#part 6b

[cherrywperson]

THE REALIZATION - part 3

part 1 previous next

[p4nishers]

with eddie confirming he only married shannon bc of chris and his disastrous relationship with ana i think it's pretty safe to say that he's gay. he is SO gay and i was right.

[burnthatbridge]

still not sure what inspired the software update {made using this template by @jessource}

[blackhholes]

Teen Wolf as Horror Subgenres

Season six B: Cosmic Horror

[non-plutonian-druid]

babies!

i hope none of you thought i *wouldnt* be making centaur delores. As usual, her level of realness is ambiguous but it's a silly au so the answer can be "very" if that's what floats your boat. Also, note that she's taller than five is. that's what we in the business call "foreshadowing"

[ID: Two drawings of baby apocalypse five and real person! delores as centaurs. In the first, they are both standing looking at each other. Five is looking skeptical; almost, for example, as if he ran into another person in an empty wasteland where he was expecting everyone to be dead. Delores is smiling mischievously, because she knows she's about to make a friend. In the second image, Delores is rolling around on the ground with her horse legs going everywhere. Since her horse half is a foal, this is a lot of legs to be going everywhere. Five has his hands on his hips as he looks down at her. In both, Five is wearing an apocalypse survival outfit, while Delores is wearing a cute top. End ID.]

[chaosandwolves]

I literally have no doubt anymore about Buddie going canon

Everything adds up

Every parallel, all the symbols and references, just every little detail adds up.

And then we have the things that are louder even

like the damn couch, like the interviews, like the looks Eddie gives Buck (the poker date was insane. That's not how you look at your no homo best friend)

And the obvious: Buck is Christopher's dad

Yeah I'm so absolutely convinced by now

There is just no way they did all that just to be like.... Ah no

It's been building up for so long now and the insanity we have in 6b is the finish line

They've been collecting all the hints and details and are displaying them for us once more before they finally reveal the whole picture in all its beauty

Cause if Buddie isn't the conclusion, the grand finale... What could it possibly be? Especially cause we only got 4 eps left

Buddie is coming home

[galacticlamps]

I'm going to uno reverse card you and say: for the fic guessing game, 'light'?

lol that's fair

apparently I talk about light a lot (go figure) so have this one that happens to be in the middle of its story's 'Oh' moment:

But perhaps, somewhere along the line, Jamie had slipped, and now . . . well now, standing on the balcony of a palace on another planet, with the Doctor dipping his head nearer just to hide his eyes from the light - nearer, and not farther, which would've been just as easy - no, now he had to admit something was different. When it had changed or whether it hadn't at all and he'd simply been too fool to realize it before he couldn't say, and it didn't matter anyway - he knew it now, and that scared him.

-

And just for kicks, under the cut I'm gonna put a longer excerpt from a totally different fic that came up while I was ctrl+f-ing 'light' in my wips - mainly because it happens to be part of a scene from a longish 'the Doctor & Jamie reunite with Zoe in 6b' story which is nowhere near completion, but feels relevant given the boxset Big Finish released last week (not that I've gotten a chance to listen to it yet, but still).

Zoe sat across from Jamie, her elbows on the table, her chin resting atop her hands - but she wasn't relaxed. She stared at him intently, and actually narrowed her eyes as he watched.

"What?" he asked, already defensive, and following through on an old self-conscious instinct, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With no mirror in sight, he looked to the Doctor to check if he'd somehow gotten something on his face already, but he looked just as baffled. Zoe hadn't broken her concentration yet.

"I'm trying to figure out if I'm older than you," she announced, still deep in thought.

"Ah--" the Doctor began, grinning wickedly, but whether he was going to answer her or merely tease they never found out, because Jamie shot an arm out lightning quick, as if to hold him back.

"No' so fast, you. Let the girl work it out."

He finished chewing and settled himself squarely in front of her for inspection. She continued to stare. "Y'know, I'm surprised you're having such trouble telling," he taunted. "After all, how old are you now?"

She opened her mouth at first to protest that she was under no obligation to announce her own age while he continued to keep his secret, but she still thought she might figure it out - and if she couldn't, she at least had the Doctor to rely on to make Jamie tell the truth.

