#s'great

[itsbenedict]

so many baseball bats

get a haircut, hippie

WK reviews +5 lessons

make a list of art assets necessary for the launch

do something off that list of assets

update loop for fight screen, go through lifecycle

okay sure it's 1:43 AM but i did get everything done, and i don't have to get up early tomorrow

[insensible-waters]

My favorite part of looking for images on Google is finding someone's else's moblie screenshot of another Google image search and never find the picture in the screenshot.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

We had a school book fair start today. And I wasn’t going to get anything, but I saw a titanic book and….. honestly it’s pretty good. But it’s your fault. I can’t believe u would make me read a real physical book. ;(

LOLLOLOOLOLOLOL WHICH ONE??? i just got a little infall of money (like 20 bucks) and im willing to buy it if i must . i cant beliebe thsi..... i love it. the little things make me smile :))

[swelling-feeling]

Maxim and Spinel are vibing in public - what they're doing doesnt exactly matter, propably just going on a walk - as Spinel just looks at Maxim, giving him a nudge to grab his attention, before looking at him with a flirty look, puffing her cheeks and pointing at herself, Maxim knowing what it means, and as such making him very flustered, Spinel then showing a "shh" with her finger over her lips, playfully showing her tongue, as the two continue on their day - a little flustering gesture that only the two of them understand the meaning of

Spinel's asking Maxim to puff her up later lol

[sturnioz]

shy!matt finds himself struggling when you show off your new outfits.

"what do you think about this one?" you ask, stepping into your bedroom in your new skirt, admittedly a lot longer than your usual style, but with the cold, crisp air settling in, you wanted to be as warm, prepared and cute as possible — choosing a pretty midi skirt with delicate floral patterns that sway gently with your movements.

matt lounges on your bed, his back propped against the headboard, one leg casually crossed over the other, and he's absorbed in his phone, scrolling through his social media feed, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face.

when he hears your voice, his eyes dart up, and he tilts his head to the side, taking in your look. a soft giggle escapes his lips, breaking the momentary silence.

"you um, look like a librarian or somethin'," he says, and when you respond with an unimpressed look, he fidgets, his smile turning sheepish as he backtracks, "a comfy librarian?"

"yeah, yeah, whatever." you murmur, tugging off your skirt with a huff and tossing it aside. matt chuckles softly, but he respects your privacy, returning his focus to his phone as he settles more comfortably on your bed, waiting for you to try on the next skirt.

the next one is shorter than what you were expecting — but paired with thick tights or even some thigh-highs, you're almost positive that the length of the skirt and the chilly air wouldn't be too much of a problem.

you smooth the black fabric with your hands, flattening out the creases as you gently call out matt's name, eager to hear his thoughts. when he looks up, his phone slips from his fingers, tumbling to the bed as his gaze locks onto your bare thighs. his mouth falls open in stunned surprise, shyness crawling over his features.

your eyebrows knit together at his odd behaviour, waiting for his approval or disapproval, but then you notice it — the unmissable tent in his pants.

"it's good, s'great," matt chokes out, his voice strained as he clears his throat. he rubs his clammy palms on his thighs, desperately averting his gaze to a random spot on the wall as he swallows thickly. "yeah, uh, that one — it's um, yeah.. s'nice."

"nice?" you repeat, a smirk spreading across your face as you glance down at the skirt, playfully tugging at the hem. "don't you think it's a little.. short?"

"short—yeah, s'kinda.. short. a little — yeah," matt stutters, nodding rapidly while blinking as if trying to clear his head. he reaches for your pillow behind him, laying it over his lap, fingers tugging at the pillow cover as though it could hide his embarrassment. "but it — it's pretty, y'know. nice."

you can't help but laugh softly, enjoying the way he fumbles for words, his shyness only making you feel more confident. you take a step closer to the bed, leaning forward slightly.

"pretty, hm? you like it?"

matt's eyes widen, and he shifts beneath the pillow awkwardly, his gaze flickering back to your legs for just a moment before he quickly looks away again. "yeah — yeah, i like it. s'just different, y'know? you... i like it."

you lean in more, lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. "you can look, matt... it's okay."

he stills for a moment, caught off guard. then, with a subtly shift of his hips against the pillow, his eyes slowly drift back to you, cheeks dusted a faint pink that deepens with every passing second.

but he doesn't let his gaze linger for long as he snaps it away, stammering, "yeah, no, m'good. m'soooo good."

