referring to his human form.

"Whatever you prefer is fine for me. I wish you could stay with me though..."

His gaze fell down to the book on his lap. You knew that was not going to happen, but how you longed it after everything you shared. Kisses, personal secrets, lonely nights where your bodies gave to each other, even your sins...

"You don't have to answer that," you added.

"I wish that too," Talos said, locking your eyes with his own one more time. "You know I would... but-"

"What?"

"I have to help my people," he looked guilty.

"I know, Talos. I know that. And it's okay," in reality it wasn't. But you had to trick yourself to believe it in some way.

He mumbled a soft 'thank you' and kissed your forehead sweetly, embracing a strong arm around you and you allowed yourself to feel safe and sound after so many years. Words were not needed. You both knew what was going on, but he had to leave someday and just the thought of him running away again was hurting you.

Talos kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent, and you remained like that for some minutes until he broke the silence.

"I love you."

"I know."

You pulled away from his embrace and pecked his lips softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. He had a silly smile as you kissed him.

"I love you too," you said after kissing him one last time. At least for the night.

"Let's get you to bed," he pecked your cheek and grabbed your hand heading his way to your bedroom. You chuckled following his steps knowing what he meant with his words.

If he was going to leave someday, then it was better to enjoy every minute together.

[lonestardust]

hey guys, hi friends, how are you? I miss you. and i miss being here. This was supposed to be a "2023 is over, here is a summary" post but this is just a life update.

TW : wound (⚠️ it's gnarly, ok)

I know I've been MIA for the past two and half months, I've been struggling to write this post. I don't sleep well and I've lost weight. I've been struggling to sit and write about how I'm personally doing. Unable to express personal thoughts. Maybe because I'm the least important thing to me now. All I know is the gut wrenching screams of bleeding Falasteen. I can only tune in that collective suffering. That's where I belong. That's every human being's duty. June Jordan is right "Palestine's liberation is a litmus test of morality" I'll always go back to that quote because so many are failing it. So many disappointed me. It's like they made their humanity crumble into irrelevance the moment they reveled that showing up for humanity is optional and conditional depending on how comfortable and relevant it is to the white western values.

But simultaneously I've been feeling the tourniquet salvaging the wound. The strife for liberation is well and alive. Liberation and Decolonization had become mainstream concepts and practice (although some are still struggling to stay fully principled away from normalization but it's happening!). Like all arabs. I grew up watching the dead kids. The slingshots and rocks combating massive occupation tanks. I grow up haunted by the assassination of 11 year old Mohammed Al-Durrah, by Naji El Ali's Handala being a signature graffiti art in random streets, knowing that Israel assassinated Naji because he was a Palestinian artist. A truth teller. I grow up witnessing how they bulldozed 23 year old Rachel Corrie. I think often of Rayan Suleiman from last year. still haunted by his big rounded brown eyes — this 7 year old, chased by the terrorist zio occupation forces that he fell to the ground and died of a cardiac arrest. A 7 year old. His body shut down. Fear transcended his fragile anatomy that it shut down and died. I'll never forget the photo of his little body surrounded at the funeral by his friends. A bunch of 7 year olds. Starring into the void. not able to process what's happening because it's such an absurd concept. Kids consoling kids. My head hurts witnessing extermination campaigns and mass graves, and maimed bodies beyond recognition — WHOLE full fledged lives turned into literal dust. For 84 days straight now.

My brain, soul, spirit, psyche will never ever be the same again. And I pray this horror dig itself in the depth of the bones of the entirety of the fascist zionist world and their systems and fuel us to take action and never go back to statue quo!

On another note, I've had a quite terrible accident. A deep second degree burn as you can see. Accidentally spilled boiling water directly from a pot on the stove all over my left thigh. The pain is terrible obviously and I caught a really bad flu on top of it in the first couple of days because i wasn't able to cover it, wear pants or properly cover myself while I'm sleeping. So I've been bed ridden, bone-tired with fever and a massive wound.

Day 4 Day 7

Mind you this happened the day before i was supposed to start a new teaching job. Obviously wasn't able to show up and that was a bummer because i needed that job. desperately so and not just financially, I couldn't and can't handle anymore the anger, grief and anxiety pressuring my nervous system. I needed to start that new job immediately to refocus my daily life on a track again just to gain a routine so i could cope. Usually between jobs when I'm unemployed I thrive in doing nothing but my fan hobbies. Art, fandom and creating make my life so rich I could never get bored but in times like these "balancing grief and joy" is NOT an option.

And here is a thing. Because I've seen many many fucked up self-centred individualistic takes coming from white liberals telling us how we should feel (they always feel entitled, don't they), like the irony in the colonial paradigm harming us then offering us their therapy as the solution, coming with "protect your energy", "choose peace", "practice daily masturbation to relieve the stress of what's happening" (yes I watched this being directly and openly suggested on a panel about Palestine) imagine fucking telling somebody to go finger themselves and masturbate the stress of a GENOCIDE away.

The strangest manifestation of the white "self care" industrial complex, where people think they can therapize their way out of colonial mental consequences of bearing witness and being complicit in genocide. Maybe we're not meant to cope with this because it's literally beyond comprehension. Insane pathological narcissistic behaviour to think it's even a goal to feel good right now- if you want to"feel good" your only goal should be mobilising and organizing for revolution through action to destroy and dismantle the imperialist systems, to never go back to status quo!

On the physical aspect. I've been lucky, my dad has been taking care of me, taking me to the hospital visits, paying for my meds, cooking for me and all. And as I sit here, healing and being taken care of, I can't stop thinking of how I have resources, I have a roof over my head, warplanes are not buzzing in my ears 24/7, I get to sleep in my bed. I'm injured and I'm healing, able to sedate the pain with medicine. Can use the bathroom because there is water. But Palestinians in Gaza do not have any of that. None. Kids have their limbs amputated without anaesthesia amid ongoing denial of medical supplies into the strip. Some of them die of pain during that deadly surgical intervention. It makes me sick to my stomach. And I don't know what else to say tbh. I just know we live in a world that has no red lines and we can't continue to exist like that. Empire shall fall.

I genuinely don't know what to say, new year spirit and holidays mean nothing to me. My only new year resolution is to never again get numbed by the Empire. If standing for the lives of people of colour and their liberation is radical in a cesspool of white supremacy and imperialism, so radical it is.

I hope you're doing fine though. i hope you're well and okay. and to be honest I don't have it in me to ask about the fandom and how is it going.. It's probably going, I'm just not there at the moment. But i want to hear from you. How's life lately? What have you been up to? Also I am sorry if you've been tagging me in wips, games or sending me asks, I am genuinely sorry if I did not reply, I promise i see it and appreciate it ❤️‍🩹 I appreciate the special friendships and bonds I've formed in this fandom here, especially this year, and I don't wanna feel like I'm losing that.

[kenshiramblings]

Every now and then, I'd write down little interactions from the game that I found interesting or memorable. I stumbled upon this going back through it:

"4-25: So earlier this week I was playing Kenshi and sent my 'away team' off into the Swamp to explore some ruins for resources. The first time we went to the swamp, two people nearly died so I hired a group of six mercenaries for protection. Unfortunately, it turned out that they were not as strong or fast as my team and we ended up protecting them more than they did us. When we left the swamp, five out of the six mercenaries made it out with us (the last one had been placed in a bed to recouperate). Fast forward to yesterday. I went back to the Swamp and rehired the same band of mercenaries. Still only five of them. Despite the mercs getting injured, we made it to the ruins I was trying to check out (empty sadly) and even went back to the previous ruin to check if I missed anything. Randomly found the merc we left behind who promptly joined the group. We made it back to the main city safely with the full merc group and my party. During the trek out of the swamp, the merc contract expired and they ran off on their own. A couple ended up in fights. I ended up losing sight of all of them. Made it out of the Swamp and back to the waystation where the mercs stayed. Eventually, the captain returned alone. I waited a whole in game day to see if any of the others showed up. None did. Now when I go back, he sits at his table alone. Damn."

Next to that document, I found another post. "Addendum: Almost a year later, this bothered me. I came to learn that when you leave an area, it unloads and time essentially stops. This basically meant that the other mercenaries could still be alive. Hoping for some closure, I booted up the game and headed out to the waystation. I found the merc captain wandering around the station aimlessly. I hired him and we immediately headed to the swamp. He was slower than my team so we had to stop every so often for him to catch up. Eventually, we arrived at the first swamp town right at the edge. Once inside, I just had my guys wait to see if any other mercenaries would return to the group. After a few minutes three other mercenaries showed up including the injured one that had been left behind the first go around. After waiting, it seemed like the other two were probably dead. But three out of five isn't bad. We headed out of the swamp and made our way back to their base of operations. Once there, I waited for the contract to expire so they could return to the bar where I first hired them. I was a little bummed that I wasn't able to save all of them but after 14 months or so, being able to retrieve three that I thought were dead is a win and I'm taking it. We left the bar and while the merc captain still sat alone, the others were now comfortably seated at tables nearby. This closure was worth waiting a year and some change for."

[funnylittlelad]

Shelter From The Storm - Steddie

Page Five

<< Page Four | Series Photo Album | AO3 | Page Six>>

summary: Jack eyes Chrissy carefully. Chrissy smiles at her, but Jack doesn't return it.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“I’m Kacey’s aunt. My name is Chrissy.”

“Oh. Why are you sitting here?”

“Jack,” Eddie scolds.

Chrissy chuckles.

“It’s okay, Eds,” she tells him, “Eddie and I went to school together. I was just saying hello .”

Jack’s face twists into something akin to anger, but not quite so intense.

“That’s Daddy's name for Eddie. You can't use that,” she tells Chrissy matter-of-factly.

wc: 11.1k

series tags/notes: Steddie Dadfic, single dad!Steve Harrington, Music Teacher!Eddie Munson, girl dad Steve, Jewish Eddie, Steve's parents are The Worst, mentions/talks about past abuse, complicated family dynamics, pretty Steve-centric, implied past suicide, talks about illness and death, Fluff, angst, mutual pining, slow burn.

page warnings: talks of death, dead parents, implied past suicide, and descriptions of a funeral

Steve is confused to find Eddie’s van missing from the Mordor Music parking lot. He’s expecting to be greeted by Max, Jack, and whatever customers are loitering around. Instead, Jack plays the keyboard with her headphones on. There’s a new dragon sticker on the left ear. A couple of people browse the sections near the front of the store. Eddie leans against the counter flipping lazily through a magazine. When Steve catches his attention in his peripheral vision, Eddie smiles up at him.

“Hey,” Eddie greets brightly.

“Hey, how'd you get here today?” Steve asks curiously, still searching for Max despite realizing her car wasn't outside either.

“I drove,” Eddie answers.

“Where’s your van then?”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face flushes as his smile gains a shy quality, “I got rid of it. That little red beauty out there’s mine.”

Steve laughs, assuming Eddie is joking. Eddie doesn't laugh, he just continues his shy smile. Steve's laughter dies on his lips.

“Did something happen to it?” He questions, not understanding why Eddie would have gotten a new car.

“No, nothing happened. I just realized that it wasn't exactly the best thing to haul Jack around in. Figured it was about time to get something more kid-friendly,” Eddie shrugs.

He’s so casual as he blows Steve’s mind. Steve’s heart has a vice grip around it. Eddie got a new car for Jack. Eddie got a new car for Jack.

“I can't believe you drive a Chevy,” Steve teases, trying to reign in the tsunami of emotion hitting him.

“Hey, I happen to like my car!”

“Let me make you dinner tonight.”

Eddie blinks in surprise then grins.

“Got yourself a deal, Harrington.”

A few days later, Steve finally gets the time and nerve to call up the Prestons. He has their number from the only time Jack went to their house. The line rings for a while. So long that Steve thinks it’ll either go to voicemail or someone’s on the line so he’s stuck in a purgatory of trills. Right when he’s about to hang up, someone answers.

“Hello?”

“Oh- um- Hi, I’m looking for Kathy or Bert Preston,” Steve says. 

“This is Kathy. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Yeah, this is Steve Harrington, Jack’s dad. Our daughters are friends, they're in the same class,” he informs her.

A beat of silence.

“Right, what can I do for you, Steve?” She inquires in a professional tone.

“Jack told me that Kacey is having a birthday party, but her invitation got lost in the mail. I figured I’d give you a call and get the details to make sure that doesn't happen again,” Steve keeps his voice even, but stern enough to let her know he’s on to her shit. 

“Ah, y-yes, Jack’s invitation. I have another for her here. I’ll send it with Kacey tomorrow,” she says.

“Great, I’ll still take down the details just in case. You know how kids can be,” Steve presses. 

“Of course,” she sighs.

Steve writes down the details, glad he ended up with the non-confrontational Preston. He thanks her curtly before hanging up. When he tells Jack he got it straightened out and that she’ll be able to go to the party it makes the call worth it. It’s this weekend at the local bowling alley. Steve curses when he realizes he works this weekend. There's an event at the college on Saturday and he took up the extra shift for the overtime pay. 

He doesn't hesitate to pick up the phone after Jack is in bed. The number is dialed easily and then the line is ringing.

“How’d you know I was just thinkin’ ‘bout you, handsome?” Eddie asks as he answers the phone.

Steve’s face instantly splits into a smile.

“It's easy, you’re always thinking about me,” he retorts.

“Got that right. How's your night?”

They spend a while just talking. Steve listens eagerly to Eddie's day, asking questions here and there. One of the things Eddie loves most about Steve is how engaged he is when Eddie speaks. Most people listen, but Eddie tends to talk a lot and fast. The other person getting lost mid-conversation isn't unheard of by any means. Not Steve, though. No, Steve makes sure he’s following, asks for clarification, and will even tell Eddie to slow down if he needs him to. Eddie has never felt so heard. 

“So, you remember that birthday party Jack was talking about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, the one with the asshole parents,” Eddie answers, only sounding a little bitter.

“That’s the one. It's this Saturday-”

“You work this Saturday, right? Need me to take her?”

Steve grins to himself. Eddie knows how much Steve hates asking so he always offers when he can. 

