#self indulgent fic is a GO

[bloodcounts]

Spring sneaks up on Amy before she knows it- time moves so much more differently to her, she barely noticed the slow progression from fall to winter. Flowers are budding on the leaves, and new life grows from the dirt beneath her windowsill. The sunlight is warm and inviting, under any other circumstance, Amy would throw on one of her sundresses, grab a parasol and sit outside with a book. Or she’d go for a walk and talk with Jessica as she did.

Except, this isn’t ‘any other circumstance.’ She’s been stuck inside for days now, while her cohort, Jay, carries around a camera with him and films everything he does. Amy wonders if he takes it into the bathroom with him. Not that she’s been paying attention, as much as she should be in this situation. Her mind wanders back to the woods where she awoke. Jay had been the one to find her on the side of the road, looking confused and out of it. She didn’t understand what was happening to her then. She still doesn’t. With each new piece of information that she receives it only leaves her more lost than before. Jay says he empathizes with her completely.

She had been a scatterbrain since then, even though her memory was usually much stronger than that. She could recall her childhood memories with ease where others could not, now she can barely remember what she ate yesterday or what day of the month it is.

Hearing the hotel door open, Amy whips around from the window. Jay is holding his camera in one hand and carrying his keys and a small takeout bag with the other. He shuts the door behind him and looks up at her.

“It’s just me.”

“Did you see him out there?”

“Who, Alex?” Jay moves further into the room and places the bag on the small table. “If I did, we would be leaving immediately.”

Amy shoulders drop. Based on everything Jay had shown her on his YouTube channel, she shouldn’t feel disappointed. The camera never lies, only people, Alex had told her once. If all the videos were true, then Alex is not the person he used to be, or who she thought he was. She tried to tell this to Jay, who, in response, had only said that people can still lie through video through manipulation of footage. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Alex had never been violent, sure, he had his flaws; but no one is perfect, and he isn’t that guy.

It's that… thing. That faceless monster that had been haunting him. It had to be that. Whatever it is, it caused Alex to lose his mind and hurt others. Amy is sure he didn’t mean it, because Alex wouldn’t do that. She’s sure of it, it has to be that monster. It’s controlling him, somehow. It can’t be anything else.

“-my. Amy? Hey!”

Amy blinks a few times, then narrows her eyes as she focuses. “What?” She mumbles.

“You zoned out again.” Another side effect of… whatever happened to her. It’s the reason why her days often go by so quickly most of the time.

Amy shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I picked up some food.” His arm gestures over to the bag. Amy’s nose picks up the familiar scent of Chinese. Jay moves over to his laptop to plug his camera in and sift through the footage. Jay takes extra care not to show Amy when he films, to keep her safe. If Alex knew she is with him, then who knows how far he’d go just to find her again… and what he’d do to Jay when he did. At the very least, Jay can prolong the reveal. Keeping Amy out of sight for as long as he can is what matters the most.

Amy moves over to the bag and pulls out the food cartons, as well as a black plastic container. There’s a pair of chopsticks and plastic utensils, as well. She searches the bag a little more and finds a fortune cookie, but there is no second container.

“You didn’t get any for yourself?” Amy looks over to him. Jay shrugs.

“Not really big on Chinese food myself. Besides, you really haven’t been eating a whole lot these past days.”

“You sound like Alex. That just means you haven’t it had it done right. When someone makes Chinese food right, that’s when you can never go back.” Amy tells him as she moves over to grab her mini table, she places her eating utensils and tin on it, then moves back for the cartons.

“Hey, what’s todays date?” Amy has lost track of all the days. She didn’t have her phone on her person, either. Jay didn’t want to risk returning to her place in case Alex was staking it out.

“Uh,” Jay checks his laptop’s date, “April fourth, why?”

Amy freezes. That’s why today felt a little different. She felt as though she were forgetting something important, and it was this. His birthday. She takes a seat on her bed, hands flopping onto her lap. Back when things were okay, she and Alex would meet up for the day regardless of anything else. The two of them would go out to a little bakery in Rosswood and buy a dozen cupcakes for themselves, chocolate and red velvet (Alex would always tease her and say that red velvet is just dyed chocolate. She knows this, but she likes feeling fancy!); they were delicate and airy, fluffy cream spread thick between layers and dolloped artfully on top. and they would walk some distance up a trail, past Rosswood park, for a little picnic. That must be why the outdoors is calling her name, and why she’s craving the soft breezes and gentle grass blades under her fingertips.