"you sure?" you tease, biting down on your plush lip. "because to me it seems like you're having a hard time focussing."

matt lets out a choked groan, his tongue rolling across his cheek as he shakes his head, fully aware of your innuendo and teasing tone. he slips further down on the bed, rolling onto his side to turn away from you, burying his flustered face in the blankets.

"can't believe you're fuckin' doin' this to me.." he mumbles into the fabric, voice muffled but laced with a mix of embarrassment and shyness.

you grin to yourself at the scene, making a mental note to wear the skirt more often — especially if you're going to get a reaction like that.

© STURNIOZ

[erwinsvow]

omg can you do best friend rafe getting jealous of guys flirting with reader, so he pulls her aside and kisses her and just says “your mine” or sum like that

omg !! i did a lil hybrid of rafe's friend / sarahs bestie, but hope you love it ♡

you had bought a new dress for this party. the house parties on the kook blocks weren't something so special that they required a new outfit, but you felt different today.

nothing in your closet was screaming at you and you knew that you wanted to make an impression today—wanted to find a guy and get a date or at least a trip to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs.

so—a new dress. that was your solution—pretty and strapless, with a blue flowers and a matching ribbon tied up in the back. your plan had worked—a boy had offered to get you a drink the second you turned away from sarah and faced the crowded room.

smiling at him and twirling a piece of hair, you try to assess if this boy will do for now. he's nice enough, asking you questions without entirely making the conversation about himself. the drink he got you was a beer from the keg, but you can overlook that.

"so, you got a boyfriend?" he asks, shouting over the music. you look at him and wish he hadn't asked—officially you don't, but answering the question with a no makes your stomach turn. you look at nice brown eyes staring back at you, wondering why something about them feels wrong.

"yeah, she does." a voice comes from behind you—one you are entirely too familiar with, one that has no business approaching you now and claiming that you have a boyfriend. honestly, the nerve of him.

"no, i don't. ignore him, trust me. that's what i do."

"if you want all your teeth to stay in your mouth, get lost." your eyes roll back, turning around to confront rafe, but before you can even move, the boy shoots off in the other direction. angry now, you spin on your heels to face him.

"what is wrong with you? no, wait, don't answer that. otherwise we'll be here forever!" snappy, though you're mad the cute boy with the brown eyes that you still can't figure out why they bothered you is gone.

"why the hell are you runnin' around talkin' to some ass-"

"because i can, rafe. you're not my boyfriend. what kinda memory loss do you have that you keep forgetting that?"

maybe you went a little too far—rafe grabs your upper arm and pulls you away, out of the crowded living room and into an empty bedroom off the hallway. the music is a faint vibration from here, seemingly miles away as you try to shake off rafe's too-strong grip.

"i told you to quit talkin' to strangers. why can't y'just listen, huh?"

"i don't have to listen to you! you're still not my boyfriend-"

"i don't have to be your boyfriend, you're still mine, got that?"

though the confession makes your younger-self's heart race, your current self knows this is a bad idea. the girl who became sarah's friend and nursed a crush on her older brother for years smiles with satisfaction somewhere inside you.

"rafe, stop. this is a terrible idea, okay? let's just go back and pretend you didn't say any of that."

"what the hell d'you mean? s'great idea, kid-"

"no it's not!" you shout back, sounding more confused than angry. "you're my best friend's brother! you're my friend! this, this could end so horrible and messy. and-and you sell drugs! i don't even do any drugs!"

"huh?" rafe looks about as confused as you've ever seen him.

"and you're a player. and-and i'm not interested in that."

"are you done?"

"no!" you bark it back, but then realize that was all the excuses you had for why you can't date rafe. "yes."

"i said you're mine, and that's end of story. if i see you talkin' to some guy he's gonna turn up missing. so unless y'want that on your conscious-"

"rafe!"