“Yeah, if you don't mind. It’s only for a couple of hours. You can tell them you’re her uncle or something,” Steve tells him.

Eddie’s heart sinks a few inches.

“Her uncle…” He trails off.

Steve grimaces as he hears it.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean… I just didn't know if you’d want the attention of telling them we’re together,” Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face.

“C’mon, Stevie, you should know from high school that I can handle a little attention,” Eddie teases.

“Okay, okay, fair enough. I don't care what you tell them, as long as Jack’s having a good time.”

“Hey, what if, afterwards, we head over to Wayne’s for dinner?” Eddie asks before he can talk himself out of it. 

“You… You want us to meet Wayne? Are you sure, I know meeting the family is kinda... Big.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Eddie points out.

Steve licks his lips nervously, glad this is over the phone. He wouldn't be able to hide his anxiety from Eddie if he tried.

“Yeah, you did. Uh- s-sure, yeah, let’s do that. I’ll be out of work at four-thirty,” he agrees.

“If you don't want to, it's okay,” Eddie says, poorly masking his disappointment despite his best efforts.

“It’s not that I don't want to, I swear. I guess I’m worried,” Steve admits, never hiding the truth from Eddie. 

“About what?”

“How he feels about you dating someone with a kid. I don't want him to think I’m trapping you or something,” he answers.

“I promise you he doesn't think that. He just thinks that I’m crazy about you two, which I am. You worry too much about what other people think,” Eddie assures him softly. 

Steve sighs, shoulders relaxing a bit.

“I know,” he groans, “it’s hard not to. It feels like I’ve had eyes on my back ever since Jack was born. I know what people thought of me in high school, y’know? No one thought I could do anything other than sports. I want to prove that I can do this so badly, Eds.”

“You already have a thousand times over.”

“I love you,” Steve sighs.

“I love you too. Get some sleep, if you don't wake up on time Jack definitely won't,” Eddie orders lightly, the smile clear in his voice. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve gives in, “Dream something sweet for me, Eds.”

“Guess I’ll see you there then, Stevie.”

Eddie picks up Jack that Saturday morning. Steve gives him her seat for the day. Eddie’s car gives her enough room to buckle herself, which she’s very happy about. 

“I have a surprise,” he tells her as they head to his place.

“Is it a puppy?” 

“No, not a puppy,” he laughs. 

“What is it then?”

“I’ve been practicing doing braids.”

“Can you give me some for the party?” She all but squeals.

“I sure can.”

They spend the next half hour with Jack on the ground and Eddie on the couch. He has a comb between his teeth, a spray bottle on the couch on one side of him, and hair gel on the other. Jack watches TV from where she sits between Eddie’s knees. He’s careful not to be too rough as he wrestles her hair into twin braids. The struggle pays off when Jack delights in her appearance. 

Their drive to the bowling alley is filled with music. Eddie shows Jack what real music sounds like. She doesn't seem overly impressed, much to his dismay. The bowling alley itself is bustling. It takes Eddie a minute to find a parking spot. Jack hops out of the car and bounces on her heels as she waits for Eddie to come around. Her vans are beginning to fray. Her little light-wash denim jeans are cuffed at the ankles because they're just a tad too big. A heather gray Roann County Community College sweater keeps her warm. Eddie’s flannel that he cushioned her head with what feels like ages ago is layered over the sweater. A blue band-aid covers her chin. According to her, she scraped her chin chasing dragons. She got hurt but it’s okay because she's tough.

Inside the bowling alley is a mess of children running around screaming. Eddie helps Jack get her bowling shoes on, carrying her sneakers around for her. She runs off to join her friends who all turn to hug her. When her friend with the Birthday Girl button says she likes Jack’s hair Jack beams.

“Thanks! Eddie did it for me,” she tells her friend happily.

“Who's Eddie?” Her friend asks.

“Him and my daddy are in love. He teaches me how to play music and a really cool dragon game,” she boasts.

Eddie can't help smiling as he eavesdrops over the clattering of pins. He decides to take a seat near where the parents are. The way they're looking at him keeps him from integrating entirely. Instead, he just grabs himself a soda and sits on his own at a table meant for two. He watches Jack have fun with her friends. Even if the parents of the other kids are being rude, he’s glad he brought her. 

“Eddie Munson?” A somewhat familiar voice chimes. 

Eddie’s attention snaps up from where the kids are bowling. Chrissy Cunningham stands next to his table. She’s in jeans and a light purple sweater. Her blonde hair covers her shoulders, bangs still brushing along her eyebrows. 

“Shit, Chrissy, hi,” Eddie greets in surprise.

“I didn't expect to run into you here. Are you here for Kacey’s party?” She asks pleasantly.

“Yeah, I’m here with the little redhead down there,” he points to where Jack is making funny faces at her friends.

Chrissy chuckles at the sight.

“Can I?” She gestures to the seat across from him. 

Eddie nods encouragingly. Chrissy takes the seat and leans her elbows on the table.

“How are you related to her?” She looks at Jack again.

“I’m not. She’s Steve Harrington’s kid,” he tells her with a smile.

Chrissy’s eyes widen in recognition.

“I thought she looked familiar. Wow, she really looks like Sarah. How did you end up with her?”

“Steve and me, we’re together actually.”

Chrissy’s head snaps to look over her shoulder. She spends a moment searching before looking back at Eddie with an apologetic smile.

“Don't let my sister hear you say that. I’m happy for you, though,” she says.

“Your sister?”

“Kathy, she’s Kacey’s mom. She and her husband are… Well, they’re old-fashioned,” she explains.

Eddie nods in understanding. His eyes dart to the woman in question. She’s by the presents acting busy. When Eddie’s eyes meet hers, only for hers to snap away he knows she was watching them. He catches the other parents' stares as his eyes travel back to Chrissy. 

“You don't gotta sit here and talk to me. We kinda got an audience,” he nods to the side toward the poorly covered stares. 

It’s a reflex from high school. Give everyone an out so they don't get hurt just by associating with him. A habit he thought he broke. Chrissy peers over to the rest of the party and sighs.

“I can spare a few more minutes.”

Eddie smiles. His mouth opens to ask how she's been, but he never gets the chance. He’s interrupted by Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! as Jack races up to him. 

“Hey, there, trouble. What’s up?” He greets her as she stops next to him.

Jack eyes Chrissy carefully. Chrissy smiles at her, but Jack doesn't return it.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“I’m Kacey’s aunt. My name is Chrissy.”

“Oh. Why are you sitting here?”

“Jack,” Eddie scolds.

Chrissy chuckles.

“It’s okay, Eds,” she tells him, “Eddie and I went to school together. I was just saying hello.”

Jack’s face twists into something akin to anger, but not quite so intense.

“That’s Daddy's name for Eddie. You can't use that,” she tells Chrissy matter-of-factly. 

“Jack, you're being rude,” Eddie warns her.

She ignores him entirely. As if she didn't run over here for him to begin with.

“Jack is a pretty name,” Chrissy tries to change the conversation.

That might have worked for any of the other kids. Jack’s more stubborn than Steve when it comes down to it. She won't be derailed. Not that easily.

“Do you love Eddie?” She questions.

Eddie chokes on air. Chrissy chuckles lightly, not phased by Jack at all.

“No, we're just friends,” Chrissy answers.

“Good, ‘cause he wouldn't like you. Him and Daddy are in love,” Jack informs Chrissy.

She does it loud enough to inform the rest of the party too. Eddie clamps a hand over her mouth, but it's too late. Jack gives him a furious look. He returns it with a stern one.

“I’m gonna let go and when I do you’re gonna stop being rude to Chrissy. Then you’re gonna tell me what you needed when you came over here,” he tells her evenly and raises his eyebrows, “okay?”

She nods the best she can behind his hand. Eddie lets go and Jack exhales sharply through her nose.

“Ron said you can't be my daddy too. I told him you can, but he said having two daddies makes me a freak,” Jack explains clearly upset by it. 

The word echoes in Eddie’s head. It starts off in Jack’s voice but quickly devolves into the mixed-together voices of high school bullies. Freak. An anger that burns a specific way lights in his chest. It’s the kind of anger that moves one to action. It's the kind of anger that causes a parent to protect their child.

“Which one is Ron?” Eddie asks, scanning the room.

Jack points out a little blond boy who’s talking to his mom. The boy points over at the two of them and his mother looks over with disgust. Eddie’s stomach sinks and he sighs. He looks back at Jack’s frustrated expression. 

“Ron’s an idiot. Having two people that love you doesn't make you a freak. You having fun otherwise, sweet girl?” He smiles tightly.

“Yeah, but I don't think I like bowling that much,” she answers. 

“That's okay, you don't have to. Just go have fun with your friends and if anyone wants to call you a freak, show them a freak,” Eddie tells her and gives himself devil horns with his pointer fingers while sticking his tongue out at her.

She giggles and nods.

“I love you the mostest,” she says.

The air is knocked from Eddie’s chest. He’s a puddle on his chair, an absolute mess. He has no oxygen in his lungs. He’s just a heart slamming against his chest and emotion sitting right behind his eyes. Jack just smiles expectantly at him, unaware of how she just took him apart.

“I- I love you the mostest,” he responds, voice thicker than he'd like. 

Satisfied with his answer, Jack bounds back to her friends. Eddie blinks at the space where she just was for a moment longer. When he looks back at Chrissy she’s smiling warmly at him.

“You two are really sweet. She seems really taken with you,” she comments. 

“Ye- yeah, sorry she got mean. We’re- uh- working on that,” he breathes a chuckle.

“Don't worry about it,” she waves him off. 

Movement catches Eddie’s attention from the corner of his eye. A few of the parents are gathered around Kathy talking. A couple of others still sit at their table, shaking their heads at whatever scene is brewing. Eddie frowns when a couple of glances meet his eyes from the huddle. 

“So, how did you and Steve… reconnect?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie sets his eyes back on her. He opts to ignore the other parents entirely. They can talk whatever shit they want about whatever that little asshole Ron told them. 

“We have some mutual friends, but we didn't really cross paths again until I started teaching Jack guitar back in May. He’s a really great dad, y’know? Even when he was killing himself at the quarry, he made sure Jack got to her lessons,” Eddie smiles fondly as he talks about Steve. 

Chrissy smiles softly in return.

“You teach music?”

“Oh- yeah, I actually own Mordor Music. It’s over by Benny’s.”

“Wow! Eddie, I didn’t know you didn’t…,” she trails off guiltily.

Eddie breathes a laugh.

“Sell drugs anymore? I haven't in a few years. Wised up, started teaching guitar at the rec center. Eventually built up enough credit, and my uncle cosigned a loan with me to get her off the ground. It’s been… Well, it's a dream, truth be told,” he divulges. 

“I’m really happy for you, Eddie. After the way high school was for you… I was honestly a little worried about where you’d end up. I’m glad to see you doing so well,” she tells him honestly, eyes warm and kind. 

“Thanks, yeah, I was a little worried too,” he admits with a wry chuckle, “Anyway, enough about me. What have you been up to? Any little Carvers running around yet?”

Chrissy’s smile drops into a grimace. Her eyes go down to her fingers. She toys with a charm bracelet around her wrist. 

“No, definitely not. I guess you can say I wised up too,” she answers.

“Glad to hear it. I always thought you deserved better than him.”

Chrissy’s big eyes shine with gratitude as they meet Eddie’s again. Her mouth opens to speak, but she never gets the chance. Someone clears their throat beside them. Kathy stands over them with Ron’s mother at her flank. Chrissy sighs like she was expecting this. Eddie can't say he’s especially surprised either.

“You brought Jack Harrington, right?” Kathy asks.

“Sure did,” Eddie answers.

“Right, well she’s saying things that are confusing the other children,” Kathy informs him, crossing her arms. 

Eddie snorts at the thought. 

“You don't think she was confused when she was told her family makes her a freak?” He challenges. 

“Frankly, I don't want her scaring the others with whatever satanic things you get up to in your store,” she retorts.

“Are you joking? You really think Jack is gonna scare-” Eddie turns to look at where Jack is by her friends around the bowling screen.

Right when Eddie, and therefore the others, look over she scowls at a few of the kids. She makes two little devil horns with her fingers, screws her face up as she sticks her tongue out at them, and makes a growl-like noise. The kids actually look startled. Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face.

“Alright, we’ll go,” he concedes. 

Chrissy watches helplessly as he pushes away from the table and shoves past her sister. He makes his way over to Jack, an unpleasant anticipation churning in his stomach. Her shoes are gripped tightly in his hands. 

“Jack,” he calls to her.

She ceases her freak show to look at him. He waves her over. Jack happily darts over to him, bowling shoes clicking until she hits the carpet. Fuck, he doesn't want to tell her they have to go. How does he explain that her friends' parents are homophobic and he has a reputation that will always haunt him at least a little bit in Hawkins?

“Listen, I will answer any questions you have in the car, but right now we gotta go, okay?” He smiles at her.

Her eyebrows furrow, but she nods. Eddie helps her out of her bowling shoes and back into her vans. He tosses the bowling shoes onto the counter on their way out. They get a few feet into the parking lot before Eddie’s name is called behind them. Chrissy jogs up with an apologetic frown.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to reason with her, but she- they-” she sighs, not knowing how to say it in front of Jack.

“It’s alright, Chrissy, it’s not your fault. Feel free to stop by the store anytime,” he smiles reassuringly. 

She just nods and lets them go. The car is quiet at first. The clicks of their seatbelts fill the air briefly, then the thrum of the engine until they fade away to background noise, and then the sound of Jack picking at the fabric on her seat. It isn't until he pulls out and starts driving that Jack says anything at all.

“Eddie?” Her voice is small, smaller than he’s ever heard it.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He glances at her in the rearview mirror.

She wears a frown and her impossibly dark eyes swim in sadness.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks.

It’s enough to break him. His grip goes white knuckle on the steering wheel. He hates all of those assholes right now. He hates them for being grown adults and taking their own prejudices out on a child. He hates them for letting their opinions of him influence their opinions of Jack. Most of all, he hates that Jack has to experience any of it. 

