#that is straight up metal my bestie

[natjennie]

girl that is metal. that is steel. what are you talking about.

[whatudottu]

Me, remembering that pill bugs can filter heavy metals from soil:

My brain: You know what this means, don’t you?

Me: What-

My brain: You can make talpaedans part pill bug-

Me, working on amperi headcanons: Wait LET ME FINI-

I’ve gone over a few times that I like to think that talpaedans are techno-organic, less so being silicon or silicone based beings but being an integration of organic carbon materials and the more industrialised physiology of being a walking talking construction equipment. I have also previously made use of the whole ‘machine’ aspect of their natural biology to not only consider them as burrowers, but also as ant-like burrowers with haplodiplody, this form of sex-determination system being used to expand the combinations of construction equipment that an individual talpaedan might have, but also as a basis of which I form the sociopolitical building of talpaedan cities, in which case we have large city state colonies of ant inspired pangolins recreating feudalism Europe of the 10th-13th century.

But up - until this point - there was not quite a lot of circumstances that would allow for actual metallic components to not only present itself biologically but also do so naturally, so with the heavy metal eating pill bug there’s a source of extra inspiration. Oniscidae (apparently the more accurate name for pill bugs/rollie pollies and literally any name under the sun) can remove arsenic (which is actually a metalloid), cadmium, lead, and depending on sources also mercury from the soil; additional metals that can be extracted from soil are copper and zinc. The pill bug in question would crystallise these ions in their gut and create spherical deposits within them, but since we are not talking about the isopod alone surely it isn’t too much of a stretch to the idea that perhaps talpaedans can use these deposits within themselves to feed into the development of their most notable features, their built in equipment?

Assuming that Poiana Lüncas has these metals and that talpaedans would in fact filter for them, in real world human employed Earth uses of these metals can indeed be of fine use. Both arsenic and cadmium can be used as alloys and zinc specifically can galvanise other metals such as iron to prevent rusting, very significant indeed in industry, notably especially with large amounts of zinc can be used in hardware industries. Copper has a very notable use in electronics and wiring of which motors are included, let alone more refined wiring in TVs and radio. And argueably the more infamous of these metals (at least to a standard ‘basic’ level of understanding) we have mercury and lead, the former being used in many different industries for it’s ability to measure the change in temperature and pressure, and the latter for some solders, gasoline/petroleum and wonderfully hazardous cosmetic items that uninformed humanity has come to be harmed by.

ngl, spent a bit of time trying to find an oxygen-carrier of these metals that can feasibly make black blood but i literally do not know if the colour of oxides is in any way relevant to how oxygen-carrier bloodcells would actually be coloured as i’m not a chemist

But in highlighting these metals, I am not simply looking to see if a techno-organic talpaedan can have galvanised armour nor if they come built in with blood pressure monitors. No no no, I am saying more than what talpaedans eat but also what metals can talpaedans have easy access to in the development of technology, and how one might say that actually interacts with the ant-psychology of utterly fucking despising other colony.

Well-

Let’s say that google might be a little concerned about me learning about elements used in the construction of ammunition and radiation protection ehek-!

With the earth tilling that many developing talpaedans need to incorporate necessary metals into their diet, depending on the availabilty of said metals they may be an over abundance for food alone; especially with the pressure of competition of resources in combination with a general disdain for anything extracolonial, a factor that may lead to an escalation of tech development. There is an inherent baseline for technology in talpaedans that would already give their industrialisation a boost, in addition to the materials that may vary on quantity based on the region, colony size, and general population needs. Before long there are city states reinforcing their own barriers and expanding their borders for more and more materials - to consume and to create - to in fact increase and increase the tension between colonies so loud to the point pressure spills like a broken thermometer spills mercury and conflicts arise.

And when everything boils over do they realise that many have to balance the act of raising young and building more weapons, the factor that may in fact be the tipping point to realise that the colonies with the most resources are not only a threat but a threat that can overwhelm on the technological scale and the population number. In spite of how many colonies may indeed hate each other, it is more than worth it to them to compromise and in fact LIVE rather than be caught between the suddenly unveiling superpowers of the world that had previously lay unknown thanks to willful ignorance. Decimation of land is significantly reduced from cataclysmic to catastrophic as entire colonies are rased and in fact dug out into craters, many war-era alliances held to the modern day of Poiana Lüncas. A tithing - remnants of the treaties formed at the peak of desperation - of the youngest generation of adult men stands as both tradition and of appeasement, a colony trade and marriage across many different colonial alliances as a symbol of what had to be done before, sharing resources and rearing while the soldiers fought to live.

And all of this because they got a pill bug diet see this is why ants aren’t allowed to have materials for megaton bombs smh 😞

[sunshineyuyu]

friends with benefits a roommate (p. sh)

★ summary: after hooking up with mingi, you wake up the next morning and share a coffee with his attractive roommate seonghwa. a one night stand suddenly turns into a recurring thing—is the sex with mingi really that great? or are the mornings after with the roommate even better? ★ pairing: seonghwa x f!reader (ft. mingi) ★ genre: fluff ★ word count: 3.2k ★ tags/warnings: consultant!seonghwa, grad student!reader, fem!reader, grad student/best friend!mingi, references to sex but no descriptions, references to drinking, corporate grind woes, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: beta'd by the bestie @starhwas-bunny. also this is my first time posting :') ★ masterlist

like most grad students, you like to work hard, play hard.

which is why you’re at the dingiest bar on campus with your cohort, drunk out of your mind and grinding against your friend mingi to some doja cat song. and once it ends, you tug on mingi’s arm to presumably get more drinks, but instead drag him to the hallway near the bathrooms and stand on your tiptoes to slot your lips over his.

(thankfully, he reciprocates.)

and so, stumbling and giggling, the two of you call an uber back to mingi’s place.

⋆⋆⋆

the first thing seonghwa notices about you are your legs.

after all, how could he not? when all that’s there to cover them is the frayed hem of mingi’s ratty old high school football shirt. and you’re not shy about it—the fact that you’re walking around the apartment in nothing but a shirt that barely reaches the tops of your thighs.

the second thing seonghwa notices about you are your eyes.

surprisingly big and round for so early in the morning, and the fact that they’re trained straight on him.

“‘morning,” he says casually.

“good morning!” you reply, seemingly cheered by his acknowledgement. you scamper to the barstools on the other side of the large kitchen island and plop down on one. “i’m y/n.”

seonghwa is a little surprised at the introduction. he’s used to mingi bringing home girls often after living with him all through college until now, but he’s not used to interacting with them beyond catching a flash of their hair as they make a hasty exit.

the name is also unique, yet familiar.

“oh,” seonghwa says. “mingi’s mentioned you before. you’re in his cohort, right?”

“yup,” you say, popping the p at the end. “we’re besties.”

seonghwa hums, and then realizes he hasn’t introduced himself. “i’m seonghwa. you want some coffee?”

“yes, please,” you say.

“an iced latte okay?”

“um—yeah…?”

seonghwa can hear the apprehension on your tongue. the unsaid question—can he make a latte?

it’s silent for a little while as seonghwa flits around the kitchen, fetching the bag of fresh guatemalan coffee beans he’d picked up only yesterday and meticulously grinding them down into a powder. he presses it in the portafilter and then locks that into place in the group head of his shiny chrome silver espresso machine. it’s a relatively new purchase—or investment, as he likes to call it.

mingi had been wary about the whole thing—understandably so, since buying an espresso machine on a grad student budget is frivolous to say the least—so seonghwa had paid for it. they’d reached a mutual agreement that while the machine belongs entirely to seonghwa, mingi can pay for the beans to earn his share of the coffee it produced.

regardless, the espresso machine is an immediate hit with you, who oohs and aahs as the machine whirs and espresso drips out into two small porcelain cups.

“so fancy,” you say dreamily. 

smiling, seonghwa opens the fridge. “milk?”

“do you have oat?” you ask.

“of course,” seonghwa says, pulling out the carton.

with practiced hands, he pours the oat milk into a metal cup and then takes it over to the milk frother attachment. afterwards, he portions the frothed milk into two glasses filled with ice, before topping them off with the espresso shots. from a drawer, he retrieves two glass straws and then slides the finished drink over the counter to an awed you.

“it’s like a personal coffeeshop!” you squeal. “hold on, i have to take a picture!”

you dash back into mingi’s room, and for a second the spell is broken. seonghwa remembers that you’d come home last night with mingi—that you’d presumably had mind-blowing sex with mingi, that you slept over in mingi’s bed.

when you return to the kitchen, seonghwa has already swirled his drink together and sips on it a little impatiently. you beam as you take a photo of yours, before following his lead. when you take a sip, your eyes brighten and widen and suddenly, seonghwa is back into it.

back into you.

“omygod!” you say.

“nice, right?” seonghwa says.

“delicious,” you moan. “what beans did you use?”

“oh,” seonghwa says, unable to hide the surprise in his voice at your curiosity. “it’s a new guatemalan blend. i know a guy.” he hands the bag over to you so that you can read the description on the sticker.

you laugh. “‘i know a guy,’” you mimic. “are we talking about drugs?”

“might as well be,” seonghwa says. “i definitely have a caffeine addiction.”

“that’s okay,” you say. “so do i.” you say it conspiratorially, and seonghwa likes the theatrics.

he likes you.

seonghwa’s current project at work has him traveling to utah during the week, and while he loves mingi, coming back on the weekends to a dude just doesn’t really do anything for him. and seonghwa’s been so busy for the past two years—working 70 hours a week and commuting across the whole continent—that he’s never taken the time to consider that maybe there’s something missing.

something like—

sharing a coffee with a pretty girl on an early saturday morning.

something nice. domestic.

something that makes flying back to new york feel like coming home.

but seonghwa is shaken from his out-of-character introspection by sloppy footsteps coming from mingi’s bedroom. the man himself slogs into the kitchen, wearing only low-slung sweatpants and yawning like a heathen.

“no coffee for me?” he pouts at seonghwa.

“didn’t expect you up so early, sleeping beauty,” seonghwa says.

“fucking rude,” mingi grumbles. he turns to you, “you staying for breakfast?”

you peer suspiciously at him. “can you cook?”

“he can’t,” seonghwa says before mingi can reply. “but i can.”

the grin that you flash him is so breathtaking that he has to set his glass down. 

“okay, then,” you say, clapping your hands. “i’ll stay!”

seonghwa hides his own grin by ducking into the fridge for the eggs.

over breakfast, seonghwa tells you about his glamorous (derogatory) life as a consultant, and you respond by enthusiastically explaining the research you do at the university. mingi interjects occasionally, but mostly he just scrolls through twitter on his phone.

seonghwa easily deduces that you’re close friends, but the vibe feels mostly platonic.

he wonders if last night was a one-off, or the beginning of something. if there’s any hidden unrequited feelings. 

he’ll have to sus it out of mingi later, but for now, he’s content with discussing the ethical sourcing of coffee with you.

⋆⋆⋆

two weeks later, after another two grueling visits to utah, seonghwa wakes up to the scent of coffee.

it’s pleasant, and then jarring, because seonghwa knows that mingi doesn’t have the patience to use the espresso machine on his own (he drinks the instant stuff when seonghwa isn’t around). seonghwa leaps out of bed, all thoughts on his precious, pristine espresso machine child.

but the scene he finds in the kitchen is very much the opposite of a catastrophe.

first he sees the afterthought of a bun. hair tossed carelessly into a topknot that bounces as you move.

and then he sees the underwear—baby pink and lacy—and the perfect, round ass sticking out of the fridge.

“oh shit,” he croaks, before clapping a hand over his eyes and spinning around.

he’s rewarded with tinkling laughter that makes his ears burn red. he could get used to that sound, but maybe under different circumstances.

“good morning!” you call.

“um, morning.” seonghwa removes the hand and opens his eyes, but doesn’t turn around quite yet.

“sorry, i would put on some pants, but i wasn’t wearing any last night,” you says. “i’m decent now, though!”

true to your word, your bottom is as covered as it can get with that godforsaken high school football shirt. seonghwa really wishes mingi would get rid of it, but he knows that making varsity is still one of mingi’s proudest accomplishments.

“sorry about that.” seonghwa has to cough to get all the words out properly. his throat hasn’t quite woken up yet (the rest of his body, though, is thrumming with adrenaline, and his brain is working overtime figuring out the morality of saving that image of your ass).

“no worries,” you say breezily. “coffee?”

having the script flipped on him—someone else offering him coffee in his own goddamn apartment—is unsettling. even more unsettling is how similar the scene unfolding is to his brief daydream of domesticity the last time he encountered you.

“you, uh, know how to use the espresso machine?” he asks stupidly. he registers belatedly how his question might sound condescending, but you seem to take it all in stride.

“i was a barista for a bit in college,” you say.

“nice,” seonghwa says, just for something to say.

“i hope it’s okay that i used it,” you say. “i just really needed some caffeine after last night.”

at seonghwa’s questioning gaze, you explain, “we went way too hard.”

“any occasion?” seonghwa says, sliding dutifully onto a barstool when he realizes that you really do know what you’re doing. you have the oat milk out on the counter, the same glasses he used last time—pre-prepped with ice—and the new bag of orange-infused coffee beans.

you hum as you froth the milk. “made it past our first thesis deadline.”

“that’s exciting,” seonghwa says.

“barely,” you sigh. “we’re just waiting around to get our asses handed to us during critiques.”

“oh, well,” says seonghwa sympathetically. “i can relate. i routinely get my ass handed to me. some internal organs too.”

it’s not his best work, but it makes you laugh, so seonghwa considers that a win. it’s been a long time since he tried charming someone, and he’s more than a little out of practice.

but he can barely mull over it as his brain finally moves past its previous mental exercise (that image of your ass is burned in his memory forever now, intentionally or not) and finds a new problem to turn over: if you’re here, in the morning, wearing mingi’s shirt, then you must have stayed the night. and if you stayed the night, then you must have—

“here! hope it’s as good as yours,” you say, passing the latte over the island to seonghwa.

the moan that he lets out is involuntary, and it makes you beam.

“what do you think of the new beans?” seonghwa asks.

“mm, it’s nice,” you say. “sweet.”

in spite of the alarms firing in his head, seonghwa ventures a: “is there full-service breakfast with the coffee?”

“ooo,” you say, “taking advantage of me while i’m the one in the kitchen, i see.”

seonghwa instantly regrets it, as he says, “oh, i was just joking. i can make—”

“oh no, mister,” you say. “you sit your ass down. i’m about to blow your mind. this girlie can do much better than eggs and toast. now, where’s the flour?”

over the next twenty minutes, seonghwa watches in awe as you prance around the kitchen, unearthing ingredients and kitchenware that seonghwa barely even knew existed in the apartment. you tsk at the state of the stovetop, manage to reorganize their poor smattering of spices, and utilize takeout chopsticks expertly as a whisk.

and at the end, you present seonghwa with a plate of fluffy pancakes and perfectly soft-scrambled eggs.

when he takes a bite, he’s transported instantly back to his childhood. to picturesque mornings, eating homemade sunday brunch with his family to the lazy twittering of birds and under the warmth of a midmorning sun.

it tugs at his chest as he drenches his pancakes in potentially expired syrup from the back of their fridge, pours hot sauce over his eggs—

a nostalgia and a fondness that he thought he lost to the corporate grind.

“how is it?” you ask.

“marry me,” seonghwa says.

and despite being more serious than he’s ever been, you laugh at him.

“the patriarchy really popped out there for a second!” you say, digging into your own pancakes.

seonghwa opens his mouth to explain that he really did mean it, but as per usual, mingi decides that now is the perfect time to ruin everything with his presence. he’s at least wearing a shirt this time when he emerges from his lair, and you pop up to throw together a plate for him.

“thanks, mommy,” mingi sighs as he slides into a barstool.

“ew,” you wrinkle your nose.

“not what you were saying last night,” says mingi, with a disgusting amount of scrambled egg shoved into his mouth.

“don’t listen to him,” you say to seonghwa, but seonghwa has already turned his attention to scrolling through the news on his phone.

“kinky,” he throws out casually, not even bothering to look up.

breakfast goes like that this time—seonghwa as the one glued to his phone, while mingi and you gripe about having to regrade midterms because of a cheating scandal.

⋆⋆⋆

by the fifth time seonghwa encounters you in his kitchen on a saturday morning, you’ve fallen into a routine. seonghwa makes coffee, and you make breakfast; seonghwa makes sure to keep the fridge well-stocked as you begin making increasingly elaborate dishes, and you gift seonghwa a package of your favorite coffee blend.

you enjoy these stolen moments alone, bustling around the kitchen to the soft crackling of whatever record seonghwa chooses to play that morning. the two of you have the first few sips of coffee, first few bites of eggs, first few spoons of porridge alone, until the smell finally draws mingi out of his bed.

and then there’s three of you sitting around the dining table. it’s always pleasant, always comfortable, but it always feels like just one person too many.

sometimes it’s mingi, who is hungover or tired or grumpy; sometimes it’s you, who doesn’t like star wars or follow sports; and most of the time, it’s seonghwa, who doesn’t go to grad school, who spends most of the week, month, year in a different city—

who falls asleep alone at night.

seonghwa knows he could ask just mingi about it. are you just hooking up? is it a situationship? does mingi have feelings for you?

but he won’t, because somehow ignorance is bliss, and he’d rather live in limbo than risk a dive into hell. anyway, he’s not around enough for anything to flourish; he can barely keep the small succulent on his windowsill alive, least of all a real, adult relationship.

and eventually, you always have to leave.

⋆⋆⋆

seonghwa is exhausted. 

his flight had been delayed three times, and it’s already almost midnight by the time he toes off his shoes in the entryway of the apartment. his watch buzzes furiously, and seonghwa knows that it must be either mingi or you, drunkenly asking where he is. a few days ago, he’d promised that he would finally go out with you two, but he’s far too tired for those frivolities now.

instead, he shoots mingi a brief but apologetic text and hops into the shower.

what he intended to be a quick wash turns into a long one, as he lets the warm water pelt him—he’s never gotten around to fixing the abnormally aggressive water pressure of the shower head. but it feels nice now. jolts some feeling back into his system.

when he steps out of the shower, he feels clean but oddly raw. he treats himself to his favorite set of silk pajamas and decides that he has just enough energy to do some of his animal crossing daily tasks.

before he can slip into bed with his switch, he hears a series of frantic knocks on the front door.

operating under the assumption that mingi probably forgot his keys at the bar or something, seonghwa doesn’t check the peephole and just unlocks the door. he doesn’t even bother opening it before turning back towards his room.

but the thing swings open so abruptly that it bangs against the wall.

“jesus!” seonghwa says. “be careful with that—!”

except it’s not a drunk mingi standing in the threshold, it’s—

“you!” you say, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “you didn’t text me back. why didn’t you come out tonight?”

you look different tonight.

you’re wearing real clothes, for one. jeans and a top that makes your tits look great (not that seonghwa is focusing on that). 

your facial features look sharper, outlined and defined by makeup that’s usually washed away by morning. and you’re angry—eyes narrowed to near slits and hands on your hips. 

seonghwa sighs. “i just got back. i was too tired to go out. i told mingi that i’m sorry.”

“well you didn’t tell me sorry!” you huff, stepping into the apartment and letting the door shut harshly.

“sorry,” seonghwa says.

you square each other up just then. the smaller but furious you against the bigger but drained seonghwa.

“what are you doing here?” seonghwa finally tries. “where’s mingi?”

“last i saw, he was making out with sarah kim on the dance floor,” you say.

“oh,” seonghwa says. this must be why you are so mad. “i’m sorry.”

for the first time tonight, your anger drops just slightly. “for what?”

hesitantly, seonghwa says, “aren’t you mad?”

“well, yeah,” you say. “but not at mingi.”

and then before seonghwa can ask who exactly you’re mad at, you smack yourself in the forehead.

“oh my god, what was that for—?”

“seonghwa—do you think mingi and i are together or something?”

“well, you two have been hooking up for at least two months now,” seonghwa says.

“fuck,” you mutter, and then you round on seonghwa. “i’ve been trying to hang out with you, and we were supposed to tonight, until you bailed.”

seonghwa is so preoccupied with defending himself, that he barely picks up on the subtext of your words. “i told you—i was fucking tired! my flight was delayed, like, three—”

“the only i reason i was hooking up with mingi was to hang out with you!” you wail.

the statement is so ridiculous that all seonghwa can do is stare at you in stunned silence.

“you- what—?”

“and for the record! we never even really hooked up!” you continue.

faintly, seonghwa wonders if he’s having a heart attack. with every word that comes out your mouth, seonghwa can feel his heart rate spike dramatically. but none of this adrenaline is making its way to his brain, so his processing power is still slow.

“what are you saying?” seonghwa croaks.

your expression softens, and you take a step closer.

“i like you,” you say. “i really like spending the mornings with you, and i’d like to spend nights with you, too. but only if you—”

“yes,” seonghwa says immediately. “yes.”

the edges of your eyes crinkle as your face splits into a large grin. “so, you like me, too?”

seonghwa replies by surging forward and finally, finally kissing you.

⋆⋆⋆

the next morning, seonghwa and you wake up early, but you don’t get up to make coffee or breakfast. you stay in bed for as long as you can, until you hear timid knocks on seonghwa’s door.

“guys? how do you work the espresso machine?”

[floorpancakes]

au where there's some sort of dub holic name localisation where watanuki is called april

[katyawriteswhump]

something new 💝 (steddie microfic, steddie bingo)

For @steddiemicrofic January prompt, ‘new’ and @steddiebingo fill, ‘soulmates.’

Rating: M; WC: 517; CW: Omegaverse; Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, fluff, mild angst and h/c, Steve and Chrissy are besties, strangers to lovers, steddie soulmates. Summary: The Omega darling of the entire High School, Steve Harrington figured he was totally in control… until Eddie Munson happened.

💝💝💝💝💝

Steve sat in the corridor, leaning against the music-room wall. On the other side, a voice soared above a thrash-metal beat and melted his inner Omega into a puddle of need.

“Steve? You’re late for cheerleading practice… Oh!” Chrissy crouched down, stroked his clammy brow. “Stevie, you’re burning up.”

“I-it’s that voice.”

This was new, frightening. Steve daily flirted his ass off without breaking sweat—the Omega Princess of Hawkins High. This terrifyingly wonderful sound, however, hit some catastrophic resonance.

Slick gushed into his cheerleader hotpants. “Chrissy, what’s happening?”

“I think,” said the other Omega, “Eddie is happening.”

“Munson?”

The wild noisy music checked out, scaring Steve shitless. Eddie was a ‘dangerous’ bad-boy Alpha. They’d never even spoken.

“Sssssh, breathe,” said Chrissy. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

They skipped practice, while Steve calmed. Chrissy reassured him she’d known Eddie for years: “He looks scary, but he’s really nice.”

Later, in the canteen, Steve tentatively approached Eddie, who glanced his way, eyes narrowing. His Alpha musk—smoky-sweet with undertones of freshly-fired iron—stabbed Steve like a smoldering dagger.

Steve woke up at home, confused and mildly slick, a wisp of Eddie’s scent still upon him.

Horror struck.

He’d fainted! Chrissy, who sat by his bed, told him Eddie had been worried, and they’d brought him home together. Ugh, he was still so ashamed.

Steve couldn’t face college the next day. By lunchtime, multiple deliveries of chocolates and flowers had arrived from various Alphas.

Nothing new. None of them smelled of Eddie. He’d blown it.

Then an envelope landed on the doormat, containing a mixtape lightly doused in... Eddie’s scent.

Steve slid it into his Walkman and lay down, pulse skittering.

Hardcore-metal thrilled through him, interjected with soft-rock he already loved, like Bon Jovi.

Finally, Eddie sang.

Steve writhed, stroking himself, weeping with need. Eddie husked in his ears: “Never even spoken, never fucking touched. You tore inside me, twisting viscera, totally fucked me up…”

In the aftermath, Steve trembled, stunned.