"hey, my turn. m'not jokin' around. it's not gonna end, and i sell drugs, don't do them anymore. and i'm being serious about you. so shut up and c'mon, going back out there together."

stunned into silence, you blink stupidly back at rafe. he comes closer, gives you a kiss that makes your knees weak and head thud.

"new dress? i like it. let's go."

"thanks. okay." you look up at your new boyfriend, looking at his pretty blue eyes that happen to match your dress, and realizing this is why everyone else's eyes feel wrong—they're not rafe's.

[mouseymilkovich]

hello. i am back. 33/16 carmluca or gallzatto your pick!!! thank you for inviting me to ur sleepover <3 -🪱 🛌

worm came first to DELIVER!! i'll go with gallzatto partially cus capri also requested carmluca but also cus i still need to make a carmluca tag OOPSIES

33. “she’s doing so great, right? why don’t you tell her she’s doing a good job” + 16. “i can make her cum quicker than you” — from ; threesome smut prompts

🎀 let's have a sleepover 🎀

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Two competitive boyfriends made for some... well, many, interesting nights. Lip was competitive from having loads of siblings, Carmy was competitive from always wanting to be the best. Tonight was one of those interesting nights.

"I can make 'er cum quicker than you." Carmy muttered, eyeing Lip from between your thighs.

Well, Lip took that personally. That motherfucker... he literally took out his phone to time Carmy.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Bear." Lip grunted, arms crossed over his bare chest.

Your back arched and you cried out as Carmy's tongue delved into you, his nose brushed against your poor, aching clit. As you soaked his mouth and chin, Lip stopped the timer. Three minutes... not bad.

You really didn't get time to recover as Carmy pulled away. He started the timer again as Lip flipped you onto your stomach, and wasted no time shoving his cock into your wet cunt. You yelped, one of his hands grabbed at your ass cheeks while the other teased your clit. He had to slow himself when he felt you clenching around him.

"Yeah, c'mon, bunny. Let's show Bear how good you take it." Lip rasped, then smirked over at Carmy. "She's doing s'great, right? Why don’t you tell 'er she’s doin' a good job.”

You couldn't manage out any words, barely registering Carmy praising you alongside Lip. You came around Lip, falling limp against the bed as he lazily fucked into you to get himself there. Two minutes and thirty seven seconds.

"I win."

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 5 of November Paramedic; part 4 is here and the AO3 version is here.)

Liquid sound courses through Eddie's body. His fingers dance over Sweetheart's strings, hitting every note perfectly. Behind him, Gareth is going at the drums like a beast while Jeff and Marv have gravitated together, now playing back-to-back. In front of him, a wall of people is pogoing, restricted by The Behemoth's 'no moshing policy'. When he launches into the solo, their headbanging turns so vicious they're but a wild sea of hair with haphazard devil horns sticking up. Solo over, he grabs the mic to roar the outro lyrics.

The audience screams; Eddie's ears ring. His veins hold more adrenaline than blood and his life has never been better.

"Thank you! You've been glorious tonight!" He sweeps his sweat-soaked hair from his face and winks at a cluster of girls in the front row. "We're Corroded Coffin and you'll see us here again soon. For now, thank you and good night!"

On his way off the stage, he catches one of the girls' hand and drops a kiss on her palm. She beams, face pink, as her friends shriek.

It's not his favorite thing about performing. He likes playing on stage because of the release, because of the building nervosity that erupts with the music. He likes it because it's fun. But the electricity between him and the crowd? The charged looks of pure want from men and women alike?

It doesn't make it worse. He's not burdened by being desired.

They congratulate each other outside as they deposit their guitars and few pieces of personal equipment in Eddie's van. Gareth is especially bouncy, telling Eddie over and over how he was great, he was on fire, he was invincible. Eddie would've questioned the post-show hype if he hadn't immediately demanded they go back inside for drinks; if Gareth thinks he can flatter himself into a free round, he's correct.

After the fresh June night, the air inside The Behemoth is stiflingly hot. It plus the hum of the patrons leave a cloying buzz in the back of his head. He might only stay for the one round before going home. Possibly two if those front-row ladies decide to pay; they're eyeing him right now. Sure, they're not Eddie's type, but that's what the other guys are there for.