“No, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise,” he tells her softly, “the people there were just… being mean.”

“Is it because I told them that you’re like my other daddy?” She asks, voice low and guilty.

Jesus, this kid is going to take him out entirely. His heart aches. Steve told him to be as honest as is appropriate for a six-year-old. Well, he’s seriously struggling to figure out where that threshold is.

“Jack, do you remember how I told you some people have two moms and some have two daddies?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know how most of your friends have a mom and a daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Some people think that kids should only be allowed to have a mom and a daddy. They get upset when they're reminded that some kids don't. Sometimes that means they get mean, but it's never your fault. It’s their fault, you understand?” He looks at her through the rearview mirror once more.

“I understand,” she confirms.

“Do you have any other questions?”

She doesn't answer. She just continues picking at the fabric of her seat. Eddie has never known her to be shy or hesitant. He really truly hates those parents right about now.

“Jack?” He checks.

She lets out a small uh-huh.

“Can you tell me how you're feeling?” 

“I wish you and daddy were both my daddy,” she admits quietly.

The sentence hangs heavy in the air for a moment. Eddie stops breathing. Tears burn the corners of his eyes. He never knew he could love someone as much as he loves Jack. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

She nods.

“I do too,” he admits. 

“Hop said you make us better. I heard him tell Daddy he’s happy you're with us now,” she tells him far too casually for the weight of her words.

“Y-yeah?” Eddie croaks. 

Is that even possible? Is it even possible for Hopper to like Eddie? 

“Yeah… Can we watch Leia again when we get home?” She asks.

Eddie chuckles wetly, fighting back falling into shambles as he drives. 

“We sure can. What d’you think about swinging by the grocery store and getting all the snacks we can carry first?”

She cheers enthusiastically. They do just that. Eddie sticks Jack in the back of a cart and runs her down the aisles while she laughs hysterically. When they get to the snack aisle he lets her take point on what they get, although he does ask her to grab a few specifics. 

They get back to Eddie’s and change into pajamas. For Jack, that means one of Eddie’s old t-shirts. After spreading their haul out on the coffee table, Eddie pops in the movie, and they settle on the couch together. Jack mindlessly cuddles into Eddie causing a smile to melt onto his face. It’s how Steve finds them. On the couch together in a food coma in the late afternoon. 

As quietly as he can, he cleans up around them. The entire time he smiles to himself. Jack is on top of Eddie’s chest, her face buried into his neck. Eddie has his arms around her like last time. It warms his heart. He loves seeing Eddie and Jack together. After everything is tidy, Steve gets in the shower. The last time he showered here Eddie’s scent clung to him for days. He wouldn't be mad at that happening again. The shower is pleasant enough, even if his mother’s voice haunts his thoughts.

Eddie is awake when Steve comes back out. Jack is sleeping alone on the couch. It’s the first time Steve gets a good look at the shirt she's in. The old and somewhat faded Hellfire Club shirt seems right at home on her. Eddie is brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Steve wanders in wearing a pair of Eddie’s sweats and one of his Mordor Music shirts. Eddie smiles at him as he walks in toweling off his hair.

“Hey,” Steve smiles.

Eddie plants a quick kiss on Steve’s lips. Only a second of contact, but it still leaves Steve a little breathless. 

“Hey,” Eddie smiles.

“How'd it go today?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s smile falters. Steve’s heart sinks. A million terrible thoughts cross his mind at once. 

“Coffee?” Eddie answers by asking.

Steve nods. He doesn't push because he knows this isn't a distraction. Eddie gets them mugs and makes their coffees the way they like all while Steve watches patiently. When their coffee is done, they take a seat at the dining table. Eddie sighs and dives into what happened at the bowling alley. Steve remains calm, asking a question here and there. Mostly he nods so Eddie knows he’s listening. His eyebrows are set into a stern line.

There's a quiet moment that passes between them when Eddie finishes. Steve sighs shakily.

“My dad died."

“When did you find out?” Eddie asks Steve with worrying eyes.

“About an hour into my shift. My mom called. He went last night in his sleep. Services will be held this week,” he answers numbly.

Steve has trapped himself in a cycle of self-loathing. His first thought when he got the news was I can’t believe the bastard got to go peacefully. The guilt hit him instantly. It was nauseating to the point that he had to hide in a bathroom for twenty minutes. What kind of person thinks that? What kind of person wishes their father suffered more as he died?

“Will someone be able to watch Jack during the services?” 

The question takes Steve off guard. He furrows his brows at Eddie.

“You can’t?” He asks with concern.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to furrow his brows at Steve.

“Stevie, I’m going with you,” he says.

“You really don’t ha-”

“Nothing you say will convince me not to go.”

Steve smiles sadly at Eddie. He’ll never know how he got so lucky.

“I’ll ask around. If I can’t find someone I’m not going to go. I’m not bringing Jack to that,” he decides out loud.

Eddie nods in agreement with that sentiment. He chews on his lip for a moment.

“We don’t have to see Wayne today, it’s alright. He’ll understand,” Eddie says.

“I’d still like to, if that’s okay. Let’s just maybe not mention my dad dying.”

Eddie offers Steve a warm smile. He offers his apartment to them for the night or the weekend, or however long Steve needs to deal with all of this. Steve smiles with a touch of relief as he agrees. Almost as if he wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure how. Eddie is so very tempted to say they can stay forever, but he knows it isn’t the time. Jack is excited to see Steve when he wakes her. The happiness dies down when she’s told where they’re going. Her wide inky eyes shine at Eddie.

“We’re going to see your daddy?” She asks him.

“Yep, but I call him Uncle Wayne. He’s real excited to meet you,” Eddie smiles.

“He knows about me?” She wonders at the notion.

“‘Course he does. I don’t shut up about you,” he chuckles.

Jack grows a wide smile at that. Steve helps her back into her clothes from earlier. Eddie changes into dark jeans and a Metallica hoodie that's seen better days. He shrugs Steve’s work coat over the hoodie. They double check they have everything and head to the door. When Eddie opens it, they realize Jack is still standing in the center of the living room. She seems unsure and nervous.

“Everything okay, princess?” Steve checks.

“Is Uncle Wayne mean like daddy’s parents?” She asks nervously. 

Eddie gives her a soft, reassuring smile.

“Uncle Wayne reminds me a lot of your daddy,” he says, “He’s nice, hard-working, and he cares a lot about people. You got nothing to worry about.”

She nods tentatively. After another second of consideration, Jack reaches into the left breast pocket of the flannel she wears. It's huge on her, the bottom sways around her ankles, and the sleeves are rolled up. She produces a black bandana from the pocket and holds it out toward them.

“I wanna wear my bravery bandana,” she announces. 

Steve nods dutifully and goes over to her. He folds the bandana and ties it around her head. Her two fiery red braids sit on her shoulders. Eddie beams at her and she beams right back. Without any more hesitation, Jack bounces out of the apartment. Steve laces his fingers through Eddie’s as they follow behind her. Eddie places a quick kiss on Steve's temple before letting go of his hand when they reach Eddie’s car. 

It's a tiny gesture, but it's one that keeps Steve tethered to the earth. It's a tiny casual expression of love that he's craved from every relationship he's had, but never received. He always seemed to be so much more affectionate than the girls he dated when he was younger. It left him feeling inadequate and insecure. Eddie can't seem to touch Steve enough, though. Every time he does Steve’s entire being soothes to a calm. Whatever storms whip around them cease for a moment and there's only where their bodies are touching. Eddie’s hands on Steve are shelter from the storms.

The ride to the trailer park isn't long. Eddie vibrates with anticipation. He’s full of excited anxious energy as he gets closer to his worlds colliding. Steve notices and chuckles lightly.

“You look like you're going to pee your pants,” he teases. 

Eddie flashes him a smile.

“Just can't wait for all my favorite people to be in the same room.” 

“Does Uncle Wayne like the little guys too?” Jack asks curiously.

“No, he’s more like Hopper and Grandpa Buck,” Eddie answers her.

“Grumpy,” she nods in understanding.

Eddie howls a laugh. Steve chuckles and shakes his head. Forest Hills welcomes them with the open arms of trees whose leaves have been stripped by the oncoming of winter. Jack studies the scenery with wide eyes. She takes in every last detail she can. They park next to Wayne’s car before all climbing out. Jack holds her hand out for Steve’s. He takes it without hesitation and leads her in following Eddie. 

Knocking doesn't even cross Eddie’s mind. Wayne knows they're coming. He swings the door open, singing out hello! as he enters. Wayne immediately gets up from where he holds a beer on the couch. Eddie steps forward confidently, pulling Wayne into a hug. He pulls away to find Steve and Jack lingering behind. They remain close to the door, Steve seeming unsure and Jack seeming curiously cautious. 

“Wayne, this is Steve, the hair I told you about. And this,” Eddie makes a silly scrunched-up face at Jack to elicit a smile, “little menace is Jack.”

“It's nice to finally meet you two. Eddie doesn't talk ‘bout nothing else anymore,” Wayne smiles and holds his hand out. 

Steve takes it into a firm shake with his free hand. Pink tinges the tops of his cheeks at Wayne’s words. He offers his own smile to the man.

“It’s really nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson,” Steve says. 

Wayne makes a face.

“Just Wayne, kid.”

“Sorry- Wayne,” Steve’s smile turns sheepish.

Wayne watches Eddie with Jack. They make silly faces at one another. A few of Eddie’s expressions are visible on Jack’s face. Wayne wears a small smile as he watches his nephew with this funny little kid. Jack spots a mug on Wayne’s shelf that looks like Garfield’s head complete with a lazy smile. Her eyes go wide in awe and she runs up to it. The three men chuckle as she points it out to Steve with a look, Daddy, it’s Garfield! 

“Tell you what, help me serve up the stew and you can use Garfield for your drink,” Wayne offers. 

Jack agrees enthusiastically. She promptly abandons Steve and Eddie to follow Wayne. Steve and Eddie smile at each other. Eddie is relieved to see Steve has relaxed. He slings an arm over Steve’s shoulder and leads him to the dining table. They settle in, always touching each other in some capacity. Jack comes up, walking carefully for once, with a bowl of stew in her oven-mitt-clad hands. The old green oven mitts reach her elbows. She places the bowl on the table in front of Eddie with a proud smile. Wayne brings over another bowl and places it in front of Steve. Then they retrieve their own bowls. 

“Is it alright if I give her apple juice?” Wayne asks Steve from the kitchen a few feet away.

Steve gives an appreciative nod.

“Just no coffee or alcohol,” he replies light-heartedly. 

“Shoot, those were gonna be my next suggestions.”

They chuckle and Wayne goes to retrieve Jack's juice. Jack happily slurps up her stew. Honestly, Wayne Munson is a damn good cook. It’s easy to become one when you’re poor and want to make the best out of every meal. You find ways to make everything taste good or you eat some really bad food trying. 

“Y’know, I think I remember your father,” Wayne says to Steve as he comes back. 

Steve stiffens. Eddie tries to communicate with his eyes to back off the topic, but it gets lost in translation. Wayne sits at the head of the table. Jack sits across from Steve and Eddie, not bothering to pay attention to their conversation.

“Uh- oh, really? H-how did you know him?” Steve asks.

It’s a stupid question and he knows that. Everyone in Hawkins knew the Harringtons. His dad is the one that got out only to come back to help reshape his hometown. Really, he just wanted to buy cheap property to build houses and drive up property values. 

“He tried buying Forest Hills a while back. Would’a left a lot of people without homes, including us. Luckily, we got him to back off. Always thought he was dick, no offense,” Wayne explains gruffly.

“Trust me, none taken. He was a dick,” Steve breathes a laugh. 

Wayne’s eyes flicker to Steve, then Eddie curiously at the was. He doesn't say anything about it, though. 

“Glad to see you’re nothin’ like him,” he comments with a nod.

Steve smiles, shoulders slumping in relief. Eddie pushes the conversation forward by asking about Wayne’s day. Dinner goes over really well. Steve and Wayne find common ground on work-related things, both having worked hard labor. They also relate with funny stories they have from raising a curly-haired troublemaker. Eddie’s cheeks glow red as Wayne tells stories from his childhood. He mentions how Eddie often had bandaids all over him like Jack does, much to Jack’s delight. Jack seems to love finding out the ways she’s like Eddie just as much as Eddie himself does. 

Then Wayne brings up when Eddie started learning guitar. Of course, this topic immediately intrigues Jack. 

“He definitely wasn't playing two instruments after a few months,” Wayne snorts.

“Hey, not all of us can be tiny musical geniuses,” Eddie defends. 

Steve smiles at Eddie calling Jack a genius. He tends to think so too, but it's nice having someone else to back him up on that. 

“D’you still have that old guitar you wrote on after I told you about Woody Guthrie?” Wayne asks him.

“Sure do. Hung it above my couch a few months ago. You gotta come over to mine soon,” Eddie answers.

“The dragon guitar?” Jack asks curiously.

“That’s the one, sweet girl,” Eddie smiles.

“I like playing that one,” she says offhandedly. 

Wayne’s eyes are hot on the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie stares at Jack for as long as he can while she eats. He can see Steve’s eyes flickering between the two of them in his peripheral vision. 

“You… You let her play it?” Wayne asks in a curious, but cautious manner. 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. Eddie closes his eyes and sighs. He finally looks at his Uncle. Wayne watches him with a sort of dumbstruck look. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. 

“Ed-”

“Can we not right now, Wayne?” 

Wayne sighs but nods. Steve’s face displays his utter confusion at the exchange. He doesn't inquire any further. Eddie doesn't seem to want to talk about it. He knows he will when he’s ready to. Wayne turns the conversation to Jack. A nice neutral topic that loves the attention. Especially when the attention is on her musical skills, her favorite topic.

“Actually, Stevie, I wanted to talk to you. There’s this competition of sorts coming up and I think Jack could stand a pretty good chance. I mean, she'd be on the younger side so she'd be going against some bigger kids- but I think she can do it,” Eddie says. 