The phone rang.

His parents were away, so Eddie came straight over. Chrissy, too, for support. This time, Steve perched on the bed, while Eddie approached cautiously. He kneeled to take Steve’s hand, smiling tentatively.

“This is new for me,” he mumbled, blushing and almost bashful. He kissed Steve’s fingers, setting Steve reeling giddily, tingling head-to-toe: “Never courted an Omega, like, old-school, before.”

Steve nearly yelled: This is the first time I’ve genuinely wanted to be courted. Instead, he said, “I love your voice.”

Please jump my bones already?

Eddie blushed harder and beamed wolfishly. Steve clasped his wrist and tugged him onto the bed, and animal magnetism did the rest. Eddie took Steve in his arms. Excruciatingly sweetly, Eddie’s lips brushed Steve’s, tongue probing gently. Steve tipped his throat back with a relieved sigh, turning willingly pliant. Eddie licked and nuzzled his scent-gland, setting him purring.

Chrissy giggled. “Gonna call Rob to pick me up.”

A month later, they were going steady. Eddie finally shared the title of the song he wrote that first day, when the longing in Steve’s Omega scent hijacked him and transformed his life forever:

‘Soulmates.’

💝💝💝💝💝

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[wave2tyun]

summer flows

pairing: soobin x reader

genre: beach!au, friends to lovers, fluff!!<3

summary: when the waves come crashing forward on a hot summer day, soobin's love gets swept up and becomes unveiled ashore

warnings: none i think :0

word count: 2k

a/n: do you guys think i'll find soobin at the beach tomorrow??????!!!! be honest!!!!!😤😤😤 biggest thanks to my bestie @huekalover3000 for helping me pull through with it🤧🤧💞💞 to be honest i'm not so sure how i feel about this but let me just taking it as a win for kicking some writers block ass (also i read through this twice but if there's still some mistakes then ummmmm pretend you didn't see it until i wake up)

“do you need more ice?”

picking up the glass soobin was holding, you took a sip from the chewed-up straw before providing him with a verdict- the mojito that you had ordered barely minutes ago was now of a pale, yet still greenish color, with wet pieces of mint stuck to the walls of the glass like the slimy algae washed up on the shore. the alcohol had completely evaporated from sitting in such boiling heat, and the only flavor that your tongue could find a hint of anymore was lime, turned nastily sour.

“sure” you shrugged. even though your drink was already diluted past salvation, there was no way you’d pour your money down the drain just like that- after all, it had cost you an inadmissible twelve dollars; at least if it was a bit colder, then there might have been a higher chance you’d be able to leave the beach without feeling nauseous.

soobin scooped up the remnants of ice from the metal bucket, 3 pieces so small that they were the size of a pebble. he dunked two of them in your drink, the third one having slipped and fallen into the sand, yet neither of you could gather up the energy to say a word about it. to simply put it, the heat today had been unseasonably oppressive, downright unacceptable and even close to lethal. you’d believe that people’s first instinct would be to stay inside and seek the protection of a dimly lit room with an ac or fan turned on to the max- but soobin had somehow convinced you that walking twenty minutes to reach the beach through languid summer heat was the better option.

“how long has it been- shouldn’t we get going soon?” you asked, yet laid back down with your arms behind your head, closing your eyes.

with a tap on his phone’s screen, soobin looked at the time- it was six pm on the dot, marking a few good hours already since you came here. the overbearing sun was only now beginning to sink lower into the sea, painting golden hues over the beach as it prepared for sunset. with many families finding that as their cue to pack up and leave, the squeaks of children splashing around had also been significantly reduced. but soobin couldn’t bring himself to leave too just yet, this was, in his mind, the ideal time to stay.

“can’t we go swimming one last time? i promise we’ll leave right after that” he pleaded, hoping to stall for a bit more time here with you. given how many twists and turns you had to get through in order to find the place, he wasn’t so sure how willing you’d be to make the journey again.

so, in the end, he chose not to risk it- leaping from where his towel laid without an answer, and jumping straight into the cool water. it wasn’t quite in his nature to do something so impulsive though, and you could tell how flustered he was from the way he apologised with reddened ears to any people around he had accidentally splashed with water. with an amused yet defeated smile, you followed the footprints he left behind in the white sand at a much more leisurely pace than him- remaining on the shore, standing as you watched the tide lapping at your feet. the seafoam coming up shily touched your tiptoes, retracting its movements soon after.

“are you not gonna join me?” soobin asked, almost accusatory, tilting his head slightly as he swam closer towards you.

“still thinking about it” you teased, fighting back a laugh at the impatient sigh he had released.

since asking proved to be redundant, soobin proceeded with his plan B: throwing water in your direction- each time varying with a bit more intensity in his aim and deepening the stubborn frown between his eyebrows. much to his dismay though, you chose to give him no reaction, not appeasing to any of his continuous childish demands. his persistence wasn’t one to underestimate though- seeing that you still wouldn’t budge, he went on to take your hand in his, pulling your body past the edge of the sea and straight into the slightly deeper levels of the water. with the low temperature suddenly enveloping your body, an involuntary shriek made its way past your lips. 

“my hand slipped, sorry” soobin chuckled, unmistakable mischief hidden behind his brown eyes.

“my hand slipped” you scowled, sending droplets flying towards him in matching retaliation.

about to defend himself, soobin’s hand rose up, the motion turning you to close your eyes in anticipation, bracing yourself for another taste of saltwater. however, you found yourself clashing with his body instead as you were drawn in by him once more; one of his arms wrapped around your waist to catch you, helping you not lose your footing, the other one carefully protecting your head. with his torso not fully submerged in the water, and with the evening breeze beginning to flow, soobin’s chest felt cool against your back- but before you could properly process what was happening, a wave came crashing forward, sending the two of you tumbling in different directions beneath the surface of the sea. the moment he rose back up, soobin’s eyes shot wide open, ignoring the searing pain induced by the water as he worriedly looked around for your figure. squeezing your eyes shut and desperately rubbing at them with your hands, you were unable to even pry them open as soobin called out your name.

“are you okay?” he exclaimed, the concern having made his voice come out louder than he had intended.

“yeah but- fuck, it stings” you grumbled in frustration.

as a brief signal of having reached you, he softly placed a hand on your back before speaking: 

“wait right here, okay?”

even with the water slightly slowing down his movements, he walked in strides, trying to rush towards the shore. then, he grabbed his towel from the ground, hurriedly dusting off any clinging grains of sand with his hand. unscrewing the cap of his water bottle, he splashed a corner of the towel with it before returning towards you. careful not to let the material come in contact with the sea, he brought it up to your face, gently dabbing at the affected area in hopes to soothe your pain.

“better?” he asked in a shaky breath- relief washed over his face at the nod you gave in response.

“much better, yeah- thank you”

“come on, let’s get you back to the shore” he spoke gently, draping the same towel over your shoulders before leading you back, hand intertwined with his.

however, it was only momentarily relief soobin had felt- dusk was falling rapidly, and his shoulders tensed up again from the way he saw you continuing to shiver beside him on the sand, relentlessly rubbing at your bare arms and legs to hide away the goosebumps.

"still cold?" his hand gave yours a soft squeeze in concern; having been the one to suggest one last dip in the water, he now felt guilty seeing you shiver like this- perhaps he should have listened when you first suggested to leave. 

"let me warm you up a bit"

grabbing the left end of the towel, soobin slipped his body beneath the coral colored cloth, shuffling closer towards you to the point where your knees were touching. for you, that was already enough to make the air feel hotter again, but soobin went on, dragging his hand along your shoulders and across the expanse of your back in thoughtful, rhythmic motions. you nuzzled your body further into his, seeking his warmth, and for a little while longer, you remained just like that, holding each other close in silence. but as tranquil as the scenery may have been- the air hung heavy, it was a silence that begged to be broken, eyes moving from sand to stone, with fluttering gazes at your lips every so often.

“so…”

“so-”

with the same words escaping the both of you at once, you couldn’t help but laugh: “you can go first”

“oh i just-” soobin paused, blinking a few times before continuing “i wanted to thank you for coming here with me today”

“of course-” you lightly nudged him “you know i can’t say no to you”

soobin smiled lightly, then released a sigh. the stutter midway through his next words made you believe that they weren’t so much of an honest match to his thoughts.

“i’m ready to leave if you want to- just tell me”

absentmindedly, you traced shapes on a patch of sand in front, using a brittle piece of driftwood “i don’t mind staying here a bit longer” you mumbled “the view is pretty”

soobin’s eyes softened as he looked at you “you’re prettier” he said quietly, half-hoping that you wouldn’t be able to pick up his words.

the unexpected comment took you off guard- flustered, you continued to avoid his peering gaze. you decided to question him for confirmation, too unsure whether to take him seriously or not “what’s that supposed to mean?”

pink dusted soobin’s cheeks and his mouth froze slightly agape- rather than giving you an answer, he simply looked ahead at the sea, resting his head on his knees. before he could begin to overthink it, soobin felt your lips softly pressing against his cheek, followed by a low whisper.

“for calling me pretty”

unsure of where exactly this was all leading to, you backed away then turned your head, placing your focus on the distant calls of birds and the waves rhythm instead- trying to steady your throbbing heartbeat in full accordance to their pace. and you were slowly beginning to calm down- that was, until you felt soobin’s lips press against your temple. but they left your skin just as quickly as they had touched it- flustered by his own actions, now it was his turn to look the other way, avoiding your face.

‘what now?’ you thought to yourself, as if you were caught playing some game of chess. it felt like your entire friendship strongly weighed on your next move- no matter how you put it, there was no clear answer that came to mind. panic began to settle in when you saw soobin’s head begin to turn towards you again:

“are you sure about this?” you blurted out impulsively.

“i’ve always been sure about you” soobin spoke under his breath, voice whispering so sweetly into the gusting breeze. the way he smiled after that warmed your heart in a way the sun never could- that tenderness of his reflected onto his face so clearly, and even more so in his touch, as he leaned in to meet your lips, slowly closing the gap between the two of you: a short kiss- still too hesitant to continue with more than just a brush of his lips. soobin gently moved away, just enough to be able to look into your eyes again.

“should i stop?” he whispered, cupping your cheek. his thumb lightly trembled from nervousness as he caressed your skin.

“quite the opposite, actually-” you mumbled faintly, placing your own hand on top of his “do that again, please”

the kiss that followed was still almost as light as a feather- soobin built up the pace slowly yet diligently, but despite threading with so much care, his kisses soon became much more fervent, much needier. a hand dipped down to your waist to pull you closer, soft gasps and sighs escaping whenever your lips parted from one another. with a bit more self control, he pulled away once he was completely out of breath, and with his head falling down to your shoulder, he bashfully confessed:

“if we don’t leave now, i’m not sure if we’re ever getting out of here”

taglist: @huekalover3000 @maybabe00 @sunoooism @boba-beom @ujisworld @wave2vee

[borathae]

Just Relax

↳ Full Art

“Yoongi is very hesitant about bottoming, but something about his best friend Hoseok makes him ease up. One night, he comes to his place with a very important favour to ask. A rimjob, but please be patient with him, he is very shy.”

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Genre: best friends with benefits!AU, polyamory!AU, Smut

Warnings: implications of accidental listening in on a threesome, shiest sub!Yoongi, he is scared of bottoming and needs someone to be patient with him, listen this is very difficult for him but sometimes a kitty gets horny and can't think straight anymore, patient Dom!Hoseok, praise, encouraging dirty talk, making out against a wall, shy nudity, frotting, oral sex, a rimjob in the shower, accidental face sitting, Hoseok is way too skilled with his mouth, Yoongi tries to stay quiet but fails, handjob, spontaneous anal sex, they're both very horny for each other, multiple intense orgasms (Yoongi receiving), creampie, cockwarming, a little bit of subdrop, reassuring aftercare!!, you guys must know that Yoongi never asks for stuff like this so this is a big deal for him!

Wordcount: 7.3k

a/n: i'm actually fucking obsessed with shy sub Yoongi 😩 just as i'm obsessed with patient Dom Hoseok 😩 fukkc besties i might just be obsessed with this duo 😩 have fun hehe i hope you are enjoying the art to it as well hehe 👀 i might already be working on something else with them 👀💙

Hoseok opens the door to Yoongi in his biker gear.

“Yoongi hey, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure, always. Come in”, Hoseok says, stepping out of the doorway, “you’re coming at the perfect time. I was planning to pop open a blood bag and watch a show. Want one?”

“Thanks, I’ll pass. Blood bags are rancid.”

“No, hairy animals are rancid. You’re getting fur mixed with your meal.”

“Touché”, Yoongi says, shrugging off his leather jacket to reveal a white t-shirt. Yoongi steps out of his boots. “Still better than refrigerated blood. That’s like cooking your favourite meal and waiting for it to get cold before eating it.”

“Your loss then”, Hoseok says and abandons Yoongi in the hallway.

Not that he is alone in the kitchen for long. Mere seconds later, he can hear the distinct pitter-patter of Yoongi’s waddle walk. He only does this walk in front of people he feels comfortable with. Ever since that one fateful, drunken night, Hoseok definitely is on the list of comfortable people. 

The latter takes out a blood bag and pierces it with a metal straw, slurping out of it. He looks at Yoongi, who is sitting by the dining table, gawking at Hoseok. 

Hoseok scans his eyes over his torso. The shirt hugs his chest and arms, showcasing how strong Yoongi actually was. He is wearing silver jewellery on his arms and hands. Necklaces and earrings match in colour. As if he dressed up.

“Everything’s good with you?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi nods his head.

“I’m just asking ‘cause you never visit without an invite.”

“I just.” Yoongi looks away and rubs his neck nervously. “You were on my way, yeah.”

He definitely wasn’t, but Hoseok knows better than to pry.

“Ah nice. Were you somewhere?”

Yoongi nods his head, now playing with his ear piercings.

“I had a few things to do in town. I’m on my way to the estate and thought I’ll check in on you.”

“That’s sweet of you. Thanks man.” Hoseok leans against the kitchen counter nonchalantly. He takes a sip of the blood and licks his lips. “I can’t complain. The house’s been kinda quiet ever since the others moved out, but other than that it’s good.”

Yoongi nods his head in understanding. 

“Are you lonely?”

“Lonely?” Hoseok almost chokes on the blood, catching himself at the last moment. “Dude, what?” 

“Sorry, I don’t know”, Yoongi looks to the side. His cheeks are slightly flushed.

Hoseok finishes his meal, discarding the empty bag in his trash can. He washes the metal straw and walks to Yoongi afterwards, sitting down on the chair next to him.

“It’s not lonely now, is it?” he says, giving him a playful grin.

Yoongi glances and blushes harder.

“Hm.” 

“You look very nice today.”

“Uh…I just put on stuff, yeah.”

“It’s nice. It fits you.”

Yoongi flusters, nodding his head. “Thanks, uhm.” He gestures at Hoseok. “You look nice too.”

“You think? Thanks, it’s just an old sweat suit.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at Hoseok as he speaks, “it looks good on you.”

“Aw, thanks.” Hoseok gives him a smile even if he knows that Yoongi is too shy to look at him. “Why are you really here, hyung?”

Yoongi’s entire face is bright red within a second.

“I told you. You were on my way home”, he whines.

“Is that why you dressed up and why you put on fresh cologne?”

“I didn’t do any of these things.”

“Hyung, are you here for sex?”

Yoongi widens his eyes and looks away instantly. 

“N-no, no I, uh, I no I”, he stutters and stutters, “no I, I, I…” He lowers his head. “Maybe”, he whispers almost inaudibly.

Hoseok grins triumphantly.

“See? Once you Doctor Love, you never wanna go back.”

“Fuck, shut up you freak. Forget it, I’m leaving again”, Yoongi groans, scurrying to his feet to flee in embarrassment.

But Hoseok acts quicker, using his powers to catch up with him in the hallway. 

“Don’t run. I’ll take it seriously, promise.”

Yoongi gnaws on his own lower lip, glancing at him.

“Promise. I’ll stop the Doctor Love act. You’re gonna get Hoseok. Promise.”

Yoongi inhales and exhales, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“I wasn’t even in town. The estate is busy. They, uhm, are having a threesome”, he confesses.

“Uuh sexy”, Hoseok coos, wiggling his brows.

“No, noisy as fuck. They keep taking turns on each other and they’re being so loud about it, it’s fucking insane.”

“It’s sounding better and better.”

“Hoba.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. When you tell me that ___, Tae and Kook are fucking, I can’t help being a perv.”

“You are, yeah.”

“But what’s that got to do with you?”

“I listened in.”

“Hah! I knew it! You do that too!”

“Not willingly, it happened”, Yoongi hisses.

“Sure hyung”, Hoseok grins, earning himself a soft nudge.

“Whatever asshole, I just overheard them and they were uhm, eating each other’s, like uhm, asses?” 

“Hot, very hot. So you came to me ‘cause you wanna get your ass ate too.”

Yoongi looks to the side.

“Fuck, yes basically”, he babbles and turns his back to Hoseok slightly. “Whatever, it’s stupid. Just forget it.”

Hoseok stops him from leaving, holding his hand. Yoongi squeezes his hand instinctively. 

“It’s not stupid. I can eat your ass.”

Yoongi glances, blushes and looks away. “Fucking hell, what are we doing here?”

“I don’t know. Flirting?”

Yoongi laughs slightly. Hoseok smiles and nudges him closer and closer to a wall.

“Wanna do it now?”

“I guess we could.” Yoongi, who finally notices that Hoseok is nudging him to a wall, but can’t do anything against being cornered, panics a little. “It’s not funny. This is weird”, Yoongi hisses.

“You’re thinking too much”, Hoseok says.

“Stop being cocky, I-”, his words get knocked out of him, back hitting the wall. He gasps and gasps again when Hoseok cages him in with his hands on the wall on each side of his head. 

“You’re thinking too much”, Hoseok whispers, “you want this, don’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head, switching between looking into his eyes nervously and gazing at his lips longingly.

“Then stop thinking. I don’t judge, you know that I’m not.” 

“I-I’ve never done this before.”

“What? Gotten a rimjob?” 

Yoongi shakes his head, “no went to, to someone for sex. E-especially not a, a man.” 

“And you’re nervous about it?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“Don’t be nervous, hyung. It’s just me.”

“You have to keep it a secret.”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one telling ___ all the details the last time, not me.”

Yoongi lowers his head in embarrassment, getting it tilted up again by two of Hoseok’s fingers under his chin. Hoseok laughs softly.

“I’ll keep it a secret. Promise”, he is teasing Yoongi, who flutters his lashes vigorously. “Try to relax, okay?”

“I’m trying”, Yoongi gets out, gulping heavily. His entire body is tense, his breaths leave him in short, ragged huffs.

“No, you’re not. You’re tense.”

“I’m trying, I mean it”, Yoongi says, huffing out air in defeat. 

“Close your eyes”, Hoseok orders him in a soft spoken rasp.

Yoongi flutters his eyes closed, parting his lips slightly. He parts them even more when Hoseok brushes his thumb over the shape of them.

“You’ve got such pretty lips, hyung”, Hoseok whispers and leans down to kiss his upper lip. Just his upper lip, gently to get Yoongi wanting more. 

Yoongi tilts his head closer excitedly, sighing against his will. Hoseok tastes sweet like the blood he drank, his lips are very soft. He keeps licking his upper lip. His tongue is so soft and wet and slightly cold. It makes Yoongi really needy because it feels like he is teasing him.

The kiss breaks, Hoseok puts enough distance so he can look at Yoongi’s flushed face. Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, breathing heavily and pressing himself against the wall. Like a nervous little kitten being cornered into a situation it has no clue whether to like or not. Hoseok wants to coo at him. His hyung can be so cute without even trying.

“Open your eyes.”

Yoongi’s eyes open instantly, making contact at first before flitting to the side instinctively. 

“Eyes on me.”

Yoongi obeys even if the eye contact makes him really, really scared. He is scared that Hoseok can see how nervous he is, how fucking inexperienced he is in stuff like this and how, despite his inexperience and fear, he is this close to submission.

Hoseok brushes his thumbs under Yoongi’s eyes, cradling his face this way. Yoongi holds his breath. His thoughts are racing. What am I doing here? I should flee. What are the best escape routes? This is too revealing. I’m showing myself too vulnerable. Stupid cunt, he is younger than me, I have to be a strong role model. I’m the strongest, I’m a Creator, I have to keep my head up. I’ll be ridiculed if I’m vulnerable. I don’t wanna be strong right now. I wanna be small. It’s too dangerous, don’t show yourself this way. Oh god why is he looking into my eyes? I want to be kissed again. No, don’t think about this. Stay strong. I want to relax and kiss. Stop thinking that!

“Relax, hyung. You’re thinking too much”

Yoongi freezes up. Can Hoseok read his mind? Hoseok, however, can’t read his mind, he can read expressions and right now Yoongi looks at him like a frightened deer in headlights. He doesn’t need to hear his thoughts to know that they are racing.

“Relax, okay?” he tells him.

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are, just try harder.”

Yoongi tenses up more, “I am.”

Hoseok laughs breathily, sliding his hands to the nape of Yoongi’s neck to rub it. Yoongi tilts his head back, leaning into the touch this way. A hint of relaxation washes over his features.

“I think I’m doing more harm than good with this”, Hoseok says.

“No, I-I’m trying.”

“Good job, I’m proud of you.”

Yoongi’s knees buckle, his eyes cloud over. This seems to work.

“Close your eyes again.”

Yoongi obeys, holding his breath. Hoseok’s touch is so gentle that his head feels droopy and he wants to relax his muscles.

“Good job, you’re doing good”, Hoseok praises, watching in delight how Yoongi’s tight body softens even more. Praise is the magic spell. Hoseok bites down on his tongue. Fuck, he wants to ruin him, but knows not to act too quickly. 

He slides his hand to the back of Yoongi’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair. His nails scratch his scalp gently. Yoongi tingles all the way down to his toes, fighting the urge to open his eyes. It is very difficult for him to trust Hoseok to the point of blindness. Not because Hoseok is an untrustworthy person, but because Yoongi has issues with touch and trust and love. They are scary things to him. So this is difficult, but also really nice. Hoseok’s fingers are so gentle in their touch. It’s so, so nice. 

Hoseok closes the distance and kisses him again. Yoongi is more active this time around, tilting his head and claiming his lips wholly. Hoseok smiles, pulling back slightly so needy Yoongi wouldn’t already spoil the surprise. But needy Yoongi is so needy and when he is needy he needs a proper kiss. He needs and needs and needs. He tries to chase Hoseok to which he always pulls back. He tries to tongue kiss him to which he always pulls back. He tries to peck his lips and even then he pulls back. 

Yoongi huffs out air in frustration, opening his eyes. Hoseok, who was looking at Yoongi with half-lidded eyes, gives him a playful smirk. One which flusters him again, but which also makes him want to kiss him even harder. 

“Good job, hyung. Keep doing so well”, Hoseok praises, weakening his mind with it. 

Droopy, so droopy. Yoongi can barely form coherent thoughts by now. 

Hoseok moves in to kiss him. Yoongi moans against his will, squeezing his eyes shut so he could enjoy the kiss fully. He kisses him back needily and quickly, taking off his hands from the wall to instead grab his waist. Hoseok’s waist is small in Yoongi’s big hands. It feels firm and sculpted like the waist of a dancer who has used it for decades. Right now, it is the only thing keeping Yoongi from running away. The kiss turns his brain into mush. The last sane part of it screams at him to flee because right now he is sober and doesn’t have the excuse of intoxication to fall back on. Hoseok’s waist is the one thing which keeps Yoongi from listening to the voice. This and maybe his sweet kiss and his good touch and his scent and the way his left hand grabs his hip. Yoongi gasps, breaking the kiss with it. He can count all five fingers dimpling his hips. The grip is possessive. Yoongi dares to look up at Hoseok through his lashes. His eyes mirror the possessiveness. The rest of his face carries a mask of patience. Yoongi gulps. He is suddenly hyper aware of the throbbing of his well-kissed lips and the ache between his legs which seems to grow more and more. 