Except when the women approach, Gareth shuts them off by pulling Marv in between them and steering Eddie in the opposite direction. Pushing Eddie forward, seemingly uncaring if Jeff and Marv keep up, he goes on his tip toes and hops every other step to peer above the crowd.

"Are you looking for someone?" Eddie asks.

"Noo, I just thought I saw someone at the bar…"

"Yeah, that means you're looking for someone, dipshit. Who is it?"

"It's… Uh…" Gareth says inattentively, scanning the bar area.

A large hand clamps around Eddie's shoulder, turning him around. He promptly swallows his tongue.

"Dude, you were great!" Steve says, smiling so big it could sustain a small country with power for the winter.

His hair is fluffy tonight, lying in a soft swoop. He's wearing a charcoal Henley, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tufts of chest hair peeking out from between the undone buttons. And he's got glasses on. Fucking glasses. Thin wireframes, an elegant complement to his beautiful face and delicate contrast to his hunky everything else.

Eddie's reply is strangled nonsense that drowns in Gareth's shouted, "Hey! You made it!"

"Yeah, man! Thanks for the invite!" Steve says, extending his hand for a shake.

"Anytime, dude! S'great to see you," Gareth replies, slapping and grabbing Steve's hand in a perfectly executed man-shake. Like they're a pair of fucking frat bros.

But that isn't the important part. No, the important part here is the word 'invite'. Who, when, where, and above all what the fuck??

"We loved it!" Robin says from half behind Steve. Because of course she's also here, wearing a patterned blazer that should clash with her differently patterned button down, yet doesn't. She continues gushing about the performance as Steve nods along and the rest of the band interject their gratitude whenever she pauses for breath for longer than a second. Eddie is the only one who hasn't said a peep.

He needs to fucking peep.

"Glasses!"

His exclamation has the others turn and stare so fast their necks snap. He ignores Gareth's snicker, cheeks burning. One of these days he will run into Steve without acting like a fool, but not today.

"What?" Steve says, his already huge eyes magnified by the glass. Damn, his lashes are long and dark.

"Y-You got glasses. I didn't know that."

Steve's brows jump, as if he forgot he's wearing them. He briefly goes cross-eyed as he tries to look at the spectacles resting on his nose. Then he lets out a giggle that's so cute it hurts.

"Oh, yeah. I usually wear contacts, but they expired and the new ones haven't arrived yet." He scratches beneath his eye, pushing the glasses askew. "I'd just wear the expired ones, but…"

"No!" Robin snaps. "It's bad for your eyes!"

"Yeah."

"You need to take care of yourself!"

Steve levels her with an unimpressed look, cocked eyebrow and pursed, plush lips included. "That's rich coming from someone who stopped eating halfway through an Alfred Hitchcock marathon because she didn't want to pause Saboteur to go grocery shopping."

Robin puts a scandalized hand to her chest. "I'm a linguist, not a medic. I can do whatever I want."

"That's not-"

"Anyway!" She smiles at Eddie and the guys. "You rocked. We had a blast. Steve even danced."

"That wasn't dancing. I was keeping you from faceplanting when you tripped over your own feet."

"Steve, go buy us drinks," Robin says.

"Why me?"

"They brought the entertainment; we'll bring the refreshments. And I'm broke. So chop-chop!"

She claps twice an inch from his nose tip. Steve rolls his eyes, but obliges, striding off toward the bar. Robin emits a witchlike cackle at getting her way.

Eddie elbows Gareth in the ribs hard, gritting out, "You invited them, huh?"

Gareth grins impishly even as he rubs the most certainly bruising spot. However, Robin's villainous glee melts away; she frowns.

"Is that a problem?" she asks.

Shit.

"Oh, no, no!" he says.

"Never!" Gareth shouts.

"New faces in the audience is always a cause for celebration," Marv says.

"He just didn't expect to see you, is all." Jeff steps between Eddie and Robin, wearing a disarming smile. "Gareth didn't tell any of us we had special guests waiting, but it's great to have you here. I'm Jeff."

Robin hums and appraises them with suspicion, eyes lingering on Eddie. Then she smiles; it would've been pleasant if it wasn't so sharp.

"Let's grab a table," she says.

They pick one in the quieter part of the bar. The booths don't fit more than four people, five if you're determined, but they solve it by having Gareth perch on the adjacent window ledge and by Robin sitting on Steve's lap.