So she shrugged. "I'm 41. But everyone here thinks I'm 39. I was born 39 years ago, of course, but counting chronologically from the time I left the Wheel with you in the Tardis, I aged two years before the Time Lords returned me to my own time. That was twenty-one years ago, now," she added, unable to judge if the faint waver of wistfulness in her voice was truly audible, or if it was just her own imagination. Thankfully, neither of them pressed her on it.

"Well, y'see, Zoe," Jamie began slowly, still chewing his last mouthful after she finished her explanation and sat waiting calmly for his reply. The Doctor leaned forward too, seemingly intrigued, though it must only have been to see what answer Jamie would try. "I was born in 1724," he paused and washed down his food with a swig from his glass, and for a moment Zoe had the grace to assume he was just working through his calculations, as she had done. "So I'm pretty sure I'm older than you," he finished, setting the glass back down on the table triumphantly.

All at once she felt a young girl again, a devilish light in her eyes. She wanted to jump across the table and tackle him - but that wasn't what Madam Presidents did. "Why, you--"

"They don't traditionally swear at their guests either, Ms. Heriot."

She turned on the Doctor, shocked. "You read my mind," she began, more impressed than accusatory, but he did at least have the decency to look sheepish.

He coughed politely. "Only to, ah, verify your math. And I'm sure you could feel my presence there, if you think about it."

"I could but I didn't know that's what it was. You've gotten so much better at it."

"Had to," he said simply, and shrugged, his eyes downcast.

Well, there was more to that, clearly, she thought, filing his deliberately nonchalant expression away for closer inspection later - but for now she was not about to be deterred. She snapped her eyes and her attention both back to Jamie.

"Still, we both know the Doctor obviously continues to value honesty and accuracy, so surely he'll tell me how old you are, even if you won't."

"Not if I ask him not to - right, Doctor?"

"Well . . . " he began, noncommittally drawing the word out so long that Zoe actually had time to wonder what his plan was for once he ran out of vowel. Jamie looked so genuinely horrified it was downright comical, and she had to force herself not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"We're married, Doctor," he reminded him, indignant.

"Oh, but it's Zoe," he complained, sounding every bit the petulant child she remembered he could be, all those years ago. "And as far as I can remember, none of the ceremonies we ever partook in had anything in the vows about obeying. Although I might be wrong . . ." he added under his breath, scratching his head.

"Charming," Jamie grumbled.

"Well, when we've had as many weddings as we have it can be quite a lot to keep straight in your head. You know, I sometimes wonder if we might qualify for some kind of an all-time record. If we hadn't the need to be covert about so many of them, of course."

"Stop that!" she snapped, and the Doctor turned back to her, the picture of confused innocence.

"Stop what?"

"You're trying to help him without helping him, just by distracting me. Naturally, I want to hear everything about all these weddings of yours, and I will see to it that you'll be having another one while you're here, like it or not--"

"Yes ma'am," Jamie quipped, mock-serious.

"--But first, I am going to find out how old you are, James Robert McCrimmon, and if you force me to use your husband to do it, then that decision is on you."

Jamie mopped his face with his napkin and came out of it smiling. He stretched and dropped an arm around the Doctor's shoulders, perfectly relaxed. Already, Zoe felt her heart sink, but she was careful to keep her composure.

"I'm only pullin' your leg. I'm 44."

"What, really? And you expect me to just believe that?" She raised an eyebrow in challenge but then glanced at the Doctor to confirm, and when he nodded she allowed her facade to crumble, rolling her eyes. Of course she had known when she'd first laid eyes on them that they'd be cutting it close, but Jamie still had quite a bit of that boyishness about him that had made it frustrating enough being his junior the first time around, and she really thought she might genuinely have enjoyed being just a hair older than him, for a change. After all, if you had to be ripped apart from your family and sent to separate timezones to live out your lives forever wishing for an improbable reunion, it might as well be good for something. But Jamie was far too smug looking now to be pretending, and Zoe knew it. "Oh, some people have all the luck," she groaned, dropping her arms and collapsing back dejectedly against her seat.

"Aye," Jamie said, leaning in over the table to follow her, "and some people live 22 years on Earth before they meet a time traveler, then spend 5 years with him before his people erase their memory and send them home to live another 5 before he's allowed to come pick them up again, and then force the pair of 'em to've spent 12 years so far working for them. Some people, eh?" he finished hotly, swiping his glass off the table again and raising it to his mouth in one fluid motion to take a long drink. But even so, his face was not so totally obscured from view that Zoe couldn't make out the amused curl at the corner of his lips, and when she caught his gaze again the glimmer in his eye was all fondness, just as it was with Doctor's and, she knew, her own.