Just before leaving, Alex would insist on taking photos with his polaroid, and she would become camera shy. She’s not used to being the center of attention. But whenever she’s with Alex, it becomes inevitable.

It's not that she hates the attention per say, she always managed to attract people to her just by being herself. Alex would say it’s because she’s a star and other people could see that. Amy would call him nuts for it, because she was pretty sure it was just him trying to compliment her. Regardless, she’s content with a quiet life, earning her degree in education and going on to become a teacher. She thought it was funny, how she wanted a more reserved life whereas Alex wanted one in the limelight. He dreamed of the day he could walk on the red carpet for one of his films, be nominated for awards, give speeches.

Her vision blurs, and her eyes sting, yet she refuses to cry. Now’s not the time for that, it does nothing in this situation. And yet-

“Maybe I will try some Chinese food.” Jay’s voice abruptly cuts her thoughts, she almost the awkward tinge in his voice. “There’s a lot of footage I need to rewatch, may as well try to eat something now before I forget.” As he’s had the habit of doing ever since he began this investigation. Amy has to nag him to take care of himself (and she's impressed he hasn't keeled over from lack of sleep or proper eating.)

Amy looks up at him, unsure if she heard correctly. She grabs one of the cartons and opens it, revealing golden yellow rice with fried vegetables within. She glances at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. This is a different branch than what I had years ago. Who knows,” Jay shrugs, “Maybe it’ll be cooked right.”

Grabbing a spoon, Amy places it in the carton and hands it to Jay. Jay looks at the rice and shuffles the spoon around it. Grabbing a fair amount on his spoon, he takes a bite and chews for a minute. Then he swallows. He looks back down at the rice, his eyebrows raise.

“It’s not bad.”

Amy smiles a bit. “Told you.”

---

Later, while Jay was in the bathroom, Amy remembers the fortune cookie in the bag. Lifting from her bed, she makes toward the bag and grabs the cookie. She unwraps it, breaks the cookie in half (while making sure to get a bite in, just to taste it), pulls out the paper and reads it to herself:

‘Trust your friends, but keep your eyes open.’

Amy’s stomach doesn’t sit well the rest of the day.

[hothammies]

two guys arguing at the aquarium? must be lovers (fic)

[megwuru]

imagine isagi getting invited to one of his teammate's house parties, and convincing you to come along with him, his shy and sweet gf ! you're not a fan of crowds or gatherings, but you can't avoid social gatherings forever, and you want to spend time with yoichi, so you agree to go.

you regret it almost immediately. even though yoichi's arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him, you can't help but feel lost in the crowds of people :( what's worse, drunk strangers who you've never met in your life keep approaching you when you're even a moment apart from yoichi, asking you things like 'what's your name?' or 'are 'ya here alone?'

your dread intensifies when you come back from the bathroom to see a girl asking yoichi for his number. you see him trying to avoid her, letting out multiple "i have a girlfriend" and declining her advances as calmly as he can, looking uncomfortable as ever when she goes so far as to grab onto his arm, giggling.

you approach the girl and say to her firmly, with all the courage you have,

"he's my boyfriend, so would you stop clinging onto him?"

the girl stiffens and lets out a curt, "sorry, didn't know he had a girlfriend," and walks away, clearly ashamed. ( he told her multiple times he had a gf ugh )

yoichi turns to you to explain the situation, but you just grab onto his hand.

"can we please leave, yoi? 'm tired. and overwhelmed," you ask him.

yoichi simply nods and agrees, "i'm tired too, baby. let's get home, yeah?"

you arrive at yoichi's apartment, legs sore and tired. you plop onto his couch, closing your eyes momentarily.

"how's a movie and cuddles sound?" yoichi asks from the bathroom.

"mm, sounds nice. wanna shower first, though."

yoichi laughs. "i was thinking the same. c'mon, hop in with me 'n we can shower together."

the warm water of the shower trickles down your scalp as yoichi shampoos your hair.

"you were super cute when you called me your boyfriend, by the way."

"shut up!"

hmmm i think 'm gonna make more of these how do we feel ! ( •̀ ω •́ )

[spicyet]

What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

[theminecraftbee]

There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap. 

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.” 

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks. 

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was. 

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?” 

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.” 

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.” 

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. 

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?” 

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.” 

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it. 

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?” 

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.” 

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?” 

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently. 

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.” 

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing. 

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination. 

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night: 

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. 