It's first when Robin asks for details about the band that Eddie realizes how golden the opportunity is. The previous times he's met Steve, he's been at a disadvantage. Injured, caught by surprise, distracted by tight jeans or sweat rolling down necks. And yeah, he was surprised today, too. And he won't claim that it's easy to focus whenever Steve reaches for his glass, exposed forearm flexing with the movement.

Nevertheless, this is Eddie's turf. This is his stage. Here, he is king. And he will hold court like his life depends on it.

He talks about the band. He talks about their influences, about guitars, about the lyrics he writes. Robin participates in the conversation by making connections to punk music, but Steve only listens, eyes darting between them all like it's a five-way ping pong match and his attention is the ball. But mostly, he's in Eddie's palm, staring like only he has the answers. Fuck, like he is the answer.

It's enough to give a guy a god complex. The person who was created to be looked at is now looking at him.

It makes him bolder. Makes him touch Steve more, touch him longer. Close the distance between them when he speaks and zeros in on Steve's lips when he replies. And Steve… responds? He thinks? It's difficult to tell, because Steve's reciprocal touches are restricted by the lapful of Robin, and he seems to have a habit of looking at everyone's mouth when they talk. The boys appear optimistic, though, sending him encouraging signals from across the table and the window. He'll just have to use it as fuel and keep on trucking.

Somewhere along the way they move on to D&D. Steve remains enrapt by Eddie's every word, hanging on to the golden threads he spins. His only actual contribution comes at the end, asking if their game has space for one more. Eddie’s pulse jumps in his throat.

"Methinks we do." He leans back, exposing his neck, while giving Steve his best bedroom eyes from above the rim of his glass. "Why, you interested?"

"Not me," Steve says; Eddie barely has the willpower to smack his head against the table with disappointment. "But Lucas plays. Or he used to. His… what's the term? His group?"

"Party," Jeff says.

"Party. They're scattered all over the world now. I think he misses it."

"He hasn't said anything about it, but…" Robin trails off. Steve jostles her.

"You never talk about band, but you miss the trumpet like hell, don't you?"

"Ugh, I dooooooo!" she says, kicking her legs.

"We can bring him aboard and see how he fits," Eddie says. "If he so wishes."

Steve smiles like Eddie just promised Lucas a kidney. "Thanks."

Eddie gulps a large mouthful of beer to wet his drying mouth. "Anything for you."

They leave soon after that for food. Gareth especially needs it, starting to become tipsy on his stomach of nothing but beer. Although, outside, it becomes clear he passed 'tipsy' a while back when he climbs onto Jeff's back and yells, "Race!"

Jeff laughs as he hikes Gareth farther up. Robin glances at Steve, then spins away and mounts Marv's back instead.

"I promise I'm lighter than I look," she says.

"You look as light as your namesake," Marv says; she gently smacks his shoulder.

"Don't flatter me; I'm immune."

Gareth, holding Jeff’s hoodie like it's a horse's reins, points to the 7-Eleven sign glowing faintly in the distance. "Onward!"

Marv whinnies realistically enough for Robin to guffaw, and then they're off, their shoes clomping against the pavement and they howling with laughter. Still by the bar, Eddie and Steve share a giggle before following suit at a slower pace.

"Ah, youngsters," Eddie says dreamily.

Steve knocks their shoulders together. "You're not that much older."

"Well… Gareth's turning 21 and I'm 25, so a bit?"

"I'm also the oldest in my friend group." Steve shrugs. "It happens."

Gravel crunch beneath their soles. The air is cool and the sky is yellow with light pollution. Indianapolis is alive and full of noise, but their bubble has space for only them to walk side by side, close enough to touch but not doing so. They have an approximate ten-minute walk until they reach the convenience store. Unless the others return to them, that's ten minutes alone.

Eddie must use them wisely.

"So… how long have you been a paramedic?"

"Oh, um." Steve scratches his neck. "It's been almost four years. I'd actually been certified for less than a year when I got asked to be in that calendar. Not even a year in and I'm supposed to represent paramedics as a whole." He chuckles, mumbling, "That was fun."

