#yep the eds are in here too :>

[torra-and-the-toons]

I got a new drawing tablet that's a HUGE upgrade from my old one, it's one of the ones you can draw on the screen. Previously, I just has the smallest, cheapest Wacom. It's so weird to get used to being able to just... draw on the screen.

Here's the doodles I made practicing with it

[flamingpudding]

(Un)fortunate Courting (Request)

Requested by @silverblueglitter

Original Prompt Post this is based on by @diabolichare

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this will not disappoint. I am slowly getting back into the grove of writing and out of my block. Also on a side note I am not posting / writing as much right now because work is currently keeping me busy.

Danny was very sure he was doing everything right in regards to ghost culture. Clockwork and Pandora had been educating him very well on that. Sure they did it with some ominous explanation in regards to his future but Danny had shrugged that off. Clockwork had always had a way with words that didn't make sense but somehow did too. Now as he had learned if a ghost wants to cross through another ghosts haunt an offering needs to be made. Ideally the offering is in regards to something the other ghosts likes.

So if he would need, for example, cross through Embers haunt, he would offer her something like guitar strings or something other music related stuff that could be useful to her obsession. With that logic, Danny knew that if he wanted to use the short cut to his collage through Red Hoods haunt he would need to offer the other something. Like he had offered something to Lady Gotham for his stay in Gotham for his collage education. The thing was he would have to offer Red Hood something every time he needed to go through the others haunt, unlike with Lady Gotham who had just accepted a single offer since he wasn't constantly going in and out of her haunt.

But that also left him with what to get the other Halfa as offering.

He had contemplated offering something Red Hood might need for his duty. You know? Maybe some self engineered bullets he could use against ghosts, though Danny knew that was probably unnecessary considering Gotham's protector spirit, Lady Gotham, had a pretty good handle on everything here. Which good, because that meant Danny could fully focused on his studies for once.

That was until Danny realized how much the core of that other Halfa was malnourished. Which gave Danny the perfect chance to catch two ghosts with one thermos, okay bad joke. But seriously, that gave Danny an idea of what to offer for his right of passage through the others haunt. So he made simple care packages that would help the other Halfa. He had thought about supplying some Ecto-Dejecto directly but that felt a little to on the nose and someone who didn't know his family would probably think Danny insane, as if there weren't enough people in his collage thinking that already. Besides he was in Gotham and with villains like Scarecrow and Joker he didn't think a syringe with glowing green contents would be a trustworthy offering.

Anyway, Danny decided to be a bit more discreet, infusing ectoplasm into simple foods, that most importantly, COULD NOT COME ALIVE. So Danny's care packaged ended up consisting of chocolates, snacks and other sweets that would NOT start fighting back. He also figured out how to mix ectoplasm into drinks so it wouldn't taste to overwhelming.

Danny did not anticipate the side effect offerings like that would have or realise what his offerings looked like to someone who did not know about ghost culture.

Jason was torn as he found the n-ed little present box during his patrol route with a little card stating it was for him. He eyed the box having gotten familiar with these boxes over the past month. He lifted the lid and yep.... chocolates.

"Again?" his distorted voice came through his voice modulator as he eyed the chocolates suspiciously. Either he had a very insistent admirer or one of his enemies cooked up a new idea to make him paranoid. Not like his brothers didn't joke about him getting Bruce's paranoia when he had run the sixth box of chocolates through the substance tester to figure out if someone was trying to poison him.

Turned out poison was not in the chocolates but something else. An unknown substance but in small dosages. Jason was currently allowing Tim to run wild in figuring out what was mixed into the chocolates. Also the seasoned vigilante had to admit, that there was something tempting about these sweets. Like something inside him really urged him to eat them. It was only his self-restraint and discipline that helped him resist the urge to taste test some of these chocolates.

Also sometimes there were drink in these packages too. Yes, Jason had run them through the tester too and got the same results like with the sweets and chocolates. No poison but that other strange substance. At first Jason didn't really want to bother with it but these boxes appeared every damn night when he was on patrol, but strangle not on weekend or holidays.

"Oh got another little present, Little Wing!" Jason barely turned around as his older brother dropped onto the roof next to him. "Chocolates this time! How cute! They must really love you!"

Sometimes Jason wished his helmet could portray emotions better as he gave Dick a deadpan stare. "More like wanting to poison me." He muttered his voice changer doing nothing to support the sarcasm in his voice.

"You have to admit it is kind of cute! You have a little fan or admirer! And look these chocolates are even heart shaped! Oh and pralines are in there too!" Dick gushed on about Jason's admirer, while Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet. It would be cute if there wasn't an unknown substance mixed into the stuff left for him. Though he had to admit, whoever left that stuff was getting creative. From what Jason saw they rarely used the same brand of chocolates or sweets to give to him twice. Like they were trying to figure out what he liked. For a brief moment that made Jason wonder, if he actually ate one of these for once, would his admirer present him with the same brand again the next night?

He shock that thought off, no way was he going to eat something with an unknown substance in it. So instead he shoved the box at Dick. "Take that to the cave Dickibird. Gives Pretender more materials to test with."

Dick, to his credit stopped gushing for at that and chuckled. "Can do, but seriously though, what did Oracle say. Did she catch your little admirer on the security cameras at least."

Shaking his head Jason let out a sigh. "No, its like these boxes appear out of nowhere."

"Well at least they are harmless."