Yes, no matter the circumstances, it was certainly good to see them again.

[hesgomorrah]

realizing i'm posting this for no one cause nobody's read world game but i'm sad about serena again

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Not a single shift has gone by since November 15 that I haven’t thought of Demetri Alexopoulos

how am i supposed to go to work when im literally thinking about The Character

[jacereaall]

WIP !! this ones called "im never leaving my moms house" hoping to finish it before my schools march exhibition

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

BEHIND BLUE EYES

It all started out as an itch that begged to be scratched. The Winter Soldier's basic primal urges weren't wiped away with his memories. When he saw you, those urges resurfaced and you were willing, nay happy, to stroke the beast. But these urges and actions inevitably lead to more and HYDRA doesn’t allow feelings to interfere with their agenda.

Pairing: Winter Soldier x HYDRA!reader, Bucky Barnes x HYDRA!reader

Word count: 47.5k in 12 parts.

Warning: 18+ MINOR DNI. Smut... lots of it, with hint of a plot. Guided masturbation, hand job, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, PinV/penetrative sex, sex pollen, choking, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m), voyeurism, somnophilia, breeding kink, dirty talk, body worship, mutual masturbation, physical violence, fugitive situation, loss, death. Some poorly translated Russian. If you see anything you think I should add to the warnings, please let me know! FYI, I love a good happy ending.

Posting schedule will be Mondays and Fridays around 7.30am ACT / 4.30pm EST / 1.30pm PST / 9.30pm BST

A/N: Constructive feedback is appreciated, comments and reblogs are life giving! Please be kind to me, I have a very fragile ego!

MASTERLIST

1: LONGING

2: RUSTED

3: SEVENTEEN

4: DAYBREAK

5: FURNACE

6A: NINE (part 1)

6B: NINE (part 2)

7: BENIGN

8: HOMECOMING

9: ONE

10: FREIGHT CAR

EPILOGUE: REQUIEM

[cherrywperson]

love

haha tsb reference

[p4nishers]

gay ppl are addicted to adding 'man' to the end of every love confession like they're not totally in love

[radioapple-heathen]

📻🍎 Headcanons I will die violently on a hill for:

1. Lucifer 👏 carried 👏 Charlie 👏 (this hc can be dragged from my cold, dead hands). He's an angel and a shape shifter, you telling me my man couldn't magic a vagina/womb if he wanted to?

2. Alastor's hair is naturally wavy/curly, and he uses magic/routine to keep it straight (a habit from his human years to help him remain 'white passing' as a mixed race child in the 1920s). Lucifer loves Alastor's curls and is strangely possessive of them (only Lucifer gets to see them 🥲).

3. Lucifer plucks his wings as a way to cope with his anxiety, and Alastor is very cross when he does this, because, like Lucifer is with his curls, Alastor is possessive of Lucifer's wings.

4. Lucifer's snake is an extension of himself just like Alastor's shadow is an extension of him. The alternative is that Lucifer turns into his snake when he can't maintain his human form (Ruination of Lucifer responsible for this hc).

5. Alastor makes excellent coffee (keelywolfe's fault).

6a. Lucifer loves to wear Alastor's clothes. He'll make a nest of them and everything.

6b. Alastor will bitch and moan about Lucifer being a clothes thief but he (non so) secretly loves it. His man looks fine in red.

7. Alastor is Lucisexual. As a fellow ace, I am certain this is actually part of the spectrum.

8. Lucifer is obsessed with Alastor's ears/tail/chest fur/antlers and struggles with cuteness aggression over them.

9. Alastor nuzzles Lucifer with his ears to scent him.

10. Music/dancing is a HUGE part of their relationship. 🥲

[onemore2morrow]

I don’t know if this makes sense and I’m probably gonna delete it eventually because Trump administration and internet tracking 🤪

I have seen so many white women on TikTok talk about the “4b” movement or “boycotting men”. I’ve also seen so many white women talking about a “loss for women everywhere” and “the devastating feeling of being a woman” and “is this what katniss felt like?”. And those feelings are valid, I’m not one to tell people how they can / can’t react during a world changing election. (I also know the katniss one is usually a joke).

