#the file this was on is called no children | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlerc · 2 days ago

Text

hidden recordings ; charles leclerc

— summary; you never realised how sentimental and adorable charles could be until you come across the black box tucked away in a corner of a drawer.

pairing — highschool-best-friend-charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1172.

content — 5 short recordings he recorded just to remember you, and how he secretly wishes you’d stumble upon it one day. he loves you a lot, like a loooottttttt. you’re it for him.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i love this vcr love confession concept so much, it’s so cute recording things and people that means the most to you. happy chinese new year :o

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT FILTERED softly through the window, casting a warm, amber glow across the apartment as she worked her way through the cluttered shelves. It was supposed to be a simple day of tidying up — a routine chore that had grown overdue — but as always, the small, nostalgic things had a way of slowing her down. Dust motes danced in the air as she opened an old, wooden box tucked away in the corner of a drawer, a box she had almost forgotten. Its contents were a time capsule of sorts, filled with small mementos and keepsakes that had survived the years — photographs, letters, concert tickets, and little trinkets that had woven themselves into the fabric of her relationship with Charles.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she sifted through the items, fingers brushing over the worn edges of a photograph of them as children, their innocent grins forever preserved in time. It was a testament to how far they’d come, from childhood friends to something far deeper, a bond that had grown over years of shared experiences and memories. As she dug further into the box, her hand paused as it closed around something unfamiliar — a small, black thumb drive, half-buried beneath a stack of old letters.

Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she pulled it out, turning it over in her fingers. It wasn’t labelled, and for a moment, she wondered what it could contain. Charles was never one to leave things lying around without a reason, and this had clearly been tucked away for some time. Her curiosity piqued, she reached for her laptop, a quiet hum of intrigue settling over her as she plugged the thumb drive into the port.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a folder containing five short video files. No titles, just numbered sequences — each one simple and unassuming, yet they called to her like fragments of a forgotten story. With a small click, she opened the first file, and her heart skipped a beat as the screen filled with the familiar face of Charles, much younger, his boyish charm evident even then.

He must have been in his early teens in this first video. His hair was a little unruly, the way it always used to be when he wasn’t bothered by appearances, and there was a hint of nervousness in the way he looked directly into the camera. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before speaking. “Uh, hi,” he began, his voice cracking slightly with the uncertainty of youth. “So, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this… but I guess it’s just something I wanted to keep. A reminder, maybe. For her.” There was a pause, and he ran a hand through his hair, glancing off-camera as if gathering his thoughts. “She’s always been there, you know? My best friend… even though I’m older, I still think she’s way braver than I am.”

A soft chuckle escaped her as she watched him stumble through his words, that endearing awkwardness still as familiar as ever. The screen flickered as the video ended, and without hesitation, she opened the next one. This time, Charles appeared a little older, his features more defined, his smile a little more confident.

“It’s funny,” he said, the camera slightly shaky as if he were holding it himself, “I never realised how much she means to me until recently. We’ve always been together, and it’s like… it’s always been her. I don’t know how else to explain it.” His gaze softened, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made her heart ache in the sweetest way. “She’s the one person who can make everything feel right, even when things are a mess. I think, no — I know, I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her for longer than I knew.”

The words hung in the air, settling deep within her as she paused the video, feeling the weight of his confession even though it had been made years ago. It was a piece of him, captured in time, before they had ever taken that leap from friends to something more. She pressed play again, her heart caught in her throat.

The third video was taken during what looked like a school trip. The background was noisy, filled with the laughter of classmates and the hum of distant chatter. Charles was standing by a river, looking a little winded as if he had just finished some outdoor activity. “She’s going to laugh at this,” he grinned, breathless but radiant. “She always teases me about being uncoordinated, but she’s the one who nearly fell into the river earlier. I had to catch her — again.” His smile softened. “I wouldn’t change a thing, though. She’s… she’s my favourite person in the world.”

By the fourth video, she found herself holding back tears. In this one, he was visibly older, perhaps just before he left for university. His expression was more serious, the playful boyishness replaced with something more resolute. “I’m leaving soon,” he began, his voice quieter, as though he were speaking directly to her even though she wasn’t there. “And it terrifies me. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, being apart for the first time in… ever. But I know one thing for sure: no matter where I go, or how long we’re apart, I’ll always come back to her. I have to. She’s… she’s home.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked on the final video, her breath catching in her chest. In this one, Charles was as she knew him now — his familiar face filling the screen with that smile that always seemed to disarm her. “If you’re watching this,” he said softly, “then you’ve found it. I wasn’t sure if you ever would, but I hoped you might.” His eyes glimmered with affection, his smile gentle. “You’ve always been the best part of my life. From the very beginning. I made these videos because I wanted to remember — wanted you to remember — how much you’ve always meant to me. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of my life.”