“Has she really been playing guitar for long enou-”

“Oh, no, it’s for piano,” Eddie informs him.

“She's only been playing piano for a few months,” Steve points out.

“I know, but she’s a natural. I’m not really qualified to say, but I’d call her a prodigy.”

Steve’s eyes widen and go to Jack. She smiles proudly as she swings her legs under the table. He’s always known Jack is smart as a whip, likely smarter than him. To hear her called a prodigy, though. That’s a heart-swelling proud parent moment. Steve Harrington’s daughter, a prodigy. Shit, maybe he is doing something right.

“What d’you think, Jack? Would you wanna play piano in a competition?” He asks her.

She nods wildly with wide excited eyes. A wide grin breaks out across her face. Steve loves when she smiles like that. All big and truly happy. Eddie cheers.

“That’s our girl! She’s gonna eat the other kids for breakfast,” he beams.

Jack makes chomping motions with her mouth with a dramatic om nom nom sound. Wayne watches Steve go all gooey when Eddie says that and holds in a chuckle. In the first fifteen minutes, he could tell this is the real deal. Certainly, the realest deal he’s known Eddie to have. He silently wonders how much he should save up for his suit.

A little later they move over to the couch. Steve and Wayne each sip a beer. Eddie refuses even the one knowing he has to drive back with Jack in the car. Jack herself is curled up between Steve and Eddie. She makes sure she’s touching both of them in some capacity. Her head rests against Eddie’s side. He has an arm around her, hand holding Steve’s on the other side of her. Her feet rest on Steve’s lap, his free hand gently holding her leg. Despite the nap earlier, she seems a little sleepy. The stew was warm and filling, enough to knock Steve out if he let it. 

“Daddy?” Jack says, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, princess?” Steve answers.

“Can we stay with Eddie tonight?” She asks. 

“Sweet girl, you can stay with me any night you want,” Eddie tells her tenderly with a smile. 

Jack makes a satisfied little noise and cuddles deeper into his side. Eddie gives her a look that only a parent could give their child.

“Don't tell her that! She’ll never want to go home,” Steve chides. 

Eddie shrugs playfully.

“Oh well,” he says with a smirk.

Steve rolls his eyes as he smiles in amusement. 

“I need to use the potty,” Jack announces.

Steve goes to get up, but Wayne simply tells her which door it is. Jack hops up and heads over on her own with no issue. Steve watches in surprise.

“She doesn't usually like to go alone when she’s somewhere new,” he explains to the Munsons’ curious expressions.

“The three of you seem to fit together real well,” Wayne comments casually.

Steve’s face lights on fire. Eddie simply beams at his uncle in delight.

“It’s strange seeing a kid that reminds me so much of you,” Wayne continues, raising his eyebrows briefly at Eddie.

“Yeah, at least it's only the good parts,” Eddie jokes in return, “She’s a really good kid.”

“She must be if you finally got rid of that god-awful van,” Wayne huffs a laugh. 

“I can't believe that thing was even still running,” Steve adds. 

“Running is being kind. I was ready to put it out of its misery myself,” Wayne says. 

“Leave Van-nessa alone. She served me faithfully for years and I won't allow this slander,” Eddie protests. 

Wayne and Steve laugh at his dramatics. Jack comes back out and whines about missing what's funny. Which, of course, only makes them laugh harder. She plants herself right in front of Wayne with her fists curled on her hips. Her eyebrows knit in such a way that truly makes her look like a mini red-headed Steve. 

“Is it okay if Eddie is ours now?” Jack asks.

Wayne’s eyes soften and a warm smile crawls onto his face. She looks up at him with big inky eyes. He gestures for her to climb into his lap. Steve expects Jack to have reservations since Wayne is new, but she doesn't. She crawls right onto his lap like she’s known him forever. Wayne looks at her over her shoulder as she leans back into his chest. 

“What if he’s both of ours? You think you can find it in yourself to share him with me?” He asks sweetly. 

Jack examines him for a moment. She nods eventually. It’s a slow, but intentional act.

“Can he stay with us, though?” She checks.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Wayne chuckles, “As long as I still get to see him.”

“I’m not a dog, y’know,” Eddie pipes up indignantly. 

“You smell like one,” Jack teases with a scrunched nose.

Wayne lets out a belly laugh. Steve can't contain his own. 

“Jack, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Eddie whines. 

“Sorry, Eddie,” she giggles. 

“You’ll have to make it up to me, sweet girl,” Eddie tells her and taps his cheek.

She rushes over and climbs up onto Eddie’s lap. She plants a big wet kiss on his cheek. The kiss lands right on a dimple since he can't stop smiling. Wayne lets out a decades-old sigh that brings with it an overwhelming relief he’s only dreamed of. As he watches Eddie with Jack and sees how Steve looks at his nephew, any worry fades away. 

He knows Eddie will be okay. Eddie will be okay because he has Steve and Jack. Eddie will be okay because he has a family. Eddie will be okay because he's a dad now and it fits him like a glove. Wayne rests easy knowing that Eddie has everything he always hoped he would.

There’s a pretty big misconception about the Harringtons. It could be because about 60% of Hawkins claim to be Catholic. Steve’s family fell into the other 40% who say they're Protestant. There are no big stone churches with tall stained glass windows and the swaying scent of incense. There's no mass in a droning priest’s voice that lulls you to sleep or communion in sight. No, it's just a bunch of sad people in a room talking like the body down the hall was ever a good person. 

The house is tastefully catered. Steve expected no less from his mother and her newly bolstered fortune. Everyone in attendance wears expensive clothing that creates a stark contrast between everyone else and Steve and Eddie. Eddie’s in the funeral suit he’s had since high school. It's dulled and some of the buttons are loose, but it still gets the job done. Steve wears a Goodwill suit that's just a tad boxy on him. Eddie swears he makes it work, though. 

Walking in is hell. Steve holds Eddie’s hand tightly as too many sets of eyes turn toward them. In a blink, he’s overwhelmed by faces from his past looking to give him condolences and ask how he's doing. None of them ask about Jack. Something Steve is too busy trying not to drown to notice, but Eddie can't not notice. Steve struggles to answer when he’s asked how he’s been and what he’s been doing.  

“I work at Roann County Community College now,” he tries to answer. 

It always inevitably leads to questions about him being a professor. To which he cringes and corrects them. They’re all too polite to say out loud what their faces tell him they're thinking. At first, it's only family friends that don't dare to ask. They're close enough to the Harringtons to know they're powerful allies to have. They're far enough to see them for the kind of parents they really are. The first of the relatives spots him as he and Eddie make it into the living room. His mother sits on the couch being comforted by some aunts for her crocodile tears. Steve isn't convinced she's felt a genuine emotion in her life. 

“Steven, geez, it’s been too long. Your mom says you're living on your own now. Good for you kid,” an older second cousin he can't fully remember the name of says to him. 

“Y-yeah, I’ve been on my own since high school,” Steve replies with a hint of confusion. 

“Really? Aren't you Mr. Independent? Who's this?” He nods toward Eddie as if Eddie couldn't speak for himself.

“Oh- This is Eddie, my partner,” Steve introduces, watching the man’s expression carefully.

His eyebrows shoot up to his slicked-back hairline. He nods.

“Hey, it’s the 90s, y’know, I’m with the times,” he chuckles earnestly. 

“Right, uh, it was good seeing you,” Steve smiles tightly and gives him a pat on the upper arm.

He ducks out of the room to the kitchen for some air. He digs his palms against the edge of the counter. Eddie’s lean tender hands find Steve’s waist as he rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“You doing okay, Stevie?” He murmurs. 

“I don't know,” Steve sighs honestly. 

“Can you turn and look at me?”

Steve turns in Eddie’s hold until his lower back meets the edge of the island. His clouded honey eyes meet Eddie’s warm coffee ones. Eddie can see the vortex of emotion consuming Steve. He desperately wants to save him from it.

“We can leave whenever you want,” Eddie reminds him.

Steve nods slightly. He takes a measured breath to settle himself.

“Did I tell you what my first thought was when I found out he died?” He asks quietly. 

Eddie shakes his head lightly.

“I wished he suffered more.”

Eddie sucks in his bottom lip. He doesn't blame Steve. He can't blame Steve. What he worries about is how he can convince Steve to forgive himself. 

“After everything he’s done to you, I would be more surprised if you didn't wish for that,” Eddie assures him.

“What kind of person does that make me, Eds?” His voice is desperate and broken.

Eddie sets his eyebrows into a stern line. He doesn't quite scowl, but his lips are set in such a way that lets Steve know he's being serious.

“A reasonable one. Steve, this is the same guy that beat you senseless- to the point where you couldn't play basketball anymore. He kicked you and your hours-old daughter out on the street without a second thought. The fact that you even came to the funeral makes you a better man than me, that’s for sure,” Eddie says with a clear earnestness for Steve to really understand. 

Steve offers him a small smile. He gives Eddie a nod. 

“You’re right,” he agrees, “about most of that.”

“I'm serious, Steve. We can leave at any time. Don't make yourself stay if you don't want to, okay?” 

“Okay... I think I want to see him.”

Eddie exhales slowly through his nose as he nods. Despite appearances and satanic rumors, he’s never been good with dead things. He even avoids horror movies when he can. Not because he gets scared, but because he gets queasy. Death twists in his gut leaving an uneasy sway in his steps.

“Yeah, ‘course. Lead the way,” he says to Steve. 

He can feel Steve’s hand in his, but he can't feel his own feet moving. Eddie can't feel the hardwood beneath his boots. He can't feel the dry warmth of the forced air heating. He can't feel the eyes attached to his back and where his hand holds Steve’s. He can feel Steve's hand, though. He can feel how pathetic he is in the back of his throat. 

There have been plenty of funerals in the past fifteen years. Eddie has been no stranger to the melancholy gatherings by any means, but this is different. The hallway stretches out as they make their way down it. His heart races in his throat as the open door draws near. Beyond that threshold memories wait for him with emotions he typically does well to beat back. This is different, though. This is too real, too familiar. The dark clothes, the table with an assortment of food to pick at, and even Steve’s mom’s crying form on the couch evoke his grandparents' sitting shiva. Eddie’s chest tightens, his breath shortens, and suddenly it's everything to keep his head from spinning.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?” Steve asks quietly with furrowed brows.

Eddie didn't even realize he stopped walking. He’s glued midway down the hall, hand holding Steve back from progressing. Steve isn't upset, though. He’s worried. Eddie blinks and clears his throat.

“Uh- Maybe you should go in without me. Y’know, get your closure and everything,” he suggests as he recovers.

Steve gives Eddie a once-over with a small frown. Ultimately, he nods and lets go of Eddie’s hand. Eddie watches him slip into the room. Once Steve is out of sight, he paces further down the hall and dodges into the bathroom to collect himself. Some splashes of cool water are enough to ground him back to the present. He catches his breath as he stares himself in the eye in the mirror. God, he looks like shit. He looks ready to drop dead himself. 

He ties his hair back into a bun with a spare scrunchie before scrubbing some more water into his face. Then he dries off with a nearby hand towel and sighs. He spots a small window above the toilet and gets a primal urge from the bad teen still stuck inside of him, rattling against the bars of his cage. 

“Fuck it,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Steve stands with his back against the closed door for a moment. He keeps his eyes on the ground in front of him. With a steadying breath, he finally gazes up. There is the lifeless form of his father. He’s done up in a suit with makeup to make him look like he wasn't whittled down to nothing before the end. The casket is nice and glossy where it sits half open against the opposite wall completely surrounded by outlandish flowers. If Steve didn't know better, he'd think what should have been Jack's inheritance went toward the flowers in this room alone. 

Steve can barely recognize his father without the distasteful glare on his face. As he inches closer slowly, he swallows the lump that's formed in his throat. Relief bubbles up in his chest with each step forward. This is real. He’s really gone. Steve never has to worry about what tricks or traps his father may pull again. He doesn't have to worry about him bothering Jack. Selfishly, he’s glad he gets to see a world without his father in it. He’s glad Jack gets to grow up in such a world. One slimy asshole down. 

Still, as he looks down at the body that was his father tears well up. His vision blurs. Steve wasn't always seen as the jerk kid who never did as he was told. His father wasn't always an asshole that withheld every ounce of emotion from him in the name of toughening him up. The years were short, but they were there.

They were filled with moments Steve remembers being happy in, he remembers laughing and feeling loved. That's the father he’s finally allowing himself to mourn now. The one that died when Steve turned double digits and his father decided it was time he learned how to be a man. Apparently, violence is how you do that. At least, that's what he taught Steve. A single tear gets away from him before he’s furiously rubbing at his eyes. Despite those good memories, he’s glad he never has to deal with the likes of John Harrington again. 

“Good riddance,” he mumbles to the corpse in the casket. 

Steve expects to find Eddie waiting for him in the hallway, but he doesn't. The hallway is vacant of everything except the noise from the chatter in the gathering room. As he stands there for a moment, eyes bouncing around in search of his anchor, he smells it. Cigarette smoke. He follows it further down the hallway until he reaches the bathroom door. There's a moment where he considers just walking in, but there is a chance it's not Eddie, no matter how slim. So, he knocks. On the other side of the door, he can hear a scrambling, a tumbling, and a not-so-subtle fuck.

“Eddie?” Steve checks softly.

“Steve? Uh- just a minute,” Eddie’s voice responds. 

Steve doesn't wait, though. He slips into the bathroom quickly so as to not let too much of the smell out. Eddie is frantically dabbing his shirt with a wet hand towel, the window above the toilet is open, and a pack of cigarettes sits on the sill. 

“Were you seriously smoking a cigarette in here?” Steve snorts.

Eddie whips around with a guilty, but startled expression.

“I’m so sorry. I don't usually-”

“Do you have any more?” 

Eddie blinks for a moment.

“Uh- y-yeah.”

That’s how Steve and Eddie end up sharing a cigarette in the bathroom. The window is open, the fan is on, and they both sit on the tile with their backs against the wall. The cigarette passes between them easily. Eddie ashes it in the toilet here and there. They go a while without speaking. Just smoking together, letting the nicotine and each other's presence calm their nerves.