"Did you make anything from it?"

"No. Every cent went to charity. Can't remember the name of it, but they provide vaccines to children in developing countries. Measles, polio, hepatitis, tetanus. That sort of stuff."

"Is this your childhood dream then?"

"Nah. I didn't want to be anything when I was a kid. When teachers asked what we wanted to be when we grew up I just said I wanted to be like my dad. He's the CEO of a huge electronics company. Mom is a socialite and philanthropist. They wanted me to inherit the company, but I…" Steve pulls a sigh from deep in his chest, throwing his head back to watch the starless sky. "I was a meathead jock. More interested in being keg king than keeping up my grades. Only reason I graduated on time was Nancy – we used to date. She's a study-beast. Makes great flashcards. Anyway, there's no way I'd ever get into a university good enough for my parents. I wasn't interested in the business degree dad wanted for me; I didn't even bother applying for college. It felt like a waste of time."

Eddie whistles, drawn out and low. "Bet they were thrilled when they found out."

Steve laughs humorlessly. "Yeah. Dad forced me to work this shitty retail job because of it." He halts, drawing himself up and pulling his mouth down. Giving Eddie the most disdainful look he's received, he says in a voice too pompous to be his own, "'If you don't follow the path to the top I laid out for you you'll end up here, at the bottom'." He rolls his eyes, himself again. "That's what he was saying. It backfired on him, because that's where I met Robin. Spent six months on that job, being a fucking aimless disappointment, and then…"

"Then?" Eddie asks, and now it's him desperately grasping at the thread. He needs to know. Anything Steve is willing to give, Eddie will accept.

Steve chews the inside of his cheek. Head hanging, hair falling into his face and glasses sliding down his nose, he resembles a model from an art student's angst-ridden project. Or maybe a movie star in an independent art house film. He just looks like art, okay? Beautiful and out of reach, which only makes you want to touch him more.

"It's kinda private," he says. "For Robin, I mean. The point is it opened my eyes to emergency services. I knew that was something I'd like to do. With some encouragement from her… I did it." He smiles at Eddie like they're sharing secrets. "Turns out studying is more fun when you're interested in the curriculum. My parents disowned me, but it's worth it. I'm as far away from being him as I can come."

He slows his steps then, face sobering before he barks a shocked laugh. The apples of his cheeks are pink.

"Fuck, that just flew out! I'm not usually like this; it's Robin who can't put a cork in it." He laughs again, softer, and levels Eddie with a gaze that borders on adoring. "You're easy to talk to."

Eddie nods. His lungs are burning, he must gasp for breath before speaking. "It's a finely honed skill…"

He swallows, licking his lips. Anything Steve is willing to give, he wants to give back. To take and give. To know and to be known.

He chokes out, "I almost turned into my dad."

"Yeah?" Steve says casually, unaware of the knife Eddie just plunged into his own chest and cut himself open with. "What's he?"

"Prison."

"What?"

Eddie nods breezily. He puts his trembling hands into his jacket pockets. "Petty stuff, but it stacks up. He taught me a few things, though, so if you ever need to hotwire your car or pick a lock… I'm your guy!"

He pulls out his hands to point at himself with both thumbs before shoving them back in. His voice is shriller, and his body's getting the jitters. Can't be still, can't shut up, and now Steve is eyeing him with… sadness? Not disgust, at least, or mistrust.

"But you're a mechanic now, right?" Steve says.

"Yeah. Learned it from my uncle – he took me in after the ol' sperm donor got caught. Greatest man I know, my uncle. I was a crap student," Eddie says, because why not. What's this after divulging about his dad? Nothing! Might as well disclose his aptitude for crime and philistinism. "Completely aimless. Still am. Redid senior year twice."

"Shit."

Grimacing with empathy, Steve sidles up until their elbows brush. A smidgen of tension leaves Eddie as he leans into Steve's warmth.

"Uh-huh. My peers started looking at colleges and all I thought was 'death before higher education!' So, I used my savings to move to Indy and got a job at a garage. It's not what I strictly want, but it pays the bills. Keeps me housed."

"What do you want?" Steve asks, like he wants to know and not just to be polite.