“Turn around for me”, Hoseok orders in a lowered, desire-soaked voice. 

Yoongi obeys, squishing himself against the wall with squeezed shut eyes. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. This is too vulnerable. 

Hoseok purrs and steps closer, pressing his body against Yoongi’s while his eager hands rub his waist back and forth. They touch his tummy, his lower back and his sides over and over again. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, feeling dizzy. 

“Relax, kitten. You’re tensing up again.”

“Ahm”, Yoongi lets out, trying to stop his stomach from tensing. He exhales deeply. Hoseok takes it as his cue to move to the next step. He opens Yoongi’s belt from behind, then the button of his leather pants. 

Yoongi balls his hands to fist on the wall, suddenly feeling his eyes burn in nervous tears. 

The zipper next. 

Yoongi is going to pass out. 

A hand slips inside and grabs the hem of his shirt to pull it out of the pants. First in the front, then in the back. Hoseok has to put a little distance between him and Yoongi for the back, using the new position to check on him. His cheeks are deep red, his nose scrunched and his eyes squeezed shut. He is also barely breathing and breathing way too much at the same time. Hoseok slows down, keeping his eyes focused on Yoongi’s face as his hands work his tight pants down his hips. His breathing quickens more and more, but he stays in the position. Hoseok reaches the first hurdle, Yoongi’s big bubble butt. He works slowly, tugging the pants down inch by inch. No retaliation from Yoongi and so Hoseok manages to expose his entire ass to his eyes. Down and down and down, he tugs his pants. 

Yoongi currently feels as if he was in the most dangerous situation he ever found himself in. He fought feral werewolves, evil witches, bloodthirsty vampires, angry humans and old demons. Nothing, truly nothing, came close to the danger than this right now. Being pressed against a wall and getting undressed so Hoseok can stick his tongue in his hole. Every single instinct and supposed rational thought tells him to run away.

Hoseok kneels down and tugs the pants down the last few inches. It pools by Yoongi’s ankles. 

“Look at you, your legs. Damn”, he speaks softly, running his palms up the outside of them. 

Kill him! Yoongi’s brain is going haywire. Kill him! Kill him! Run away! Run! 

“So smooth and silky. Your skin is like porcelain, hyung.”

Hoseok slides his hands under the swell of Yoongi’s buttocks and runs them down the inside of his legs. 

“Wait”, Yoongi calls out and steps to the side. He turns around, staring down at Hoseok with widened eyes. Hoseok gazes up at him patiently, keeping his hands to himself. 

“Changed your mind?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s okay. Wanna borrow some of my sweats and then just watch a show?”

“No, I mean, I-I didn’t change my mind I just, I just need to shower first.”

Hoseok smiles. He is so smitten for Yoongi and how shy he is. His cock is so hard in his tight briefs and his body is flushed all over and here he is, thinking about showers. He is so silly sometimes.

“Sure, but you don’t need it you know? You smell really good.”

“No, I stink. I’m sorry I need to shower please.”

“Okay.” Hoseok stands up, fixing his sweats because they are pinching his boner. “You know where the bathroom is.”

Yoongi nods his head and leaves as quickly as his weakened legs allow him to. He runs up the stairs and moments later, slams the door closed. 

“Sorry!” he calls out in apology then seconds of silence follow until the sound of running water ends the entire moment. 

Hoseok takes a deep breath of defeat, bending down to pick up Yoongi’s leather pants. He shakes them out and folds them neatly, placing them on the dresser by the coat rack. He fixes Yoongi’s boots and his helmet then looks up the stairs. 

Some time has passed between Yoongi fleeing and now. The water is still running and something tells Hoseok that he should go up there and check on Yoongi. Something that keeps telling him that Yoongi is currently going down a spiral of complete self despair. 

Yoongi tries very hard not to cry in the shower. That’s what he gets for doing things out of his comfort zone. He gets an achy stomach and racing thoughts. He can’t be a bottom. He can’t do it. He wants to do it, but he can’t. He needs to accept that he is supposed to be the strongest and that the strongest doesn’t act like this. Yoongi doesn’t know how to end this shower or how to go outside again and tell Hoseok that he wants to leave, because he doesn’t actually want to leave. He wants to be pressed against a wall and have Hoseok claim his little hole. But how does he go about all of this when he has never done it before? He thought that doing it scared was already enough, but is it really? When is he enough? What does he need to do to be enough?

“Don’t think so much.”

Yoongi whips around with a yelp and tries to push the intruder away. But Hoseok acts faster, catching his hands to pin them against the glass shower wall. The impact makes a shrill sound like knuckles hitting sturdy glass.

“You, you, you”, Yoongi stutters, staring at him in shock. He didn’t hear him come in, neither did he sense him or smell him. He should have been able to, but didn’t. What is wrong with him? Did Hoseok really mess with his clarity to such extend?

“Relax, hyung. I told you that you should relax”, Hoseok tells him, caressing his hands softly. 

The water runs down both their bodies, soaking their dark hair and wetting their skins. Hoseok matches with Yoongi, wearing nothing more than the nudity he was put on the earth in. This is the first time that he sees Yoongi in such a state and yet, Yoongi feels as if he had done so before, as if it was okay for him to be naked in front of Hoseok. 

Their skins are the same colour, the shade of their nipples are the same as well, even their cocks share the same nuances of pretty colours. Yoongi realises in this moment that they are so similar and he finds comfort in it. He isn’t a weird looking alien, he is human. 

His once wriggly arms stop, his wrists find comfort in being pinned by Hoseok.

“I’m scared”, he hears himself confess. 

“Scared of what?”

“Of this. It’s so new, I’m doing it scared but it’s so hard to do.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to do anything.”

“But I want it. Why is it so hard for me to be normal like other people?”

“I think you’re pretty normal.”

“No, I’m not. I’m the strongest and, and a Creator and I need to-”

Hoseok silences him with a finger against his lips. Yoongi gulps. 

“You need to stop thinking right now and let me do my thing.” Hoseok says, stepping closer to Yoongi until their crotches are touching. They are both soft right now, but tingle at the contact between their cocks. “You want this, don’t you?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“See? Then stop worrying about it. Even the strongest needs a break, hyung. And deserves to have his ass ate.”

Yoongi laughs at that. Hoseok laughs with him, grinding his hips into him slowly. Just enough to give Yoongi glimpses of pleasure and to relax him with it. 

“Especially when that ass looks like an entire buffet”, Hoseok adds, wiggling his brows.

Yoongi looks away, pushing at Hoseok first before pulling him closer to rest his forehead against his shoulder. He closes his eyes.

“Shut up, you weirdo.”

“Then turn around and give me something to shut up with.”

Yoongi gulps.

Hoseok smiles and rubs Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I know.”

They stay like this for a while. Hoseok has one hand against the glass and the other on Yoongi’s hip. While Yoongi grabs his waist. There is no movement at first, but then his hands get needy. The water warms Hoseok’s body and makes his skin so soft. Yoongi’s hands grow restless, finding relief by feeling up his waist and hips. Hoseok lets him ease into it, resting his forehead against Yoongi’s ear and keeping his eyes closed while the water soaks their hair. 

Yoongi smells really good up close. Especially now that the warm water brings out the scent of his shampoo. Hoseok moves his head a little, enough to brush his lips against Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi shivers, cock throbbing against Hoseok’s. It makes Hoseok’s cock throb as well and together, they grow harder again. The small movements Hoseok makes suddenly feel electric. His instincts tell Hoseok to reach down there and jerk off their cocks, but he knows that this would scare Yoongi away again. He needs to be patient with him. 

Lost in the slow moment, he begins kissing the parts of Yoongi’s neck which are naturally exposed by the position. Yoongi seems to like it because he moves his head to reveal more of his neck to Hoseok’s lips. The latter claims the new spots instantly, kissing and sucking the tender skin until Yoongi is shivering.

Yoongi wiggles his hips. Hoseok moans softly, forgetting all about the fact that his lips are oh so close to Yoongi’s ear right now until Yoongi tenses up and squeezes his hips. 

“Sorry”, Hoseok breathes, “you did something with this.”

“I did?”

“Mhm yeah”, he brushes his parted lips against his ear to which Yoongi rolls his head to the side. This is the time. “Turn for me”, Hoseok orders and Yoongi obeys instantly. 

He presses himself against the glass of the shower and arches his back. The water traces his spine, running down his buttocks and legs. His head is staying dry like this, now only dripping water from a past soak. 

Hoseok knows not to waste time, falling to his knees to continue where they left off downstairs. He slides his hands to the inside of Yoongi’s legs to feel up his silken skin. 

“I meant it when I told you that you had the sexiest legs, you know?” he says and dares to kiss the back of his thigh. 

Yoongi tenses up but moves it closer to him. Only a small sigh escapes him. 

Hoseok takes the cue and begins placing more kisses on Yoongi’s legs. Just the back of them at first to get him used to the sensation. All while Yoongi keeps letting out small sighs and the occasional gasp. 

Hoseok finds himself whispering his name and then his lips are already on his lower back, kissing and exploring the silken skin. He holds his hips for it, purring happily. Yoongi has dimples on his back. Hoseok licks them slowly, soaking in the needy arching Yoongi does in reaction. 

He glances up at him. His face is hidden from him, but he radiates a readiness to go further. Hoseok dares to slide his hands to Yoongi’s butt. A gasp, a little tense but nothing more. With his eyes still gazing up, Hoseok lowers his lips to his butt to kiss it. 

Yoongi moves his hips from side to side, purring a nervous sound.

“The whole buffet, I’m telling you”, Hoseok says, smiling brightly when it makes Yoongi chuckle.

“Fuck, Hoba”, he lets out breathily, looking over his shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are a little glassy.

“Still down for it?” Hoseok makes sure.

Yoongi nods his head.

Hoseok rubs Yoongi’s buttocks slowly. They are really soft and squishy under his palms.

“Arch your back a little”, he orders.

Yoongi obeys without hesitation, letting out a little sigh as he does it. He turns his head away again, feeling way too shy for eye contact.

“There we go, good job”, Hoseok praises, using the new position to finally part Yoongi. He flinches at first because the newly exposed state of his hole made the warm water run over it and that felt really hot at first. He relaxes afterwards, breathing heavier than before while Hoseok takes in the view before him.

Yoongi has the pinkest hole Hoseok has ever seen. He is not exaggerating when he says that. He is so pink and so obviously tight. Not many people breach this hole, Hoseok just knows. 

“You’re so handsome”, Hoseok whispers, ghosting his thumb over his hole without touching. Yoongi, unaware of the potential touch, arches his back more. 

Hoseok gulps hungrily. He is so pink and tight and smooth. Not even one follicle of hair is to see. 

“Hyung, did you shave before coming here?”

Yoongi’s hole clenches.

“N-no?” he stutters.

Hoseok smiles. Of course Yoongi would deny it.

“You’re pretty, hyung”, Hoseok says softly and lowers his lips to kiss Yoongi’s hole.

Yoongi’s reaction is expected. He tenses up, wiggles away with a shy noise leaving his constricted throat. Hoseok doesn’t let it discourage him. He buries his face deeper between Yoongi’s buttocks and inhales deeply, taking in every fucking molecule of his intoxicating scent. He growls into him, dimpling his buttocks possessively.

Yoongi swears that he might throw up in embarrassment. Someone is smelling his butt. How fucking humiliating.

“Your scent’s like a drug, hyung”, Hoseok comes up for air, voice sounding distorted in lust, “don’t ever fucking say that you stink again, got it?”

Yoongi’s brain scrambles again, every ounce of embarrassment is gone. He arches his back, presenting more of him to Hoseok. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Let me see you. Fuck, you’re so pretty and you so smell good. Can you stop being so perfect, mhm?”

Yoongi drops his head against the shower wall, mewling shyly. His face is wet. He doesn’t quite know if it’s only water. Being praised like this is a lot for him.

“Of course you can’t. Shit, you drive me insane”, Hoseok purrs and buries himself back between Yoongi’s soft buttocks. He growls as he does it, wiggling his head from side to side so his face is grinding into his hole. His nose to be more exact. He is so rough about it that Yoongi gasps and tries to flee by getting on his tiptoes, but Hoseok merely grabs him by his hips and pulls him back down, exchanging his nose with his tongue.

“Ah!” Yoongi’s loud moan bounces off the shower walls, taunting him. He throws his hand over his mouth and squeezes. Don’t be loud, don’t be loud, so embarrassing, don’t be loud. But it’s really difficult. Hoseok’s tongue is a little cold in comparison to the warm water. The contrast between these two sensations is a lot to someone as sensitive as Yoongi.

One must know that Yoongi is very sensitive, perhaps he is even the most sensitive of the bunch. He likes to say that it is Jungkook, but that isn’t the truth. Yoongi with his pretty flushed cock and his pink little hole is the most sensitive.

Especially when it comes to having a mouth (or two) on these spots. And especially when it is something he really, really wanted.

So yes, it is very difficult to stay quiet right now.

Hoseok watches Yoongi’s arm flex as he tries to silence himself, now seeing it as his goal to make him relaxed enough to forget all about it. He purrs and parts Yoongi farther, grinding the flat of his tongue against his hole. He is so soft under him, clenching and throbbing repeatedly because it feels good. Hoseok knows that it feels good. He has confidence in his mouth’s skills.

He breaks away for just a second to spit on Yoongi’s hole aggressively.

“Eeh”, Yoongi squeaks and flinches, having no time to really get embarrassed about it because Hoseok slurs up the mess he made, giving Yoongi the fucking shivers as he does it. The grip around his own mouth lessens, his head feels so heavy even resting against the glass. He won’t be able to tense up for long anymore when Hoseok keeps this up.

“So fucking delicious”, Hoseok lulls, digging in with an ecstatic moan. He stays at Yoongi’s rim for now, flicking his tongue up and down on the tight ring of muscle. He needs to get it relaxed. Yoongi is way too tense right now. So if he keeps flicking his tongue, applying slight pressure each time his middle is against his tongue, he will help him.

Yoongi can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep his muscles from relaxing. He croaks out a weakened noise behind his hand and admits defeat, relaxing his hole.

Hoseok moans deeply, gazing up at Yoongi. He did it. He relaxed. Hoseok opens his mouth hungrily, letting his tongue slip inside his relaxed hole. He furrows his brows, mewling in blissful realisation that there is no resistance. He really thought that Yoongi wouldn’t let him breach him that easily but there was no resilience. There is tightness of course, but no obvious resistance. Hoseok slides his right hand to Yoongi’s lower tummy and applies pressure, resulting in his hole to slip farther onto his tongue.

Yoongi reaches behind himself, grabbing for a bundle of Hoseok’s hair. The twist stings but motivates Hoseok to keep going. He moans deeply, wiggling his tongue as quickly as Yoongi’s tight hole allows him.

“It’s deep, please”, Yoongi whines, convulsing around Hoseok’s tongue.

Hoseok purrs, pushing down on his tummy again. Deeper and deeper his flexed tongue goes, resulting in burning electricity to shoot down Yoongi’s leg. They wobble and lose strength, forcing poor Yoongi to sit down on Hoseok’s face with all his weight.

Hoseok squeaks at first, not having expected it.

“Sorry!” Yoongi yelps, trying to flee instantly, but Hoseok doesn’t let him.

He wraps his arms around his hips and pins him down, craning his neck as he wiggles his tongue deep in Yoongi’s hole.

Yoongi tugs on Hoseok’s hair, throwing his head back. He has to admit defeat again. There is no way in hell that he can keep quiet any longer. The first moan is taunting him, the second already feels a lot better, the third comes easy and then Yoongi stops counting because all he can concentrate on is the sloppy, fast tongue job he is getting. Holy fuck, he won’t be normal after this. Oh god, Yoongi really needs Hoseok to fuck him afterwards. He wanted nothing but a rimjob at first and now all of this just feels like one amazing, long foreplay session. He is so needy and drunk on pleasure and, and wow. 

“Oh god, wow, oh god, wow Hoba…”

His legs are shaking so much. Yoongi wobbles and has to admit a third defeat. He has to keep both arms on the glass otherwise he will fall. He drops to the front again, arching his back to keep Hoseok close. He drops his head against the glass, keeping his mouth parted as the noises never want to stop.

“Hoba…aha Hoba…Ho..ba..”

Hoseok swears he might have nutted already. He knew that he could get Yoongi to relax, but he didn’t think that he could get him to this kind of level. The weight of him still lingers on his face like a blissful touch, his taste is coating every inch of his mouth and his hole feels as if it is actively trying to suck his tongue in. Hoseok needs to breathe, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to break away. Not even for air. He needs to give Yoongi what he deserves, perhaps he needs to give even more.

Yes, more sounds good.

Hoseok dances his hand down from Yoongi’s tummy to his cock, wrapping his fingers around it to jerk it off. He doesn’t want to go slow at first, he needs Yoongi to shake instantly.

Yoongi doesn’t disappoint, he shakes instantly, changing pitch as everything just feels way too good. He knew that his cock was sensitive because the water felt blissful on it, but he wasn’t ready for how intense a real touch feels on it. Especially not a touch as Hoseok gives it. Not such an amazing, electric touch. His fingers are so long and so strong, pumping him just right. He won’t last long…actually he won’t last at all.

“You’re making me cum”, Yoongi keens and clenches around Hoseok’s tongue. He doesn’t know where it starts, but he knows that it is way too intense. If Hoseok wasn’t holding him up right now, he would probably collapse. It is so intense in fact that he instinctively gets on his tiptoes to escape it. Of course Hoseok chases him, moaning into him like a feral animal as he milks every last drop and shake out of him. His cum is shooting everywhere. Hoseok’s hand, the shower wall, his own stomach. It just doesn’t stop as Hoseok overstimulates him in the hottest way ever.

Yoongi begins begging. He can’t help it.

“Stop please! Stop! Stop please!” Yoongi is panicking because the pleasure is getting too much. He won’t be able to hold himself anymore.

Hoseok growls, twisting his hand around Yoongi’s weeping cock and sealing Yoongi’s fate with it. His legs give out on him, he falls down, surprising Hoseok who ends up unable to support him any longer. Yoongi grabs the shower handle in his last attempt to catch himself, turning off the water because of it, but neither man cares.

Yoongi falls to the ground, resulting in Hoseok to instantly tower over him. His swollen cock grinds against his ass, his heated breath swirls against his neck. Yoongi shivers, lying under Hoseok on the wet tiles with a dizzy head and way too much pressure in his lower body, twitching like a fish out of water.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?” Hoseok gasps.

“No”, Yoongi croaks. 

“I’m sorry, did you hurt yourself?” Hoseok asks, running his hands over Yoongi’s body in search of wounds.

“No”, Yoongi chokes out and whimpers when Hoseok flips him so he could check his front as well.

Yoongi follows each touch with a writhe, looking up at Hoseok with glassy, blurry eyes. He feels so good. He is so happy. He wants Hoseok to make him his’.

“Hyung, your knees are bruised.”

“Hoba.”

Hoseok looks into Yoongi’s eyes, “yes?” 

“Please more”, Yoongi chokes out and squeezes out tears.

Hoseok kisses them away instantly, giving Yoongi a warm touch by pressing his chest against his chest, running his fingers through his wet hair. Their swollen nipples are rubbing together. It is so good for either man. 

“You did so well. You came like such a good boy”, Hoseok whispers his praises, tensing up for a moment when Yoongi wraps his shaky fingers around his wrist.

“Please more”, he begs quietly.

“Are you sure?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“Holy fuck. Okay, okay stay. I’ll make it more comfortable for you”, Hoseok promises and disappears for a small moment to get lube. He returns so quickly that Yoongi wasn’t even able to recover from his high and then he already feels the familiar hardness of a lube syringe up his ass. He also feels how much Hoseok loaded it with today, whining in complaint.

“Sorry fuck, way too much”, Hoseok is dragging his words, sliding out the messy syringe to use the rest of it on his cock. He lubes it up and drops down on Yoongi again. “Lift-” 

He gets interrupted in his orders by Yoongi lifting his legs all on his own. Hoseok meets his eyes. Utter, trusted submission. 

“Damn you, wow, you”, Hoseok doesn’t know what to say and so he lets his body do the talking.

He sinks his cock into Yoongi, groaning his name with fluttering lashes. Yoongi is so tight, squeezing his swollen cock.

“Ah”, Yoongi lets out, clearly tensing up in discomfort. He bites down in his lower lip to the point it pales. 

“Hurts?” Hoseok asks, stilling his hips.

Yoongi nods his head.

“Want to stop?”

“No”, Yoongi croaks and arches his back with a whimper.

“Are you sure?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“Breathe, hyung, breathe. I know the first moments are tight. I need you to breathe.”

Yoongi obeys, relaxing instantly.

“There we go, holy fuck. Holy fuck, you feel fucking incredible”, Hoseok croaks and wraps his arms around Yoongi tightly. He drops his head in the crook of his neck and moans his name, chasing the warmth of him carefully but deeply.

Yoongi’s eyes roll back and stay like this. He drops his legs around Hoseok’s waist, keeping him hostage this way.

“Hoba….” 

“It feels good now, doesn’t it?” Hoseok gets out between heavy breaths.

“Ye…good…”

“Yeah, good. So good. Taking me so well, feeling so good, hyung.”

“Hoba”, Yoongi moans, scratching down Hoseok’s back while his left hand grabs a bundle of his hair.

Hoseok growls, using the slight pain as motivation to go faster. Yoongi’s hole is so easy to shape. He expected more resistance from his body and he was ready to work around it until Yoongi was comfortable, but his hole is so quick to adapt. Oh so naturally tight and small and yet so easy to shape. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect hyung”, Hoseok speaks his thoughts, burning up in ecstasy as he drills his mouldable, wet hole. 

“Hoba…aah Hoba…”

Quite frankly, there are no words on this earth to describe how amazing it feels to both men. Truly, ink would run dry before the words could be found. This moment is beyond what either could have ever imagined this evening to become. Yoongi swears that he hasn’t felt as submissive as he does right now in a long time. This is something he never thought to be possible with someone who isn’t his trusted princess and it is definitely something he never thought to feel so good. Hoseok is pinning him down as much as he is cradling him. His weight and strength are making Yoongi feel so small and weak and it brings tears to his eyes. What truly makes those tears fall however is the raw, overwhelming stretch his hole currently finds itself in. He knew that it would be intense to ask for cock so soon after an orgasm and with such little preparation. But he expected pain, not blissful ecstasy. Yoongi cries because he can’t believe how good it feels to let Hoseok fuck him senseless.

Hoseok swears that he has never felt like this during sex before. This is something he never thought Yoongi to be capable of and he never expected it of him. And yet here they are. Hoseok is able to hold his wet, naked body against his own. His taste still lingers on his tongue, his blissed out scent is in his nose and his hole takes him so willingly despite little preparation that Hoseok swears he might need to bite him. He never feels the desire to bite. He has perfect restraint. At least he thought that he had.

“Hoseok, it feels so good”, Yoongi wails, sealing his fate.

“I’m gonna ruin you”, Hoseok growls, punishing Yoongi for something he needs no punishment for. But if he didn’t fuck his hole into ruin, he would actually bite him. He can’t do that, so he ruins the one thing Yoongi willingly presents to him.

“Hoba! Please! Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t, fuck I can’t stop. I, I can’t get my hips to stop.”

“Good”, Yoongi cries, bruising Hoseok’s biceps as he clings to him. His tailbone is getting sore from the movements. The floor is so hard, but the fuck feels so good. He needs to fuck back, meet Hoseok’s movements. The friction against his rim burns, not painfully but in nothing but pleasure. His prostate feels like bursting from how much pleasure it experiences. He swears that he keeps convulsing as if Hoseok was constantly making him climax.