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?” 

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.” 

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it. 

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other? 

~ 

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments. 

Steve asks, “What?” 

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't. 

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did. 

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says. 

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?” 

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-” 

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne. 

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this. 

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again. 

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds. 

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?” 

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look. 

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off. 

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.” 

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue. 

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases. 

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again. 

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching. 

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony. 

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this. 

~

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since. 

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him. 

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-” 

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking. 

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject. 

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired. 

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.” 

Whatever that means. 

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve. 

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep. 

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats: 

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast. 

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if- 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.” 

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed. 

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense. 

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.” 

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls. 

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused. 

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope. 

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.” 

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”  

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[clovariia]

hasbro is killing g5 mlp, which means it's officially my city now...say hello to my new and suspiciously familiar "ocs"

[hedwig221b]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @endwersed 💗 and @dear-massacre 💗 centuries ago but I swear I didn't have any wips at all though now I'm getting back into it

💜

Derek froze in place.

He felt cold and he felt hot. Breaths just wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to blink.

The omega looked stunning.

Ethereal and deific. How could someone be this beautiful? He looked like sex personified.

His slim toned body moved with natural grace, almost gliding on the floor. His fair skin was kissed with constellations of beauty marks that went down his cheeks and neck. He was dressed simply, yet even the grey sweatshirt hugged his narrow waist in such a sinful way that one couldn’t help but yearn to grab it; his long legs in black jeans would look so wonderful while spread.

His face, however, made all those works of art seem like child’s paintings. Oh, how they failed to capture the beauty. How dare they even attempt?

The omega’s chestnut hair was ruffled, his beautiful dark amber eyes red-rimmed but even more so beautiful. Upon seeing Derek, the omega opened his pretty mouth in a small gasp — and, fuck, his lips.

Fuck.

Fuck.

And then, as if Derek wasn’t stunned enough, a small grin bloomed across the omega’s mouth.

Quick as a fawn, he descended down the stairs and stopped a step or two above Derek, his eyes running all over his face.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Derek rasped.

For some reason, the omega blushed. He put the rucksack down on the floor, then lifted his right hand and daintily offered it to Derek with an almost shy smile.

No one moved.

“Stiles,” Deaton bit through his teeth.

The omega’s smile dwindled as he looked first at Deaton, then at the woman, and finally stopped his wide-eyed gaze at Derek who stood there like a fucking idiot.

“Isn’t this how they do in movies?” the omega asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“How do you know what they do in movies?” asked Deaton, and when the omega snapped his mouth shut, turned to the woman. “We shall search for the contraband tonight.”

The woman nodded.

With blush spreading down his face, the omega started to withdraw his hand.

It was then that Derek finally got his bearings.

Quickly, he caught the omega’s hand, causing him to jump, and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles.

Oh, what he would give to scent him.

“I don’t mind,” said Derek, then cleared his throat from the deepening lust.

Read full version here

[blamemma]

max verstappen watching daniel ricciardo's new episode of no brakes on stream | inspired by x x x

[dejwrld]

✿༉ a look inside of schweiden alders player ushijima wakatoshi fiancé’s phone.

[harmonysanreads]

Life is just a series of one exam after another

[inthewychelm]

@steddie-spooktober day 16 - "Would you please stop trying to scare them?"

Part 1 of my Necromancer AU, 790 words, Rated T

Steve has a new coworker, who is a bit…odd. The man just popped up suddenly out of nowhere, or at least according to Robin who was working the night Eddie applied. He started a month back, and Steve suspects he has some type of amnesia. That seems like a more logical explanation for the strange way he speaks than the theories Robin likes to bring up.

Steve likes the way Eddie talks, he thinks its cute and endearing. So if he indulges Robin when she claims that Eddie is a time traveler, it's only in jest. Especially because they rarely if ever get to work a shift alone anymore since Eddie started.

He's wiping down the sticky tabletops watching Eddie begrudgingly deal with a child at the coolers. He always looks like he's in pain while dealing with customers, but he is surprisingly charismatic despite his attempts to thwart positive reactions.

"God, I don't get you sometimes." Robin says as she blocks his view. Eddie is growling at the retreating child and their parent as they both look over her shoulder.

"I don't either," He sighs and leans forward against the table. "But he's cute."

Robin snorts at his response. Steve finds himself grinning and unable to disagree with her obvious disgust. Eddie is really odd, but he's just a normal guy. Maybe he's a little too into fantasy and D&D, if the eccentric way he speaks is anything to go by.