“I didn't know you still smoked,” Steve comments after the first cigarette is out and Eddie is lighting a second.

“I don't often. Just when I need to take the edge off,” he answers as he passes the newly lit cigarette to Steve. 

“You really didn't have to come, Eds.”

“It’s not that… Okay, it’s kind of that, but there was no way in hell I was letting you come alone,” Eddie tells him.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks with genuine concern.

“I’m the one that's here for you, remember? Are you okay?” Eddie counters.

“I’m more okay than I thought I’d be,” Steve shrugs. 

Eddie inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth as Steve takes a slow drag. 

“I’m less okay than I thought I’d be,” he admits, playing with his rings. 

Steve’s eyes travel to him. Those warm worried eyes.

“What's wrong?” He asks as he passes back the cigarette.

“I’ve been to funerals, y’know. It’s not really that, but I haven't been to one for someone’s parent since… I think it just got to me more than I thought it would,” Eddie sighs.

“Since what, Eddie?” Steve pushes gently.

“Since my mom’s funeral. When I was a kid. I’ve never really been good with death since seeing her like that… I can usually suck it up, but I dunno. It just really came back today,” he explains.

Steve takes Eddie's ring-clad hand in his firmly. His thick hand swallows Eddie’s lean one in warmth.

“I’m sorry. I didn't know she… Can I ask how?” Steve’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Eddie swallows every lie he’s told about his mother’s death before. She was sick. Well, she kind of was. It was an accident. No, it wasn’t. Not really, they all know that. It was something heroic. He likes to imagine that. It was his dad’s fault. In a lot of ways, it was. 

“Yeah, I don't really talk about it. She- um- there was a bad interaction with a couple medications she took and…,” he clears his throat, “Well, I found her a few hours later when I got home from school. My dad was at work all day.”

Steve doesn't take his eyes off Eddie. Eddie doesn't move his eyes from the tile between the scuffed toes of his boots. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, “Eds, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, really. It's been over a decade, I’m okay. Today is just… a day,” he assures Steve. 

“You can talk to me about it, y’know, if you ever want to. Even if you just want to talk about her. You can tell me these things. You don't talk a lot about your past beyond Wayne. I mean… I know about your dad, but I dunno…,” Steve trails off as he struggles to express his thoughts.

Eddie’s big brown eyes swimming in affection turn to Steve. He takes him in for a moment. His hand grasps the nape of Steve’s neck and drags him in. It’s a quick chaste kiss, but it's enough to leave Steve breathless. Before he knows it, Eddie is back to sitting upright. Instead of straightening himself out, Steve opts to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Jack actually reminds me of her,” Eddie breathes out a small laugh, “Not all the time, but sometimes. Mostly when she's playing music.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she gets this crease between her eyebrows when she's focusing really hard on learning something new. I remember my mom looking like that all the time when she was learning new songs on the guitar,” a small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he reminisces. 

“Is she why you learned?”

“She taught me the foundations. I taught myself the rest.”

“What was her name?”

Eddie pauses momentarily before chuckling. He shakes his head.

“Believe it or not, Sara, but not with an h,” he answers.

Steve lets out his own light chuckle. A beat of silence passes between them. It's comfortable, but more questions nag at the back of Steve’s mind. 

“How old were you when it happened?” 

“Ten. Moved in with Wayne at twelve. I- uh- is it okay if we stop talking about this? It’s not that I don't want to, it's just a lot,” Eddie says tentatively, "but maybe some other time."

“Yeah, of course. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about,” Steve promises him. 

Eddie plants a kiss on the top of Steve’s hair. 

“I really love you, Stevie.”

“I really love you too, Eds.”

They finish the second cigarette and exit the bathroom. The smell of the smoke clings to their clothes and hair, but they don't care. The bathroom no doubt smells like it too, but that's not their problem. Steve’s Aunt Liv, one of the ones that were comforting his mother before, corners them as they reenter the crowd. She gives Steve a sympathetic smile on her approach. 

“Steven, how are you doing? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she greets softly.

“I’m good, Aunt Liv. How are you?” Steve keeps it polite.

“I’m good, I’m good. Your mother was telling me you’ve been visiting more. I’m really glad. I know getting your own place is exciting and you’re probably living out your twenties, but… Don't forget about family, okay?” She smiles tightly.

She means well, really she does. He knows that. What he knows doesn't matter, though. Red-hot anger pushes steam out of his ears. Eddie’s hand tightens around his own, the rings biting into his skin.

“Living out my twenties?” Steve questions.

“Yes, look, I remember what it's like at that age-”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Liv, but you don't know- or remember- shit,” Steve scoffs. 

“I wasn't 24 that long ago,” she argues clearly offended.

“Sure, but you weren't raising a child,” he counters.

Utter bewilderment crosses her features. She shakes her head.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Steve furrows his brows and stares at her like she’s stupid. It’s a look Eddie has seen on Jack plenty of times. Eddie realizes what's happening before Steve does. He gives Steve’s hand a little tug. 

“Steve, I don't think she knows,” he says.

Steve exhales sharply through his nose and shakes his head in frustration. 

“Know what?” She asks.

“I haven't been living out my twenties. I’ve been raising my child,” he tells her. 

She just blinks at him in disbelief. Her mouth opens and closes a few times. 

“Your child? When did you-”

“What did she tell you?” Steve demands.

Hearing the official story is almost too much. In the story his parents told everyone, Jack doesn't exist. No, Steve left home because he didn't want to live by their rules. Then he stopped visiting and left his poor parents alone. Aunt Liv was flabbergasted when Steve told her what really happened. It sets him off. His eyes find his mother where she still sits on the couch. She accepts condolences and dabs her eyes with a tissue. Before he knows it, Steve lets go of Eddie’s hand and marches over. 

He steps up onto the coffee table. Eddie watches where he still stands near Aunt Liv with wide eyes. The room quiets as everyone looks curiously at where Steve stands on top of the coffee table. He stares down at his surprised mother.

“So, it’s come to my attention that there's been a misunderstanding,” he announces to the room.

“Steven, what are you doing?” His mother hisses.

“It seems some of you think that I moved out of my parents’ house and ditched them. I’m so sorry for any confusion. What actually happened is that I had a kid on my eighteenth birthday. So, naturally, my parents kicked me out that same day,” he explains loudly to the crowd, “Funnily enough, they never even tried to reach out until my dad was dying. If you have any questions, I’m sure my mother would be more than happy to answer.”

Steve steps down from the coffee table. He doesn't bother sparing his mother another look. Eddie watches him with a wide smile as everyone else looks on in varying degrees of shock. Steve takes Eddie’s hand and leads him the hell out of there. He doesn't speak again until they're back in his BMW. 

“I think I lost my cool,” he sighs, staring at the worn emblem on the steering wheel.

Eddie bursts out laughing. Steve jumps a little but eventually chuckles along. 

“That was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Eddie says wondrously.

“It did feel pretty badass,” Steve smiles at him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to move in with me.”

The entire world comes to a standstill. Steve studies Eddie’s genuine face. A million thoughts race through his head at once. A thousand possible problems come up. A hundred reasons not to right now flit by. There would be so much more to work out before it could actually happen, but Steve knows it's what he wants.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“Okay?” Eddie echoes.

“Okay, I mean we’ll need to talk about it more, but I want that too.”

Eddie’s lips capture Steve's in a warm kiss. It's slow-moving but sweet, like molasses. His rings nip at Steve's neck. When they part, Eddie keeps his forehead pressed against Steve's.

“Let’s go get our girl and head home, yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles.

Some tension rolls off of Steve’s shoulders as they park in front of Wayne’s trailer. He can't wait to see Jack. Eddie detects this and smiles softly after him. When they enter Jack is tying Wayne to his armchair with a jump rope. Wayne smiles lazily at them as they enter. There's a hockey game on the television. 

“Uh- what's going on here?” Eddie asks slowly. 

Jack beams up at them. Her hair is loose and wild today but is now covered in a pirate hat made from newspaper. Her band-aid is gone leaving a scabbed scrape exposed on her chin.

“I’m a pirate and Uncle Wayne is my prisoner!” She tells him gleefully. 

Eddie shrugs.

“You need help with the knot?” He asks.

Jack nods eagerly. Steve snorts at them. When Eddie’s hands take over the jump rope Jack bolts over to Steve. He scoops her up like always and they fold into each other. She smells like her usual coconut and lavender, but there's something else now. There’s something spiced that floods Steve’s belly with butterflies because it reminds him of Eddie. Whatever tension he still holds in his shoulders melts away as Jack nuzzles into his neck. 

Steve is the one to untie Wayne before they leave. Jack and Eddie fight him on it, but Steve is a seasoned parent who can resist the whines. Wayne walks them out to the car. He gives Jack a kiss on the top of the head before she gets in. Steve is surprised to receive a hug with as much fatherly gusto as the one Eddie received. Then their little family is heading home together. Maybe it's not official yet, but it's a thought Steve finds he really really likes. They're heading home.

<< Page Four | Series Photo Album | AO3 | Page Six>>

[defeatsthem]

“📔” FOR MJSEFF I AINT EVER SENT SOMETHING SO FAST

TW for anyone that might read this, as this extremely dark au has already been discussed with @twotonesoffun. Read this with the utmost caution.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: depression, suicidal thoughts and ideation

This takes place after Max's surgery and beyond. All he could do with his free time was mull over every stupid thing he'd ever done or said in his life.

Day 1:

Yesterday you left. I don't blame you for it one bit. You should've left. Matter of fact, you shouldn't have ever even shown up at the hospital at all. I keep staring at the bottle, the temptation to grab a fistful of pills and just end it right here is so tempting without you here. This house is so bare and I never realized how empty it was until your laughter wasn't here to fill it.

Day 13:

Thirteen days post-surgery. My knee still hurts like a fucking bitch. I won't lie, the worst part isn't getting out of bed by myself or having to resort to an in-house nurse in the meantime to take care of me now. It's humiliating. My fingertip keeps hovering over your name in my contacts, wanting to send a message but I don't dare to. Instead, I just open the video of me fucking that blonde woman to remind myself why I hate myself. Still, the temptation to take all those leftover painkillers lingers. I dunno why I haven't done it yet.

Day 42:

Physical therapy is getting easier, I guess. I can finally get off crutches in a few weeks but... whatever. It's been three weeks since the New Year holiday came and went and I can't believe it's been nearly a year since Seth and I hooked up at that rest top for the first time. I still remember how he felt... how I felt. It's forever engrained in my brain no matter how many times I wanna just forget about him because I'm ninety - nine percent certain he's forgotten about me already. I really need to stop directing this journal to him so maybe with this entry, it'll force me to.

Day 99:

Fuck, I miss you. I almost sent a message to you today, asking you how you were as if you'd even fucking respond. I at least finally flushed the rest of my meds down the toilet finally. They were burning a hole in my chest every single fucking night sitting on my nightstand. It was hard to discard the only thing you'd ever race to see me for. Fuck, I'm writing about him again when I said I wouldn't.

Day 273:

Nine fucking months. I was told I'd be out for an entire year but I'm a damn machine apparently. The past nine months have been an absolute mindfuck, but weirdly enough, it was necessary. I had to be on the brink of killing myself to see what I really wanted out of life. All I want is for him to be by my side again. Luckily, after getting some insider knowledge, I was able to find out where RAW is tomorrow night. I'm gonna go see him again. I can't be caught by security or talent otherwise I'll be kicked out immediately and probably arrested for breaking and entering into his bus but... at this point? I don't have much else to lose.

Day 274:

I'm burning this motherfucking journal right away tomorrow regardless of what happens in the next couple of hours. No one can know I even did this shit or sounded like such a whiny teenager bitch, okay? I can hear his music playing and I'm watching the show, sipping back an IPA from his fridge. The same kind that was in there the first time we met. He never changed, did he? He shouldn't. I can also smell that body wash he loves lingering throughout this entire thing. I don't dare make a sound since his driver is right outside, mingling with the crew. [THREE HOURS LATER.] I can hear his music playing again. He must've done the dark match after the show. At least it gave me some more time to get mentally prepared to see him again. I feel nauseous. Maybe I shouldn't have come...this was so fucking dumb of me. Shit. I hear his voice outside... here goes nothing.

[khodorkovskaya]

28.04.23

a lot of things have been on my mind lately but i haven't had the time to sit down and write. but i made a list in my notes app:

B in general

balkans = bisexuality

event in lausanne

ice skating summer camp

to be honest now i don't remember what every point was about but let's try...

1. i had a dream about B the other day where i bumped into him on the street and he was like "leave me alone, let me go, stop following me". and yeah it really made me think. not really think, but feel. i woke up with a lot of feelings.

on monday i was ovulating. my coochie wouldn't leave me alone the whole day. i started fantasising about the hot quantum mechanics assistant, then i moved onto thinking about my friend... and it was fun bc i finally came up with a scenario about my friend that wasn't boring. so i was like alright, when i get home im finally gonna be able to touch myself and not think about B, this is gonna be great. and then! big surprise! i thought about him again and cried! im so tired of it! when am i gonna be free from this curse of crying when i masturbate???? like it's so frustrating! i just want to think about something completely unrealistic and silly about the quantum mechanics assistant or my friend or some hot celebrity or whoever else. but noooooo! and i feel the need to gain control over my sexuality because i can't associate sex with B for the rest of my life. i need to think about other people and move on. but it's like a reflex at this point. every time i touch myself my coochie is like "DO YOU REMEMBER HOW IN LOVE YOU WERE? YEAH, YOU WERE SO IN LOVE. LET ME REMIND YOU HOW IN LOVE YOU WERE HAHAAAA YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE YOU PATHETIC BITCH"

i think the thing i miss about my relationship with B is not B himself. but the innocence i had during that time. like oh im done with my homework, i have nothing else planned for the day, let's go for a 3 hour walk in the countryside and talk about nothing. and now im always busy and i never go for walks anymore.

it's his birthday today. and i don't know if it's masochism or stupidity or a secret third thing. but i wished him a happy birthday. and when he replied with "Thank you Y/N." i wanted to throw up.