“I can’t stop. It’s like I’m, urgh”, Hoseok drills his cock deeper, biting down on Yoongi’s neck as he feels how much of his warm walls he actually fills out. There is no blood drawn, no skin broken but Yoongi cries all the same, curling up under Hoseok as best as possible.

“Again?”

Yoongi nods his head vigorously and shakes out of control, screaming his little lungs out as his orgasm overwhelms him. It feels so good that he has to reach to the side to hold something, scratching his nails down the shower wall helplessly.

“Yoongi”, Hoseok has to follow him in guttural moans of his name, holding him so tightly that he almost breaks bones. “Holy fuck, you’re such a fucking turn on, urgh cumming so fucking hard…”

He keeps fucking and grinding and pounding until neither of them can go on anymore and their bodies are truly milked dry.

Only then clarity returns and their situation finally sinks into their consciousness. They fucked. This was never supposed to happen and especially not with such intensity.

“I’m sorry”, Hoseok gets out, dropping on Yoongi. “Fuck, what are we doing?”

“Do you hate me now?” Yoongi croaks.

“What?” Hoseok shoots up in shock, gawking at Yoongi. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know”, Yoongi whispers, lower lip trembling. 

Hoseok softens his gaze and cups Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi leans into the touch. His body twitches every now and then as it recovers from its high.

“Of course I don’t hate you, hyung. You did really well, yeah? And I still like you, yeah?”

Yoongi nods his head, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“How are you doing?”

“Vulnerable.”

“Mhm, but you’re in a safe space”, Hoseok hugs him, scratching his scalp slowly, “I promise, this will stay between us.” 

Yoongi relaxes completely, hugging him back.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“No. Thank you.”

“For what? Eating your ass?”

“Yeah…”

“And then fucking it like we’re stupid animals?”

Yoongi snorts, having to laugh, “fuck, yeah.”

Hoseok chuckles, “that wasn’t part of the plan, right?”

“No, not at all.” 

“But I think it was nice. You?”

“Me too, yeah.” 

Hoseok snuggles closer, sighing softly with Yoongi when his cock shifts inside him. 

“Are you still down to watch a show later?”

“Yeah.”

“Funky. Maybe I’ll eat your ass again on the couch, mhm? Make you lift your legs all on your own, mhm?” Hoseok coos teasingly, following it up with obnoxious kissing noises.

“Fuck, shut up you pervert”, Yoongi whines but laughs, pushing at Hoseok softly. 

Hoseok laughs with him. He really likes Yoongi and Yoongi really likes him. It’s as easy as that.

[luveline]

Jade! I was re reading your zombie au steve fics and I just love our bestie eddie and jealous steve in tbem so much:’) I would love to see more of their relationship love you!!!

love u ♡ steve zombie au. fem!reader

“Would you mind fucking off?” Steve asks. 

Eddie tsks under his breath, “You know, this whole jealousy thing you have over me is kind of sexist.” 

Steve could melt metal with the way he's feeling. “It's not sexism, I'm not jealous, and if I were, it wouldn't be over you, it would be of you.” 

Eddie grins. “That's all you had to say, baby.” 

You laugh but quickly stop, eyes darting to Steve's as you push Eddie away from you. It honestly makes it worse, not because you aren't allowed to sit with your (Steve shudders) friend, and not because it doesn't feel good to see you so quick to remove Eddie from your side, but because by doing so, you've proven to Steve that you are, in fact, aware of his jealousy. 

“I'm not jealous!” Steve lies. 

“And I'm not interested,” you say quickly. “Sorry.” 

Eddie shrugs and sits right back next to you in the grass. He kind of has to, considering the knot he's trying to teach you to tie needs demonstration, but still. Steve hopes he ties the knot around one of his fingers and needs an emergency amputation. 

“Jealousy is a horrible thing,” Eddie says, almost like he can hear Steve's thoughts. “Have you considered finding a friend for Y/N to be jealous of?” 

“I already did that for a bit,” you say, squinting at the shoelace in your hand unhappily, “but then she made me cry and Steve bought me cherries and I didn't worry about it again.” Ah, Vanessa. Old camp, old friend, you told Steve she was making fun of you and he never looked her in the eye again. 

He'd quite like it if you followed his lead, but Vanessa was a bully, and Eddie, to Steve's dismay, is a good friend. 

“So what I'm hearing,” Eddie says, his grin audible, “is I get to make Steve cry.” 

“Are you gonna–?” Steve asks you. 

You sigh and shove Eddie away again. He actually pretends to fall onto his side in the grass. “This is really impeding my progress in becoming a knot tying expert, Stevie. Are you sure we can't kiss and have you get over it?” 

Steve is jealous, but lots of the outward symptoms he shows are either from a want to be immature or just to make you laugh. He trusts you completely and doesn't think for a moment you'd ever, ever cheat. He even knows —deep down— that Eddie's a good guy who'd never do that to him. But it still rubs Steve just the tiniest bit the wrong way when he sees Eddie's pinkie finger brush yours as he corrects you, or your stupid matching coats. 

You and Steve used to have matching coats until your sleeve tore on a branch. Steve decides he has a vendetta against trees, and then he takes a few calming breaths. 

“How would us kissing help Steve get over it?”

“Not you!” you laugh. 

Steve loves the sound so much he pretty much forgets what he's annoyed about. “Sound more disgusted,” he encourages cheerily. 

“I'd never kiss him,” you say, tying the string around your two fingers and pulling the aglet through the loop you've made. Your wrinkled nose smooths as you check your knot against Eddie's, and then, in one of your cutest moments to date, you gasp and turn straight to Steve. “I did it!” 

“What was I impeding again?” he asks. 

You push your foot out with your over complicatedly tied laces and turn onto your thigh. He's a genius (he knows you better than he knows anyone, past or present, knows you better than he knows himself), anticipating your movement with his arm already out to welcome you for a victory hug. “Our laces will never need tying again,” you say.

“Except when you need to change your socks,” Eddie says.

Steve puts his middle finger up behind your back, nosing at your forehead. “You're amazing.” 

You really want the hug. Your hands meet behind his back and your lips brush his throat as you press in close, his lovely girl; you don't know how lovely you are, how the exact details of your hug play out in his mind frame by frame. He's made a million mistakes and he still gets to have you. 

You hug him and it's like the end of the world didn't happen. 

Eddie scratches his scalp. “Harrington, not that I think you'd be into this, but I've been tying that knot for the last year, and nobody ever kissed me for it.” 

“He hasn't kissed me,” you say. 

“Don't stomp on a downed man,” Eddie says severely. Then, sweeter, “Just a quick one, Stevie.” 

“A whole camp of people,” Steve says to you. “Any best friend you want. Hell, I'll share Robin.” 

“You do share Robin,” you say, languishing in his hug much longer than he was expecting you to, your arms having curled tighter now around him with no signs of letting go. 

Eddie Munson might have a crush on you. He might have a crush on Steve, too, or neither of you. The boy’s too jovial to tell. Steve will sleep better at night if he believes the latter though, so he marks the hug for your achievement with a kiss pressed softly to your forehead and decides for the hundredth time since you came here that he won't be jealous anymore. He has nothing to be scared of and he knows that, so why give Eddie a hard time.

Eddie smirks and closes his eyes. “M'waiting.” 

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder. “And you'll wait more.” He turns to you, murmurs, “How about we go and find you something sweet?” 

Eddie's lips part in disgust. “What kind of dirty talk is that?” 

You stand and kick Eddie without force in the thigh. “Thank you for teaching me, Eddie. Same time tomorrow?” 

Eddie drops his theatrics. “Sure. Let's do the next one Risky Business style.” 

You pull Steve away by the hand. He thinks you sorta like that he's jealous, being the object of his attention and affection at all, so he says, “If you leave me for him I'm gonna let a bachelor take me out, and not for dinner.” 

“A bachelor couldn't get its teeth through all this muscle,” you say, squeezing his arm.

Doesn't make a lick of sense, geeks only have to break the skin to get you, but it doesn't matter. “I love you,” he says happily. 

You lean into his side heavily as you walk. “I love you, too. More, for sure.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[fuctacles]

Steve has barely started college, and he’s running late again. But this time he passes the ridiculously long line by the café and runs straight to the lecture ball. He can do it without a coffee. Or rather, he can charm his way into someone else’s cup.

He makes it just in time and runs down the rows of seats looking for a target. Skips the white girl lattes and gym bros protein shakes. If only he could find a half-alive artist type or…

Bingo!

He slides smoothly into the empty space next to a guy dressed all in black. He has long hair, multitude of rings and tattoos. The whole package. Even the mug in his hand was black with a skull.

Steve turns on his charm as he leans in.

“Hey, man. Hate to be so forward, but may I have a sip? Couldn’t make it to the café today.” He gives the man his best puppy dog eyes. Sometimes it even works on Robin so he knows it’s good.

The man studies him for a second and seems to be an even tougher opponent than his bestie, but then he just shrugs.

“Have at it,” he says and pushes the mug in Steve’s direction.

“Thanks, you’re a saviour.” Steve smiles brightly at him and revels in the warmth of the metallic travel mug. The warmth in his mouth and seeping into his bones.

And the completely wrong taste.

He bristles, gulps down what has already hit his tongue, and starts coughing.

The guy just watches him without much of a reaction. The professor eyes them and turns out to be more sympathetic.

“Everything alright there?”

“Yeah,” he calls back, eyes on Steve. “Went down the wrong pipe.”

Steve feels like strangling him. He looks up with watery eyes.

“Are you drinking hot chocolate? At 9 in the morning?!” He barely manages to keep it a whisper. At least now he’s feeling fully awake.

“What? Read one too many "I like my coffee black like my soul” text posts?“ The guy raises an eyebrow and Steve is not going to blush at being called out like that. He did totally judge him based on his looks alone. "Besides, it has espresso in it. I’m not a complete freak,” he adds, sipping his caffeinated chocolate abomination.

Steve sees it as a spark of hope.

“Sorry,” he whispers, straightening in his seat to start paying attention to the lecture. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Should have probably started with his name, but first impressions are already ruined, thrown in the garbage disposal and on their way to the sewers. Might as well try and not make his first enemy in a new city.

It takes long enough for the guy to respond, but the quirk of his mouth makes not-enemy turn into possible-ally.

“Eddie.”

masterpost

[xhoneygirlxx]

because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)

virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)

rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)

You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.

Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.

You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.

The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.

Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.

“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.

His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.

“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”

Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”

The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.

Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”

Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.

“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.

His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.

“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”

Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.

“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.

“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.

“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”

Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.

Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.

Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.

Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.

Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.

"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.

"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.

Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.

"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."

With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.

Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.

Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.

"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.

Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.

You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.

Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.

"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.

Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.

"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.

"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.

"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.

His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.

Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.

The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.

Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.

When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.

Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.

Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.

"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.

"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.

Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.

Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.

"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"

Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.

Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.

Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.

"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.

You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.

"Who said I was done, Munson?"

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Torn Apart Pt. 2- The Surgery

I decided to name the fic about the reader losing her arms! Also I found out recently that Law has gold eyes in the manga AND WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT HOLY FUCCCKKK

Also thank y'all so much for the overwhelming support for this fic!

This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one, but leaves off at a good place!

Just to recap tho...MAJOR WARNING: THIS WILL (probably) TRAUMATIZE YOU. Reader will have PTSD, ANXIETY ATTACKS, AND BE VERBALLY ABUSED. But becomes besties with Franky so ya know... up to you.

TW's: talk of surgery, Luffy being supportive in his own (lecturing) way, descriptions of pain, panic attack and PTSD flashback at the same time (trust me it's not fun), learning to walk again, needles (medical setting)

Golden eyes pierced your faux air of confidence you put on to face the Surgeon of Death. You looked away, almost cowed by his evaluating gaze.

“So? What’s first?” you asked Law. He grunted a little. 

“Lay down fully. Let me do a scan.” 

You eased yourself down, and Chopper lowered the bed so it was flat.  You heard his boots tap on the wood twice as he stepped closer. 

“Room” 

A blue spherical glow emanated from his palm, encompassing you, the bed and him at the same time, with your prone body in the middle. You swallowed hard, nervous. He unsheathed his sword. You knew from Zoro that all swords had a name, but you didn’t know the name of this one. Probably named it something edgy like “heart killer” or “death of hearts”, you thought to yourself. He hovered his hand down the length of the blade, covering it in a thin sheen of translucent blue before holding his sword above your body. Your eyes traced the metal of the blade, so long that you had to turn your head slightly to see the point reaching far past your shoulder. 

“Stay still”, he ordered quietly. You snapped your head back to the original position, looking straight up at the ceiling, taking comfort in the familiar shield and knots in the wood above you. 

“Sorry” you whispered. He didn’t say anything in response. 

“Scan.” 

The sword moved down your body steadily. He really did have the hands of a surgeon. His boots tapped as he shifted his body as his sword scanned yours. He reached your feet, finally lowering his sword, but didn’t release his Room. 

“Tra-o” luffy’s voice piped up from the corner where he had been sitting quietly. He was the only one besides Chopper allowed in the room while he worked. His voice was strangely serious, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His usual smile was replaced with a concerned frown as he met the surgeon’s gaze. Law sighed tiredly before turning back to you. 

“You were hurt badly. It’s honestly a miracle you’re still alive.” 

You kept your eyes on Luffy, taking comfort from his confident presence. 

“I know,” you murmured. A brief silence followed, waiting for Law to continue. 

“And you’re still hurting, in your heart.” 

You flinched slightly at his words, sliding your shocked gaze to his. 

“You can’t possibly know that” you breathed. He met your eyes steadily, unidentified emotion in his eyes. 

“My abilities don’t lie,” he answered. You kept looking at him, silent and calculating. You took in his features properly, now seeing him in a relaxed environment and not pissed off at your captain for once. He stood with confidence, slightly slouched as he tucked his hand in the front pocket of his spotted jeans. His other hand held his sword, the blunt side of the blade now resting against his shoulder. His spotted hat was low on his forehead, but as he stood looking down at you, none of his features were shadowed. His sharp eyes were gold, ringed by dark circles and reddened by lack of sleep, but both of those oddly only added to his handsomeness. He had high, sharp cheekbones with sideburns by his double pierced ears and a defined jaw with a goatee. His expression was calm, instead of the usual scowl he wore around your captain. Your eyes traveled to his clothing, a relaxed long sleeve shirt with a low neck that allowed small peeks of his tattoos to show. Honestly, you didn’t know how you didn’t see it earlier. He was fucking hot. Heat rose to your cheeks and he smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. He probably did, the bastard. 

“So did you see anything else? Can you do the surgery? Why is her heart hurting? Is it because of Zoro?” Luffy spoke, half demanding and half asking. Law's eyebrow twitched as he remembered your captain was in the room. Chopper was on Luffy’s shoulder, looking at him with wide eyes. At least those two were too innocent to know what happened between you and Law just then. Law turned to Luffy, his usual scowl returning to his face. Tension rose in his shoulders and the blue glow of his Room faded. 

“I can do the surgery. It’ll be long, but it’ll be better for everyone, and be better quality. Not that you’re a bad doctor, Chopper-ya.” He spoke mainly to his fellow doctor, and the reindeer nodded. 

“I’m less familiar with surgery than you. Let me know what you need!” 

Law nodded in approval. 

“If I’m doing the surgery, I’d like to do it in the operating room on my ship. I have my crew who are trained as a surgery team, my equipment, and I’ll need you and Franky-ya there too. You’re familiar with the patient and injuries and are able to tell me exactly what you did to treat it. Franky-ya can add his expertise on the machinery and his own body,” he said firmly. Chopper nodded seriously. It was adorable when he was in full doctor mode. Law turned to you. 

“That is, if you’ll let me do the surgery.” 

He looked at you expectantly, cocking his head as he waited for an answer. You suddenly realized even his voice was hot. You cleared your throat. 

“Sure. Got nothing else to lose” you shrugged the best you could, and heat flared to your face a second time, embarrassed at your failed movement. Law only grinned in excitement and was about to respond when Luffy cut him off. 

“No.” 

You and the two doctors looked at him, shocked. A pang went through your chest. Was he not allowing you? Why? Did you do something wrong? Were you not worth it anymore? 

“Mugiwara-ya-“ Law’s growl was cut off by Luffy speaking over him, his eyes meeting yours determinedly. 

“You’re not going to do the surgery because you have nothing else to lose. You have everything and everyone else to lose. You have your life, and if you still have that, then you’re still fighting. You’re still winning. You still have something to lose. You have us. Zoro was an asshole and you never have to forgive him for that, but don’t you ever discount our loyalty to you. We are your family, and you're ours. This is your home. Say it. Say you have everything to lose!” He started yelling, and you struggled to sit up. Pain lanced through your chest and shoulders, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out. 

“Luffy…” you said softly. He stalked forward, and Chopper jumped off his shoulder. A dominating aura was rolling off your captain. He crawled on your bed, and stopped with his face only inches away from yours. 

“Say it.” 

Fear and despair shot through your stomach. You were terrified of letting them down, that you already had. 

“How can I when I can’t shake on it? When I can’t even reach out to grab your hand when you need it?! I’ve let you down, Luffy. I’ve let you all down!” 

Luffy didn’t waver, on his hands and knees straddling over your legs so as to not hurt you. His eyes never left yours, even as he spoke to Law. 

“Tra-o. Give us a minute. You too Chopper.” Neither doctor answered, but the door opened and shut, leaving you in silence. You looked down at the blanket pooled on your lap. 

“You haven’t let us down, and no matter what Zoro or anyone says, you’re part of my crew. My family. You sacrificed yourself to save someone you love. If I ever needed a hand to grab onto, well, Robin can make more, right? And you’ll have yours back soon. So stop being depressed and say you’ll do the surgery because you want to get better and that you have everything to lose!” He shifted so he was kneeling over you, one hand settling on the back of your neck as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck. Tears welled in your eyes, falling onto his warm skin and wetting his red shirt. His other arm gently wrapped around your side and rested on your back, encompassing you in comfort. It’s the first hug you’ve had since the accident. 

“Luffy I’m scared it’ll hurt. I’ve been in so much pain. It hurts so much” you sobbed, unsure if you were talking about your arms or your heart. He shushed you. 

“I’ll kick Trao’s ass if he makes it worse, okay?” You nodded, trusting him with your life. You stayed like that for a while, until his shirt was stained with your tears and snot and your thoughts were mostly in order. 

“I’ll do it. I want to live. I still have everything to lose” you murmured. Luffy’s hand squeezed the back of your neck briefly in acknowledgement. He pulled back, looking at your face. 

“Your face has snot on it” he observed gleefully.  You rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“Yeah I know.” 

His smile died as he brought the blanket to your face to wipe it. He was rough, pulling your skin just a little too hard, but that was your captain, so you didn’t mind. 

“Promise me. Promise you want to live and that you’re doing the surgery because you have everything to lose.” 

You smiled weakly up at him, but he saw resolve in your eyes. 

“I promise.” 

He smiled broadly before bringing his forehead down to meet yours. He still kinda bonked his head against yours, and he had a hard head, but he at least tried to be gentle. You giggled. 

“This is how we promise now, okay? You and me. No hands or arms necessary.” He spoke quietly, uncharacteristic of his vibrant personality. The words shocked you with his wave of affection and love for you as a family member. You bit your lip to keep tears from welling up. 

“Promise” you confirmed. He pulled back, a wide grin on his face. 

“Great! I’ll go tell Trao to get ready to do the surgery!” 

He bounded off your bed, making you wince at the sudden movement that rocked your body. You sucked in air through your teeth, and Luffy paused, looking back at you guiltily with his big brown eyes. 

“Sorry” 

You smiled, forgiving him easily. 

“It’s okay. I’m due for my pain medication anyways. Can you tell Chopper?” You asked. Luffy nodded with a quick ‘yep!’ thrown over his shoulder as he sprinted out the door. You shook your head at the pure amount of energy that boy had. 

Chopper returned a few minutes later and pattered around his work area, making fresh medicine for you. 

“We have a good plan for the surgery now! We’re so lucky to have Law with us too! He’s so smart and good at medicine. His Devil Fruit ability is amazing to see in a medical setting!” He continued to blabber on about how excited he was, but you couldn’t shake the nervousness of going into surgery again for something so life-changing after experiencing trauma. A straw and some pills were shoved under your nose, and you opened your mouth to let the doctor pop in the medication and you sipped some water to swallow it. You laid back down, flinching at how sore you were. A groan escaped your lips as your body finally rested on the soft pillow and mattress, waiting for the meds to kick in as you drifted off to sleep. 

Your nap wasn’t long, an hour or two at most. A screech from the deck startled you awake as adrenaline pumped through your body. Your shoulders and ribs screamed in white hot agony at the sudden movement as you shot upright, making you groan loudly with pain. I need to cover him. I need to save him. He can’t cut it. He can’t cut an explosion I need to save him I need to save his dream my arms are gone it hurts it hurts it hurts-

The kitchen door opened quickly as you curled up painfully as you started gasping in ragged, quick breaths, barely exhaling before gasping again. 

“Hey, hey mon Cherie” Sanji’s deep voice made you alert to his presence, but didn’t distract you enough to snap you out of your panic attack. Hands settled gently on your back and you jerked away, not wanting to be touched by Marines. Not when they took so much from you already. 

“I’ll get Franky,” he said quickly. Footsteps disappeared quickly as he swung open the door and ran to find someone. You’d already forgotten who, and the open door was too open. You needed to hide but you couldn’t move. Your breaths were controlling you, burning pain making you whimper. You wanted to hide your head in your arms but they were gone. 

Too much it’s too much it hurts hurts hurts I can’t do it I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t do it gone gone they’re gone I can’t they’re gone. I can’t do it again I can’t do it again I can’t do it again. 

“Oi” a gravelly voice. You screamed a little as your head whipped around to the sound, fully expecting to be yelled at by Zoro again, maybe he’d hit you this time. Your wild eyes finally focused on Franky, and your tension eased a little, not seeing the swordsman standing above you. Franky blinked steadily at you. He’s safe. He’s good. Good. 

“F-f-f-rank-k-ky” you forced out through chattering teeth. 

“Hey sis” he replied. He moved his big hand, and you flinched, forcing another groan out of your aching chest. 

“I’m going to put an ice pack on the back of your neck, okay? It’ll be really cold but it’ll shock you. Ready?” 

At the explanation of his movement, you hesitated a second before nodding slightly once. He slowly moved his hand, which you now noticed contained an ice pack. He slid it against your sweaty neck and held it there. You whimpered at the cold, letting it send gasps through your lungs. He nodded in encouragement at the change in breathing. 

“You’re doing so good now. Focus on my voice, okay? I’m going to walk you through a breathing exercise. It’ll come back to you quickly.” 

You shook your head. You didn’t need to breathe, you needed to run. To leave. To hide. To be safe. 

“Not s-s-safe Frank-k-ky. Need to go. Need to go need to go need to go. Hide from it!” You wanted to grab his wrist, and started panicking when you remembered you couldn’t. 

“Hey hey. I’m going to pick you up, okay? Then we’re going to the corner. My metal body is strong and can handle it easily, " he said seriously. You nodded, and let him scoop you up and hold you close to his chest. He was warm, and you could hear an automatic whirring and beating in his chest. It was safer. He walked quickly over to the corner of the room, and knelt down, cradling you in his arms and lap. He curled over you slightly, letting his forehead rest on the wood behind you. You were enclosed and safe and warm. 

“See? All safe. All good” his gravely voice was soothing to your racing mind. 

Safe. Good. 

“He’s safe?” You murmured, blinking up at him. He nodded with a grin. 

“He’s perfectly healthy and safe, okay? Now breathe with me. I’m going to walk you through the square breathing. Remember that?” 

You felt small and raw, but you did. You remembered it. Franky smiled at your shaky nod. 