Eddie balloons his cheeks and puffs out the air. "I don't know. I'm passionate about music, but mostly as a hobby. Doing it professionally seems like it sucks. It's all I got, though. That and D&D."

"That's okay." Steve throws an arm around Eddie, and then they're flush. Ribs to ribs. Not an inch separating them. Close enough for Steve's skin to vibrate with Eddie's heartbeat. "You have time to figure it out. And being a mechanic in the meantime is great."

"It-It's not as meaningful as saving lives…" Eddie says, shaking his hair forth so it curtains his face.

Steve hooks the curls around his finger and tucks them back behind Eddie's ear. Holy shit. If Eddie hadn't been clinging to Steve, his jelly-legs would've collapsed and made him eat asphalt.

Steve's gorgeous grin still sends him stumbling a step.

"Sure it is. I bet you've saved someone." Steve leans in, breath ghosting across Eddie's cheekbone as he murmurs, "You'd save me. I know how to change tires and check the oil, but if it's something else? I'm screwed."

Eddie turns his head; their noses nearly bump. Steve's gaze flicks from his eyes to his mouth, indecisive. It chooses his mouth when he pokes his tongue out and drags it over his lips.

"Don't worry, big boy," he says, voice gravelly from use and their proximity. "If you're ever in trouble, just come to me and I'll take care of your engine."

Steve's breath hitches; he flinches back. For a moment Eddie's sure he went too far. But then Steve giggles like a schoolgirl. He ducks his head, face flaming red.

"Cool," he says weakly. "If you ever… heh, I was going to say 'if you ever need the kiss of life, come to me', but… don't." He's leveled himself with Eddie again and is looking at him sternly, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the humor glittering behind his glasses. "Don't ever get fatally injured. Okay?"

Eddie runs a hand down Steve's back, feels him shiver, and looks at him from beneath his lashes. "I make no promises."

A minute later they're caught up with their friends, who are very kind not to comment on how they're plastered to each other.

They buy their food – subs, nachos, chips, cookies, and juice, Steve paying for Robin's after she begs – and wander back to the parking lot by the bar. As a group, so no more clingy cuddling. Just as well, because Eddie's hot enough to erupt if touched again.

Steve didn't get the memo, though, because when they're saying goodnight and about to climb into their respective cars, he pulls Eddie into a hug. A real hug. Two-armed, chest-to-chest, sniffing-the-other-person's-hair kind of hug.

"S'been fun tonight," he says, squeezing Eddie tightly. "This is gonna sound sappy, but I'm glad we ran into each other again."

Ran into each other again.

Ran into each other.

It's a barrel of ice water over Eddie's head. His whole body constricts, shoulders hiking to his ears, jaw clenching. Because they've never actually done that, have they? They ran into each other once, but never again. Every single one of their meetings since has been orchestrated. Made to happen to satisfy Eddie’s obsessive crush. And Steve has no idea.

He doesn't know Eddie is a capital-letters-only FREAK. He doesn't know Eddie gets his rocks off to charity calendars. Fuck, he doesn't know about the calendar.

He has to know. If there's anything Eddie has learned from his millions of failed relationships, it's that there are things you have to know, and this is one of them. Because what'll happen if Steve finds out years from now from someone who isn't Eddie? A shit show, that's what!

Eddie wants for it to be a 'years from now'. He wants to feel Steve's hugs and see his eyes behind thin wire glasses. He wants to smell Steve's shampoo and hear his voice go soft as it says the names of the people he loves.

He wants to take and to give. To know and be known.

Steve has to know.

But how will Eddie tell him?

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

Part 6

Steve's glasses are a result of @pemsha's lovely fanart. If you haven't seen it yet you can do so here.

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction

[gaiahypothesims]

384

Evelyn- What is going on? You didn't even answer my texts? And why are you dressed like that?

Jonah- I got a job. I started at the fire station a little while back.

Evelyn- Doing what?!

Jonah- Fire fighting stuff. Not that I've seen any action, but I'm still in the middle of training. S'great right?

Evelyn- How is this great?! You're putting your life at risk to put out fires!? Its not safe!

Jonah- So far its been saving cats and answering some rather boring house calls. Nothing major. I'm going to tuck Verity in. I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts. I just lost track of time.