But 53% of us couldn’t even band together to vote for a qualified black woman over a literal rapist. We need to swallow that. We need to address that. And that same 53% is commenting things like “He doesn’t want you anyway🤪” or “More for me!” on posts talking about things like a sex ban or 4B movement. There is no sisterhood, and there will be no “4B, 5B, 6B, or 7B” movement so long as 53% of white women continue to center men. Even out of those of us that did vote for Kamala or third party, some of us didn’t break up with our republican boyfriends/fiances/husbands until yesterday. And make no mistake, I am so proud of those of you who did finally find the courage to end that relationship. I’m not shaming you. But I am saying we cannot rely on this “sisterhood”.

There is no sisterhood in whiteness, because white supremacy and far-right ideologies are inherently based on in group fighting and othering. Make no mistake, you can find sisterhood in your white friends, women, and groups. But there’s a difference. Sisterhood and female solidarity has never been a part of whiteness. Which is why it is so important we center poc and specifically black voices during the next years ahead. Not to put labor on them, not as an excuse to not work, but because this “sisterhood” we speak of doesn’t exist. Not without acknowledging race. If we truly want to see change, we need to start decentralizing ourselves from the conversation. We need to unpack whiteness. And we need to unpack our main character syndromes.

What does this mean?

No handmaids tale cosplays.

No “we’re the daughters of the witches you couldn’t burn”.

No “I was raised by Katniss Everdeen”

Again, I am not saying that sisterhood doesn’t exist among white women. But I am saying sisterhood centered around whiteness will never be as strong or as potent as intersectional, anti-racist sisterhood. And if we really, really want to see change, we need to unpack this and we need to unpack this yesterday.

I hope this makes sense.

Sincerely,

An Embarrassed, Disappointed White Woman

p.s.

I’m not saying anything new. But unfortunately, if it’s from a fellow white woman I’m hoping more people will listen.

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Reader (hurt/no comfort)

Summary: While visiting your friend from college, you meet her neighbor across the hall and begin a fling with him. But how long can these good times last?

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), handjob, oral (m! receiving), unprotected p in v, hurt/no comfort, cheating, mention of weight shaming (not towards Reader)

A/N: y'all asked for it and I have delivered. Sorry, there won't be a part 2 fix-it because I like to put the "hurt" in "hurt/no comfort."

--

Hawkins, Indiana didn’t have too much to offer. It was a tiny blip on a map that you could drive through and barely notice if you weren’t paying close attention. 

It also happened to be the hometown of your best friend from college. You and Nancy became fast friends after you both got lost on your first day at Emerson. It turned out that you were going to the same class, and the room number had been a misprint that led to a nonexistent room. 

Now, fresh on the heels of graduation, Nancy had secured a full-time position at the Hawkins Post and just moved into her own apartment. It gave you the perfect excuse to spend a few days crashing at her place like you’d never left the dorms. 

At least, that had been the original plan, until Nancy got a call about a biohazard leak from Hawkins Lab that had begun infiltrating an area affectionately dubbed “Lovers Lake,” which could be her first big story if she played her cards right. Why a miniscule town had a whole lab, you had no idea. What you did know was that you would be spending most of your time here by yourself, rather than with Nancy. 

Long days alone left you bored, occasionally working on the draft of your novel. While Nancy took to the structure of journalism, you preferred creative writing. She was the logician to your dreamer. Sometimes you loved that about her; other times, her straightforward line of thinking was the bane of your existence. 

Words swam on the page as you scanned each line, adding details and crossing out any superfluous information that added nothing to the plot. You pinched the bridge of your nose and massaged it, hoping to settle your vision enough to keep editing. 

Knock knock knock. 

“Wheeler, you in there?”

A man’s voice drifted from the other side of the door. Nancy had briefly mentioned knowing some of her neighbors, but you had never actually met them. 

“Wheeler?”

You padded over to the door. When you peered through the peephole, you saw the fish-eye version of a man. You first noticed his frizzy curls escaping the rubberband attempting to hold back his hair—well, that and his biceps, fully on display in his black tank top. 

Opening the door, you willed yourself to keep your composure.  

His brown eyes widened and his full lips turned upwards into a small smile. “You’re not Wheeler.”

“What gave it away?”

The man leaned one muscular arm against the doorframe. He smelled of tobacco and cologne. “Cute and sarcastic. A winning combination.” His smirk nearly brought you to your knees. “I ran out of paper towels and figured Wheeler probably keeps ‘em stockpiled. She has that ‘doomsday prepper’ energy.”