2. ive been listening to lepa brena a lot. because just like with my sexuality im trying to reclaim things that were mine to begin with. when we broke up i deleted all songs off my phone to not think about him. but i can't let him stop me from enjoying my favourite songs, they were always MY favourite songs, not his.

and listening to lepa brena made me think of not only our sarajevo trip in 2019 but also montenegro, my father, all those shenanigans. and it made me feel things. so again i was like, why am i doing this to myself. to hell with the balkans, i'll never go there again!

and it's weird bc i always have this train of thought when it comes to my bisexuality too. like it's a part of me that i just can't make peace with no matter how hard i try. im always like fuck this, im straight, let's ignore everything else. to hell with the wlw manifesto and all that shit, it doesn't concern me, i live in the now and it's not a problem so let's ignore it. and it always comes back to bite me in the ass! like i just can't be straight, i know it! i can pretend all i want but it's there! and same with the balkans. how many times have i told myself "im never going there again" or "it's just a place where my father lives, it doesn't concern me, i don't care". but i can't escape it. and here i am wanting to breathe in the fresh mountain air again and drink a coffee on the terrasse and feel this pinching pins-and-needles-like pain in my chest. and i can't get enough of it.

(this section ends here but i wanted to add a couple more things bc i just went for a walk to the corner store to get chocolate cake and thought about it. you know how your nose and throat feel when you've just caught a cold? like you're not sick yet, but you can feel the cold coming. and your throat is kinda itchy and you just KNOW that you're gonna have a fever tomorrow. well that's the feeling im talking about but imagine it in your chest. like it feels like pins-and-needles and there's this pinching feeling similar to when you're trying to hold back tears. and every time im nostalgic about something or i miss something that's what i feel. and that's also what i feel 24/7 when im in the balkans. i remember our first night in sarajevo and it was already dark out and i stood on the balcony of his flat and there was a girl singing "lazes zlaso lazes duso" in the bar on the opposite side of the street. and i had that feeling again. and i was like the guy in the sickos comic standing there like "yes ahaha yes!!!". anyway, just something i wanted to mention.)

3. so we went to this event in lausanne on tuesday and to another event today and goddd.... im just becoming more and more of a bitch. because im so sick of these greenwashing pseudosustainable entrepreneur bitches. fucking hypocrites. for people who've never touched grass in their entire lives, they sure claim to know a lot about nature.

4. so remember the poll i posted a couple of days ago? well, ive been dreaming about going to skating summer camp and i briefly mentioned it to my student when we went to buy ice skates in lausanne together. and... he sent me 1000 chf. i was shocked! so yeah im going to figure skating summer camp ahhhh im so excited!!!!!! so it's gonna be me, him and his wife. and i'll see if my bestie wants to come too. it's gonna be so epic oh my god!

so it's in july and it's gonna be 2 hours of skating plus 1 hour of gym every day + sporty activities throughout the whole day + extra private skating and choreography lessons if you want. and it's gonna be in this beautiful place in the mountains! my student's parents have a chalet there so he said we can sleep there if we don't want to sleep in the dormitories. im so excited you guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[imsorryithurts]

Whumperless Whump day 16

As always, thanks to Seth for hosting the event. Visit @whumperless-whump-event to read more works!

-x-

This is a story I have played in my head many times. And I'm glad this event gave me drive and opportunity to write it down and share. It's a story that serves a purpose in developing my characters, but also to deal with some personal trauma.

It is a bit angsty and more on the side of emotional whump.

This one features Salus and Mills, you can have a primer on them and my other OCs here: [link]

Mills, still adjusting to being disabled, finds out a secret Saluswho has been a (sort of) father figure to her, has been keeping from her.

-x-

This story has a continuation, which you can here here: [link]

-x-

 Say goodbye to filters:

Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…

Word count: 2634

Content warnings: Angst, alcohol and drunkeness, disabled characted written by an able bodied person, vomiting

-x-

Salus hadn't been worried when Opal met him at the ground floor of the inn after he came back from the shops, saying Mills had been looking for him.

He had left early, Mills hadn't seen him taking the objects and artifacts, she couldn't have known of them, or of him selling them.

He was worried, for a different reason, when he opened the door to her room after knocking and she wasn't there.

Mills hadn't been able to walk much since getting thrown from that tower, even after getting new ribs and leg bones made from enchanted metal recently, she had low energy and pain most of the time, preferring to sit in bed with books, or at the most, sitting at the halls of whichever inn they happened to be in with.

And she wasn't in either, pretty much for the first time.

He hurried back downstairs to where Opal was having tea with another patron.

“Opal. You said Mills was searching for me? You know where she is?”

“Oh, is he not in our room?” The pale tiefling responded, taking a calm sip of her tea. “She hasn't left the inn, I would have seen her.”

Salus continued staring at her, waiting for any kind of suggestion of where she might have been, but Opal only stared back with her half lidded eyes demeanor.

“Fine. All right.” He rapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “I’ll see if I can find her.”

He looked around the ground floor, went back to her room and even called her name at the empty room just to make sure she wasn't there and that he hasn't missed her.

Maybe she was in his room? She had been there a couple of times, but only to hang out with him, he’d never seen her there by herself.

He wasn't confident in his hypothesis, but he walked to his room anyway.

He wasn't prepared to what he had found when he opened the door.

The room was only a step below of being trashed, his trunk and cases opened and its contents strewn about: both his personal belongings and itens he had collected in recent dungeons and adventures mixed up and scattered on the floor.

Nothing seemed to be missing, but it was clear someone had been looking for something.

Mills didn't seem to be there, until Salus stepped further into the room and sighted her, curled up under the small desk.

Curled up with a big bottle of alcohol that she must have found in one of the trunks.

The first thing on Salus' mind was how the hell did she manage to squeeze in there. It would be uncomfortable for any person, but especially to someone who had been struggling with mobility and pain.

And then his mind catched up to the fact that she had found everything that he had acquired recently from adventures... Secretly. And without her. After telling her he wouldn't.

The bottle she held was also pretty concerning. She no doubt had a broken heart, but maybe worse than that, he didn't recognize the liquid, and couldn't even read the letters on the bottle. It was more than halfway empty in her grasp, and while Mills does drink sometimes, she has never been that big of a drinker.

She was snoring quietly, so at least he could relax knowing it wasn't strong enough to kill her.

He stayed crouched in front of her for a moment, considering the best course of action. Probably to get her out of there first. And hopefully figure out the whole lying to her thing tomorrow.

Well, shit. Neither of those would be very easy.

He tried waking her first. He called her name softly, touching her shoulder. He brushed her hair out of her face. Her hair, a little longer than she liked, the pink that she alchemically dyed since she was a child, was faded to nearly nothing, and almost a quarter of her hair was the natural light brown that grew after she couldn’t take good care of it anymore.

Salus sighed, missing when she was an energetic, pink haired girl. A pain free girl.

“Mills.” He shook her shoulder a little harder. “Come on, Mills, you gotta get up.”

She only strained her face a little and seemed to try to swat his hand away, but didn't get too far with her arm.

“Hey!” Even calling her with a raised volume only made her groan and turn her face away.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Time for the less pleasant plan B.

He took the bottle from her without much resistance. About a quarter of the dark brown liquid still shimmered inside. He still had no idea what the label said, unable to recognize the letters written in a pretty font.

He uncapped it and gave the unknown liquor a sniff. It was not as strong as he had feared, but still stronger than he hoped.

He set it on the top of the desk and kneeled back down to deal with the girl cramped up under it.

“Come on, Mills,” he snaked his arm to reach her right side, which was pressed against the wall, so he would be more confident on grabbing without hurting her. He had imagined getting her out of there by carrying her princess style, but he couldn't fit his arm under her knees.

He sighed. Dragging it would have to be, then.

He gently placed his hand under her left armpit and pulled her right shoulder towards him. He managed to begin dislodging her, but as soon as Salus’ pulling put pressure on her left arm, she let out a whine, which quickly turned into a scream.

“Hey, hey, it's fine.” Salus tried to ease his grip on her. “Just getting you out of there.”

“No- No! Ah, stop!” She cried out, unable to do anything against his pulling. “Sto-oo-op!!”

“Okay! Okay, it's okay.” He stopped when she was halfway out and held her as softly as he could, holding on to her back and pressing her against his chest. “It's okay…”

She sobbed in his arms, still moaning between pants while she tried grabbing her pained side. Salus had held like this, when she was still a child, after she had cried alone about missing her family too many times.

The smell of alcohol on her made his chest hurt.

“Mills, you-”

She abruptly pulled away, attempting to shove him away with her good arm, managing only to almost topple backwards.

“D'nt’t touch me.”

“Mills.”

He released her, putting his hands up and she turned her upper body, holding herself up the best she could on her arms, coughing and clearing her throat from shouting.

“Let me just help you,” Salus noticed she was straining and moved to free her bent legs from under the desk. 

It had to be painful on anyone's joints, but especially for her. She cried with every centimeter he straightened her rigid knee further. “You’re okay,” He soothed as he slowly pulled her calf.

As soon as her leg was straight on the floor, she scrambled to get on all fours, then gracelessly rushed to her feet. She swayed in place, more than she would normally when she doesn’t have her cane.

“Mills, sit down,” he sighed. “Before you-”

“F-Fuck off…” She slurred, leaning on the desk beside her. She hung her down, hair obscuting her face. “Dn’t… Dn’t fucking talk t’ me.”

“Come on,” Salus rose to his feet, knees crackling. If he could get her to calm down they could delay this until morning. “Go to bed, we can talk when-”

“N’thing t’ talk about.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

He took a small step forward. “I’ll get you some water and-”

“YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME,” she snapped, making him take that step back.

He's had gut punches less painful than this.

“You lied to me! You said you wouldn't leave, or go on jobs or adventures without me!” Her face was red and her eyes puffy. “Do you think I don't know where all this stuff comes from? Did you think I wouldn't find out?”

“I-”

“You really think so lowly of me? That because I can't leave that fucking bed I got stupid?”

He had known it would come out eventually, but it still hurt.

Mills tried raising her hands in frustration, only to have to lean further on the desk.

“I get half my body destroyed, you stand by my side while I rot, say you're going to stay by my side while I heal, and for what?” She was struggling to stand now. “To get ready to leave? To continue your life, unburdened? Keep going while you strand me here?”

“Mills, I would never-” Salus said softly, approaching her to support her, who was now nearly sliding off the side of the desk.

“OH, YOU WOULDN'T?” She shouted, suddenly gaining enough strength to push herself off the desk, push him away, and limp to the other side of the room, kicking a stray book on the floor. She kept her back to him “So you're just… sneaking out alone and hoarding stuff in secret for no reason?”

Even without seeing her face Salus could hear her start to break down in tears. He knew that tremble in her voice.

“If you didn't want to be around me anymore you should just have left,” she turned just enough for him to see her face. “You should just have left me to die with my parents.”

The shock of hearing that made his heart drop to his feet. All those years, Mills had never expressed anything like that. She wasn't one to explicitly express gratitude either, but she did love her life. Even after going through the worst of her recovery, she still found joy in the things she liked.

And now Salus took away one of her joys. Exploring with him.

And combined with this, if the almost drained bottle was to be believed, he realized she would rather be dead right now.

Now the tiefling was the one to hold back tears.

“Mills, come on…” he paused to rub his face. “You- you would never say this in your right mind.”

He could physically see the rage building inside of her before she snapped again.

“OH, YEAH?!” She shouted louder, stumbling forward. “WELL, TRY ME AGAIN TOMORROW!”

She was fully in tears now, breath sobbing between each phrase.

“TRY ME AGAIN TOMORROW, AND THE DAY AFTER THAT!” She paused to sob. She was at least a full head shorter than Salus, but her stance made her tower above him. “YOU SHOULD NEVER HAD TAKEN ME, AND MONICA SHOULD NEVER HAVE HEALED ME THAT DAY!”

He clenched his fists and shut his eyes so the tears wouldn't fall. “Don't. Don't say that.”

“Monica never should have healed me, and you never should have taken me to that hospital. You had so many chances to let me die, and you didn't. You kept me alive, just so I could be trapped here, in pain all the time! So you could leave me along and keep moving on with your life!”

Mills spent a moment just sobbing, standing on wobbly legs in the middle of the room. Salus wanted to sob along with her, but he knew he had no right to.

She just stood there, bawling and pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. 

And Salus just stood there, opposite to her, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides.

“I- I-” Mills coughed and went pale all of a sudden. She faltered, her knees buckling and hitting the floor before Salus could do anything.

He lunged for her, at least managing to keep her from falling further. She braced herself on the with her good arm, still swaying too much to one side, groaning in pain.

“Mills-”

She coughed again and brought a hand to her mouth, gagging into it.

“Ok. Okay, hang on.” He adjusted her so she wouldn't fall, and looked around for something she could throw up in.

He decided for the bucket he had used to bring water up and a towel, and rushed to get it, but he heard retching and splashing before he reached it.

She had already vomited on the floor and over her hand, but he got back to her just in time to stop her from toppling to the side, supporting her by the shoulders and holding the bucket under her chin.

She instinctively tried to reach for the bucket, but Salus sat behind her, pulling her torso for support with one arm and holding the bucket close to her. “I’ve got you,” he said while she choked on a sob that turned into a heave. “You’re all good, I’ve got you.” Not that it was good that she was throwing up, but he was glad all that was getting out of her system now. He left the bucket on the floor for a moment to wipe her hand with the towel, quickly holding it back for her again.

As she continued to spit up the dark, unknown liquor, Mills progressively slid down to the side, coming to rest her head on the crook of Salus' elbow. He had to tilt the bucket to reach her lips, but he allowed her to rest half on his lap.

As her retches turned into dry heaves and died down into coughs, Salus put the bucket aside and let her body relax more naturally. She didn't fully relax, as she was still uncontrollably sobbing again as soon as she stopped vomiting, but she was now fully laid down, her upper body on top of his crossed legs, head in his elbow.