“Good. Are you ready? Breathe in with me for 1…2…3…4…and hold for 1…2…3…4… and out 1…2…3…4… and hold 1…2…3…4…” you followed his instructions numbly, trusting him completely. He repeated the commands and counting, and your hiccuping breaths eased slowly into smooth ones. 

“Relax your muscles. You’re safe. You’re good,” he said quietly. You let your head rest fully on his shoulder, relieving the strain on your injuries. You focused on your toes, relaxing those first before moving up to your ankles, calves, and thighs. You ended by relaxing your abs and back, letting Franky hold your entire weight. He let you rest for a few minutes before you blinked up at him, eyes clear now without your panic. 

“What was that?” You murmured into his shirt. Franky soothed a hand over your hair. 

“A flashback and panic episode at the same time” he answered quietly. You would’ve shuddered at his answer if you had the energy. 

“Am I going crazy?”  

“No. It’s a symptom of panic episodes. I’ve been doing research on them” he said gently. You hummed. You were tired of this room. 

“Can you take me out of here?” 

He stood with your body cradled against him easily. 

“Do you want quiet or sun?” 

You couldn’t make a decision right now. 

“Both” you said instead. 

He carried you out of the infirmary, and beelined immediately towards Robin’s flower garden. The smell of the sea and the feel of fresh air felt good, even if you were still emotionally numb. Robin was sitting there, calmly drinking tea as her eyes roamed over the pages of a book. To you, it never looked like she read the normal way, but rather took in parts of sentences all over the page and let them float together in her mind. You nuzzled into Franky’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh air deeply. The floral scent of flowers sweetened the air. Your shaking was stopping. 

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Robin greeted. You looked at her, a weak smile on your face. 

“It is, especially when you haven’t had fresh air for a while” you answered. 

“Mmm” She hummed in agreement. Franky sat you in a chair and took a seat in the one next to you. Sanji appeared and delivered a fresh pot of tea and extra cups before whirling away at Robin’s request for cookies. Franky poured you some tea and placed it in front of you. You sniffed the steam, breathing in a floral combination of chamomile, lavender, and mint, and a touch of cinnamon. 

“Ah, it looks like he brought you a different blend than mine. Do you mind if I have a taste?” Robin asked. You shook your head. 

“Go ahead.”

She poured a cup and brought it up to sniff before tasting it. 

“It seems that Cook-san used the lavender, chamomile, and mint I gave him from my garden” she said appreciatively. You looked down at the tea with new appreciation. 

“Shall I?” she said, an arm appearing from your armrest. You swallowed down the frustration at being helpless and nodded, leaning forward slightly. Robin’s arm picked up the teacup and brought it gently to your lips. You blew on it lightly and she tipped it the perfect amount for you to take a sip. The gentle flavors washed over your tongue, soothing your stress. It was sweetened slightly, just as an aftertaste. Sanji really was an amazing chef. You sighed, finally relaxing. Comfortable silence enveloped the three of you for a while, Franky taking a cola out of his stomach refrigerator and sipping on it. Robin seemed to have muscle memory from drinking so much tea that she hardly needed any focus to raise your cup to your lips and back down to the saucer. You reveled in the silence, because it was different from the silence of the infirmary. This silence was accompanied by the waves, footsteps, the breeze rustling the leaves of the garden and Nami’s orange trees. Voices of Nami, Chopper, and Usopp were all heard wafting back and forth, with the occasional annoyed grunt from Law. You looked back at your companions after soaking in the sun on your face for a minute. 

“Where’s Law’s crew?” you questioned. 

Robin answered cryptically first. 

“Maybe they were swallowed by a giant electric eel and Law is waiting for them to emerge from the other end before meeting up with them again” she said without looking up from her book. You blinked at her before breaking out into peals of giggles that were hurting your ribs. 

“Ow ow ow Robin stop making me laugh! It makes my ribs hurt!” 

Franky snorted at Robin’s answer. 

“He probably didn’t want them exposed to our ‘stupid mugiwara antics’” he imitated Law in the last bit, schooling his face into a stern scowl. You couldn’t help your giggles, and Robin laughed with you. The afternoon brought you joy and comfort, Sanji joining you briefly between his kitchen chores as he smoked. Usopp and Luffy joined before going off to fish and then coming back hours later to fetch Sanji, interrupting his dramatics towards you and Robin. It made you feel normal. 

Normal. 

You yawned, exhausted from being outside. You went to stand before an ache in your chest brought you back to reality. Franky saw your flinch and the clench of your jaw. 

“Wanna go take a nap?” he asked. You nodded. He went to pick you up, but you shook your head. 

“I want to try walking.” 

Franky smiled gently. 

“Just let me call Law up here. I think he mentioned something about wanting to see how walked earlier.” 

Franky called Law’s name, the shouted ‘Tra-o’ making the surgeon look over his shoulder from gazing at the waves with his signature scowl. Franky pointed to you and told him you wanted to try walking. Law’s expression eased slightly, becoming more clinical than pissed off. He quickly approached your little group, his sword slung casually over his shoulder. Luffy raced over at the announcement. 

You swallowed nervously at Law’s swagger towards you, looking away as your heart fluttered. His boots tapped on the wood planks until he stood in front of you, hip cocked to the side and free hand tucked in his pocket. He lowered his sword, placing it flat on the ground in the free space near the table. 

“I’ll use my abilities. If you start to fall, I’ll switch you with my sword, okay?” 

You nodded. Franky and Robin looked on curiously. Luffy hummed in understanding. 

“Good. Now start by standing. Brace your feet apart so you have more balance” the doctor instructed. You slid your feet apart by opening your knees, and a brief picture of spreading your legs in a different scenario with the doctor flashed in your mind. 

“Good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the praise in his deep voice, before a spear of guilt at your infatuation killed them. You breathed deeply, clearing your mind of your thoughts. 

“Room.” 

The blue dome enveloped you and your group. You noticed it also reached the infirmary.  

“Why not just switch me to the bed if I start to fall?” you asked. Law blinked at you. 

“Figured you’d want to be outside longer but I can do that instead” he offered. You nodded, yawning. Law picked up his sword, and leaned it against his shoulder again. 

“Now try standing.” 

You shifted your weight slowly onto your feet, managing to rise to a standing position. Law hummed. 

“Walk.” 

You shuffled forward a little, adjusting to your shift in weight and balance. You stopped, looking at the doctor. He nodded once. You swallowed nervously at the thought of walking again, but slowly shifted your weight to one foot as the other took a full step forward. You pushed off your other foot, letting your weight shift onto the one you had just stepped forward with. Your back foot swung forward, and landed easily. You looked up with a smile, meeting Luffy’s excited grin. Eagerly, you pushed forward, but ended up pushing forward too quickly, and you couldn’t get your other foot under you in time. Your shoulders ached horribly as the healing muscles twitched at your instinct to use your arms for balance, and the pain swept your sense of balance away. 

“Shambles” 

Tears pricked your eyes in frustration and pain, your jaw clenched against the current of them both. Your chest wanted to rise as your body writhed with the pain, but doing so only made your cracked ribs scream at you. 

“Fuck!” you shouted instead. You were on the bed in the infirmary, alone. The door slammed open, revealing Law holding the blanket to your bed. You looked at him, tears blurring your eyes. He walked over quickly, dropping the blanket at your feet. You heard more footsteps come into the infirmary, and you grew mortified at your weakness.

“Everyone out!” He ordered. You looked at him, finally managing to gasp in some shaky breaths. You distantly heard footsteps retreat and the door close. His golden eyes looked down at you, concern raging behind his cold exterior. 

“Room. Scan” He wielded his powers with ease, his sword moving through the air over your chest and shoulders. You tried to stay still, but it was impossible as the pain lanced through you. The surgeon sucked his teeth and put his sword away. 

“Your wounds didn’t get worse. Let's get you some medication,” he said. He stepped to the door, and called for Chopper. The small reindeer trotted in, immediately going to his desk to mix up a strong pain medication. You whimpered, closing your eyes as your mind began to spiral. 

“Oi. Look at me,” Law demanded. You opened your eyes, bringing them up to look into his golden eyes. He wiped your years off your cheek, and placed his arm at the head of your bed, leaning his weight on it as he bent over you. 

“A broken body doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’ll heal, and I’m going to help you.”

You sniffled. 

“I’m scared. It hurts so much” you mumbled, keeping your gaze on his. 

“I know, I know. It’ll be okay soon though” he brought his forehead down to yours, bringing your focus to the point of contact. It was soothing. His other hand cradled your jaw, and he pulled back as he moved his hand on your head to stroke his thumb gently over your eyebrow repeatedly. It was oddly soothing, and you found your breath quickly returning. You closed your eyes as your body began to relax, starting to ease the pain.

“There, see? I know it’s scary, but you have everything to live for',' he murmured. Law slowly pulled back further, letting Chopper move forward with your medicine that he had dissolved in a cup of water. You scrunched your nose at the bitter smell, knowing it would taste awful. You looked at Law for a second, and he gave you a nod of encouragement. You sighed, and parted your lips so Chopper could angle the cup in your mouth. You groaned at the taste, hating the bitterness and saltiness of the medicine. It was different from what he had given you previously. You pulled back for a breath and gagged a little. 

“Just one more drink!” the tiny doctor encouraged. You groaned, and unwillingly parted your lips again. The final gulp was gritty and worse than before, and you pulled away with a gag, yelping as your aching shoulder fired with renewed burning as you tried to slap a hand over your mouth to stop the gag. A straw was shoved into your mouth, Chopper informing you it was water quickly before you spat it out. You sucked it down gratefully, coming back to yourself. You noticed a warm hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, propping you up. You hadn’t even noticed you moved. Once you drained the cup, you looked to your side, realizing it was Law holding you up with a disguised look of pity on his face.  

“Never give me that shit again Chopper or I’ll kick your ass” you moaned. You suddenly felt woozy. Was the world spinning? Were you floating? You blinked once, before your eyelids lowered slowly one more time. 

Apparently you slept all the way through the night, waking early the next morning before the sun rose. 

“Good morning!” Chopper greeted you with a smile. You smiled back at him before registering what he said. 

“Morning?” 

He gave you an affirmative nod. 

“Yep! You slept all the way through the night. It’s about 5am now,” he informed you. You groaned. You were hungry. 

“Can I get some food?” 

Chopper looked at you a little sheepishly. 

“N-no. See, with your surgery today, it's best if you don’t have food before the anesthesia.” 

A punch of anxiety speared through your gut, and you sighed shakily. 

“...right. So Law’s crew is here?” 

The reindeer nodded. You took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Let’s do this. I have everything to live for” you murmured. Footsteps echoed outside your door, coming closer. A quiet knock rapped three times before Law poked his head in the open door. Once he saw you were awake, he entered the room fully. 

“You’re awake.” 

You nodded, swallowing down your nervousness at his presence. Not only was he incredibly good looking, but he was also the one going to do your surgery. If he was here, the crew must almost be ready for you. 

“I came to transport you to my ship.” 

You nodded again. 

“Are you ready to do… it?” you asked, a wobble in your voice. The captain nodded with his arms crossed. He seemed more professional now, like he was in the mindset of a surgeon. He knew you were referring to the surgery, not the transportation part. 

“Almost. We’ve set up everything and we just need the patient to continue.” 

You looked over at Chopper nervously. He gave you a smile and what could be considered a thumbs up with his tiny hoof. It made you smile. 

“And you’ll be there too?” you asked the reindeer. He trotted up to your bed and pulled himself on the mattress with a little grunt. 

“Of course! And Franky will be there too!” he assured you with a pat on your knee. You breathed an anxious sigh, ready for this whole thing to be over. You looked at Law. 

“Luffy is going to kick your ass if you hurt or kill me” you threatened. It made you feel like at least something was in your control. The surgeon rolled his eyes. 

“One, I’ve heard that from everyone on this crew, and two, you have the best experts on the Grand Line doing your surgery. You have nothing to worry about. Now let’s go,” he held out his hand in preparation for his powers. 

“Room.” 

“Wait! What about Franky?” you said quickly. Chopper answered for the surgeon. 

“He’s already on the Polar Tang, and has been familiarizing Law’s crew with the bionic arms he made,” he said soothingly. You nodded, and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Okay I’m ready.”

“Shambles.” 

You felt weightless for a second before suddenly laying on a hard, cold surface. You sucked in a breath as the cold touched the back of your neck. 

“You okay?” Chopper hovered over you cautiously. You nodded with a smile. 

“Fuckin hell Law, do you keep these tables in a freezer or something?” A shiver went through you as the cold seeped past your thin pajamas. 

“You won’t feel the cold soon enough once you’re drugged up. Stop complaining,” He answered curtly, and you couldn’t help how he talked to you a little differently when he was in front of his crew. 

“Captain!” a high pitched voice admonished. You looked over and met the eyes of a talking polar bear, fully geared up with a mask, scrubs, and rubber gloves. You smiled, recognizing him as Bepo from Law’s brief mentions of his crew. He met your eyes, concerned. 

“I know the table is cold. Would you like a heated blanket?” he held up the blanket, and you nodded, shivering a little more. The bear tucked the blanket around you with the help of Chopper, who had transformed into his more human form. Two more of Law’s crew members stood at the foot of the table, with Franky’s smiling figure hulking above them. 

“Hey big bro” you greeted the cyborg. He grinned back. 

“Yo! Are ya ready to have my suuuuuperrrrrr Franky arms? We’ll be kinda matching!” 

His enthusiasm calmed you enough to make you giggle. Determination lit in your soul with his support. 

“I’m ready,” you answered. You relaxed down on the hard table, controlling your breath and turning your head so the doctors had access to your jugular vein for the IV. A gloved hand gently wiped down the area before Franky placed a hand on your cheek, reminding you of his presence and affection.

“Okay. Get ready for the poke” Chopper said. You nodded stiffly, feeling your body tense in preparation for the needle. Franky put a finger on your chin, and tilted your head to the opposite side, and you opened your eyes in confusion. Your body began to relax seeing his grinning face, and you felt the brief sting of the needle before it was taped into place. 

“I’ll give the medicine now. It’ll make you woozy and sleepy, but remember you're safe, okay?” Chopper’s voice came from the other side of the bed, and you looked over at him with a nervous smile. Law was standing behind him, his golden eyes meeting yours as a small smile twitched on his lips. 

“Remember what I said about Luffy,” I reminded him. Law scoffed. 

“As if I would ever harm a patient.” 

You nodded at Chopper, and he began pressing the plunger on the syringe. You tasted an odd, metallic taste in your mouth and you smacked your lips, looking at the doctor curiously. 

“Some people can taste it” Law answered for Chopper. As soon as he said it, you felt a wave of dizzy exhaustion crash over your body, and you grunted a little, blinking hard and trying to focus your eyes. 

“Relax, we got ya” Franky’s gravely voice was the last thing you heard before you let sleep overtake you again. 

To those who asked to be tagged: @blue-rae18, @perilous-pasta

[madelynraemunson]

HEY MADDY, WHAT’S ON TV? 📺

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 (…𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬) part 1/2

🥡 steddie x freaky friday fanfiction • RATED: NC-17 🥡

SUMMARY: Dustin’s science experiment goes horribly wrong and his two ‘bickering besties’ have to suffer the consequences.

WORD COUNT: 11.4k words

CONTENTS CONTAIN: (EASTER) EGGS, WHEAT, METAL, PARALLELISMS, A PINCH OF COMEDY, ANGST, AND LOTS OF SWEARING

ALLERGENS: CHEESY, CORN(Y), SHELLFISH (sorry eddie)

author's note: might put this on ao3 idk this one's a big boi.... hey y'all! i’m a little late to the steddie body swap train, but have arrived nonetheless! also i’m so stoked that jamie lee curtis and lindsay lohan are currently working on a freaky friday 2!! one of my fave childhood movies and i can’t believe we’re getting a parte dos :,) also, jake alan = corroded coffin in this AU

🥠

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

Perhaps a rewind is necessary. Metaphorically, of course. Time travel’s not real! ;)

      ◄ ◄ ◄  R E W I N D  🎞️

The year is 1989. Camp Knowhere. And since it’s the last year before he ages out of summer camp, Dustin Henderson is determined to 'WOW' everyone with his newest invention.

“They’re kinda like boner pills.”

“Oh...! WOW...?”

It’s not the weirdest thing Steve's heard come out of Dustin's mouth. In fact, he's practically immune to insanity at this point, having been surrounded by hormone-driven teenagers for a month and a half straight.

“Look I know, it sounds crazy,” Dustin pleads. “But imagine being able to walk a mile in someone's shoes just by eating a cookie. They'd be like the Viagras of empathy!"

Again, not the weirdest thing Dustin has said. 

And for as long as Curly keeps hanging out with Eddie Munson, his Other Older Male Friend (O.O.M.F.) constantly like he has been all summer, it certainly won’t be the last.

Being a volunteer camp counselor hasn’t panned out as expected for Steve Harrington. 

For the past six weeks, Dustin has spent most of his time locked in his cabin trying to perfect his new creation. But he's been MIA for so long, Steve hasn’t been able to teach him how to start a fire, pitch a tent, or even pick Dustin's brain about being his guest for Show and Tell. 

Making s’mores. Canoeing. Telling scary stories in the dark. Dustin and Steve are missing out on actual summer activities. The real reason he signed up to be counselor in the first place. 

But you know who has been able to spend time with Dustin?

"Eddie and I spent almost every night trying to come up with good fortunes," Henderson boasts.

Not the counselor, but the Certified Loiterer.

Steve bitterly kisses his teeth. “That’s awesome, man! But hey, speaking of spending—"

"They are so clever too. You gotta hear 'em!"

"I'm sure they are! But now that you're practically finished, I was sorta hoping—"

“AND,” Dustin adds. “if you get a good one you can add ‘in bed’ after for some comic relief.”

Steve crosses his arms as he finds himself fading back into silence.

“You are destined for great adventures…in bed,” Curly smirks, waving a fortune in Steve’s face. “You will be met with great luck this week... in bed. You are a pleasure to have around…in bed.”

“Agh, please tell me one of Harrington’s lays said that,” comes a voice. “Otherwise this interaction is very concerning.”

Dustin gasps. “EDDIE!”

Speaking of The Devil.

Like nails on a chalkboard, in walks Eddie Munson with his fucked up voice, fucked up rep, fucked up hair, and a fucked up sense of humor to match.

“Hey, Henderson,” Eddie gives a curt nod. “Hey, Steve.”

“Munson.”

“I was just telling Steve about my fortune cookies,” says Dustin. “I can’t wait to win people’s hearts over at Show and Tell, along with my spotlight secret weapon.”

“What’s your spotlight secret weapon?” Steve inquires.

“You’re looking at him,” Eddie quips. “I’m Dustin’s music act for his Show and Tell.”

There’s a pang in Steve’s heart that he wishes wasn’t there. All summer, the Retired Cub Scout had been secretly hoping that Dustin would ask him to be his Show and Tell buddy. He had so many survival skills up his sleeve that he wanted the little twerps to know before they age out. 

But the stars had other plans, he supposes.

“My friend’s friend’s dad is a music scout for Cardinal Records,” Dustin explains. “If he shows up and sees Eddie play, Corroded Coffin may have a chance!”

“Yup,” Eddie nods. “We’re performing our new song Take Me Away.”

He hands Steve a piece of crinkled paper from his back pocket, to which Steve reads after clearing the lump marinating in his throat.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I wanna get out. Hey, take me away,” Steve reads.

“Aren’t the lyrics so metal?!” Dustin beams in admiration.

“They’re uh, very edgy…” Steve shrugs.

“And incredibly fitting, when you consider the circumstances. Just wait ‘til you hear Eddie and his band perform it!”

“I think I’ll be busy with camp duties...” Steve grimaces, handing the sheet back over to Eddie. “Sorry.”

“No worries, they will just perform in your garage. They still gotta practice. Been needing another place to do so too."

Steve's eyes widen.

“What?!” he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. When did we agree on this?”

“Uh, beginning of summer?" Dustin points out. "You said you’d be willing to accommodate any of my needs. Especially since my mom’s gone to her spicy book retreat and basically threw away keys to the house.”

Steve now recalls telling Dustin that. But nowhere did it say babysitting his replacement would be in the cards.

"I'm sorry Harrington, I know I'm kinda butting in…" Eddie acknowledges.

Finally, something he and Steve can agree on.

"But we're kinda desperate at the moment, so it would mean the world. You won't even know we're there."

“It’s still no!” Harrington blubbers. “Okay? With the loud music and Eddie’s screaming, I’ll have the Loch Nora book club moms with pitchforks at my door. We have a reputation to uphold.”

“Who’s to say the Loch Nora moms don’t want in on all the angsty fun?” Eddie smirks. “Corroded Coffin’s an acquired taste, but I’m sure your… progressive… neighborhood wouldn’t mind.”

"It's not that," Steve shakes his head. "Even though we’re ‘progressive’, my neighborhood is still very much suburban-families-with-young-kids. They'd call the cops on us, for sure."

But Loch Nora was just a decoy for Steve’s true feelings. If everyone sees how cool Eddie is, they’re going to make him their Comfort Grown Up. Then where would Steve go?

Especially if they caught a glimpse of those big, brown eyes and the way they glisten in the amber sunset. And apparently Dustin’s caught wind of this Munson Magic as well; because not too long after, he’s imitating Eddie, the coercion-via-cuteness factor ramping higher on his part. And how could Steve say no to his lil face?

“Just this one time, Steve?” Dustin begs. “Please, please, pleaaase?”

“Dustin…” Steve shakes his head. 

“Pleaaase,” a pouty Eddie chimes in, slyly gazing up at Steve through his long, batty lashes. “We’ll behave, Stevie. We promise.”

But Harrington is standing his ground. Eddie already stole his best friend away from him. His gig. His spot at the Cool Adults table. Did he want Harrington’s life too?

“NO!” Steve insists. "NO!"

“YEAAAH!” Eddie croaks into the microphone while he seductively strums at his guitar. “YEEEEAAAHHHH!”

Performing in Steve’s garage was a YES-go after all. Especially if free bud has anything to do with it.

"This dude and his band are pretty good," Argyle comments as he takes a long, savoring drag from his hefty blunt. "Corroded Coffin, man. They're gonna be big one day."

"Just wait til you hear his guitar solo," Jonathan adds. "Eddie's been working on it all summer for Dustin’s show.”

The walls of the Harrington household are forced to withstand a migraine-inducing bass while everyone — but Steve —  jams out, losing themselves in a song about wanting to stay young forever.

“Don’t wanna grow up, I want to get out. Hey! Take me away…”

Jealousy festers within the host as he watches, taking in the sight of an awestruck Dustin playing his air guitar alongside Eddie, resonating with the lyrics the way he passionately yells,

“I wanna shout out, ‘take me away…away away away’…”

“Someone take me away,” Harrington’s inner monologue spews.

But it’s not that Steve hates the song, nor is he having a miserable time with everybody. It’s not that he hates Eddie or his stupid raspy voice, or the way he makes the guitar sing with every calculated twiddle of his fingers and every provocative buckling of his knees. In fact, it’s the opposite. Steve just didn’t want to admit that Dustin’s O.O.M.F. — and the other members of Corroded Coffin — were actually… pretty cool. 

And judging by the fact that Eddie was most likely Dustin’s first choice for the talent show, there was a cornier, more ominous second thing that Steve isn’t willing to admit: it’s that the exclusion really hurts him.

“Same old SHIT,” Eddie sings. “Never ends.”

“WHOA!” Harrington exclaims, waving his disapproving hands in the air.

The band stops the song immediately, the negative feedback from the amp plaguing the air while they stare around in confusion.

“What?” Eddie demands.

Any chance there was for Steve to try to humble 'The Freak', he took. And clearly this time around, there was no hesitation.

“You’re not really gonna say the S word when you perform at Show and Tell, are you?”

“The S word?” Munson retorts. “What, is this preschool?”