You laughed, crossing your arms as you let your eyes meet his. How did Nancy live in the same building as this guy and not constantly jump his bones? “I think she’d prefer to call it ‘emergency preparedness.’”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.” His gaze flicked over to the roll of paper towels Nancy kept by the sink. “May I?”

Nodding, you stepped aside to let him in. “I’m Eddie, by the way,” he said over his shoulder.

You introduced yourself with as much confidence as you could muster. “I’m supposed to be visiting Nancy for the week, but she’s been at work twenty-four seven.” 

Eddie’s ears pricked at the information. “I live across the hall in 6B if you ever need anything. Snacks, music recommendations, someone to keep you entertained since Wheeler selfishly ditched you.” His eyes twinkled at the joke, but there was a mischievous air in his tone. An insinuation of the type of entertainment he might provide. 

It wasn’t until the next day that you took Eddie up on his offer, knocking on his door three times. Your heart pounded in your chest the moment you heard him slide the chain lock off of its track, its beating surely still audible even as he cracked open the metal door. 

“Well, look who it is.” An unlit cigarette dangled between his lips and he’d pulled his curls back into a bun at the nape of his neck. “How can I be of service, sweetheart?”

“I was hoping we could hang out?” You winced at the inflection that made your statement into a question. 

Eddie cocked his head in contemplation. “Yeah?” He chuckled and shoved the cigarette back into its pack. “All right. Let’s go to yours then.”

His fingers brushed against the small of your back as you led him to Nancy’s apartment. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. Were you really doing this? Were you really inviting a stranger over to hang out?

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea—

“Does Wheeler have a guest room? Or does she make you crash on the couch?”

Shaking off your nerves, you summoned a smile. “No guest room, unfortunately.”

“Such a shame.” Eddie clicked his tongue. “Was hoping for a little privacy.” Head tilted to the side, his gaze devoured you whole. 

“I mean…” You wracked your brain for a solution. “We could just talk. Get to know each other.”

He exhaled, his breath laced with frustration. “Sweetheart, we only have a week. Six days now, actually, and then you go back home. ‘S not a lot of time.”

With that, Eddie stepped forward and placed a gentle kiss on your neck, letting his lips linger for a moment as he whispered, “is this okay?”

“Mhm.” Your hands readily found his waist, fingertips digging into the skin as you pulled him in closer. Hardness pressed against the fly of his jeans, and you could feel it even through the thick fabric. 

“Gotta admit, sweetheart,” Eddie tugged your shirt up over your head and tossed it aside haphazardly. “I was thinking about you when you knocked. Was about to take matters into my own hands.” 

He grinned at the double entendre, one hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra. “Goddamn.” He positioned his lips around one nipple, then the other, sucking until they were pert and sensitive. 

Desire pooled between your thighs and a whimper escaped you, your breath hitching as you tried to regain some semblance of control. No one had ever made you feel so wanted, so needed, with only a few kisses. 

“‘S a pretty noise,” Eddie mumbled. He unbuttoned your jeans with the dexterity of a musician, and you wondered if he played any instruments. 

You didn’t know a lot about him: his job, his hobbies, his favorite color. There was no time to consider that now, not while he had sat himself on the sofa and was already unbuckling his own belt. 

Eddie pulled his pants and boxers just low enough to free his erection, the head of his cock already slick with pre-cum. He leaned his head back, his hand reaching out to yours. 

Naively, you threaded your fingers with his, like it was some intimate gesture. Embarrassment flooded your bloodstream when Eddie laughed under his breath and wrapped your hand around his length. 

“There ya go, sweetheart.” He inhaled sharply as you moved your hand up and down. 

You worked him, swiping your thumb over the tip and feeling him shudder at your touch. Each reaction grew your confidence until you were straddling him, the thin fabric of your panties serving as the only barrier between the two of you. 

Eddie’s palm pressed against the back of your head, a wordless plea for you to use your mouth. You obliged, pulling his pants down to his ankles and trying not to outwardly wince when your knees dug into the thin carpet.

You relished the sound of each moan that you drew from him, knowing that you were making him feel that way. Your lips wrapped around the head, tongue swirling around it to further heighten his sensitivity. One hand cupped his balls, carefully kneading them in the same rhythm that your mouth took with his shaft. 