"For now." He grunted in response. While they didn't pose a danger, Jason didn't like the implications behind their appearances. For one no matter how much he changed up his patrol routes, these boxes would still appear. There is no video proof of someone placing the boxes. They just appear out of thin air or roofs or his path right when he comes by. If he could believe that the videos that Barbara had showed him weren't manipulated then they just appeared like a couple of seconds before he would find them.

It was suspicious and Jason was determined to find out who leaves them.

Danny hummed his latest earworm song, which happed to be Embers newest hit in the Ghost Zone, as he prepared his next offering to Red Hood. He had thought about leaving these boxes by Red Hoods Safe house during the day on his way to collage but he figured with his own history of being a hero. Secret identities were important and should not be revealed against the others wish.

This time he had gotten the expensive brand of pralines. He hoped Hood would actually like them and eat them hopefully. Danny threaded the moment he would have to try infusing ectoplasm into something other than safe sweets, chocolates and snacks that won't come alive if he didn't find something Hood would eat soon.

The Halfa was so focused on his task of infusing the pralines with ectoplasm that he did not notice the arrival of three of his old ghost rogues, until he got grapped by the collar and throw across his own appartment.

"OW! What the...?!"

"Long Time not seen Pelt." Danny blinked as Skulker stood over him, Ember and Wulf a bit further behind. Wulfs presence explained how the other two managed to show up in his place.

"What are you guys doing here?" He was so not up for a round of ghost body that could potentially destroy his flat.

"Fixing your love life." Ember grinned down at him with Wulf nodding.

"My love life...." Something was definitely wrong. Danny does not remember currently dating anyone. He also didn't have crush, well not a obvious one he thought at least. He was distinctively pushing way that fleeting image of Red Hood out of his mind.

"Yeas your love life Baby Boop." Ember reaffirmed. "Didn't the old ghosts teach you anything. You don't use the human of giving presents when you court a ghost!"

"I... what?" Danny's brain currently really had trouble catching up with what was going on.

"Pelt you need to assert yourself, fight your damn object of attention to proof your worth." Skulker added arms crossed.

"Don't worry we will help you! So you wont fail!" Ember added.

Before Danny could answer or ask what the hell they were going on about though Skulker grabbed him by the back of his collar again and promptly dragged Danny long with him flying out of his flat to who knows where. Distinctive Danny swore he heard laughing that sounded suspiciously like Lady Gotham.

"WAIT SKULKER!" The shout escaped him as his brain finally caught up but before he could go ghost and actually do something he was thrown against someone. Whoever he landed on let out a deep 'oof' that sounded distorted and Danny had a sinking feeling as he hurriedly sat up and came face to face with Red Hood.

"Aw shit...." Danny muttered instantly choosing to turn invisible and hoping that Red Hood had nod seen him long enough to get recognised, worst of all Skulker had dragged him all the way to Hoods haunt when Danny didn't even have an offering! Now he owned Hood two offerings!

"What are you doing Pelt! You are supposed to challenge for the right of courtship first! The courtship presents come later!" Skulker shouted at Danny to which while still invisible Danny choose to flip the other ghost off. Something he would have never done as teen but now that he had come to some sort of understanding with his former rogues was not rare happening, as long as Jazz wasn't there to witness it.

Meanwhile Jason was sitting utterly confused on the roof now, just a moment ago a twig of a man had landed on him and he had seen the other guy for a brief moment before he had disappeared out of nowhere again. He grumbled muttered curses and knew he would have to go though the video footage of his helmet to get a clearer picture of what or rather who had knocked him over.

But he had a feeling it was related to the boxes of sweets and chocolates.

[haveihitanerve]

(anon that is writing the split emotions!bruce fic here) YOU ARE GIVING ME TOO MANY BRAIN WORMS

THEY SCREAM WITH IDEAS

SO I SHALL PLUCK ONE OUT AND GIVE TO U

Bruce gets Magic-ed to make others be able to feel his emotions if they make skin to skin contact

He does a bunch of tests to see if he's safe to be around since doesn't know the exact spell he got hit by and eventually Z gives him the green light to head back home

He gets out of his suit and the rest depends on the first batkid that he runs into

Just really want them to be able to feel the love, pride, worry, and fondness he's terrible at expressing (and them [un]subtlety trying to feel his emotions towards them again)

URGH NOOO!!!

Because this could go so many ways... fuck

Zatanna waved the stick around his face one last time, almost colliding with his nose, and Bruce did his best not to flinch. "Its called a wand." She growled under her breath, as though hearing his thoughts, but Bruce wasn't much interested in what the damned thing was called.

He knew she was being so careless on purpose, maybe even hoping she'd accidentally give him a good whack, but Bruce wasn't taking any chances bringing home some dangerous magical curse, so she would do her scans as many times until he was satisfied.

"There." She huffed, sacking back into her chair, and offered him a bland smile. "Completely harmless. I told you Bruce. The only thing this weird ass "curse" can do is warmth." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow, as he had done when she'd first told him.

"Warmth?" He echoed hollowly, doubtful still. Zatanna rolled her eyes, smacking a hand to his forearm. Immediately, Bruce felt his blood buzz under his skin, forearms tightening. Zatanna let out a little sigh, smiling at him faintly, but it was more sincere than before.

"Yep!" She popped the p and stood, suddenly more energized. "Just passes over some warmth." Her smile didn't seem all too truthfully, but Bruce doubted her sudden good mood would last if he demanded another check.