Ba-dum-tss! goes the drummer.

"Gareth," Eddie scowls.

Gareth Emerson digresses with a sheepish shrug.

“No," Steve shakes his head. "But it’s still a summer camp for kids.”

Eddie chuckles at this. “Come on, Harrington. Don’t act like YOU weren’t cussing up a storm at their age. The kids are all in their rebellious phase anyways. They’re gonna love it.”

Eddie’s known Steve since elementary school. This is the same guy who held swear contests, who cussed because he thought it made him look ‘mature’. The same guy that used to call women “bitches”. The same guy who almost got suspended because he and Tommy H. were yelling out slurs during an assembly, but luckily his superintendent mom was there to pull some strings to simmer it down to one afternoon of detention.

Harrington couldn’t possibly choose now to care about profanities.

“I’d rather you not bend the rules of Camp Knowhere.”

Bend the rules?!

It doesn’t take too long for Eddie to figure out that the issue goes beyond Camp Knowhere. In fact, both of Dustin’s O.O.M.F.s know that. 

 “Why the sudden change of character, Harrington?” Eddie crosses his arms. “Huh? After all these years?”

"All these years, what do you mean all these years?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Captivated, nosy eyes bounce back and forth between the two as they argue... on and on and on and on.

“This happens every time,” Jonathan hisses to Robin at a low whisper so that they don’t hear. “Do you think they ever get tired of it?”

"I actually don't know what you mean," Steve counters. "And quite frankly, I feel like you don't seem to really know me at all."

“Hey, I’m just following your lead,” Eddie shrugs. “You never took time to get to know ME when we were in school. Unless I had something you and your friends wanted of course.”

“So all of this is MY fault?”

“I never said it was.”

It’s almost ritualistic at this point, the arguing. 

Just then, Gareth starts up again, issuing a theatrical drumroll to ease the tension. It only seems to make it worse, judging by how Eddie and Steve hiss at him immediately.

“GARETH!” “EMERSON!” 

The drummer refrains once more. 

Steve is quick to pick up where they left off. “I can read between the lines.”

“Crazy thing to say for someone who’s paid people to write his book reports.”  

“I’m just…looking out for everyone, okay?” Steve snaps, reverting the conversation back to the kids. “The children might not care, but it may look bad on the counselors. And I like my summer gig, spending time with my best friend. I don’t wanna jeopardize it.”

A self-serving response. Eddie knew to not put it past Harrington.

Regardless, Eddie chooses to comply. Not to give Steve what he wants, but because Dustin's happiness is on the line. And if his best friend is happy and Corroded Coffin gets a record deal, then Eddie wouldn’t have to deal with Steve Harrington or Hawkins much longer. 

The band starts up again and, this time, remains uninterrupted. 

Meanwhile, Steve sulks back in his seat, unable to pinpoint why he felt like the issue wasn’t resolved. But he soon realizes that for as long as Eddie Munson is part of the equation, the problem will remain a constant.

“Same old stuff,” Eddie bitterly corrects himself. “Never ends.”

“Fortune cookie, anyone?”

Two hours feel like days when everyone is stoned. And given that everyone’s too tired (and high) to drive themselves home, a sleepover at Steve’s quickly becomes inevitable. 

“Did we get the same fortune?” Jonathan asks Argyle.

“No, we didn’t,” he shakes his head. “Guess we’re not feeling sorry for each other tonight.”

Dustin chuckles.

“What are we feeling tonight? I’m thinking pizza.”

Leaving everyone else to decide on munchies, Steve and Eddie appoint themselves as the Designated Clean-Up Crew, searching for and rounding up any trash they see laying around.

“So, what are you up to nowadays?” Steve questions. “Since we graduated high school.”

“Oh, same old, same old,” Eddie offers a tense chuckle. “Still in The Biz, but the money’s good. Thankfully this time I’m doing it without my pops around.”

It strikes a nerve in Steve. He’d give anything to have his dad around. 

He also wouldn’t be proud to be in the same position as he was in high school. Didn’t Eddie want to grow as a person?

“That’s amaziiing.” Steve lies.

Uncomfortable now, Eddie clears his throat, shifting his attention back to Steve so that he can eat his own words.

“What about you? What’s The Hair been up to?”

“I work at Family Video and then help out at camp right after.”

“Try bringing that to the career fair,” Eddie scoffs jokingly.

“Sorry?”

“I said great gig you got there,” Munson perjures.

Their gazes meet for a brief, charged moment before quickly averting. 

Eddie watches Steve with both curiosity and disdain. 

This is who his best buddy is seeing on the side? It’s hard for Eddie to think of anything Dustin and Steve could possibly have in common. What would they even talk about? Maybe the new Brook Shields movie, hair gel, and their favorite ice cream flavors, but that’s just about it. And Steve Harrington doesn’t seem like the best influence for Dustin anyways.

Steve’s eyes flicker towards Eddie, trying to hide his scrutiny behind a thinly veiled expression of disinterest. 

He notes the way Eddie’s band tee has seen better days, the sleeves ripped and the print faded, and the way he absolutely reeks of Mary Jane and indistinct rubber from a Spirit Halloween store. If Dustin brought Eddie home to Mrs. Henderson, she’d probably stroke out. 

Just then, a very intoxicated Robin chimes in.

“Duuude, Eddie. It’d be awesome if Coffin got this gig.”

“Oh, I know right?” Eddie lights up immediately. “We’d be out of this rugged town once and for all and living life in the big city.”

The distaste for Eddie only amplifies with that statement. 

All of Steve’s life, he’s had nothing but good experiences in Hawkins. To have a “rough” upbringing, you had to be looking for trouble. Which is something Eddie and his father, Al seemed to have been doing since the beginning of time. 

“What’s so rugged about Hawkins?” Steve challenges Eddie.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Eddie mutters.

“I would, actually,” Steve taps his feet impatiently. “Go on, tell the class, Eddie. What is so rough-and-tough about this part of town?”

Eddie knows Steve is trying to set him up. He thinks for a moment, carefully crafting his words before speaking.

“There’s just…” Eddie says with trepidation. “A lack of equal opportunity to succeed. Always has been. But in the city, opportunity is everywhere. For everyone. Indy would be a perfect, clean slate for us.”

It’s like a sock to the face. 

Lack of opportunity? Eddie is most definitely looking for problems now. If he wouldn’t consider Steve being nice enough to lend him his garage — even when he didn’t like him — an ‘opportunity’ to succeed, then what would he consider?

“I mean, sure. Hawkins has issues like any other city, but I think there are equal opportunities for everyone,” Harrington protests. 

“Very rich coming from you, Suburbia.”

“Uh oh,” Dustin mutters.

Now Steve is pissed. 

Does Munson think that just because Steve lives in a nice house he’s never had problems in his life? With that logic, Eddie isn’t going to get himself very far. It’s very evident now, given where he currently is.

“Why can’t you accept the fact that life comes for others too?!” Steve spits. “Life is also hard for me, you know!”

“Guys…” Dustin starts.

A bitter laugh expels from the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“Life is hard for you?!” Eddie exclaims. “It’s hard for you? How can life be that hard? Hey, I’m Steve Harrington. My life consists of Daddy’s money, wearing hair pomade to the ceiling and getting rejected by girls!”

“Hey, why don’t we play that one song again!” Jonathan suggests. “You know the take me away, away, away, away, away!”

But Steve and Eddie are way too locked in, committed to tearing each other to bits because the other one started it. Eddie wanted to play that game huh?

“Well all YOU know is complaining about the consequences of your own actions!” Steve spews in return. “Oh look, I’m Eddie Munson, I’m painfully self-unaware, I’m inconsiderate of everyone around me, and I commit petty crimes then wonder why the cops hate me. AND I still live with my uncle – AT MY BIG AGE.”

“YOU STILL LIVE WITH YOUR PARENTS, HOW IS THAT ANY DIFFERENT?”

“AND! You’re as loud as your guitar. NEW-NEW-NEW-NEWWW. How about you evaluate your priorities if you want a good life, Munson? And make sure you at least have some ammo under your belt before coming for me.”

“Wow,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t know anyone more tone deaf. You think my walk of life was a choice?! Not everyone was handed everything on a silver platter, Steve. Not everyone’s lives are perfect like yours!”

“Sweethearts, anybody?!” Robin butts in, desperately waving the candies in the air. “You are what you eat, and everyone in this room is VERY, VERY SWEET!”

But the boys are only getting started. If this is Robin’s version of sweet, she was about to know what sour is real quick.

“You think my life is perfect?! At least you have a father figure.”

“I want you to assess the room we’re in, Harrington,” Eddie implores. “Family must love you a lot if they’re letting you throw parties and use drugs that a loser like me was nice enough to hook you up with.”

“Leave what I do outside of camp out of this! You know, as a counselor I’m not sure I like my kids hanging out with some loitering criminal all the damn time.”

“Not sure I like them hanging out with someone who acts like an overbearing, insufferable parent.”

“At least I have parents.”

Simultaneous gasps fill the room. 

The color drains from Steve’s face when he realizes the damage he’s done. He watches as Eddie seemingly deflates, shrinking himself down at the shoulders, and then sulking in place. A blank stare overcasts his eyes, lips desperately trying not to quiver while in front of an involuntary audience. 

“That was not cool,” Steve breathes. “I’m sorry.”

But Eddie is past the point of forgiveness. And caring. Steve’s already embarrassed the fuck out of him, so what’s Dignity at this point? Steve won. Whatever game he was playing.

“You’re right, Steve,” Eddie nods, bitterly. “You have everything I want. So why can’t you just give me this one thing?”

Steve really fucked up this time. He doesn’t even know why he even said that. It isn’t necessarily a brag that Steve has parents if they aren’t active in his life. Did he really want the last word so badly, he willingly let his anger steer the direction of the conversation? Sure, Eddie has backed off now, but the thick veil of suppressed tears did not make it worth it.

“Here,” Eddie quips as he chucks Dustin’s invention at Steve’s chest. “You win. You want a cookie for it?”

Before leaving the room, Eddie helps himself to one as well. Steve watches ashamed as Eddie storms away, not seeming to care who he bumps into on his way out. With the intention to make amends, Steve darts after Eddie, following him to the bathroom only to have the door slammed in his face.

“Eddie!” Steve knocks. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I thought I’d gotten over my anger issues and pettiness, so I don’t know why I said all that. It’s something I need to work on, for sure.”

No response. Steve tries again.

“You guys sound really good…” he musters. “I wish I had the courage to put myself out there like that.”

Steve gently taps the door with two fingers now. 

“Eddie?”

On the other side of the wall, Eddie is angrily wiping away his tears, upset at himself for letting someone who wears women’s hairspray and Tiger Beat cologne get under his skin. 

Giving up now, Steve sighs to himself and turns around to prop his back against the door. And in case Eddie decides to come back out, Steve decides to wait a while longer, reading the fortune from his fortune cookie in the meantime. 

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“What could that possibly mean?” Steve thinks to himself as he takes a bite from the cookie. 

And at the same time on the other side, Eddie also cracks open his cookie. A nice little dessert with some kind words are sure to make him feel better. He reads his fortune.

“A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another’s eyes. When what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.”

“…in bed,” he adds with a chuckle.

Just then the ground begins to rumble. 

The sudden JOLT causes Eddie to drop his cookie and latch onto the sink for stability. Meanwhile, Former Cub Scout Steve who knows everything about Stop-Drop-and-Roll dives for the nearest piece of furniture, crawling underneath to protect himself from any debris that may fall onto him.

“EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Eddie yells.

Hawkins doesn’t get many earthquakes. But according to the news, Roane County was due for a big one. This could well be it. 

But as fast as the earthquake happens, it fades away. And next thing Eddie knows, he’s taking deep breaths, gathering his composure before he swings open that door. 

“Shit — Harrington, are you okay?”

Steve scans the room, looking around for any debris that may block his plight towards safety. 

“Yeah I’m fine, thanks Munson,” Steve gulps. He allows Eddie’s firm hand to hoist him up. “Just a bit shaken up. Are you okay?”

Eddie nods his head rapidly. “I’m fine too,” he insists. “I’m just worried about everyone else.”

Running back over to the garage now, a frantic Steve and Eddie call out to their friends to make sure they’re okay. But when they arrive, they’re shocked to see everyone conversing, laughing, and ordering pizza, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

Steve coughs to make his presence known. “Did you guys feel that?”

Everyone turns to them.

“Feel what?” Dustin inquires.

“There was an earthquake.”

“No, there wasn’t?” Robin cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes there was!” Eddie insists in agreement with Steve.

“Are you sure?” “An earthquake?”

“There wasn’t an earthquake.”

“What earthquake?”

“A chicken bake?” Argyle questions, clearly high as shit.

“An earthquake,” Jonathan repeats for him.

“An Earth Cake?!”

“QUAKE!” Jonathan hollers. “EARTHQUAKE!”

“EARTHQUAKE?!” the startled stoner yelps.

“No no no!” everyone yells out, doing their best to contain Argyle’s panic. “No, no, no!”

———

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington. I wish I could hate you.”

Eddie winces as his neck partially kinks, due to the fact that Steve was too short-fused to get him a pillow for tonight.

At least the futon is comfortable. After flopping around like a fish out of water for a few minutes, Eddie finally feels completely relaxed. And as he flips through his mental catalog of Dream Scenarios, the aspiring rockstar begins to drift off to Dreamland, envisioning his guitar solo and jamming out with his favorite herd of sheep.

Meanwhile upstairs, Steve is too emotionally uncomfortable to hit the hay.

“Get a grip, Munson,” Steve grumbles, angry at the thought of the freeloader below him. “If you stopped thinking the world is out to get you, maybe you’d actually see some progress in your life.”

After one last fluffing of his pillow, Steve reaches into his drawer and pops a gummy into his mouth, bracing himself for more Camp Knowhere shenanigans that lie ahead and having to deal with the Freakazoid-With-a-Victim-Complex in the morning. 

12:00 MIDNIGHT

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ [insert creepy, grandfather clock noises here]

8:00 AM

Obnoxious, fluffy duvet covers stir Eddie awake.

Maybe Steve did come with some goodies after all.

Munson begins to execute his morning routine: a gangly-limbed stretch followed by an exaggerated bellow and blissful smacking of his lips.

BONK.

A lamp on the nightstand interrupts his ritual. It is then that Eddie realizes.

He’s in a bedroom. 

“What the—” Munson mutters.

Sitting up slowly now, Eddie takes a moment to assess the room around him.

Trophies and medals. Cologne and hair gel. A work desk with a basketball net over it, and a Tommy Hilfiger pop-up shop in the closet.

He’s in Steve’s room.

But where is Steve?

Curious about the time and day, Eddie instinctively goes to consult his watch that normally rests on his wrist.

It’s not there. 

Eddie then looks at his hands…his palms… Not a single blister, callous or hangnail. Those are not his hands.

“Those aren’t mine…” he thinks to himself.

Eddie then runs some stressed fingers through his hair, only to discover that its length is half of what it was when he fell asleep last night.

“That’s not mine either.”

Eddie shoots up immediately. When he finds himself standing, Eddie notices his food belly is gone, and that six pack abs have taken its place. Eddie then stares down at his feet, which are now exponentially larger. And hairier. And his thighs, now they’re a lot bulkier.

Suddenly Eddie’s hands explore his thighs, grazing his quads shortly before going to grope the two plump mounds of tissue behind him, both cheeks comparably twice the surface area of his palms!

“That’s DEFINITELY not mine.”

Absolutely panicked now, Eddie releases his grip on the butt that isn’t his and dashes out the room.

It appears that he is somehow not in his body. And the only person in Loch Nora with a dump truck for an ass — that Eddie knows of — is Steve Harrington.

But if he's Steve, then where is Eddie’s body?

The couch.

Eddie bolts over to Steve’s living room in search of his corpse. And to his surprise, he does find himself there, the chest that was his – but not his – at the same time rising and depressing as he watches himself sleep. 

“Christ if that’s not Steve in there, then I’m dead,” Eddie thinks to himself. “And quite frankly, I don’t know which one is worse.” 

Eddie clears his throat.

"H-hello? Steve?”

Nothing.

“Steve?” Eddie attempts again. “Hey. Steve. It’s Eddie. Wake up!”

Nothing.

“This is an emergency, Steve. I need you to wake up now, please.”

He gets a good snore out of the entity. Completely frustrated now, Eddie does not hold back.

"This is alarming, Steve! WAKE UP!”

Eddie unearths the bottom half of Steve's…his… body by pushing the blanket aside. When he tugs at his legs, Presumably Steve retaliates, grabbing onto the arms of the sofa to keep him in place.

“EARTH. TO. KING. STEVE!” Eddie screams.

"Whaaat, dude?!" the host in Eddie’s body grumpily demands.

"Aha! So you are Steve!"

"Duh, who the fuck else?" It demands. "Are you still high?"

"If I was, then that would better explain this."

Steve must’ve really done too much last night. Because for a while there, the person who he assumed was Eddie sounded a heck of a lot like him.

"That’s fucking weird," Steve shakes his head, turning over to look at Eddie. "For a second there, you sounded a lot like m—AAAH OH MY GOD!"

Palms clasping his… (well, Eddie’s) mouth now, Steve can only gasp in horror.

"WHO are you?” he demands. “WHAT are you?"

"It's me! It's Eddie!" Eddie gulps. "I'm... I’M INSIDE OF YOU!”

There’s a pause.

“I don't like how I worded that,” he admits.

"Yeah, neither do I..." Steve agrees. Suddenly he squints. "Is that a zit on my forehead?"

He reaches to swat it but Eddie swats him away. Through Steve's gritted teeth, Eddie hisses,

"THAT'S what you're worried about right now? What in the sane hell is happening?!"

“This isn’t the first weird dream I’ve had after taking an edible,” Steve remarks.

“Harrington, this ISN’T a dream. Okay? This is real life.”

“Yeah, okay Munson,” Steve scoffs, finally hoisting himself off of the couch to pace around. “I know a dream when I’m in one. I just gotta… pinch myself or slap myself around and I’ll be awake.”

But Eddie wastes no time.

“OW!” Steve yelps. “You just pinched my nipple!”

“You mean my nipple?”

He does it again.

“OW! Quit it dude, that’s harassment.”

The two make their way over to a mirror in the living room. To test out the impossible, Steve raises his right hand. The mirror shows Eddie doing it. Eddie begins to touch his face. The mirror responds with Steve doing it. 

It’s the confirmation they were too in denial to come to terms with. They somehow switched bodies.

“Oh god, I’m…” Steve stammers. “Wow…”

“Oh…GOD!” Eddie shrieks. He inches closer to the mirror. “I’m like an off-brand George Michael!”

“HURTFUL—”

“Harrington!” Eddie exclaims, turning back around to face himself. “What was the last thing you remember from last night?”

“Uhh,” Steve stammers. “A-all I remember was us arguing during dinner time and going separate ways after. And then there was a big earthquake that everyone insists that they didn’t feel. And then…we all went to bed, and I forgot to get you a pillow.”

“It’s okay, I’m over it,” Eddie pants. “Way bigger issues than a pillow right now.”

“And now we’re here.”

The two frantically pace around the living room. How can something like this possibly happen?

"Okay,” Eddie exhales. “Yesterday we were here with everybody. All of us were seemingly having a good time until we got pretty into it. Then the earthquake happened, we went to bed, and woke up sober… but in different bodies. Is this like…a rare phenomenon…some kind of medical emergency?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Steve shrugs. “This has never happened to me before. There has to be a scientific explanation for this."

Suddenly their two brain cells click.

"Henderson," they utter in unison.

“It was probably Dustin’s Empathy science experiment,” Steve infers. “Although I'm not sure how a fortune cookie would take walking-in-another-person's-shoes so damn LITERAL."

"God, we’re cooked!” Eddie groans. “And we can’t tell anyone but our friends about it or else we’re REALLY gonna end up as test subjects!”

Eddie starts biting his new nails and frantically pacing back and forth. Meanwhile, Steve centers in on his breathing before emotionally responding to the situation in front of him.

“Okay…” Steve exhales. “Let me just gather my thoughts… You’re in my body and I’m in your body.”

“...Right,” Eddie nods, annoyed since they’d already established that. “Does it seem less scary now that you’ve said it out loud?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head.

“Alright, cool,” Eddie shrugs. “Just checking.”

They look at each other, absolutely petrified of the reality that has now sunk in. And before they seek any other forms of help, there was one more final thought the two needed to share alone… one O.O.M.F. (Other Older Male Friend) to another, in the comfort of Steve’s living room.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

[cue panicked guitar rift here 🎸⚡️]

“This is so not cool, man, this is SO not cool!”

Argyle, Jonathan, and Robin are the first ones at the scene. Along with Dustin, of course, who is now evidently spiraling. 

“I need some air,” Dustin sighs. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

The scientist darts outside for a very reasonable and private mental breakdown. Meanwhile in his absence, everyone else attempts to get their Thinking Caps on.

“I mean…” Argyle pants. “It’s one thing to have a funky acid trip, it’s another to have an out-of-body experience…but this is…this is…”

“Freaky,” Jonathan finishes for him.

“It’s FREAKY!” Argyle agrees. “And it’s not like we can go to the cops, I mean, they'd never open their minds to something like this. They'd just ship us to the Kerley County KOOK HOUSE.”

“Or worse,” Eddie gulps. “The Lab.”

The room is drowned with frantic rambling once again as all the young adults talk over each other.

Will this be the new normal? A head-banging Steve and a preppy Eddie? It sounds like pure nightmare fuel. A disaster waiting to happen. And Dustin only programmed his fortune cookies for this… unintentionally. He didn’t program a way to undo it. 

Everyone is running out of ideas. That is until…

“Wait!” Robin exclaims. “What if you guys just…combined?”

The idea is met with retaliation.

“I beg your finest pardon?” “WE WHAT?!”

“Wait!” Eddie exclaims. “No, no, yeah! I get it. What if we… what if we just… RAN… into each other and the force will be great enough to switch us back?”

“Right! Right!” Steve frantically agrees. “Right, the greater the force, the greater the impact, and we’ll be back in our bodies in no time.”

Steve and Eddie are on opposite sides of the room before anyone else can register it. Kicking his foot around like a bull, Eddie warms himself up while Harrington takes deep breaths, grounding himself before the ordeal.

“Are they really about to…” Argyle begins.

“Sh.. sh..” Jonathan stops him.

“I really wanna see how this goes,” Robin adds.

“Okay,” Eddie huffs before he lets out a battle cry. “EN GUARDE!”

“OH GOD!” Steve shrieks.

“AHHHHHH!” 

“AHHHHHH!”

SMACK! PLOP!

Luckily the floor breaks their fall. The commotion grabs the attention of Dustin, who had just finished his meltdown. But at the sight of seeing his two friends attempt to combine, he could feel himself being launched into yet another one. 

“Okay,” Dustin sighs as he walks back in. “What the hell?!”

———

“Language, Dusty!”

The next brainiac to consult on the list is Suzie, Dustin’s girlfriend. Spawning from the Mormon Capital of the world (Salt Lake City, Utah), Little Miss Beauty and Brains is known to have a solution for just about anything. Until now, it seems.

 “I’m sorry for the language, Suzie. I’m just freaking out,” Dustin blubbers. “It’s not every day my best friends switch bodies and I have no idea how to change them back.”

“So let me get this straight…” Suzie sighs. “Steve is inside of Eddie, and Eddie is inside of Steve.”

“Okay, can we please stop wording it like that?!” Eddie pleads.

“Sorry, Steve.”

“I’M EDDIE!”

“Jiminy Cricket, this is so confusing.”

And what a sight for confused eyes it also is.  But as painful as it is to admit, it’s interesting watching “Steve Harrington” stomp at the ground muttering “Jesus H. Christ!” while “Eddie Munson” nitpicks everything about his hair in the mirror.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Suzie suggests. “How did this start? What did you use for your ingredients, Dusty Bun?”