Her vision blurred as the final video ended, the stillness of the room punctuated by the steady hum of the laptop. She sat there for a long moment, overwhelmed by the depth of what she had just witnessed — memories of Charles, preserved like fragments of a love story that spanned years. Each video was a testament to the quiet, unwavering devotion that had always existed between them, even before they had given it a name.

As she closed the laptop, her heart swelled with an indescribable warmth. This was their story — one that began in childhood and grew into something more, something profound. And as she held the thumb drive in her hand, she knew that whatever lay ahead, they would always have these memories to hold onto.

#🕷⋆⭒˚｡⋆ chloe’s drivers #chlerc #charles #charles leclerc #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl 16 #charles leclerc fic #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

210 notes · View notes

hitlikehammers · 3 days ago

Text

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wherein steve goes back for eddie #and doesn’t KNOW if he’s still alive #but goddamnit: he has reason to HOPE #confessions #romance #planning a future #idiot4idiot #developing relationship #fluff #humor #snarky internal monologue #an overabundance of flirting in times of mortal peril #steve POV: walking with you through hell was the nicest date I’ve ever had #(maybe less focus on the ex-girlfriend next time; not a deal breaker for a first try but definitely room for constructive criticism)#steve is definitely thinking long term here so: plenty of time to get it just right #also: eddie wants it to be known that just because this bat-venom-paralytic hasn’t worn off yet and he can’t reply with words?#he is NO LESS ENTHUSIASTICALLY ON BOARD with steve’s proposals #baffled a little? sure #but 100% ready and willing as soon as he’s able #the ordeal of asking the cute boy out just after everyone thought he was probably dead #planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals #happy ending #stranger things #steddielovemonth #prompt: time after time by cyndi lauper #hitlikehammers writes #hitlikehammers v words

123 notes · View notes

telluriannovice · 14 hours ago

Text

Day 3: Unexpected Kiss

It was a quick in and out job. All they had to do was get into the lab, download the files and get out. It would give them a leg up on all of Vlad’s plans for the next few months, and they could dedicate more time to school, designing tech, working out, and video games. It wasn’t hard to get into the building, Tucker hacked the electronic locks, Danny got them past the security desk, and they were lucky that Sam brought a hundred dollars in cash with her and the one guard they ran into after the desk was willing to accept a bribe of one hundred dollars in cash. Vlad might need to up his security people’s pay.

It had all been going well. Despite the lock on the actual lab taking longer for Tucker to crack than the external locks, but, they had time, thanks to Bill taking the bribe. Or they thought they had time.

They’d just gotten into the big secret lab under all the normal proprietary labs, when Danny’s ghost sense went off. He quickly shoved Sam and Tucker under a lab table, and it seemed he was quick enough, because when Plasmius phased down from the ceiling, he didn’t acknowledge them.

“What are you doing here, Daniel?” Vlad was uber annoyed, but didn’t attack.

Danny saw Sam and tucker move out of the corner of his eyes. So, Danny sarcastically called back to the terrible excuse they gave to Security Guard Bill. “Looking for the bathroom.”

“This isn’t a place for children.” Vlad said and transformed back into his human form, which was also weird. “I’ll give you once chance to simply turn around and leave, little badger.”

“Or else what?” Danny took a few steps away, pulling Vlad’s attention away from the computer Sam and Tucker were trying to get to.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you, Danny.” Vlad followed as Danny back up further away from his friends. “This lab is filled with anti-ghost tech and some very dangerous chemicals. Things that could seriously end the both of us. So, just this once, I’m offering to let this little breaking and entering slide.”

Danny didn’t want a fight, but the door is behind Vlad with Sam and Tucker in between. They needed at least some time for the files to download, even if Vlad’s company’s computers were as fast as the teens had assumed they were. “So, you’ll just let me go? You’re not curious why I’m here?”

“I’m sure it has something to do with being a dumb, adolescent with dreams of being a superhero.” Vlad teased and started to get closer to Danny. “But you do know I’d rather you be alive and stupid instead of dead and stupid, yes?”

“I’ve got scars that imply otherwise…” Danny responded and bumped back into a table and the sound of something metal rocking echoed around him.

Vlad quickly grabbed whatever it was Danny unbalanced on the table and it had them practically chest to chest. Danny was trapped. “Daniel, if that had spilled, it would have turned all the ectoplasm in your body into acid. We cannot fight here.”