"Alright." He sighed, finally standing, and Zatanna tapped him fondly on his chest.

"Just because you have seen the bad consequences of magic does not mean it can't be good." She murmured. "And this is a good one!" She grinned, smile almost too wide. Too mischievous. Bruce's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the expression one too many times on his children's faces to not be wary. "It's been cold in Gotham recently, maybe this will be a blessing for your home." Zatanna distracted innocently, opening the door to impolitely tell him to leave.

"Hn." Bruce hummed back, slipping his cowl back over his head, his gloves following. "Thank you Z." Her smile softened as she leaned against the door, though her eyes still sparkled in the dim glow of the streetlights.

"Anytime B. It should wear off in a few days. Until then, enjoy it." And the door was closed in his face. Bruce huffed in amusement, tugging out his grapple gun and swinging towards the Manor.

"Oracle?" He clicked his back teeth, coms activating. "Am I all clear to head home?" Barbara hummed back confirmation, the familiar and soothing sound of her typing quickly filling his ears.

"Yeah- hey can you swing by quickly? There's a package for Dick and I won't see him until later, I'd rather he get it now." Bruce rolled his eyes but obediently switched routes, running along the familiar roofs that led to the Clock Tower.

"I'm not an errand boy for y'alls love letters you know." He grumbled, even as he undid the hatch and slipped inside the slightly warmer confines of their communication tower.

Barbara grinned at him from the computer, spinning in her wheelchair to roll over to the couch and grab a small rectangular package. "Long day today or why am I being greeted by the Gotham "y'all"?"

Bruce rolled his eyes again, accepting the small parcel and wedging it under his arm. "Hilarious." He grumbled, leaning forward to capture Babs in a quick hug.

She started at the sudden embrace, but quickly relaxed, arms circling around his waist in a known fashion. "Any particular reason?" Her voice was muffled by his suit, but Bruce heard her anyway.

He shrugged, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before pulling away. Babs blinked, dazed, her hands fluttering near her head for a second, and she regarded him oddly.

"Just missing my kids." He murmured, one leg already out the window again. Barbara waggled her finger in his direction, already over her momentary lack of composure that Bruce wasn't quite sure where it originated from.

"Haven't adopted me yet!" She cried, faux dramatics and outrage. Bruce just lifted the package in response.

"If he doesn't hurry I will." It was an empty threat, seeing as both Barbara was already a legal adult and had a father of her own, but the emotion behind it was all that mattered. Barbara laughed, waving him away.

"Good night B." He smiled, slipping back into the night. His pace to the Manor increased, as Zatanna was right, it had grown exponentially chilly recently, and it was only a few minutes before he'd reached the cave and slipped inside.

"B-man!" Bruce almost jumped, almost, but the subtle flinch was enough to send Stephanie to the floor, cackling with laughter. "OH that's my best moment yet!" She cheered from the floor, grinning up at him as he loomed over her, glowering.

"Good evening." She greeted, sticking her hand up as though to shake, or ask to stand. Bruce rolled his eyes and ignored both, side stepping the child on the floor to place the package for Dick on the bat-table.

Steph sighed dramatically from where she lay on the ground, and shuffled her feet so that she was at a better angle to look at him. "Rough day today huh Boss?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he slipped off his cowl, depositing it onto the table as well. "Why are you here Stephanie?" Steph pouted, even going so far as to cross her arms.

"Sick of me already are we?" There was distinct teasing in her tone, but enough vulnerability that Bruce didn't immediately agree. Instead he rolled his eyes again, pretending he hadn't heard the moment of weakness.

"Stephanie I'm afraid you've grown on me. Like a tumor." He deadpanned instead, spinning in his chair once before smacking his feet to the ground to halt it, and leveled a hard look at her. "In order for me to be sick of you, I'd have to remove a piece of myself."

Steph laughed, and if her voice was a little scratchy he ignored that too. She lunged to her feet, using the trick Dick had taught all Robins at some point, and Bruce turned back to the computer as she draped herself across the back of his chair.

She and Dick scared him, sometimes, with their utter lack of bones. They were both limber to an incredible degree, and having lived under Selina's guidance for over a year, Steph was very much catlike in her movements, currently arching her back as she lolled over his chair. Bruce didn't even want to know how she managed to stay balanced.

"Bring me anything fun from patrol?" she asked after a few seconds of silence as Bruce filled out the usual after-patrol forms. He glanced at her, unimpressed. "From patrol?" He repeated, playing dumb.

Steph rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Boss. Don't play dumb. Did anyone have anything fun?" Bruce rolled his eyes(if he did it any more he feared they'd fall out of his head), returning his attention to his spreadsheet.

"You know my stance on taking things from the people of Gotham." Steph scoffed, rolling off the chair and instead taking a seat on the table, lounging across it.

"They're criminals." She pointed out, like they hadn't had variations of this conversation almost once a week since he'd met her.

Bruce sent her an unimpressed look. "By most people's standards, so are we." he pointed out, his usual argument. Steph rolled her eyes, dropping down onto the table, effectively cutting off his access to typing.

"Can we just skip the fight today and go to what you got me?" She asked hopefully, smiling up at him. Bruce frowned at her, tugging his hands back from where she'd flopping on top of them. Her smile widened.