“Passionfruit and cohosh,” Dustin answers firmly. “Well-known, NATURAL stimulants of oxytocin.”

“And you said they ate the cookies containing these ingredients?”

“Yes, and they got the same fortune which I programmed for them to feel empathy for each other when it happens. Their bodies should’ve released an immense amount of oxytocin. Instead, they uh well, they switched bodies.”

“Dusty Bun… there is no such thing as an oral oxytocin!”

“Why not?” Steve questions.

“Because it would just get destroyed in the GI tract,” Suzie explains. “Meaning there wouldn’t be any ‘stimulants’ to absorb into the bloodstream.”

“Meaning oxytocin would’ve never been released in the first place,” Eddie’s breath hitches.

“It’s also notorious for being unable to cross the blood-brain barrier,” Suzie adds. “Something always happens before it’s able to. This may as well be that something.”

“But… if it gets destroyed in the stomach…” Dustin wonders. “Then how the hell did Steve and Eddie still end up switching bodies?”

Suzie shoots Dustin a dirty look.

“How the heck…” he corrects himself.

Suzie softens up immediately. “I don’t know. Our Heavenly Father works in mysterious ways. This may have happened for a reason. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I’m sure it serves a Divine purpose.”

“Well, can it SERVE a little faster?” Eddie grumbles. “I’ve got a Show and Tell to practice for and Harrington’s got children to babysit. We obviously can’t do that for each other. People are going to think we’ve gone crazy.”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off in his head.

“Wait. Henderson! Give us a couple more cookies. Maybe if we get the same fortune again, we’ll switch back!”

“NO! No more cookies!” Steve butts in. “Who’s to say you won’t end up inside another person whose body you didn’t wanna be in?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Okay…” Dustin stops him, disgusted at the fact. “Enough.”

“Dustin is right,” Suzie nods. “Enough arguing for now, and no more fortune cookies with matching fortunes until we can find out what’s wrong!”

The boys watch as Suzie walks back towards her desk and returns with some papers and pencils.

“Here. My homework for you two is to write down every little detail there is to know about each other. This includes your day-to-day, your hobbies, and even habits. No one can know what is really going on behind the scenes.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t like what you’re implying. We don’t have to… live life as each other… do we?!”

“In the meantime, yes. You do.” Suzie confirms. “And it will be uncomfortable, I’m not going to lie. But what else can we do?”

“Uh, go through all of Dustin’s fortune cookies until we find a pair so Steve and I can ingest THOSE!” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, and there goes BOTH my Show and Tell items!” Dustin hollers.

“Dusty, don’t worry,” Suzie speaks again. “You will get to showcase your friends and fortune cookies at Show and Tell. I’ll be doing my own research to ensure that this happens. This includes talking to some monks, priests, and rabbis. We WILL get to the bottom of this.”

The three leave Suzie’s cabin feeling absolutely defeated. 

Of course this would happen the summer Steve finally got his hair under control. And of course this would happen the moment Eddie has a potential record deal at the palm of his hands. Any other circumstance would have been okay, despite the freakiness factor. This was just shit timing if they ever did see it.

And if Suzie can’t fix it, they’re screwed.

When they get far enough away from the girls' cabins, Steve excuses himself to the nearest water fountain. In contrast, Eddie shows himself to the closest Porta-Potty, the safest place for him to have a conversation he wouldn’t be caught dead having.

“Hey God,” Eddie grumbles. “Me again.”

———

Adapting to each other’s lives certainly wasn’t easy.

It started with switching cars.

Steve’s BMW has sensitive brakes. Eddie’s beloved van, Halen, on the other hand requires more force, more aggression, something Eddie believed Steve would bust his toe doing.

And Eddie can only hope that when Steve is running around town as him, he doesn’t embarrass him all too much. He’s already not off to a good start, with a stupid Thundercats t-shirt on and his hair up in a bun.

“And when you’re outside with the kiddos, make sure they wear sunscreen,” Steve advises him. “You're a camp counselor, after all.”

“Got it.”

“And that an epipen is with you at all times,” Steve adds. “Some of the kids have bee and nut allergies and those reactions can be lethal.”

Make sure this. Make sure that. It’s odd for Eddie to be hearing it all in his own voice. Has Steve always been this annoying?

Eventually Eddie gets tired of it and consults his Walkman, blasting “Take Me Away” through his headphones to drown out Steve’s rambling. Rambling on and on and on and on… on and on and on and on….

“Eddie!” Steve shouts. “Are you listening?”

“Don’t wanna grow up I wanna get out,” Eddie sings. “HEY! Take me away.”

Eddie was listening. In fact he listens and pays attention more than Steve knows. He just doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“I’m gonna get you a real job,” Steve says to Eddie.

“A real job?” Eddie tuts. “My job is real. I sell real drugs and bring in real money to help my Uncle afford our really real rent.”

“But I’m not gonna be the one doing it.”

“Sure you are. You’re me.”

“Munson, no!”

“Harrington, yes.”

“I’M NOT SELLING KETAMINE TO MINORS, EDDIE.”

“Aw. But you fit the stereotype,” Eddie smirks, rather cheekily. “Now chop chop, Rick’s expecting royalties on said sales.”

“Maybe I can land you a hospitality job. Or maybe a front desk job. Something that comes with benefits. Something practical.”

“A Munson with a normal job in Hawkins?” Eddie can’t believe his ears. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Perhaps there is a silver lining in all of this. 

For the average Hawkins resident, getting a job is no issue. It was never a choice for Eddie. Given his father’s less-than-cookie-cutter reputation – and Eddie being an involuntary extension of him – he couldn’t believe Steve couldn’t grasp that getting a conventional job is hard. And Eddie always thought Harrington needed some humbling. This is the perfect scenario for it.

“Take your feet off your dash,” Steve grumbles. “Steve Harrington doesn’t do that.”

“AyAy, Captain.”

“And stop head-banging in my body, will ya?” Steve begs. “You’ll break a sweat and un-pomade my hair.”

“God, you’re so anal about everything, Steve!” Eddie scoffs. “I feel sorry for those kids, I really do.”

If Eddie’s going to be walking around in Steve’s body, he at least wanted to relax first. But even that was impossible, given that Steve is a talker and alleged goodie-two-shoes-who-discovered-empathy-on-drugs-and-that’s-all-he-preaches-now (with the rules of a mother whose son was allergic to everything but water).

The car ride is more tense and quiet as the two approach Knowhere. Eddie is quick to scurry out when Steve approaches the drop-off curb, a little speech already prepared from the first nerve Harrington managed to get on in the morning.

“Loosen up that manbun,” Eddie commands once he’s out of the car. “You look like the Buddha went thrifting in Chicago. You also need to unclench your asscheeks a bit more if you wanna be me. And to put more fiber in your diet. How’s that for advice?”

SLAM! goes the door. Steve normally would’ve been pissed, but since he’s driving Halen, he’s lenient about it. So he watches Eddie walk away, in a stride that looks like he's constantly got a wedgie, over to the camp and towards the kids he is to watch until Show and Tell Day.

“WEAR SUNSCREEN!” Steve hisses, one last time. “…I don’t play about my skin.”

———

“Hey, Steve!” a group of campers greet Eddie as he makes his way into Knowhere.

God, this is so weird.

“Hey…kiddos?” Eddie greets them in return.

“We’re gonna go diving in the lake, just letting you know.”

“Thanks for the invite,” Eddie tuts. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Just uh, wear sunscreen.”

“Well, we try to invite you but you never wanna come with us.”

“Says who?” Eddie demands. “It’s summer, everyone goes to the lake.”

“Everyone but you,” a kid points out. “You turn us down every time.”

“I do?”

“All the time,” another kid confirms. “You say it ruins your hair.”

"I was...joking," is all Eddie can come up with.

"Really? Because it doesn't sound like you were," another child counters. "You already don't like that the UV rays have the potential to damage your hair cuticles, which aids in your fear of dryness and breakage. Furthermore, swimming in a lake filled with miscellaneous, unidentified bacterium is another concern, apart from the warm water having the potential to dry your hair out even more. Also, at windy temperatures of about 80 degrees, typical for a Hawkins summer, your hair when damp will start to frizz. Which is where your pomade and Farrah Fawcett spray come in handy. And on summer days, you give your hair 32 hours before the next hair wash rotation, to which the cycle starts again. We know the drill, Steve. You've explained it multiple times. And we get it now that you don’t like the lake."

Even the kids think Harrington's insufferable. Eddie can only shake his head in disbelief.

"I'm not who I was a day ago," Eddie shrugs. "...literally."

"Huh?"

"You gonna let me join or what?"

Suddenly, the kids’ eyes begin to light up. Steve Harrington joining them at the lake? It was going to be the most fun day they’ve ever had!

"Sure!" the kids cheer excitedly. "Al-right! Steve is joining our party!"

Eddie smiles to himself, proud of the reaction he got from the eager children. Excited cheers? Smiling faces? Now THAT is how you Camp Counsel.

And now that Eddie thinks about it, he realizes something. He’s spent most of his youth in survival mode that he never got to let loose and have fun. And while he has Steve’s body and physical activity levels, he is certainly NOT about to let that go to waste. Pomade? Eddie thinks to himself. Meet Trash Can.

“Hey guys! Wait for me!” Eddie calls after the campers. “CANNONBALL!"

Meanwhile Steve sets off to find Eddie a job.

A real job.

He tries Hawkins Mart. The roller rink. The movie theater. The coffee shops. Something that involved social interaction and hard work. 

"Hi there," Steve grins politely. "I'm Eddie Munson, and I'd like to apply for a job."

But Hawkins is anything but receptive to it.

"No."

"Nope."

"Sorry."

"Munson, eh? You related to Al Munson?"

"NO!"

Apparently misdemeanors and run-ins with the law make it impossible to land a good gig. It was no wonder now why Eddie stayed where he was comfortable.

Though, it's unconventional.

Steve is just about to lose hope when those looking for help didn't even want him.

But he wasn’t giving up. There has to be something Steve can do to increase Eddie's chances of landing a good job.

Just then, he realizes. 

Maybe it’s not Eddie’s past, but his demeanor. The way he carries himself. If he didn’t dress like a vessel for Satan every single day, this conservative town would probably take him more seriously.

It's one of life's twisted games. Steve didn’t make the rules. And he sure as hell can't change it. 

But there is one thing he can help Eddie do. He can help Eddie play the game. Master it.

And that’s when Steve sees the scissors.

———

So you can say sunscreen is the least of everyone’s worries.

“Jesus Chr— what did you do to my hair?!”

“What did you do to MINE?!”

“I had to let her breathe man,” Eddie explains. “God, Harrington. No wonder you’re always in a mood. Holding your hair up with so much gel, MY HEAD FELT HEAVIER THAN A BOWLING BALL.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve challenges him. “Well your hair was so greasy, I could’ve pat it down with a paper towel like it’s PIZZA.”

The two are at it again, reaching at each other’s hair and then swatting each other away like flies. Suddenly Robin butts into the quarrel, emerging from the kitchen with amusement spread all across her face. 

“Oh…my…god…” she says.

Steve and Eddie simultaneously stop their bickering and pan their gazes over to her. Unable to contain her laughter, Robin releases a hearty chuckle in front of them.

“Holy shit, this is the greatest thing since disposable cameras,” Robin tsks. “On that note, let me go get mine.”

“NO!” both Steve and Eddie refuse.

“This is so humiliating!” Steve whines. “I look like someone literally mopped the floor with me!” 

“You're embarrassed?!” Eddie exclaims as he points to his own, original body. “Whose Peepaw died?! Why am I wearing a grandpa sweater sourced from the crusty back bins of Goodwill?!”

"I thought it'd be fitting attire for your library job that I got you."

"You got me a job at the LIBRARY?!” Eddie shrieks. “Out of all places?"

"No other place would hire you!"

"Can’t say I didn’t warn ya."

“And why does my hair LOOK LIKE THAT?!” Steve demands. “You went into the lake with the kids, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

Eddie shakes his head at him, baffled. “God forbid, I – the camp counselor — do camp counselor things! I did exactly what you told me to do.”

“WHERE DID I SAY YOU COULD MESS UP MY HAIR?”

Steve takes a moment to mourn his glorious mane. Meanwhile, Eddie starts brainstorming how he’s going to rob a high end salon for all their hair growth serums. 

Just then, Robin reemerges from the shadows with her camera, panning it directly at the two of them, as if she were some eager journalist fighting for her spot on the front page of National Geographic.

“Say cheese, freaks!”

———

Eddie was having a hard time being Steve.

Being Hawkins’ most desirable male apart from Billy Hargrove was harder than he thought. Because while women worshiped the ground Steve walked on, it was hard for flight-risk teens to take the Pretty Boy seriously.

“Christopher!” Eddie hisses. “I told you to stop domesticating the raccoons, you little shit.”

Living in the trailer park, Eddie’s no stranger to those feral, yet adorable, beady-eyed beauties. And while they were cute, holding your hand, refurbishing your trash, and performing for crackers, there was an unspoken agreement when it came to those kinds of animals: you are to never take them in.

“But it’s for research!” Christopher pleads.

“I wouldn’t care if it was for the Nobel Peace Prize,” Eddie scolds him. He places his angry hands frustratedly on his hips. “Those things can be rabid, violent, and aggressive when you least expect it. Trust me on this. Raccoons are better left alone in the wild. They can’t live with people like us.”

A low, miserable groan furls at the base of the boy’s belly. He kicks at the dirt beneath him.

“Ugh, you ruin all the fun, Steve,” Christopher whines. “Eddie Munson would never treat us like this.”

That statement just about nipped Eddie in the soul. Was this what being a buzzkill is like? Little did Christopher know that it’s actually Eddie scolding him. And that the kids were not only hurting Steve’s feelings but his as well. 

Meanwhile Steve wasn’t having a grand time being Eddie either.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY?!”

He almost died. Quite literally. And if it hadn’t been for Wayne launching himself across the room to stop it from happening, the odds of he and Eddie ever switching back would’ve gone from unlikely to zero.

“What?!” Steve demands.

“What do you mean, what?!” Wayne demands. “You eat that thing you’re going to wound up in the hospital! Again!”

Steve’s eyes trail down to the delicious shrimp tacos he had bought for takeout from Estrella’s. 

Eddie is deathly allergic to shellfish. And with just a single bite of that shrimp taco, he would be in the back of an ambulance with hives and a closed-up throat. And judging by the fact that Eddie and his uncle didn’t necessarily bring home the ‘big bucks’, an invoice from Hawkins Memorial Hospital wouldn’t be an ideal situation to put him through.

“We’re already two months behind on rent,” Wayne grumbles. “You eat those tacos, kick the bucket, and rack up them bills, I may as well join ya six feet under.”

No tacos, no time and a half at work, and no solution to the problem at hand. No wonder Eddie was always an angsty mess. It definitely showcases in those lyrics too.

———

“Take me away, away, away, AWAY”

A killer guitar solo rips through the Harrington garage as Eddie strums away at the chords. 

In hindsight, it looks like Steve is the rockstar. But the feral energy is unmistakably Munson’s, to which Dustin can’t help but get lost in, dancing along as a one-man-mosh-pit to the brilliance of Corroded Coffin’s discography.

“Same old stuff, it never ends.”

“The song sounds so cool hearing it in Steve’s voice,” Dustin beams. “And I can’t believe you put him in a crop top.”

“It’s like dressing up a Barbie doll,” Eddie jokes as he puts his guitar away. He then turns his torso towards Henderson’s field of view. “Look… Harrington’s an innie.”

Dustin cackles at the sight.

“Hahaha, no way!” he cheers. “I’m an outie.”

“Me too.”

The garage lets out an insulated hum as Steve strides in with the tacos. He cocks an eyebrow, confused at the sight of Dustin and Corroded Coffin comparing navels with each other. 

“What did I just walk into?”

Eddie’s eyes light up at the sight of Steve.

“Ooh, is that Estrella’s I smell?” he inquires.

“All yours,” Steve grumbles. “Found out today that I can’t have shellfish.”

Eddie smirks at the realization.

“But I can,” he sings. “Because I’m Steve Harrington.”

Eddie rushes over to Steve to acquire the food. Steve goes over to greet the rest of the boys and to issue Dustin a long-awaited high five.

“Mmm…” Eddie coos. “Take a good look at these washboard abs, Innie. They’ll be gone for as long as I can have these tacos.”

Steve makes a face. “I can’t believe you put me in a crop top.”

“I can’t believe you cut my hair,” Eddie shrugs.

But he seems to have gotten over the fact. Hair will grow back. There were larger issues at hand today. Like how exactly Eddie is going to perform with Corroded Coffin at Show and Tell.

“Listen,” Eddie wipes his mouth. “Harrington. I have a favor. If worse comes to worst and we can’t switch back on time, I need you to perform as me for Show and Tell.”

“And why exactly would I do that?”

“Because it’s our one shot to make it big.”

“Again, why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Eddie sneers.

But his face drops when Steve doesn’t return the energy. 

Nowhere in the fine print did it say ‘Steve Owes Eddie’. So why would Steve bother? It’s a lot for Eddie to ask of someone he’s openly mocked for years. But now that he needs something, suddenly Steve is the coolest person in the world? It doesn’t work like that. 

“Hey…” Eddie begins. “I know you don’t like me, okay? Whatever animosity you have towards me, I hope we can move on from it one day.” 

Steve refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“If you do this for me, I’ll be eternally grateful,” Munson adds. “And maybe just maybe — when Corroded Coffin makes it big and we start touring around the world — I’ll be out of your hair forever. Literally.”

“Seems transactional.” 

It leaves a bad taste in Eddie’s mouth. It was always ‘Terms and Conditions’ with Harrington. Never has he ever considered the other person’s feelings. Never has he ever done anything out of the goodness of his heart. It was always, “What do I get out of it?”. Always some sort of fucked up business move. Just like his father.

“You view everything as a transaction, don’t you?” Eddie scoffs. 

“Why would I do favors for someone who’s done nothing but disrespect me? I value my time and energy. I’m not wasting it on you.” 

“But you can waste it on being a camp counselor, right? The kids aren’t so hot about you anyways, so I don’t know why you keep showing up.”

“Because Dustin is there. Because I’m a good friend. You wouldn’t know sacrifice and loyalty if it hit you in the face.”

“Ah, there it is. The performative activism in plain sight. We all know that this is about Dustin. AAAAlways been that way.”

“Of course my summer is about Dustin,” Steve argues. “You’ve had him all year. Spending every second with him and breathing down his neck.”

“I’M the one spending too much time with him?” Eddie scoffs. “Breathing down his neck?! You’re the one who got a gig to be closer to him.”

“Does it register with you that it’s because I DON’T SEE HIM MUCH AT ALL ANYMORE?” Steve shouts. “He’s always at your stupid D&D games and never wants to hang out with me! You’re taking the spotlight, like you always seem to do!”

“That’s IT!” Dustin barks. “I have HAD it with you two fighting all the time.”

Finally, it’s quiet. And normally the two would be stoked about it, but seeing Dustin on the brink of tears does not make the last word worthwhile at all.

“Not even a life-changing catastrophe will make you guys stop! You’re in each other’s bodies for Christ’s sake and still going at it like cats and dogs.”

Dustin starts back towards the house, kicking at the chords beneath his feet that are blocking his dramatic exit. All Dustin has ever wanted from those two – and quite literally every adult in his life – was co-existence. A notion so easy, yet no one has ever been able to give him that. Not even with his damn empathy cookies.

“It all makes me feel like a failure. Locking myself in my cabin for six weeks to have my fortune cookies yield THESE results? My last year at camp too.”

“Dustin–”

“And if you guys keep this up, then I don’t wanna spend the rest of my summer with either of you. How’s that for compromise?”

“Hey. Buddy…” Steve starts again.

“Henderson!” Eddie calls at the same time.

But it’s already too late. Off Dustin goes, Camp Nowhere notebook in his arms, walkie in his pocket, and car keys jingling furiously around his fingers. Nothing worth displaying at Show and Tell if the grown ups were going to act younger than the campers there. And if Dustin’s anger wasn’t already prominent, the way he backs out of Steve’s driveway is a dead giveaway, judging by the screeching tires and the pop of the engine as he steps on the gas.

“Damn,” Jeff comments. “Taco ‘bout a tough crowd…”

Ba-dum-tss! the drum sounds.

“GARETH!” Steve and Eddie growl.

"Scott Clarke."

Hearing that name nearly gives Eddie whiplash. Especially because it came out of Steve’s mouth.

"Huh?"

Steve repeats himself. "Scott Clarke? Our middle school science teacher?”

Steve is perched at the bottom of the stairs, wading aimlessly around in guilt. Eddie watches as he props himself against the rails of his fancy staircase, almost as if to serenade him with an apology song of sorts. 

"When we were kids, he headed the Hawkins Middle AV Club,” Steve recalls. “Nancy was in it, and so was Mike and so was Sinclair, Baby Byers, and Dustin.”

“Go on…”

“Well…whenever they ran into trouble, Mr. Clarke was always there to help,” Harrington shrugs. “Always been very personable, non-judgmental, and most of all, he’s knowledgeable.”

“Okay…”

 “And with his degree from MIT, he’d be the one most likely able to get us out of this mess,” Steve emphasizes. “Just in time for Show and Tell.”

“What makes you think he’d want to help former students like us?” Eddie demands. “We weren’t in the AV club or anything.”

“Because he cares, Eddie. Current students or not.”

There’s a pause.

“Remember that one time you came into homeroom with a black eye?” Steve reflects. “And Clarke made you stay after class so he could ask if everything was okay at home?”

Attempting to mask the mushy feelings underneath, Eddie simply shrugs. Steve persists.

“Other teachers would have assumed you got in a fight or something. Even if that was the case, none of them cared to look further into it. No one except Mr. Clarke.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie admits, choked up now. “Yeah, I almost forgot about that.”

It actually was a fight that happened that day. Some random kid at school. But there were also times Eddie has gotten in scuffles with his father, typically when Al Munson stumbled home too drunk for his own good and tried laying a hand on either him or Uncle Wayne. And Mr. Clarke, having grown up with Al, knew what he was capable of. Meaning it was his unspoken civil duty to look out for (Munson) Junior.

“And,” Harrington sighs. “I’m kinda really desperate here. I want you to be able to perform at Dustin’s Show and Tell. You and the band have a shot at this. I wholeheartedly believe that. And I don’t have much faith in my ability to perform as you. Neither does Dustin, it seems.”

“Steve…” Eddie begins. 

“And sure, I was upset about not being Henderson’s first choice for a while,” Steve rambles. “But I’ll be okay. The kids can learn survival skills another time. ”

Grateful tears start to form in Eddie’s eyes. He’s never seen this side of Steve before. 

“My hopes and dreams don’t depend on Show and Tell,” Steve mumbles. “And if it means a producer from Cardinal Records is going to be there, then getting Wayne and yourself out of debt does.”

Their eyes meet again.

“I can’t take that away from you.”

Suddenly the rocker feels his knees buckle.

It feels as if Eddie’s soul is about to leave his body. Or Steve’s in this sense. Struggling to keep his composure, the ever-so-rugged Eddie Munson clears his throat.

“…I didn’t think you paid attention to any of that, Steve.”

“I pay attention more than you think,” Steve counters. “And if my observations are right, Mr. Clarke might have the answer.”

Steve shrugs, dangling the keys to Eddie’s van around his fingers. He hula hoops them around as Eddie remains floored, pondering above him.

“Well?” says Steve. “You just gonna stand there and gawk, ‘Harrington’? Come on.”

Perhaps walking and gawking would be more productive. Without further hesitation, Eddie races down the steps and follows closely behind Steve before shutting the door to the house.

“Wipe your feet,” Steve commands as he unlocks the doors to Halen.