He took the towel and reached to wipe her face when she grabbed his arm, with a grip strength she hasn't had since starting recovery. He didn't know if this was good, or a testament to how much pain she was in.

“H- h- hurts…”

“I know.” He gently squeezed her tighter. “I know, Mills… It'll pass.” He wasn't sure it would. But he was past the point of caring about small lies.

“It hurts-” She sobbed. “Salus, it hurts…”

He set the towel aside and covered his hand with his shirt sleeve to wipe her tears. He noticed some sick had run from her lips to his sleeve where she rested her head and decided to clean her face with his hand as well.

“You should rest, Mills.” His own voice trembled. He wanted to get her some water, but didn't want to move until she calmed down. He brushed some strands of faded pink hair from her face. “Just… relax, rest for a bit, okay?”

She didn't respond, but Salus noticed her eyelids getting heavier between the crying. It wasn't possible that the alcohol, in combination with vomiting and crying hadn't left her exhausted by now. He stayed there, holding her, cradling her head on his elbow and rubbing a thumb over her shoulder with the other hand.

Slowly, she stopped sobbing, and not long after that she closed her eyes and her breathing evened out.

Salus stayed there for a while, despite his back starting to ache. He felt a pang of pain in his heart knowing that the last time he held her close, the last time he truly conforted her like this had been almost ten years ago, when Mills was still a child, far from having finished growing.

He allowed himself some tears after she fell asleep.

And before he got up to take her to her bed, he allowed himself to place a small kiss on the top of her head.

[bedlamtoons]

TW: self-harm / suicide

I recently experienced my 3rd psychiatric hospitalization in 4 years and my first involuntary one. Well, partially involuntary. I wanna discuss this one for a couple reasons; firstly because it's the first one that's happened since I started this blog and second because it's the first one where I attempted to document my thoughts during my stay.

I started out with a wide-ruled notebook, but was later offered a pocket-sized college ruled one that I vastly preferred, so I copied everything I'd written up to that point including ripping out some of my doodles that were small enough to fit.

It started at noon on July 3rd. I had a scheduled therapy appointment during which I confessed to thoughts of self-harm. My therapist and my caseworker arranged for me to be transported to an emergency room and from there I would be taken to the first open bed they could find in a psychiatric institution. All of this I agreed to voluntarily.

I've censored the location and the doctor's name for privacy reasons. The "crying, slobbering fit" was so severe I was physically incapable of forming intelligible words. Every single time I write the name of a specific drug I spell it incorrectly because I was told the names out loud but not given anything with a label to read.

Some doodles I did post anxiety attack. I think that's the correct term for what happened. I'm still trying to find the appropriate terminology for whatever it is that's wrong with me.

I hope you're all prepared for many more 12 Monkeys references. Also just wanted to share the story of "Book Club Guy." There are several phrases I will never pronounce the same again thanks to him. He was discharged relatively quickly and I miss him every day.

The old man in question was barely capable of even standing and had apparently been in this hospital for close to a year. Incidents like the one described in the second paragraph happened more frequently as my stay went on as that particular patient grew more and more frustrated.

Also "Vitamin H" is a term for haldol that I heard somewhere once and I've been using it ever since.

At this point, my stay had boiled down to taking drugs and then sitting in front of the tv for hours. I felt that if that was all that was neccessary to keep me safe I could easily do that at home. I was told if I kept requesting to go home they would hold me involuntarily and so I pressed the issue really just to prove a point about how a "voluntary" status was bullshit. They essentially told me to put a pin in it and talk to the doctor again when he came back. Talks with the doctor rarely lasted more than a minute or two and I did not feel like waiting all night just to speak with someone for 60 seconds.

When the shift changed and the new nurses arrived I pressed the issue again and that's when they put me under the 96 hour hold. I requested a bible because I was bored and copied down a few verses that I liked. The hospital was a catholic institution so they had plenty of bibles lying around but only with the new testament and psalms. We also had prayers over the intercom every morning and night.

The thing that frustrated me most is that I was given very little time to talk to a professional of any kind. So one of the nurses offered to let me vent to them, which I did.

I was in the grip of another anxiety attack at the time. I was raising my voice, banging my head against the wall, pulling at my hair, etc. Me and the nurse were pacing back and forth down the hallway the whole time. At some point when I reached the end of the hallway, I turned around and a second nurse had arrived with syringe in hand and told me I needed something to calm me down.

We ended up compromising and just giving me a dose of clonazepam and sleeping in the quiet room so they could keep a closer eye on me, but I don't think I'll ever be able to fully trust nurses ever again.

If it wasn't obvious the book my parents had brought for me was Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas.

The last page or so was pretty all over the place. "The Corner Where You Can Hear God" was a corner where you could hear some type of machinery running 24/7 but only if you wedged yourself in with both shoulders against the wall. The patient who first pointed it out was half joking when he said it, but at some point I had taken to crawling into that corner to "pray." It brought some sort of comfort that I couldn't really explain.

Also fuck Wendy's and their stupid fucking ads.

I was released on July 11th at 11:52 am. As I was leaving the patient who had the outburst I wrote about on July 6th was melting down again. He insisted on leaving, and I quote, "TO-FUCKING-DAY!" He must have repeated that phrase at least a dozen times at the very top of his lungs. The image of him with half the nursing staff backed up against a wall, leaning further and further forward with each shout hasn't left my mind.

They insisted I not worry about it as they shoved me out the door.

As I write this now I don't really understand why I felt the need to write all this. I'm still not entirely sure what I've gained (or lost) from this experience.

As a child I was given a diagnosis that technically no longer exists. Our understanding of psychology changes every day. Our mental healthcare system doesn't.

I can't tell you how many times I've been told by a nurse that they just straight up don't know when one thing or another is supposed to happen. Nurses and patients alike are left hopelessly uninformed about decisions that affect the lives of countless people. If my 96 hour hold had ended on a weekend, I would have been forced to stay up to an additional 48 hours because hospitals can't be fucked to discharge people on weekends or holidays.

People who are less coherent than me, less capable of masking than me, less capable of controlling their emotions than me are trapped by the thousands in shoddy institutions run by emotionally disconnected bean counters kept alive by a dying backwater religion that steals billions from us every year.

I don't even know what to do anymore.

[the-daily-scrommit]

January 8, 2023

Jan 8, 2023 - Fifth entry

6:51am

Last night was a restless night. I went to sleep late and didn’t sleep very consistently at all. My ex called me last night too (I did end up texting them to call if they wanted to and had the energy), and we had a nice little conversation about their day. I was in little space throughout that conversation and kept checking in with them to make sure they were okay with it, and they were. They reassured me that they didn’t think me being little was romantic, and I said thank you, clarifying that the potential for it being romantic wasn’t where my concerns were; instead I was afraid of being little because they’re my friend, and I’m not ever little around my friends.

Speaking of being little around friends, I’m meeting up with one of my friends to be little and snuggle tomorrow! I’m still a little anxious about it but I’m so excited because I haven’t seen this friend in a while and they’ve always been so gentle with me. I’m really looking forward to cuddling someone again and being so small and vulnerable with someone I trust, even though it’ll be scary to be seen in such a raw emotional state as that.

Right now, as I write this part of my entry, I sit in my car, warming it up before work. I’m still anxious about work, though my anxiety and dread isn’t nearly as bad as it was my last few shifts. I really think I’ll be okay today. I don’t have much else to do today, thankfully. The only other responsibilities I have are going to the store with my family, and even then that isn’t something that I /have/ to do if I don’t want to or feel like I can’t. The rest of the day beyond work will be restful.

-6:59am

2:47pm

Work wasn't too bad today, thankfully. It felt weirdly slow, even for a dreary day. I made it through and took a good nap once I got home. I definitely feel rested now and I'm glad I was able to fall asleep and stay asleep for a couple of hours.

I dreamt about my ex-partner again; they've been frequenting my dreams quite a lot since the breakup. I've never seen anyone- not even through some obscure representation- in my dreams this frequently. Not my long-term high school ex, who I was with for two years, not my family members, not even anyone who has seriously traumatized me in my nightmares. But I've been dreaming about them on and off since we started talking.

This dream was pleasant, as are most of my dreams involving them. We were on a trip together, I think to Hawaii, with one of their parent's families, our mutual friends, and one of my parents. The two of us were very close, definitely acting with a level of intimacy, but I'm not sure if we were a couple in the dream. Knowing we might not have been brings me a level of comfort. I was still so comfortable with them, unafraid to ask for help, physical or otherwise, unafraid of judgement of being close to a person who brought me comfort as I rode through a new experience.

I wish I had more experiences like that with him while we were a couple. Now I get to hope that I have experiences with him like that as friends moving forward.

-2:58pm

9:38pm

My mental resolve has dropped sharply over the last hour, give or take. I'm feeling so many emotions, so many conflicting emotions. I texted a friend earlier:

"I'm in this weird limbo of I miss them but I don't

And I love them romantically but I don't

And I feel better but I don't"

And it doesn't stop there. I'm jealous of the people they might be talking to, might be driving around and cuddling in the back of their car, but I'm glad they're meeting new people and getting themselves out there and keeping themselves busy while they heal and learn and take their time away from me. I want to cry and scream and laugh and smile and hug them romantically and kiss them platonically and talk to them for hours and never talk to them ever again. My brain and my heart are emotional dumping grounds right now, for better and for worse.

I keep breaking down like I'm going to sob for hours but only the smallest tears leave my eyes, only after having to forcefully squeeze them out. And then, just moments later, it all goes back, deep inside my chest. Everything tightens again, as if being locked up with indestructible chains. I know these chains aren't actually indestructible, but they feel like it with how much they tighten around my already taught ribcage.

I'm trying to focus on tomorrow, on being small and cuddly with such a close, long term friend, but it's hard when my heart wants to pull back to my ex-partner. I want to reach out to them, text until they answer, call and say that I absolutely need to talk to them right now, but I know that I don't need them right now, nor do I ever. I do want them, that much is undeniable, and I won't try to deny it. I don't deserve to lie and deny myself of feeling those emotions, that raw, human desire.

I want to write more and get more off my chest but I feel like at this point I'd just be writing in circles, repeating over and over how much I miss them, how jealous I am, how happy I am that they're experiencing more of life, how proud I am that they're doing so much for themselves, how much I wish I was there, how glad I'm not, and so much more over and over and over and over again.

-9:53pm

2:32am

Today has been rough but I've had a lot of support from people I care about so much. It's been hard reaching out and being vulnerable but I did it and it's helped so much. Turning in for the night, I'm so anxious and emotional, but I feel like I have hope again.

Goodnight, take care; I am sending you love <3

[hellfiremunsonn]

Blood Doesn’t Scare Me. Eddie Munson x Reader

Blood Doesn’t Scare Me.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

SUMMARY: You want to get off, but your period makes you a little uncomfortable, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

AN: Thank u to the one and only for being my beta reader again, love u, ur the best @syddsatyrn​

Warnings: fem!reader, blood, period blood, female orgasm, fingering, little bit of Dom!Eddie, mention of friends to lovers, mentions of Eddie cumming in his pants. (IF THERES ANYTHING ELSE I MISSED LET ME KNOW

Word count: 3772

You've been off all day, small things irritating you more than they should, and you're trying to keep your temper down, but the consistent ache of your uterus is hard to ignore. You're hot, and then you're cold, nothing you eat is satisfying you, and if one more customer asks you literally anything you might actually explode. Although you took pride in the fact you only snapped at Robin twice, and she forgave you quickly knowing your period was trying to take you alive, but you still apologized. Knowing the annoying hormones circling your system were making you a bitter bitch to work with today.

What made it worse was how insatiably horny it was making you. Usually you could keep it contained, simply a dull ache between your thighs, but the past couple of days it was heightened to a maximum of three thousand. To the point where the seem of your jeans was pressed against your cunt just enough that you could literally feel your heartbeat in your clit. You were sure that in the right way you might actually be able to cum like this, just from standing and stacking videos. Genuinely hiding a whimper from switching your weight to your opposite foot, the bell above the door jingled. Forcing your voice up a few octaves you say "Welcome to family video" loudly before turning around, dropping your fake exaggerated smile when you realize it's Eddie.

"Hey princess" He says softly and you melted.

You and Eddie had only recently started dating, being best friends for so long, the two of you didn't want to ruin the friendship, but when those little shit teenagers locked you two in a closet in wills basement, claiming it was for 'seven minutes in heaven'  you realized it was a lot longer than seven minutes, and that the two of you were in love with each other. Since it had only been a few weeks, you hadn't really been as intimate as you wanted, both of you wanting to take it slow, trying not to rush things. Harder to forget that Eddie made you cum by touching you over your leggings in that closet, and you're pretty sure you made him cum in his jeans, but if you asked him he'd deny it.

You rush to him quickly, burying your face into his chest and inhaling deeply, arms coming around his back to hold him tightly as best as you could, two VHS tapes still held in both hands.

"Rough day?" He said, his own arms coming out to wrap around you. "You're very warm, are you feeling okay?" He tried to pull away to get a glance at you but you held onto him tighter, not wanting the hug to end so soon. He laughed a little, returning his arms to their position around your back.

"A little bit of a rough day" You said sighing into him, pulling away to look up at him, chin tucked firmly into his sternum.

"Well thankfully I've come to rescue your last thirty minutes" His hands came to cup your face, brushing a few strands of hair away and back behind your ears.

"You're truly the best" You said placing a kiss to his chest before removing yourself from him.

Eddie came to visit you often at work, coming to keep you company and to bug Steve when he was here, but sadly today Steve wasn't in. So Eddie settled on sitting on the counter, and judging the cover of each film you brought to the front to rewind.

Eddie had noticed your irritability but didn't say anything until the two of you were alone in his van. The light from the bright sunset slowly dimming from being hidden behind the few houses nearby. "You okay?" He said turning the key to start the ignition.