Bruce sighed, tugging off his gloves, and reached into one of his pockets. Steph squealed, sitting up, hands out expectantly.

"This doesn't mean I took it from anyone." He warned. Steph chuckled. "Ok old man- ya bought it. Fair and square. I got it. But you still got something for me!" He had no counter for that, so he reluctantly handed over the small gadget he'd purchased a few days ago when he'd been window shopping with Harley.

Steph stared at the small wad of black fabric, her face lighting up as she unveiled its contents. "Lock picks?" She gasped, looking at him with pure delight. Bruce nodded the affirmative.

"State of the art. I know your old ones are-" Before he could explain his observation and why he'd bought the little treasure for her(a remnant of their Batman and Robin days when she'd dropped little trinkets into the pockets that she'd stolen from criminals they'd apprehended and he started returning the gesture with his own gifts) her arms were around his neck in a hug.

Bruce startled in surprise, and his blood buzzed as her arms came into direct contact with his skin, but hugged her back. Before he had fully wrapped his arms around her though, Steph flinched back, eyes wide.

"What was that." She whispered, breathless, hand clasped tightly around his gift. Bruce frowned, before he realized what she was asking.

"Apologies for not informing you." Bruce apologized. "It's why I was home so late, Zatanna was checking it was nonlethal. I was hit with a spell that makes me exude warmth when I come into direct contact with someone." He explained. Stephanie's eyes narrowed at him.

"Is that what you'd call it?" She muttered, eyes dancing around nervously. Bruce frowned, hand reaching to touch his neck where she'd touched.

"Is.. everything alright? That's what Zatanna said it did.." he repeated doubtfully.

Steph let out a humorless laugh. "Of course she did. Fu-" Bruce sent her a warning look. "Frickin witch." Steph hastened. He nodded, a small smile curling his lips.

"Well, what did you feel?" Bruce asked, curious now. Steph hesitated, hands bunching her shirt.

"i- uh. I felt. Warm." She whispered. "Yeah... I guess. I guess I did feel warm." A small smile tugged her lips. "Zatanna was right. It does provide warmth to whoever touches you Bruce. You provide warmth."

Bruce frowned at the strange phrasing, and the sudden agreement with Zatanna when she'd previously been so vehemently against it, but as Stephanie hesitantly curled up again in his arms, muttering a thank you for her new lock picks, Bruce decided the issues wasn't worth pushing. Not so long as it wasn't bringing her any harm.

-ugh so that did not go in a way i'd planned actually- im not upset about it, it's fine and I actually did want Stephanie and Babs to be the focus of this one because my girls get way too little time with their not-dad for my liking, but it did spiral a little in the middle there and I took a second to get it back on track- anyway thanks/no thanks for infecting me with that little brain bug, but i enjoyed writing it at least!

The entire completed thing :)

in case anyone wants to see more batkid reactions :)

[zayne-s]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

buy me a ☕?

[oneforthemunny]

baby, you're a haunted house |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: eddie is horrified to find out you don't decorate for halloween, and is determined to fix that. based off this ask request sent in by @harmonib for the spooky stories series :) thank you!!

contains: mentions of shitty parents/ shitty childhood. nothing extremely graphic but touched upon. really the rest is sweet sweet fluff. alludes to smut bc it's them, but nothing graphic. for timeline purposes, set after the engagement.

"That's it?"

Eddie's brow lifted so high that the silver hoop piercing disappeared under his curly bangs.

"Yep." You gave a short nod, hands resting on your hips, looking down at the large plastic bowl, covered in an array of Peanuts characters all in various costumes.

"That's- Baby, are you serious?" Eddie's eyes widened, lips pulling in a look of shock, maybe horror.

You frowned, looking down at the bowl resting on top of the counter. You thought it was cute, you thought Eddie would find it adorable too.

"Yeah, I mean, I know it looks small but I don't get a lot of trick-or-treaters, honestly-"

"-Probably because they think no one's here." Eddie scoffed before he could help it, grimacing at the frown you gave him. "Sorry, but... Sweetheart, this is it? This is all you have? All your Halloween decorations?"

You wrapped your arms around yourself, scowl only deepening on your features making Eddie cringe. "So what? It's a candy bowl. That's all kids care about anyways." You muttered, eyes darting from his gaze back to the bowl.

"But what about you?" Eddie twirled the bowl around, examining the wrap around design on the lip. "You don't like to decorate for yourself?"

"No, not really." Your chin ducked down, toying with the edge of the cream fur trimmed sweater you'd bought yesterday. You had been so excited to go shopping for fall, at the first dip in temperatures. Eddie had promised you he'd take you somewhere with real seasons, back home to Indiana where the leaves actually changed.

"What?" Eddie gawked, lips curling in a soft smile, hoping it would ease you out of your own defenses. He'd grown used to coaxing you out of yourself when you got like this, guarded and snippy when you felt challenged in any way.

"That's shocking. I thought you'd be like, the biggest decorating fan. give Martha Stewart a run for her money." Your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide, eyes finally meeting his.

"I mean, I would like to. I just... I don't know. I've never really decorated before." You admitted, twirling the puffs of fur at the end of the zipper. "My parents didn't ever really decorate so I guess I never got in the habit."

Eddie's eyes widened, blinking in shock. "Ever? They never decorated ever? Not even for Christmas or-or Valentine's Day or something?"