As if on instinct, he pushed your head farther down his shaft. You weren’t expecting it, tears pricking at your eyes as you coughed around him. 

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie let go of you so you could readjust. You were all too grateful that he didn’t turn the moment into a chance to pity you, saving you from further humiliation. 

Wordlessly, you went back to sucking him off. His thighs trembled; for a moment, you expected to feel him spilling onto your tongue. But Eddie only pulled back, his finger wiping away the saliva that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. 

“Ride me.” He patted his lap, eyes shining as you obeyed without hesitation. “Fuck, wish you were gonna be around longer. I could get used to this.”

Eddie watched you as you sank down, taking him inch by glorious inch until you were full of him. Your own gaze stayed fixed on his lips, so plush and begging to be kissed. 

You let lust guide you. Despite an initial shock, Eddie parted your lips with his tongue until your shuddering breath mixed with his. Had no one ever kissed him with such passion? Had no one ever shown him how wanted he was? Is that why he had seemed so surprised when you displayed that kind of intimacy?

There was no time to further ponder these notions, not when he gripped your ass and bucked his hips upward. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was so good, it was too easy for all of your thoughts to only focus on him. The way his mouth tasted of tobacco, the way he held you like he couldn’t bear to let you go, the way each thrust filled you deliciously…

“You close?”

Were you? Not really; it had been just a few minutes, but you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Men got insecure if they finished before their partner, especially someone new. 

So you just nodded, your eyes locking onto him in hopes he’d believe the lie. Eddie didn’t meet your look; he leaned forward and dug his teeth into your shoulder as he came.

“Oh, God. Fucking Christ–holy shit.”

Giddiness and a twinge of pride fluttered within you, almost as good as an orgasm itself. Maybe you’d get yours next time.

As though reading your mind, Eddie tucked his forefinger under your chin and his thumb atop it. “We should do this again sometime.”

 And so you did. Every day that week while Nancy was at work, Eddie came over to her apartment. The couch became your sex spot, so much that you joked about Eddie’s ass leaving an imprint in the fabric. 

“Maybe we could go to your place?” You suggested on Thursday when Eddie practically mauled you the moment he stepped through the doorway.

He just shook his head. “Nah. I wouldn’t want you to see all of my shit, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even want to imagine the bachelor pad that you might find across the hall, empty pizza boxes cluttering the trash can, beer bottles strewn everywhere, ashtrays full of cigarette butts. 

You did find out a little more about Eddie: He worked nights at the plant, which was why he was home during the day. He played guitar and sang lead vocals in his band, Corroded Coffin. And once you moved his hand down to your clit, he could definitely make you come.

That Friday, before Eddie pulled out, he ran his thumb along your lower lip.

“Wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow morning,” he murmured. “If you were sticking around, I might have had to ask you on a date.”

It was almost enough. The thought of being a real couple, someday even making love instead of simply having sex, brought a smile to your face. Maybe you could make these visits to Nancy more often than you’d originally anticipated.

You decided it must be fate when rain poured down in sheets and lightning zigzagged across the sky, delaying your flight for twelve hours. The cab driver crawled at a snail’s pace as he drove you back to Nancy’s, and you kept reminding yourself that he was doing it for your safety. 

Eddie would be so excited to have another day with you. Another afternoon to spend together, to draw pleasure from one another…possibly even discuss the potential of a long-distance relationship.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

His name echoed with each step you took up the stairwell. You would just knock on his door, fling yourself into his arms, and–

“Hey, babe. Looks like you made it back just in time.”

Eddie. 

Your stomach was a leaden weight when you reached the sixth floor and saw Eddie taking a suitcase from a blonde woman and kissing her until her baby pink lipstick smudged on his mouth. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a thin gold band on his ring finger that hadn’t been there the whole week.

“I would’ve walked if it meant getting home,” the woman said softly. “My mom is still awful, by the way. She kept asking if I was pregnant because, and I quote, ‘you look like you’ve been gaining weight, Chrissy.’”

There was no hiding the smirk on Eddie’s face. “We could make it happen, if you want.”

Chrissy swatted at him and walked into the apartment, and then it was just you and Eddie.

“You’re married.”

You barely recognized your own voice, thick with tears that you were willing back until you were alone. 

Surprise flashed across his face for only a second before he composed himself. He looked right through you, mumbling sorry under his breath as he tugged his wife’s–his wife’s–luggage over the threshold and disappeared to be with her.

--