[astarab1aze]

Booty Check 😏

"42069 outta 10, b'cause obviously, ma cherie. Looks good in 'em jeans ya wear all th' time, e'en if I ain't le'cha wear 'em fer very long- Looks good outta 'em jeans, too. buh, 'm thinkin' it looks best when ya roll outta bed first thing in th' mornin', when y'ain't got nothin' on an' yer groggy an' tired, hobblin' t' th' bathroom fer a piss an' a shower... S'great, yanno? Can see it jiggle a lil', kinda turns me on, buh more importantly- Still jus cain't believe yer mine. Tha' I getta wake up t' an eyeful o' your immaculate ass sometimes, in m' 'ouse. Gettin' yer stink on e'erythin' - shit don' smell like me no more these days-- Oh, oh, righ', y'asked me 'ow nice yer ass is. Don' tha' say it all, though? I fuckin' think it's perfect. S'exactly wha' 'm tryna see e'ery mornin', e'ery day, an' e'ery night. Pants on, pants off, I'on care, s'long as it's yours."

[ask-the-tf2-mercs]

[A box addressed to Sniper. Inside are several Australian snacks including: Shapes, Twisties, Fantails, a small tin of Milo, a travel sized jar of Vegemite, and a few frozen meat pies.]

“Here you go Sniper, thought you’d want a taste of home while you’re overseas.” From a fellow Australian.

Sniper: [pulls out everything and smiles, carefully placing it all back and picking up the box to take to his camper] S'great, mate! Thanks! I'm gonna eat all'a this at once and probably get sick after.

[pankomako]

love when i try to explain something vocally and then my brain starts buffering like a youtube video on shit wifi so i go silent mid-sentence because the right wording isnt coming to me fast enough. 's'great

[lunar-insanity]

Aight @britishsass tagged me and it looks like fun! Lessee... Five Songs I'm Currently into.

Let's start off with Poison! I haven't really kept up well with Hazbin Hotel or Helluva, but the songs will eventually invade my dash and DAMN! S'great song, animation in the show for the song is great too, fav part is absolutely the end stanza

Aaah Luck Runs Out from Epic. I just love chorus so much! And "Don't forget how dangerous the Gods are!" Is such a good starting point for any scene in my head, with one trying to warn the other so desperately

This is a new one I discovered recently and it's really good to have just looping for a while. You need a "You'll be fine" song? Here's your song

Can I just dump a whole album on here?

I'm just gonna chuck this entire album on here. If I'm listening to the Maybe Man, I'm listening to the WHOLE DAMN ALBUM. It's... honestly the closest to how I feel bout my life rn. Especially "DJ Is Crying For Help" and "Inertia"

Last one is Hand of God. I will BELT this thing out with all the strength I've got. It's got so much power and I love how everything crescendos in the 2nd half of the song. The building choir just... Beautiful

~ I don't got anyone I can really tag so Imma leave it here with some honorable mentions!

Yosemite and Jericho by Iniko Devotion by Amalee Savage Daughter by Ekaterina Shelehova Next Up Forever by AJR Creative Mind by Nathan Wagner A Little Theorizing by Stupedium Self-Proclaimed Angel by KAT Haunted by Laura Les EPIC by Jorge Rivera-Herrans

[xflashbastardx]

“What you’re saying is I only have my fellow man to blame? Yea, that checks out. Hey...wait a second...does that mean we’re doing hell’s work without compensation? I’ve been causing chaos for free this whole time!”

"Exactly,"

"S'great, actually. Made my job really easy. There were some direct assignments I had to do, of course. And sometimes I did actually put time and effort into my own plans. But a lot of the time, I just had to wait for you humans to do something vile and then write my bosses saying I was responsible. Wouldn't get too worked up over it if I were you, not like we were getting paid for any of it."

[catncore]

❝  ya'll haven't experienced anti-music till ya'll have played an' listened t' drag on dragoon. s'great. it proves you don't have t' any song writing skills, jus' a dream and a full code panic attack. ❞ samples: ★★★

[fizzarolli]

"Hey, heyyy! My sleazes stayin' W-W-WET 'n naaaasty this freaky Sunday? Awesome, AWESOME! S'great to see ya'll!"