Your face twisted, tight the way it always did when you were talking about something painfully uncomfortable- when you talked about your childhood. "No. Well, we did a few times when I was younger for Christmas and my Dad's parents were still alive. They'd come over and spend Christmas, but my Mom would just hire one of those staging companies to come a few days before Christmas and bring decorations and make it look nice."

"You didn't even have a tree?" Eddie gaped. "Even I had a Christmas tree."

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing in annoyance. "Yeah, congrats, Ed. I had shittier parents than you, I guess." Your tone clipped, dripping in surly sarcasm.

Eddie sucked in a breath, biting his tongue to keep any sharp retorts back. It was still an adjustment, even now that you were engaged, to keep his retorts soft when they needed to be- to be soft with you.

"I didn't-" Eddie's breath huffed, a strangling sigh that kept in the rest of his words. "Go put your shoes on."

"Why?" Nose scrunched in confusion, still lingering with hints of an attitude Eddie was hoping wasn't going to be a problem.

"Because," He grinned, dimples creasing softly into his cheeks. "We're gonna go shopping."

Your eyes lit up, perking at your favorite activity- or so Eddie said since you were always shopping for something. "Shopping?" It was your turn to grin. "For what?"

"Decorations." Eddie nodded firmly, patting his pockets for his wallet, chains jingling on his jeans. "We need some for our house."

"Don't you have some we could use?" Your voice was softer than before, shoulders a little deflated.

"Yeah, but those aren't ours, those are mine." Eddie shook his head. "We need some for both of us. That we both like. So when we're old as shit and putting 'em out, we still like them." He grinned, pinching your cheek gently, heart skipping at the giggle you gave him.

"C'mon, it'll be fun, babe, I promise. You'll like it. Just like when we decorated this house, but better because this isn't boring stuff. It's actually fun." Eddie grinned, motioning towards the painting behind him- a real Van Gogh given to you as a wedding gift, bought off your registry, of the infamous 'Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette'.

"We'll go to that one store you like. The Pierce-"

"-Pier One-"

"-Right. That one. We'll start there, and we can just look everywhere. As long as you want." Eddie's hand slid down the soft cashmere of your sweater, giving your forearms a gentle squeeze that had your skin tingling with excitement.

"As long as I want, hm?" You hummed, brow quipping playfully. "That's a risk, Munson. You're sure you're committing to that?"

"Always committing to you, Munson." Eddie's lips curled. "You know that. As long as you want, wherever you want. We'll hop on a flight to New York if you want to. They might have better stuff, actually. More fall than the places here."

"Hm, that's pretty tempting." Your lips twisted in thought. "I do love New York."

"I know you do." Eddie grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar sparkle of wild that had your knees shaking. "Fuck it, let's go to New York. Go pack."

"Eddie," You gawked lightly, a breathy giggle slipping out with his name. "I- We can't go to New York."

"Why?" Eddie frowned. "I don't have anything to do. Do you?"

"No, but-but I haven't told Jacques. The jet won't be ready-"

"-LAX is still a thing, baby." Eddie teased lightly. "We'll just take the plane down there. Call Jacques and get the jet set up for us to take back. That's when we'll need it, anyways, for all the Halloween stuff we're gonna buy." Eddie's grin only widened, eyes getting more and more wild with the excitement of the trip.

"Go pack. I'll call Nelson, tell him to get us a hotel room at The Plaza- You want The Plaza, right?" Eddie pointed at you, walking towards the phone on the wall in the newly renovated kitchen.

You hesitated, tummy flipping with excitement and rushes of adoration, nodding gently. "I can get Jacques to call instead. He knows the manager there."

"Yeah, you know what, that's probably a good idea." Eddie placed the phone back on the hook. "Last time we stayed there, we kinda fucked the place up. Don't know if they'll let us back. Good call, baby. You call Jacques, and I'll start packing."

Eddie walked past you, ringed hand skittering across your waist, stopping to pull you into him, lips smashed to your in a sweetly steamy kiss.

He pulled back with a wet smack of his lips, grinning wide and bright back at you. "This is gonna be so fun. I can't fuckin' wait."

You giggled in response, brain fuzzy and gooey with a warmth you'd never felt before, not with anyone other than Eddie. Love blinded, completely and utterly by him. Willing to follow him anywhere, and do anything with him, which is why you dialed the phone, feeling like you could float on air as you leaned against the counter, chatting with your family's personal assistant about the spontaneous plans. Jacques' snarly tone of disapproval when you mentioned Eddie couldn't even soil your mood, too stricken with excited affection to be anything other than giddy.

"Oh, what about this one?" Eddie lifted the metal Jack-O-Lantern, spinning it by the painted stem towards you. "This looks like you."

Nearly two hours after landing, you and Eddie hadn't wasted any time. Throwing your bags in the presidential suite before stepping into the chauffeured car, hauling to 5th Avenue.

"I do like that." Your lips curled, running a hand over the smooth surface. "That's really cute. Do they have two?"

"Yeah, they've got a bunch. Look this one has a different face." Eddie beamed with pride, grabbing the other pumpkin, a little taller than the others, making a more shocked face rather than smiling like the other. "Do you want the exact same one?"

"No, I like the different ones. I think that would be pretty by the mantle. On the ledge?" You looked at him, and though you didn't say it, he knew you were looking for approval. Still a little apprehensive at the newness of decorating, unsure that you were doing it right, and just needing that extra push of confidence that Eddie always gave you.