"My uterus hurts" You said turning to him, cheek pressed against the seat of the car, your bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

"Oh baby" Eddie said sincerely. "I'm sorry, we'll get you home quick, get you all nice and cozy yeah?" He reached over to squeeze your thigh. It was an innocent action, to tell you he felt for you, to let you know he was there for you, but what he didn't know was that it sent more annoying heat straight to your core.

"Y-yeah" You breathed out. "That would be nice" You felt your body warm, thick heat crawling over every inch of your skin, you could feel it coming out of the collar of your work shirt and you silently cringed thinking about how sweaty you must be. A shower is a must when you get to Eddies you decided.

"You sure you're okay though?" He asked again.

"As okay as I can be" You said with a reassuring smile.

When you got to Eddies you excused yourself quickly to hop into the shower, hoping to wash some of the negativity of today off, along with the attempt to get yourself off. You didn't love touching yourself while you were on your period, and never really wanted to finger yourself if it was going to cover you in blood. Often settling on touching yourself in the shower, where if any blood happened to get onto you, or come out of you it would be washed away quickly. You tried multiple positions, one leg up on the edge of the tub, both legs down but your back leaned against the wall, laying down as best as you could, but nothing felt right and you couldn't get yourself even close to an orgasm. With an annoyed huff you shut the water off and wrapped a towel around yourself. Drying your lower half quickly before putting a fresh tampon in. Annoyed at how good it felt when you did it.

Frowning your way back into Eddies room, pulling on the first t-shirt of his your hands touched, tugging on a pair of black boy shorts, ones that hugged your hips perfectly, and crawled into his bed.

It took a few minutes for Eddie to realize you had finished showering and had gotten into bed. Head peaking around the corner of his door with a raised eyebrow. You giggled when you saw him, snuggling yourself a little deeper into his pillows.

"You're getting all comfy, and cozy in here and didn't invite me? Im hurt baby, how could you" He mocked a distraught look, attempting to hide the cheeky smile underneath his dark mess of curls.

You laugh and pull the side of his blanket back aggressively. "Get in here before I change my mind"

Eddie didn't hesitate to skip his way over and jump clumsily into his bed with you. Tucking his blanket around him, and pulling you close, snuggling into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. "God you smell so good" he said rubbing his nose along the skin of your collarbone. "So good, all the time, fucking delicious"

You went stiff in his arms, the feeling of his nose against your skin spreading the heat from your core more than before. Whimpering slightly you tried to push him away, feeling too hot and horny with him so close.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie said pulling back to gage your expression, his eyes flickering all over your face.

"N-nothing m'fine, sorry" You said pushing yourself into the corner of his bed, your shoulders pressing against each side of the wall. Your heart is beating really fast, so fast that you were almost sure if Eddie looked hard enough, he could see the way your chest thumped.

"You're not fine though baby" He said sitting up. "Is it just your period bothering you?" He fumbled with his hands, unsure of what to do with them. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand, or squeeze your thigh, but he was unsure if he could or should touch you right now.

"Technically?" you said, hands coming to the hem of your shirt, folding the fabric back and forth into a tiny accordion.

"Technically?" He asked, repeating your words.

"I just- It's just that- I don't-" Frustrated, unable to phrase it the way you wanted, without it sounding weird, and without making Eddie uncomfortable.

"You know you can tell me anything right? I was your best friend before your boyfriend, and I'll always be your best friend, just now I get to kiss you" He said with a smirk.

You couldn't help but smile, biting the inside of your cheek while you looked at the doe eyed man in front of you. Your heart squeezed.

"I know baby" You said softly, shy under his gaze, returning it to the hem of your shirt.

"So come on then, out with it, give me your secrets" He said in one of his dungeon master voices, a playful smile on his lips as he watched you.

"Um, so I'm horny" You said in a rush, covering your face with both hands.

Eddie laughed for a long time, suspiciously too long. You peaked through your fingers to stare at him.

"Don't laugh!" You whined, kicking him lightly with your foot, he grabbed onto it quickly squishing your toes with his hand.

"That's it? You're horny?"

"Yeah, but I can't like" You turned your gaze away from him again. "I can't get off- I mean sometimes I can, but I can't do what I want, cause the blood grosses me out" You said honestly, the blood did gross you out so instead of trying other methods, you just avoided masturbating at all costs.

Eddie nodded, looking away from you with thoughtful eyes. "Want me to do it?" He said cooly.

You froze slightly at his words, constantly shocked at how calm and collected he could be when talking about things, or asking questions like this. "What?" You choked.

"Get you off, I'll do it, I'd be more than happy to" His eyes slightly darker now, and you couldn't help the way your body shivered at the sight.

"B-but the blood, s'gross and it'll get everywhere" you said glancing down at his bed.

"I don't know if you remember, but I almost died once, blood doesn't scare me"

You swallowed thickly.

"And towels exist for a reason" he said with a shrug, shifting so he was now laying on his side, propped up with his elbow, looking up at you.

"You don't have to, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable" you said moving, trying to relax your shoulders a little, sliding down next to Eddie, mirroring his position. His hand slid up to your waist quickly, pushing and pulling at the skin.

"Baby, I'd be face deep in between your legs right now if you'd let me, promise it doesn't, and wont make me uncomfortable" he said marking an x over his heart.

"Fuck" you breathed. Closing your eyes and trying to regain some sort of composure.

"I wont do anything you don't want me to do, but the offer still stands" his hand leaving your waist to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing down the skin just under your eye, and you hummed, leaning into his touch.

"Please?" you whispered, opening your eyes to look at him.

"Yeah?" he said with a nod, his thumb trailing down the side of your cheek, to your jaw, landing on your bottom lip. He pulled at it softly, letting it flip back into place with a light 'pop'. His eyes flickered across your face, reading your expression to make sure you were okay with it.

You nodded, afraid if you tried to speak, only a whimper would come out.

Eddie leaned in slowly, thumb resuming its gently movements against your cheek until his hand dropped lightly to your throat, warm hand engulfing your senses. Nose nudging lightly next to yours, his breath warm on your mouth, and when you tilted your head to lean in, he pulled back, reviling at the annoyed noise you let out.

"So needy hmm?" he said leaning back in, just as slow, and just as tauntingly. When his lips brushed yours he didn't move away this time, pressing them softly into you and you sighed dreamily. He kissed you gently, and you melted, more and more with each move of his mouth, slow and strategic, getting the exact noises, and responses he wanted from you. Squeezing your throat ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch and your lips to part, giving him access to slip his tongue into your mouth and you moaned, leaning into him.

Removing his hand from your throat he grabbed at your hips, pulling you onto his lap. Shifting so he was sitting up and leaning against the wall behind him. His erection pressing up against your thinly clothed cunt and you mewled, head dipping forward, chin to your chest.

"You like that pretty girl?" He asked with a small laugh, brushing your hair away from your face, tilting your head back up so he could see you. Eyes closed, and cheeks flushed, you breathed through your mouth, almost panting. "Breathe baby" he whispered.

"Sorry" You said with a small laugh.

"Don't apologize, I love your pretty noises, just wanna make sure you're breathin" Hand trailing down back to your hips and up your back, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, hands warming your skin. "I have an idea" he said while his fingers played with the elastic waistband of your underwear.

"M'listening" you said looking down at him with hooded eyes.

"Take these off, and whatever else you got going on in there" He said pulling and snapping the elastic, causing you to jump slightly. You nodded, biting your lip while hoping to hide some of your blush as you climbed off of him, heading towards the bathroom to remove your tampon before coming back, underwear in a ball held tightly in your fist.

Eddie had laid down a black towel between his legs, back still against the wall, legs splayed out into a v. He smiled wickedly as he patted the spot between his legs, beckoning you forward. "Sit" he instructed. "With your back to me"

You climbed onto the bed, dropping your underwear onto the floor next to you and crawled forward in between Eddies legs, leaning your back against his chest, your knees locking together.

Eddie hooked his chin over your shoulder, placing his hands on each of your knees. "C'mon don't get all shy on me now" his voice low as he pushed your legs apart, grabbing your legs by the pits of your knees bringing them over his thighs and pinning your feet under his calfs. his fingers traced along your skin delicately, up and down the lengths of your thighs, your hips, across your stomach, and he reviled in how your stomach contracted, ticklish under his light touches.

"Pretty, pretty, girl" he cooed in your ear, his breath fanning over the expanse of your neck, and the small bit of shoulder that peaked through.

"Eddie" You breathed, head tipping back into his shoulder, your body slowly melting back into him.

"Yeah baby?" hands moving to your stomach, pressing into the doughy skin, humming in satisfaction.

"Please" Your voice high, and whimpery, almost begging as if he wasn't going to give you what you wanted.

"I got you baby, told you I was gunna take care of you didn't I?" his hands slid back down, squeezing at the skin, where thigh met hip before ghosting one hand over to the burning heat between your legs, fingers dancing along the soft pubic hair you had let grow out. If it was anybody else touching you below the waist you might have felt a little self conscious about it, but because it was Eddie, you knew he didn't care and he never would. As if reading your thoughts he tugged at the hair lightly. "S'cute" he mumbled, while his hand finally slipped down between your legs. The two of you moaned in unison, your head tipping forward, eyes on his hand and the way it moved, but before you could cringe about any blood that might have been there, his free hand came up your throat, pushing at it until you were looking up again. "Eyes up baby girl" he said while beginning to rub slow circles on your clit.

"Oh my god Eddie" His name was barely audible from your mouth and you knew if he wasn't so close to your face he wouldn't have heard you.

Hand moving down further, middle finger grazing your entrance, teasing you slightly before slipping into you easily. "Fucking christ princess" he said moving his head so he could see the way his finger slid in and out of you with no resistance, quickly adding his ring finger just as easily. Your hips began to roll slightly, on their own to chase the high you so desperately wanted.

"M-more" You begged, voice coming out as a small whimper, your throat tightening and your eyes brimmed with tears, being so extra sensitive over the past few days from your hormones made your body feel like it was sparking with electricity. "Please Eddie" you hiccuped, tears quickly falling; down to your neck, wetting eddies hand where it still held your throat lightly.

"You sound lovely when you beg y'know?" he said mockingly, his other hand coming down to continue those slow circles, keeping in time with the quick curl of his fingers inside of you.

You huffed. "Shut it- ah" back arching away from Eddie and he tried to keep you as close to him as he could. "Fuck, fuck, f-uck, just like that Eddie, please, oh my god don't stop"

You were whining, arms coming up to grip at Eddies hair where you could reach, body jerking as it tried to curl in on itself while tingle in the pit of your stomach started to spread.

"Fuck baby, I can feel you clenching down on my fingers, you gunna come f'me?"

"Yes, oh my god" you cried. Tiny fireworks slowly began to ignite inside of your skin, your stomach bloomed, and the sparks buzzed, coursing through every one of your veins until they all snapped at the centre of your cunt. Your orgasm ripping through you so intensely you saw stars, your vision spotty as you rode the waves of it sobbing with pleasure.

Eddie kept up his movements until your hand slapped down quickly onto his wrist. His fingers slipped from you, both hands coming to rest onto your thighs that shook when he freed your legs from the restraint of his own. "Good job baby" he praised, letting your bring your knees back together. Your breathing was ragged, Eddies hands still roaming your thighs gently, giving you space to come back down, body still shaking slightly from a few sporadic sobs, left over heightened emotions and feelings finally able to leave your body. "Did so good, thank you for letting me help you"

You hadn't realized you had your eyes closed, squinting when the sun that filled Eddies room burned your retinas, blinking a few times while they adjusted. You tilted your head up, shifting your shoulders so you could see Eddies face, which was already tilted down towards you.

"There she is" He said with a smile. "Welcome back"

You hummed dreamily, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin, while he quickly pressed his lips to your palm. "Feel better?" he asked.

You nodded, turning your head back with a gasp. "Oh my god"

"What?" Eddie said concerned, leaning forward slightly.

Your thighs were covered in smudged blood, some spots now dry and others still bright red. "There's blood all over me" You groaned, mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Well yeah babe, you have blood coming out of your vagina, what did you expect, should see my hands" He said while putting both of his hands in your lap, palms up. They weren't as bloody as you expected, but still more covered than you would have liked.

"Gross" you mumbled.

"Mother Nature, never said she was nice" he said with a laugh. "Now up, up, up, shower time round two for you miss ma'am"

You giggled, turning in his lap to finally face him. His pupils were blown out, and you could feel his boner against your back the entire time, but not once did he make this about him. "Thanks teddy" you said softly. "M'promise to return the favour, but hopefully you wont cum in your pants again" You teased.

"I just made you cum, I'm covered in your blood, and you wanna talk about making me cream my jeans like I was seventeen again? Right now? You're a menace!" he yelled, hands coming to tickle your waist, the two of you laughing and squirming against each other.

"White flag!" You yelled. "I surrender! you're gunna get enough blood coming out of me to drown this town if you keep making me laugh like that" You said with a huff.

"Ahh well I'll just have to put my fingers back in to keep everyone safe"

"You're the menace here, Edward, not me" You said pushing your back into him a little harder as you stood up on shaky legs, gathering the towel he had laid down into a ball and chucking it into his overflowing laundry basket turning back to him with your hands on your hips. "You comin or what?"

He sighed, smiling lazily as his head tilted to the side. "You're s'pretty"

You blushed, eyes dropping to the floor, already flustered from your orgasm and now from his compliment.

He stretched nosily, arms above his head with his fingers interlocked while he groaned. "Alright let's get this party started" he said with a loud clap. Joining you in the doorway of his room, hands wrapping around your waist to pull you to him, lips coming down to kiss every inch of your face he could get to before you leaned away, a laughing mess.

"So you admitted it" You said cheekily, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the bathroom.

"Admitted what?" He asked, hands never leaving your waist as you bent over to turn the water on, hand under the stream until it was a temperature you liked.

"That I made you cum in your pants" you said looking back at him, smile all too wide.

"You're way too proud of that one aren't you, never gunna let me live it down huh?" he guessed, unable to hide his own smile, matching yours.

"Maybe" you said confidently.

"Maybe" he repeated, leaning down to give you one last gentle kiss before shoving you into the shower, t-shirt still on and everything.