Danny just stared at him with wide eyes.

Vlad growled, eyes flashing red. “I swear, if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here, I’ll call the police.”

“I… it’s… uhm…” Danny wracked his brain for an excuse under Vlad’s too close too intense stare. But just when Vlad just began to turn his head towards where Sam and Tucker were, Danny just moved on instinct. He grabbed Vlad’s face and pulled him into a kiss. He could see over Vlad’s shoulder, Sam and Tucker where half-way out the door, staring at him in horror. He tried to subtly wave them out, but had to stop when Vlad almost pulled away, instead forcing the man to continue kissing him.

Finally, they were out and running out of the building. It took them nearly 30 minutes to get in, but they wouldn’t have to unlock any doors on the way out. Vlad tried to break off the kiss again, but only after the third time did Danny let him go. Hopefully, that was enough time for Sam and Tucker to get out of there.

“What in the almond cookie are you doing?” Vlad shouted and stumbled back away from Danny.

“Fake-Out Make-Out!” Danny shouted, then quickly turned invisible and got the heck out of dodge.

#pompous pep #fanfic #kiss challenge #danny can sexually assault vlad as a treat

32 notes · View notes

limeston-lane · 2 days ago

Note

This is the last day I have ever lived and today on this final day that I have lived is to tell the word before I day on the last day that I will live and that benign that there is an evil out there looking to take more lives such as mine which is why this is the final day that I will live. It is 100% true.

DAY 1

The begging

It first began when I was looking for cheap games to buy at any yard sales or garage sales where i came across my neighbor, the Robertsons. As I was looking for what they had, I found a copy of Toontown online. I loved Toontown ever since I was a kid. I remember browsing the Disney channels to simply see their commercials and watching youtube videos of other people playthrough of it. My name is Jake, by the way. I always wanted a copy of Toontown but my mom always said no. Because we didn’t have a lot of money. But now I can make my own money now because I have a job. So I took the copy and bought it for two dollars. I made my way back home. I wish I didn’y buy it…

My regerts.

WHen the game started, it was only a black screen with white noise. After messing with the files, it finally began working again. I assumed it was my shit laptop because as I said my family can;t afford much. When it got to the save slots, I noticed that there was already a toon saved. The toon was a black cat with it’s eyes gouged out with hyper realistic blood. The cat looked hyper realistic as if it was a real cat. THe name of the cat was Henry Robertson. I thought that maybe it belonged to someone else beforehand. I made my Toon which was a red dog wearing a white shirt and black pants. But the toon was DEAD!!!! !!!

When I came back home and looked at the copy, I realized something was off. It wasn;t called Toontown Online but rather Toontown Offline. I assumed it was a misprint. But as soon as i opened the box, I noticed that it was a blank dvd with “TTOF” in red. I thought it was trying to spell out Toontown Offline. I booted up my computer and put the disk in. I saw the download wizard and it asked if I am downloading for children, 13 and up, or for the dead. I clicked 13 and up because I was 16. As soon as the downloader began doing it’s work, a pop up screen showed up. It said “warning, may cause death.” I assumed I bought a pirated copy, so I thought it was the developers being funny. I wish I knew otherwise.

The game

The tutorial tom

In the tutorial, there was no tom and no cogs. I thought that it was strange. So i exited the game and rejoined in, but as i did that there was a pop up screen taht said “don’t leave me.” I was confused.

The land was dark and grey. All I heard was sobbing.

As my toon left teh building, i saw a pit in the floor and numerous of people surrounding the pit. Inside was a coffin. The gravestone said “Beloved Son, Henry Robertson.” And inside the casket was the black toon i saw in the toon selection scene!!

I never got any sleep from this. I saw shadows in the corner of my eyes and I never felt safe. I heard the meows and chatter of Toons but there was no one near by. I went back to the Robertsons but it tuned out that thye ;areayd moved! I cehck the grave site and I saw taht the grave was gone as if someone moved it as well!!!

The meows are getting louder and louder and I don’t have enough time

I tried checking on the dark web to find out what to do. But after days later, i got words flashing through my head that siad “FINISH THE GAME!!!”

What ever you do

AND HENRY DIED ON THURSDAY NAD THE FUNERAL WAS ON THURSDAY!!! I WAS THERE!!!

DO NOT PLAY THE GAME!!!!

Only now i reralzied that TTOF stood for THE THURSDAY OF FUNERAL.

This was the last image the game dwonlaoded before I tried to delete the game

The end....?

The scariest part of this story is that...