"That would look amazing, yeah." Eddie grinned, curls bobbing as he nodded. He handed the two back to the eager sales person behind him, nodding with a muttered thanks as she took it to the front.

"What about some ghosts?" Eddie reached into the shelf, turning a stuffed ghost holding a stack of pumpkins around to show you. "That looks pretty cool."

"Can you... Do you think it'll match the other?" You bit your lip, fingers twirling the small pumpkin coasters against your palm nervously.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's all Halloween." Eddie grinned softly, a hand on your hip, giving you a sweet, reassuring squeeze. "That's the great part about it, it's all on theme because it's all Halloween. Can't mess it up."

You relaxed under his touch, giving a quick nod. "I do like that." Your head tilted lightly, reaching out to feel the felt ghost. "It's cute."

Eddie nodded with a wide smile, picking it up and curling it against the leather of his jacket. "What about witches hats? Feel like you'd really like the witchy stuff."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You frowned playfully up at him, swallowing back a smile.

His hand moved to the small of your back, rubbing the skin that peeked out gently. "I dunno, you seem like a witchy woman, I guess." Eddie grinned playfully, giving a small shrug at your exaggerated gasp. "Seems like you'd really like that kinda stuff."

"Are you calling me a witch?" You pressed your lips together, slipping down the aisles towards the brooms and pointed hats.

"Nah, you're definitely more of a vampire vibe. Like Camille from Undying Love." Eddie snorted lightly.

"Why? Because I suck the life out of you?" You rolled your eyes, manicured nails raking over a pointed hat covered in stitched beads that made a sparkling spiderweb.

"Well, I mean, you're pretty good at sucking. Give amazing head, baby." Eddie snickered, his own cackles growing watching you squirm, eyes darting around to make sure no one heard.

"You're gross." You rolled your eyes, lips curling in a smug grin you couldn't fight back.

"Yeah, I think you like it." Eddie's hand dipped lower, squeezing your left ass cheek hard enough to have you squealing lightly, ducking down and nipping at the tip of your ear.

"Put it on." He nodded towards the hat your hand was still lingering on. "Wanna see you in it."

You scoffed lightly, picking up the witches hat. "Thought I was more of a vampire type."

"Yeah, I think you are, but I can't know for certain." Eddie shrugged, stepping back. "Lemme see you in it, then I'll make up my mind."

You snorted lightly, situating the witches hat on your head, spinning it so the long sheer fabric was in the back. You threw your hands out gently, pivoting from side to side sillily so Eddie could see, exaggeratedly modeling for him.

The loud wolf whistle he let out took you by surprise, had you jumping and snatching the hat off with a glare. "Ed-"

"-No, baby, that's definitely a keeper." Eddie laughed, uncaring about the others who turned towards the two of you. "I was wrong, you're definitely more of a witch. That looks so good on you."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "You're relentless."

"And you're hot." Eddie grinned, tossing you a wink that had you bristling with excitement, turning and hoping he didn't see how flustered it made you.

"We'll be taking this, and definitely this too." Eddie turned to the sales associate, passing off the finds.

"Why are you getting the hat?" You lifted a brow, hand running down the bark of a 'witch broom' that hung on the rack. "Are you going to wear it?"

"Shit, I will if you want me to." Eddie flirted, smoothly sliding his hand back over your waist. "Was thinking you could wear it later tonight. Stop at Vivienne Westwood and pick you out something black and sexy. Really put you into costume."

"Is that right?" Your tongue ran over the inside of your cheek, trying to still yourself, hide your fluster.

"Yeah, c'mon, you know how I love when you dress up for me." Eddie's breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shuddering.

"Thought we were here for Halloween decorations?" Your voice was tight, far squeakier than what you were hoping.

"We're here for that too, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun." He teased, fingers tickling up your waist. "Dressing up in a costume is apart of Halloween, anyways."

You hummed, grabbing at the ceramic bottles of potions, each etched with a different deadly name. "I like those, get those." Eddie nodded, grabbing one of each.

"I like the broom too." You tilted your head over to the one hanging. "And the cauldron. It says it turns on and makes sound."

"See?" Eddie smiled, chin hooking over your shoulder. "Knew you'd like the witchy stuff."

You giggled, turning so your noses were nearly touching. It was nice to be open and affectionate, not have to worry about sneaking around any more or saving the love for behind closed doors.

"It's more fun than the other stuff. Don't you think?" Your eyes batted sweetly at him. Eddie didn't know how to tell you that he'd agree with anything you said in that moment. Instead, he leaned forward, lips pressing against yours, a short but sweet kiss that had you both reeling.

"I love you." Eddie muttered, eyes rounded with affection, nearly drunk off his affection.

"I love you." You giggled, pressing your cheek to his. "This is a lot of fun. I can... I can see why you like it so much."

"Yeah, told you. This isn't even the best part. The best part is when you get to put it all up, ya know? Putting stuff where you want and makin' it all spooky and weird and Halloweeny." Eddie gushed with excitement.

"Yeah." Your tone dropped, looking down at the cauldron in your hand. "Guess I really missed out, huh?"

Eddie frowned, pulling back to look at you, his hand sliding over your jaw, cupping your cheek softly, pulling your gaze up to his. "Hey, c'mon, it's alright." He muttered, voice low in case others could hear.