“What do you mean wipe my feet?” Eddie snaps. “It’s MY van!”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who’s been driving it,” Steve counters with a glare. “And I’m saying wipe your feet.”

Nonetheless, Eddie sighs and does as he’s told. But he’s not happy about it. 

Never in a million years did he think Steve Harrington would tell him how to run his own van. Nor did he think Harrington would actually end up being a good dude. Both were very humbling experiences. And while King Steve drives them off to Hawkins Middle, willingly blasting Metallica and doing his best to head-bang, Eddie crosses his arms and stares blankly out the passenger side window.

“I’m never eating anything Dustin makes me again.”

———

"So..." Eddie prompts. "Can you fix us?"’

“If it isn’t broken, then do not fix it,” Mr. Clarke advises. 

There was only so much that could be disclosed to their former teacher. Being an educator also meant being a mandated reporter, and it’s without a doubt government officials would bust down the doors of Camp Knowhere and run a freak raid on Dustin’s science experiment had they known the truth. Steve and Eddie had to gloss over practically everything.

“I appreciate and am honored to know you two trust me with your dilemma,” Mr. Clarke nods. “That being said, it is normal for gentlemen your age to go through an identity crisis after experimenting with recreational drugs. It will subside, but only if you don’t fight it.”

A decade can certainly change things. Steve and Eddie never expected their most logic-driven teacher to embrace his heart, dressed in a brown linen robe, as he calmly kept them on standby with soothing, meditative “Ommm”s while they spiraled into desperation in his ‘BACK TO (S)C(H)OOL’ classroom.

“But what is the science behind this?” Steve demands. “Is something happening in the…the… what did Suzie call it? The blood-brain barrier? Why would… Harrington and I both feel like we are living the life of the other person?”

“To question everything is to not know peace,” Mr. Clarke soothes them.

He’s saying this while criss-cross-apple-sauce on his desk, by the way.

“Sometimes, it is best to simply let things be,” the educator warns. “By going against the grain of the water, you are blocking the potential you can reach if you had been in a flow state.”

“Good God, you choose NOW to go on a spiritual retreat?!” Eddie hisses. “When we need science and your genius mind the most?!”

“If not now, then when?” Mr. Clarke mumbles. “If not you, then who?”

For the first time in his life, Eddie feels plagued with academic regret. He wishes he paid attention in Clarke’s class. Meanwhile Steve is considering having a word with his superintendent mother, because no way in hell is some barefoot, most-likely-vegan lunatic about to indoctrinate the future kids of America. 

“If not you… then who?” Clarke repeats. “If there's one thing I learned during my time in research… and mindful meditation…  it's that sometimes the answer is right in front of you. Or within."

Steve and Eddie look at each other.

"The world is full of obvious things," Mr. Clarke says. "...which nobody, by any chance, ever observes. Sherlock Holmes."

Accepting the absolute bust, Steve and Eddie storm out of the door and back down the stairs of their prepubescent alma mater. 

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie curses under his breath. “The damn hippies got to him before we did.”

As the two walk down the stairs, Steve sneaks a few quick glances Eddie’s way. Seeing him upset didn’t necessarily make him feel so hot. The answer is clear: they need to venture beyond a Mormon child and a middle school science teacher. They need to consult the big dogs. 

“We can go to the Indianapolis Science Center,” Steve suggests. “And maybe ask some people there. There’s also the university. If we flag down a professor from the physics or chemistry department, maybe they can offer us some insight. Or…”

“Just give it a rest, Steve,” Eddie surrenders.

“What?” Steve questions. “No! We’ve got to figure this out before Show and Tell. It’s in a couple days.”

“What’s a couple days?” Eddie demands. “We’ve been like this for nearly a week. What makes you think it won’t last another week? Or indefinitely.”

Eddie kicks at an empty carton of orange juice at his feet while Steve watches with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He didn’t want Eddie to give up. Not yet, at least.

“Hey I’m not going to let you blow this shot, Munson,” Steve demands firmly. “I know how much this means to you. This could finally be your ticket out of Hawkins. You guys were meant for the Big City.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees, absentmindedly. 

Eddie’s gaze veers off to the side, a sadness in his eyes so profound that Steve almost starts tearing up as well. 

“All… the answers… point…to no,” Eddie continues. “Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone followed their dreams? We’d have no one doing the conventional jobs. It's not in my cards, I fear. Maybe I was always meant to stay in Hawkins, being everyone’s weed man and no one’s first choice.”

“Eddie…”

“But thanks for trying though, Harrington. Doesn’t go unnoticed.”

———

To be continued…

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[doogieverse]

Sonic Shipping

Shipping characters from a franchise where there aren't really any canon relationships is very... interesting. Let's get into it.

Sidenote: I'm not covering every possible ship, just ones I have something to say about. Also can we come up with better ship names please? Thanks.

Sonic x Amy So everyone knows SonAmy, it certainly is a ship. I like the trope of "head over heels" x "uninterested tease", but Sonic gives Amy nothing. And more often than not, Amy's character is completely reduced to being in love with Sonic. Sega has gotten better about the latter in recent years, at least. I still don't find this ship very appealing— I get it, but it's not for me. However, people have been theorizing that in the fourth movie, Sonic will be the one with the unrequited crush. That would be a super interesting shift in dynamic, and I'd definitely be more invested if that happens.

Metal Sonic x Amy Okay this is a bit more interesting. Metal Sonic is an incredibly tragic character— someone who full heartedly believes he is someone else, yet can never seem to quite match his strength. He's been labeled a failure by Eggman, and is continuously beaten and broken until he is less than Sonic. Amy, on the other hand, is kind and caring to all creatures, so naturally she sees the best in Metal. It's cute seeing him be treated with love for the first time, like a lost little puppy. I think this relationship is strictly romantic (personally, I think Metal is autistic and asexual) but it's something they both need. Very cute.

Sonic x Knuckles Knuckles acts as a great foil to Sonic. Where Sonic is free-spirited and wild, Knuckles is disciplined, and stuck protecting Angel Island and the Master Emerald. Honestly, he might even be a better foil than Shadow, who sort of just shows up out of nowhere. They're more so symbolic opposites, in my opinion. At the same time, Sonic and Knuckles are friends, where as Shadow didn't even show up to Sonic's birthday party </3 It's hard to imagine enemies to lovers when they're stuck in the Friend Zone. Decent ship, not really for me.

Sonic x Shadow I mean what do I have to say. This is The Ship of the fandom. Unpopular opinion, but I don't care about Shadow that much :-/ So even though this ship is skibidi sigma slay and I totally agree with it, it's not my favorite. It's still endgame though.

Shadow x Amy They're besties and that's that.

Shadow x Rouge Shadow and Rouge are obviously a gay/lesbian duo, so I don't understand the appeal. I do love them as friends though.

Knuckles x Rouge It's so gooood. They're always bickering, always at odds, and yet they can't resist each other. I love Rebel Rouge and Renegade Knucks from Prime, so good. I'm not usually one for straight ships, but in my mind its bi4bi so we're safe.

Silver x Blaze I love them as friends, they're both autistic and asexual <3 However, I disagree with shipping them romantically. To me, they're another iconic gay/lesbian duo. For those who've read Homestuck, they're basically moirails.

Sonic x Blaze I was a bit of a hater at first, but I've grown to somewhat like it. They have some cute moments, especially in the IDW comics. I like to think that Blaze has unrequited feelings for Sonic, but it's just something she likes to think about from time to time. They're not necessarily romantic feelings, but she loves how he challenges her, and strives to be as carefree as he is.

Sonic x Silver I love gay hedgehogs as much as the next guy, but I just don't get this one. Maybe that'll change after I play Sonic 06, but as much as I want to love it, I just find it mediocre.

Silver x Espio I truly did not understand this at first. I thought someone just took their two favorite characters and made them kiss. However, after reading the IDW comics, I still didn't understand it. Then I looked at ship art and thought about it more and I kind of like it. They have surprisingly similar personalities and interests, but are just different enough to be unique. I think they're both ace, but Espio definitely leans a bit more towards allosexual. I love the idea of him trying to kiss Silver, but he gets flustered and shy.

Vector x Vanilla They're so silly!! Oh man I was floored when I first read the IDW comics and learned that Vector was into milfs. I also didn't realize he was twenty— I like the idea of him being fresh into the dating people as a young adult; he could have anyone he wants, and he goes straight for Cream's mom. It's so iconic, and Vanilla seems into it if you ask me...

Tails x Cosmo I need to watch Sonic X before deciding if I like this or not. I at least know that they touch upon it in the show, so I can at least understand it.

Tails x Cream There's not much merritt to this, in my opinion. I feel like people ship them just because they're both children— which I guess is fine? Personally, I don't like shipping children because they don't have the same concepts of love and romance that adults, or even teens, do. Nonetheless, I like Tails and I like Cream, so who knows. Maybe it would be a good ship.

Charmy x Cream I've seen so many future AUs where Vector and Espio leave the Chaotix, and Charmy continues it with Cream, and it feels so right to me. I wouldn't ship them romantically, but I love that they're detective partners.

Whisper x Tangle I mean they're basically canon. Both great characters, and both them and their friendship have great arcs. Personally, I don't see them being very sexual? Maybe they're ace4ace, or platonic soulmates, or whatever term you could come up with. Either way, they belong with each other <3

Surge x Amy At first, I thought people just wanted toxic yuri. Of course there's merritt to that, but it wasn't for me. Then I thought about how Surge is a parallel to Sonic, and it started making sense. They don't have enough interactions for me to be interested, but I hope that changes.

Dr. Robotnik x Agent Stone Do I even have to say anything.

Here's what I consider canon/endgame in my own mind (as described above): - Sonic x Shadow - Charmy x Cream - Metal Sonic x Amy - Vector x Vanilla - Knuckles x Rouge - Whisper x Tangle - Silver x Espio - Robotnik x Stone

Addendum: I love learning about rare pairs and seeing what dynamics come out, even though they're usually a bust. Let me know if there are any good ships I missed.

[cheesecakeislazy]

JEFF THE KILLER HEADCANONS BECAUSE FUCK YOU! (Jk I love you and hope your life is great)

1. Him and BeN are besties for life, ride or die, would suck the poison out of each others dicks (not gay though)

2. Jeff has eye drops on him 24/7 so he doesn’t go fucking blind

3. Jeff has anger issues, one moment he’s chill as fuck and then EJ told him something that pisses him off- and now there’s a stab wound in Toby, a hole in the wall, and an angry Slenderman.

4. Jeff is totally straight. He totally thinks boobs are awesome. And totally only boobs. (He’s bisexual and swears on god he’s straight.)

5. He wakes up at 2 pm because he hates being awake in the mornings

6. He’s a metal head. He blasts music from his room so loud you can hear it across the mansion (slender mansion AU)

7. His deep gravely ass voice is perfect for metal songs

8. He likes to paint his nails black, and black only any other color is fucking gay

9. His vocabulary is 90% cuss words

10. He rarely showers. Ironically the gamer showers more often than him. Jeff prefers to be a stinky son of a bitch (take that fangirls)

11. He makes up for it with his dental hygiene (kinda) he brushes them twice a day and they look perfect (mostly)

12. He has extra sharp canines

13. He named his knife “Knifu” aka his knife waifu

14. The knife has been used so much that it constantly reeks of bleach and blood; it has permanent blood stains on it

15. Jeff bites his nails pretty often

16. Jeff isn’t good with throwing knives- he also isn’t that good at stabbing…

17. Jeff literally just stabs and stabs until he thinks his victim is dead, he doesn’t know any major artery’s (did I spell that right?)

18. Jeff is dyslexic

19. Jeff is horrible at math but refuses to admit it

20. Jeff wears eyeliner but refuses to admit it

21. He secretly loves the color pink but refuses to admit it (see a pattern here yet?)

22. Jeff is super sensitive to light due to the fact he doesn’t have any eyelids

23. He wears black gloves because he has burn marks on his hands and hates it when people look at them (fingerless gloves as his fingers aren’t burnt)

24. Jeff really wants tattoos and piercings but can’t get any due to his skin being extremely sensitive and fragile

25. Jeff hates the sun, it hurts his eyes and skin

26. Jeff likes going to playgrounds at night because 1. Fucking swings are awesome and 2. Creepy

27. Fucker is 5’11 and constantly calls BeN a midget

28. Jeff had a small crush on Toby for a while and lowkey has a small crush on BeN but…

29. Jeff is highkey downbad for EJ (it’s one-sided)

30. If Jeff ever tried to cook, he would burn everything

31. Jeff is fucking terrified of fire

32. Sometimes Ben likes to scare Jeff shitless by lighting a small fire inside Bens hands infront of Jeff

33. Sometimes Jeff throws Ben inside a kiddy pool and watches him panic about drowning (he is fully above the water)

34. Despite the fact Jeff and Ben both fuck with each other and their fears, they do it in tame ways to ensure the other doesn’t actually have a panic attack of any kind

35. Jeff lives in sweatpants, jeans are for losers and shorts are gay

36. T-shirts and hoodies, Jeff literally does not own a single sweater, long sleeve, or tank top.

37. His favorite T-shirt says “Fuck me in my ass (but not in a gay way)”

38. His second favorite says “Emo metal loving slut”

39. Both and almost all of his t-shirts are black with either white or red/pink writing

40. It is Jeff’s goal to have every photo taken of him (with permission) to have him flipping off the camera

41. Jeff watches South Park but thinks Family guy is stupid

42. He tries really hard to get on Liu/Sully’s good side but his anger issues usually get in the way

43. Jeff and Nina are actually really good friends that lowkey view each other as family

44. Jeff and Nina love to piss each other off constantly (Ben will prank whoever he is asked to)

45. Jeff has tried to kill Jane quite a few times, and Jane is constantly trying to kill him

46. Jeff personally isn’t into weed but he doesn’t judge BeN for being a stoner lowkey

47. Jeff is a virgin but he wouldn’t be nervous at all about having sex

48. Jeff is a kinky bastard

49. Jeff likes a good bowl of strawberry ice cream

50. Jeff likes banana smoothies

51. Jeff owns a few Nirvana T-shirts

[mraprilfools]

I just realized I never actually linked this to my Tumblr! VOX FANS HAVE SOME VOX SMUT.

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: E Pairing: Vox x F!Reader

CW/TW: None

Summary: The Vox-Tek Employee handbook is over 500 pages thick and you're expected to memorize every word. Your boss, Vox doesn't seem to understand why that's an unreasonable expectation. What's worse? After so many infractions he decides to call you into his office to punish your flagrant breaks of company protocol! Preview under the cut

The Voxtek employee handbook was so thick you could beat somebody to death with it. You knew that because you assaulted some creep on the way home with it one night! It was well-organized, you gave it that! But with so many different rules, standards, and procedures you struggled to memorize it all. You’d read the thing front and back multiple times and STILL found yourself breaking some obscure stupid protocol somewhere.

And your fucking boss was a grade-A asshole.

Vox didn’t let a single one go, no matter how minor. When you first started working there you had a phone that wasn’t under Voxtek regulations. So he confiscated it until after work. When you brought in a magazine that was doing a story about the mysterious Radio Demon’s reappearance? He fucking set it on fire and told you that propaganda toward Overlords other than Vee’s was also a violation! Eating anywhere but the break room? Forbidden. Even the food you could bring in had to be Vox-tek approved locations for takeout!

You SWORE you were safe to at least browse on your phone during lunch breaks. To rant about how your boss was an uptight little prick who didn’t know how to unclench his metal butt-hole once in his life. Your bestie on the other end listened to you vent via text messaging, and the two of you even shared some jokes. It was a good way to let off some steam in a place you always had to be on high alert at all times.

A peace that was shattered when Vox came strolling into the break room. The sight scared you straight in your seat, you immediately hit the power button on your phone to hide the conversation. The man had the usual dashing smile that he always wore in public. But you know he was fucking plastic. Fake.

It was unusual for Vox to ever come into the break room. You had a feeling it may have to do with the fact you were alone right now. Normally he’d send Papermint or one of his other secretaries to pick up his coffee but here he was in the…not-flesh grabbing it himself. The smile never left his face as he strolled over, setting his metallic hand on the table beside you. The familiarity he took with you put you further on edge. The coffee mug in his other hand, branding his hatred toward Alastor freely. What a salty cunt.

“Hello Sweetheart! How are you settling into our company? I know we’ve… had a rough start but it’s only because I see so much potential in you. I’d hate to see you wither on the branch!” He was sickeningly cheerful as if his constant reminders of your rule-breaking weren’t annoying, and you couldn’t say a word.

Through clenched teeth, you answered with a fake smile, “I’m doing my best Sir! I’m SO glad to be working here! It’s a real honor.”

The artificial cyan smile spread from frame to frame, a whimsical chime echoing for his speakers. “So glad to hear it! Always glad to see an asset join the team. And-- you have been good? No further questions or infractions?” Vox held the coffee cup forward as if to pull forth a confession from you. The slandering you both on company time was technically against policy but, as long as he didn’t go through your private messages? What could he know?

And you also did have that novel in your bag you bought on the way from work that was more ‘propaganda’. Again, secure in your locker and never opened so what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. With confidence, you answered, “Not at all sir! I’ve taken great care to memorize the entire handbook!”

You’d seen it on the news segments multiple times, how he strangely managed to drink coffee with that screen of his. And you got to see it in person for the first time, sighing with satisfaction when he drained the bitter brew. His head was one of life’s greatest mysteries. “Excellent! That’s what I like to hear!” Vox stood up, making his way to the exit. The sound of his heels clicking against the polished floor. You felt yourself relaxing, dropping your shoulders and letting out the breath you were holding to slump in your chair. You couldn’t relax around that guy.

“Oh--!” Vox snapped his fingers, making you sit up straight in your chair all over again, mechanically turning your head to look his way. “I almost forgot! I need you to come by my office at Seven, I want you to bring me the reports on the new Voxflix pilots aired this week. I don’t need to remind you what to do with the other two copies right? Of course not-- you’ve read the handbook. I’ll see you then!” Vox waved farewell before you could stop him, the door clicking shut before you could explain that no, you did NOT.

Dick.

From what you could remember protocol required a second copy for the record room! You’d completely blanked on the third. But your lunch break was not long enough you could fish out the employee manual and double-check it. With a sigh of resignation, you hoped that you’d remember when it came closer to seven.

[moongirldreamer]

Lighthouse keeper!Eddie x siren!reader

Happy Eddiversary to those who celebrate (this is so late lol)

words: 1k

cw: none i don't think.

a/n: besties this is my first ever fic please be nice to me I tried my best.

Thank you to my friend @theold-ultraviolence Irma i wouldn't have come up with this au or written any of it, if it wasn't for you and our Self Indulgence Sundays. Thank you for nudging me i love you <3

Lightkeeper!Eddie headcannons

August 17 1824

It's been a week since the mysterious lass appeared on my doorstep. Two more till the supply dingy visits, it's been strange, readapting to living with a person but we’ve fallen into a routine. I've found a smile on my face many a time as I'm working. Her voice carries on the wind, it's almost as if it’s blowing it directly to me. 

E.M.

Eddie hardly counted the sailors he’d met and slept next to people, not civilized people at least, forced to wash with salt water to preserve the limited supply of fresh water. He spent many a night with a makeshift mask over his face to hopefully block out the scent of sweat and the sea but when she arrived, he found he didn't mind it, almost like he missed it. 

The keeper's house contained 2 rooms as the tending was intended to be a 2-man job, he never realized how empty the small space was until she occupied it. Grown used to the loneliness the sea brings he forgot that the ocean also gives, and she had given him a beautiful gift. He tried to be the perfect housemate before he went off to his tending. He left coffee already brewed in a small metal pot for her to reheat when she woke, fetched a bucket of water for her from the cistern and left a note on the kitchen table : back at sunset. Will cook dinner- E

Morning work was easy enough; take inventory, rain fell last night meaning the cistern had to be woken up with chalk and a good mixing and then any odd maintenance works the buildings needed. He would always know when she was awake no matter how far he wandered from their quarters, her voice seemed to carry on the wind straight to him. Often time he found himself singing along, whistling is a bad omen on ships he remembers this even on land. He knew quite a few sea shanties, picked up a few local songs while he was on the mainland, but she often sings songs he's never heard before and sometimes he thinks in a language he can't understand.

At noon he returns to a simple meal tack and stew she so proudly displays to him half burnt and over salted, but he grins and eats it anyway. She told him in the first week with misty eyes

“I don't want to be a burden, let me….. Let me cook lunch at least you work so hard let me help you” lip trembling and how could he deny her.

“The poor thing” he thought “could make anything taste like salt water and gruel” but he eats anyway.

“Thank you darling, what would i do without you?"

“You're welcome" grinning she looks down at her plate before shyly muttering

"if you're not too busy, would you like to join me on a walk at sunset?"

"OfCourse, anything for you" he smirks leaving her with a kiss on her hairline.

Sunset at the lighthouse made it seem like the sky and sea were competing for your attention, seeing which could glimmer brighter, but Eddies attention was elsewhere. He was enchanted by how her beauty seemed to be enhanced in the golden light.

"Open your hand" she blinks up at him one her fists closed tightly. Wordlessly he gives her his palm and she places an oyster shell, no longer than his pinkie, in it

He grins "an oyster?"

"Yes, my mother told me they were a sign of good fortune"

"Huh I only know them as dinner"

She laughs, mouth opening to give him a clever word or two when she suddenly goes stiff looking over his shoulder. 

"What is it?" he spins to look at what could've possibly rattled her, and behind him on a boulder is a seagull, a bit unremarkable too no missing limbs or gnarled features.

So, he laughs” You're scared of that little thing?”

“Yes, they're retched beasts of the sky with no manners” she grips his bicep keeping him between her and the bird.

“Y’know on the ships they say they’re the souls of drowned sailors, so we treat them kindly just like our human shipmates” he laughs as she moves her glare from the gull over to him.

“I think they should be chum” she says, squinting at the bird, almost daring it to attack.

In a sudden move the gull swoops over their heads missing hers by a centimeter and continuing out to sea.

"Did you see that! that that monster nearly killed me"

"Maybe you need this more than i do" he dropped the oyster back into her palm

"What? no, no i want you to have it, besides you'll need it if you're going to try befriending those creatures"

He chuckled, the sound like warm honey in the cool sea breeze. "Alright, if you insist. But I promise, no more gull attacks on my watch."

Shakily she grabbed his arm again as they continued their walk down the shoreline.

"Do you ever miss it? sailing? "

"Hmm, sometimes" he sends a wistful look out at the water the sun spilling over it as the last of it slips below the horizon.

"it was my life, the only thing I was good at" he grins, but it's sad round the edges.

"but i needed the change, it was getting too repetitive"

"so you decided to tend a lighthouse? the same job day in day out" her eyebrows pull together eyes squinting in confusion

another smile this one woven with affection "well I'd travelled a while but i needed to return to the sea almost- almost as if something was"

"Was calling you back" her tone changes, her voice becomes layered whispers singing and screaming. her eyes gleam, a secret understanding.

"Yes like-like it was calling me" he steps towards her without thinking, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, eyes locked on hers until he feels wet? Looking down he realizes his boots are drenched, shin length in the waves his brows furrow.

"What are you doing?" asks melodic laugh behind him and he turns to see her, face lit up with the last of the afternoon glee and a smile.

"Think I wanted to go for a swim" the end lifts like a question, he looks back down to his feet barely visible in the water

"But it's getting dark, we should head back" again her voice changes and he moves without remembering, until they're back to their quarters and she bids him goodnight.

That night as he refills the oil and cleans the lense at the top of the lighthouse out in the distance on a cluster of rocks he sees a figure bathed in darkness. He can only make out a humanoid figure with their hair whipping in the cold sea air behind them. Leaning over the railing to squint into the darkness his blood runs cold as a wail crosses the distance, then a soft whisper, as if it was said over his shoulder, of his name.

"eddie"