I think someone should make a toontown creepy pasta. Idk I think it'd be so cool and funny even if it wasn't taken seriously. Like wdyd when you're fighting the major player and he suddenly starts dancing in Morse code and your IP address appears on screen

#if ao3 approves me then i might make a serious one

27 notes · View notes

teleportationmagic · 2 years ago

Text

There is a dead boy in the Batcave.

Not literally, of course, but the glass cage marks the place where blood and bone would be too gory to leave behind. Too unsanitary. Father’s not the type to abide by that – at least not from what mother’s told him, and what his surveillance has revealed. But the suit is clean enough, so they sit next to a ghost and let it take up space in the room, a physical weight demarcating it’s territory. The rest of them – Oracle and Nightwing and Drake all float around it, like fish splitting around a rock in a river.

He'd think it’s weakness to grieve this hard, this long, but allowances are made for strong men, and his father is a strong man. The gravemarker sits, silent in the heart of their operations, next to the giant penny and the t-rex.

And still, some small part of him cannot wonder who it was who left this imprint on every single person in that room, the faint outline of his cape twirling through their upright backs.

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

Months later, he finds another gravemarker.

This one isn’t in the Batcave, rather it’s tucked away in the clocktower. He hadn’t spotted it at first, hadn’t been able to put a name to it, but Oracle was the immaculate sort. It was expected, for someone of her pedigree, and the deviation was shocking in its presence.

The paper is laminated. Letters scrawl across the page, constructed incorrectly and ungracefully, weaving backwards and forwards with little rhyme or reason. And yet still, it is clear pages are missing – the transition in how the letters are written is subtle, page to page, but jumps every now and again.

Underneath is black fabric. It’s flexible – tight and form fitting, but still stretchy in the way that Grayson’s suits are. He pulls it forward and it unfurls to reveal a yellow bat.

Batgirl, then. The second. His fingers trace the stark lines, a glossy sort of shine over the black fabric, even under all the dust. Something flips, uncomfortably – he knew this girl. His mother had told him about her pedigree. And yet here she was, dust gathering on evidence of her failures – paper stacked up that showed him nothing.

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

He finds the third gravemarker on accident.

The purple fabric is so much unlike Timothy that he can’t help but pull it out. It’s poorly made, compared to the others – the most present comparison he can come to is a bedsheet, too thin to be any good in their line of work. The place he’d found it in is equally puzzling, a blue shoebox that he’d forgotten to throw away, in the back of his closet. He wonders if he’d simply lost it, as buried as it was.

It’s not all that’s in the box, of course. They’d rolled out when he’d lifted the suit – all spilling sideways. There’s a few ticket stubs, a set of keys, a slip of paper with a hasty sketch, and two photo. A blond girl, with a gap-toothed grin and bright green eyes, and an older woman with the same blonde hair, cropped short. It was the only thing that wasn’t caked with years of grime, the pictures clearly digital, then printed out. There’s a name on the back that he doesn’t recognize, not on either of them.

He picks up a sketch – Timothy, he recognizes, in his Robin suit, stylized into a cartoon. A purple figure flits next to him, a streak of blonde pencil crayon following her. Something bounces in the art, young and joyful and wild, wrapped up and kept in old, yellow paper.

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

Cold sweeps the house. They’ve done this enough times that Dick is half-certain he should be accustomed to it, but it still feels like a bulldozer through his heart.

The worst part is the forgetting. Every now and again, he looks up and expects Damian to be there – expects to see a dark, short flash of hair. But the hallways are empty, and the walls echo, and he’s done this time after time but he wants the kid back.

He wants him back.

It’s Dick in the end that goes through his things. There are pieces – notebooks and sketchpads filled with drawing. Some more stylized, a round feminine face smiling, sparks flying around her. Pink shaded flowers in the corner. Pencil shavings leaving dark marks where his eraser couldn’t pick up quite enough.

Underneath is an canvas, big and bright – the colours nearly make him gasp when he turns it over, blue and orange and purple spilling out, the sun at dawn. In the front, a bird, the details intelligible in the contrast. Deliberately so. Its wings leave visible trails of smoke behind it.

He can see the brush strokes, underneath. See the smudging, see the small places where he’d set his hand down and left a mark on the bright colours of the background. The trees had been done on top in pencil crayon, tiny and spindly needles reaching out for sun.

He catches tears before they hit the piece, his head bowed low.

Alfred says nothing when he finds him later, perched on a step stool. He hangs it up, loud and proud, lets the light hit it.

In the evening light it glows.

20 notes · View notes