"If you're a freak," She mumbles. Steve flicks his rag at her arm, and she acts shocked by his retaliation. "Anyway, I'm clocking out for the night. So have fun with your boy." Robin's voice gets singsong-y as she punctuates her teasing with a wink.

Steve hits her with his rag again as she walks away.

He returns to the counter when he finishes wiping down the dirtied and unattended tables in the store. Eddie already has another customer when he joins him. He's scooping out ice cream for a young girl dressed in a sparkly fairy costume, and Eddie is squinting at her like he doesn't trust her.

"Here is your cottoned candied ice cream, tiny gremlin." He says as he passes over the cone. She giggles in delight, squealing a little bit as she takes her order in both hands. Eddie leans forward to whisper, "Do not return, your trickery is not welcome here, changeling. If you return, your demise shall not be so…sparkly."

Steve cringes, not this again. He sneaks a look at the mom to see if Eddie offended her, but instead she's grinning along with her daughter and placing a dollar in their tip jar.

"Thank you, Mister Teddy." The young fairy waves as they walk towards the exit. "Bye, Mister Teddy."

Eddie just growls in response, which is hidden under the bell above door announcing their leave.

"Would you please stop trying to scare the children?" Steve asks, hip checking his coworker who appears to be sulking.

"That was no child, Steve. It was in fact a fae come in disguise as a happy child, do not be fooled by it's cute appearance they are quite nefarious." Eddie warns. Then his shoulders slump, he leans against the counter defeated. "'Sides, the young one did not fear me, no one fears me anymore."

Steve struggles to hold in a fond smile while Eddie sulks, but he's adorable. Despite his mean attitude and messy appearance, he is very charming. Kids seem to love him, and parents who might object to his performance are endeared.

"S'cause it's October, man. Everyone thinks you're getting into the Halloween spirit." Steve reasons. Eddie cranes his neck in consideration.

"All Hallow's Eve?" Eddie questions, his head is bent at an angle that can't be comfortable and his wide eyes stare directly into what feels like Steve's soul.

"Yeah, I guess? Y'know, candy, costumes, commercial consumerism for all ages."

"You are telling me that these fearless mortals have turned a sacred holiday of which the veil thins between our world and the netherworld, a night of fear and terror lest you be taken by some demon or worse, and… turned it… into some sort of…" Eddie pauses, disgust written all over his face.

"Night full of cheap costumes and excessive partying? Yep, capitalism at it's finest." Steve adds on, his last statement being pulled more from Robin's rantings about the bastardization of Paganism or whatever she called it. In his opinion he enjoys getting a night to get dressed up and dance with someone cute, but Eddie doesn't need to know that.

"Huh," Eddie looks away while taking in this revelation. "How vile, I bet it was those foul Catholics with their disgusting morals and judgey gods."

[plusultraetc]

I ended up having way too many unfinished fics to choose from for Shinsou's birthday, none of which were ao3-ready, so have this extra long snippet of my beloved ice cream shop au that I've spent way too much time on for a fic that might never actually get posted 😭

(the context here is that Shinsou & Kaminari are trying to get erasermic together, but Kaminari didn't know he was trying to set his teacher up with the music store guy bc he's only heard about him from Shinsou)

[guroseinsei]

all the stottlemeyer/monk fics i've written:

*more under the cut.

i. an old watch with no parts to fix it (2,4k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Whump, Angst, Pre-Slash, Realization of Feelings.

Summary: No one likes to start their day off on a odd number.

-

ii. no miracle can bring the 'stache back (563)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Established Relationship, Slash, Kissing, Teasing, post-s07e09.

Summary: Turns out, Monk doesn't want the Captain's 'stache gone as much as he'd initially thought.

-

iii. just a little wordplay (1,7k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Established Relationship, Slash, Caught in the Act, Innuendo, post-s07e10.

Summary: A twist to Mr. Monk and the Other Brother.

“And bring your handcuffs.”

-

iv. a friendly word of advice (2,6k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: protective leland stottlemeyer, semi-estbalished relationship, post-s08e14, hurt/comfort.

Summary: Captain Stottlemeyer hears of a little rumor, one he doesn't like one bit.

-

v. hydrogen (6,4k)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Telepathy, Angst, Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Realization of Feelings, Panic Attack.

Summary: In which Monk is a telepath and gets more than he bargained for.