He leaned forward, tip of his nose to yours, heart aching at the way your lip jutted lightly in a sad pout. "You're never gonna miss out again, alright? I promise you. I'll make sure you never miss out, and when we have our own kids, they won't miss out. Promise."

You moved into his hold, lips beginning to curl in a soft smile. "Thank you." Your voice barely a whisper, taking a slow, steadying breath in.

"I mean it." Eddie nodded fiercely. "You're locked in for life with me, baby, and I swear we'll decorate every single fuckin' holiday until we're a hundred years old."

You held his gaze, locking eyes in such a passionately fierce yet soft way, like you two were the only ones in the store- on the planet, maybe. It felt like that, it always did when you were with Eddie.

"Um," The timid voice of the sales associate brought you both back to reality. "I-I'm sorry, are you still finding everything ok?" She hesitated.

You pulled away, chin ducking with light embarrassment, but Eddie didn't seem bothered. "Yeah, we're gonna take these too." He nodded, passing her the ceramic figures and broom. "Oh, and this." He took the cauldron from you, passing it to her with a muttering of thanks.

"Let's keep looking. I think they said the outside stuff was over here." Eddie's hand found your back, pointing towards the next aisle.

"Outside? I thought you said you had your own outside stuff." You looked at him.

"I do, but I don't think it's really... you." Eddie looked at you with a small smile. "It's kinda scary shit. Not sure that's what you want."

"Do kids like it?"

"I don't know, actually. Never really had trick-or-treaters. I always have a party on Halloween, you remember." Eddie nodded lightly. You did remember, the infamous Halloween rager he had just a year ago. How you'd shown up in a skimpy little costume, resting on the arm of his sworn rival just to piss Eddie off. It had worked, of course, much to your discomfort. Your tummy flipped with heat, hairs raising on your spine at the memory.

"That's right. Are you doing that again this year?" You asked, passing by the plastic graveyard signs.

"I can, if you want." Eddie shrugged. "Up to you."

"Maybe have it start after trick-or-treating is done." Your eyes lingered over the costumes in the corner, a tiny bat onesie that had your heart swelling. "I want to pass out candy this year."

"Done." Eddie nodded. "Usually doesn't start until ten or eleven anyways. Gives us time to change. Shit, that reminds me, we gotta figure out a costume."

"I thought I already had a costume." You nodded towards the front where the witches hat was waiting behind the counter with the rest of your things. "Isn't that why we're going to Vivienne Westwood after this?"

"Nah, that's just for me, baby." Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, pressing a kiss to your head. "That's your costume for me. We need something for the party. Somethin' cool and weird. Gotta be a good one, ya know? Our first Halloween together, together."

You giggled, shaking your head lightly. "I'm sure you'll come up with something good. You always do."

"Needs to be perfect." Eddie nodded, picking up a plastic headstone with Frankenstein's Bride etched on the front. "For my bride." He droned dramatically, leaving you laughing.

"Oh shit, wait, that's actually a good idea." Eddie's eyes lit up. "Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein- oh shit!" Eddie exclaimed, a little too loudly, other patrons glaring at him with cutting eyes.

"I gotta call Ricardo, see if his costume guy can make somethin' happen. Oh man, this is gonna be so good, babe. Gonna be the best fuckin' Halloween ever." Eddie babbled, excited and bubbly with ideas.

Your heart swelled, squeezing his hand in yours as you pulled him down the aisles, letting him ramble about his ideas, decorations, Halloween traditions- everything. You listened, just as excited as he was. You finally would get to have traditions of your own, with a man you loved, in your own home that you decorated with items you both picked out. No longer would the holidays feel meaningless and boring. You finally had what you always wanted, finally found with Eddie.

[werepuppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee? taglist: @yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @tboygareth @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

[thefreakandthehair]

a steddie fanfiction written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang by @thefreakandthehair with illustration by @janie-bean and beta-read by @steddieasitgoes

“Do it!” Eddie sits up straight for the first time in hours, planting one palm solid on the ground and the other on the arm of the chair. It all happens so fast, Steve’s shocked that he doesn’t find strands of hair ripped out between his fingers. 

“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been saying!” Robin agrees, sitting up a little too quickly if her rapid blinking and steadying hand on the arm of the couch are anything to note. “Munson, you think those cookies are good? You should try the gingerbread cookies at Christmas. He’s been holding out on everyone.” 

Eddie gasps and stares at Steve in faux betrayal, falling onto his back with one hand over his heart. “Is it not torture enough that I was half-eaten by bats? Did I not deserve a special treat for all of my sacrifices, Steve?” 

Always so dramatic, he thinks again, just as he had in the kitchen. 

Steve grins and shakes his head with pinched eyebrows and a scrunched nose. “You needed a lot more than a gingerbread cookie, Ed. And besides, I didn’t really break out the cookbook until after the shitstorm passed.” 

“There’s a whole cookbook?!” Eddie asks, looking over to Robin for support. “He has a whole cookbook?”

Robin nods. “Yep, he’s baked his way through at least half of it now and only like, two have been duds. There’s more than enough to stock a bakery.”

He can barely keep up with the two of them, going back and forth about his sad attempt at macarons a few months back and how Robin would maybe commit felonies for the apple turnovers that came immediately after. At some point, Eddie picks up the plate that held the cookies and licks the crumbs off and Steve just watches— watches with a warmth spreading from the base of his spine to the tip top of his ears as two of his favorite people in the whole fucking world talk about this improbable dream. 