--

vi. Room 103 (1,3k)

Rating: Teen

Tags: Mistaken for Being In A Relationship, Pre-Slash.

Summary: A suite upgrade then, for your partner and yourself?"

Partner? Leland thinks.

--

vii. an itch to scratch (3,6k)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O dynamics, Porn with (little) Plot, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Strength Kink.

Summary: Leland's always been a giver.

--

viii. the day erased (1,5k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Light Angst, Pining, Pre-Slash, Comfort.

Summary: It's a late work day and Monk decides to keep the Captain company.

--

ix. a knee jerk reaction (2,2k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Jealous Leland Stottlemeyer, Post-Season 8, No Spoilers for Season 8, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining, Resolved Romantic Tension.

Summary: Leland doesn't overreact. He really doesn't.

--

x. 20:20 vision (3,4k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Shooting Range, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Pining Leland Stottlemeyer.

Summary: They all watch, mesmerized, as all of Monk's shots hit every single moving target with perfectly centered 10's.

--

xi. hello, detective. (1,9k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Pining, Living Together, Pre-Slash, Flirting, Jealous Leland Stottlemeyer, Oblvious Adrian Monk.

Summary: If you don't make the move, someone else always will.

--

xii. quite the endorphin (2,4k)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Touch-Starved Leland Stottlemeyer, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Pining, Pre-Slash, Post-Divorce.

Summary: Letting off some steam is the perfect way to get a little less wound up after a not so great day.

--

xiii. happy shedding season (2,7k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Catboy AU, Inspired by Fanart, Fluff, Humor, Fur Brushing, Cat Ears, Established Relationship, Obsessive Cleaning, Cat Tails.

Summary: Monk's having a tough time keeping everything pristine clean.

--

xiv. how to make a chicken pot pie (1,4k)

Rating: Teen

Tags: Established Relationship, Cooking, Domestic Bliss, Living Together, Kissing.

Summary: It's chicken pot pie Tuesday. Leland gets a little distracted.

--

xv. wake-up call (2,8k)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Crush at First Sight, Pre-Slash, Neighbors AU.

Summary: Who in their right mind vacuums everyday at four in the damn morning? No one, that's who.

Leland's new neighbour seems to be an exception to that.

--

xvi. right angles (2,5k)

Rating: Teen

Tags: Outsider POV, Married Leland Stottlemeyer/Adrian Monk, Established Relationship, Slash.

Summary: Harry doesn't mind Mr. Monk. He's a model neighbour - he minds his business, keeps to himself and occasionally lends a helping hand. But he wishes the guy would stop arranging the lawn chairs.

Or, at least, that's what his fiancée wants. Which means he does too.

--

xvii. fingertips reaching (2,7k)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Praise Kink, Touch-Starved Leland Stottlemeyer, PWP, Service Top Leland Stottlemeyer, Overstimulation.

Summary: Adrian's reactions are what really gets Leland going.

--

xviii. bitter taste (1,2k)

Rating: T

Tags: Angst, Jealousy, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Slash.

Summary: Coddle envy for too long and it will begin to curdle.

--

ix. in september (277w)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Domestic, Living Together, Double Drabble, Mr. Monk Is Drunk Again.

Summary: “Let's get you home.” Leland says.

“Oh, mine or yours?”

--

xx. the grass may be greener (2,7k)

Rating: T

Tags: Episode Studies, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash.

Summary: “How're you... How're you feeling?” Adrian asks.

The pit in Leland's stomach has yet to stop gnawing hungrily inside of him, threatening escape.

--

Rating: G

xxi. frozen peas (2,1k)

Tags: Protective Leland Stottlemeyer, Minor Injuries, Pre-Slash

Summary: “What the fuck happened?”

Natalie winces at the same time Adrian's cheek gives a particularly angry throb. It must look ghastly if Leland's reaction from a scale of one to ten is already ranging around nine.

--

xxii. whiskey neat (1,4k)

Rating: T

Tags: Heartbreak, Self-Reflection, Drunken Confessions, Pre-Slash.

Summary: Leland drinks a glass of beer too many.

Or, T.K never said yes.

[gossippool]

i'm bored here's a snippet from a wip i won't be done with anytime soon. but logan lore wahoo

one day i just sat on my bed in the dark with my notes app open next to me and imagined being him, and ended up with 2k words of his backstory from child to current day so. here's 200 words of that

[jestroer]

A Demon and an Angel by Scott's shoulders 😇😈