Dreams aren’t things that Steve’s had much time to consider. When he was eighteen, instead of goals and aspirations, or sports accolades and prom dates, Steve was busy worrying if he’d have a future at all. The dream back then was just to survive, but now that he has… 

“Should I really do it?” He says, more to himself than anyone else. 

Eddie and Robin cut themselves off mid-sentence and turn to respond in tandem. 

“Yes!” 

read the rest of butter, sugar, and northern mockingbirds here on ao3!

tagging some peeps who expressed interest! @test-of-my-patience @acasualcrossfade @arelliann @prettyasadiagram @perseus-notjackson @spectrum-spectre @kkpwnall @cuoredimuschio @kas-eddie-munson

[also-a-contradiction]

kitchen phone calls - eddie munson

eddie munson x gn!reader

—> when you get ditched at a party, you know exactly who to call.

notes/warnings: mentions of parties, reader is at a party, reader gets ditched, mention of underage drinking, use of pet names like "sweetheart" and "honey", somewhat proofread, (tbh i haven't seen this show in a while so i hope everything is somewhat accurate to the characters)

-

eddie munson was in the middle of practicing a new song when the telephone rang. not an uncommon occurrence, but considering the late hour, he was somewhat wary.

“hello?” he asked into the phone. the sound of music could be heard playing in the background, but nobody responded. “is anyone there?”

there was a slight annoyance bubbling up inside him, thinking it might be another one of jason’s stupid pranks “carver, I swear to—”

“eddie!” your voice yelled over the phone, almost making him drop it in surprise. “eddie, I’m so glad you picked up." you said, relief evident in your voice.

eddie was instantly delighted, always beyond thrilled when you called. but the slight shakiness of your voice gave him pause. “y/n? are you okay?"

you were quiet for a second, and then cleared your throat. "yeah, yeah, I'm good, eds. I just—well, I’m at tina’s end-of-the-year party. the one I told you about last week?”

eddie remembers it well. tina had invited you and robin, and though you really wanted eddie to come with, high school parties weren’t really his scene. “yeah, ‘course I do, sweetheart.”

“well, my ride home just bailed on me."

"they what?" eddie exclaimed, a quick flash of fury coursing through him at the thought of someone ditching you, especially at a party.

he could hear you sigh. “yep, left for a different party, I guess. I’m so sorry to call you so late, but I don’t really feel all that good asking anybody here for a ride. too much drinking and other activities, if you know what I mean.”

eddie was already stumbling around the kitchen looking for his car keys, not carrying if he was tangling the phone cord. "hey, don't you ever be sorry about calling me, okay? I'm glad you did."

you laughed quietly as you heard him curse about not being able to find his shoes. "I really appreciate it, eddie. I owe you a milkshake, okay?" you promised.

"I'll hold you to it, honey." eddie laughed, not caring about the milkshake debt, but rather the opportunity to spend time with you. "I’m on my way, be there in 5."

-

thanks for reading!!!

[dreaminofdixon]

Eight.

Alright, the GIF has nothing to do with the post. He's just too pretty not to use it? lol Kind of a little filler spot. :)

Carol, Lori, and I trudged down to the quarry pond, hauling bags of dirty laundry. The sun was a bastard—blazing hot, scorching my skin darker than any tanning bed ever had before the world went to shit. Sweat stung my eyes, but the heat’d dry the clothes fast, so I couldn’t bitch too much.

Lori was growing on me, slow like moss on a rock. Not bestie material—hell no—but we’d had some real talks. She’d let slip she wasn’t sure this life was worth the fight, a doubt that gnawed at me too. Said she’d thought Rick was dead before he found her, which made the Shane mess click a little clearer. Didn’t mean I liked that prick any better.

We set up by the water’s edge, dunking clothes in soapy buckets. The pond lapped quiet, a hum that felt half-dead, half-alive—peaceful in a way that made my skin crawl.

“So,” Lori said, cutting through the stillness, “where were you when it all went down?”

I shoved a shirt into the suds, letting it soak. Thinking back was like picking at a scab I wanted gone. “My condo,” I said, voice flat. “Figured I could ride it out. Had a go-bag ready. Then the screams started—gunshots ringing out.” I shut my eyes, the memory sharp as broken glass. “Grabbed my shit and ran. Spent weeks drifting, dodging death, looking for anything safe.” I snatched the shirt, slapped it on my busted washboard, and scrubbed, hands jolting over the ridges.

“Alone?” Carol asked, soft but probing.

“Yeah.” I squinted at them through my scratched sunglasses, the sun a bitch even with the tint. “Moved here from the West Coast solo. Didn’t know a soul. Just… existed, I guess.”

“Oh, honey…” Carol’s voice dipped, pity creeping in.

“Maybe that’s why you made it,” Lori cut in, wringing out a pair of jeans. “Being alone forced you to toughen up.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, shoulders stiff, and tossed the shirt into the pond to rinse. “You two?”

“Shane got us out when it hit,” Lori said, voice low. “Met Carol on the highway—traffic jam from hell, everyone scrambling.”

“Ed came home ranting to pack up,” Carol added, hands steady on her wash. “He’s always been paranoid—doomsday prepper type. Had shit ready to go.”

Made sense. Ed was a walking red flag.

“Bombs started dropping in the city,” I said, staring at the rippling water. “Couldn’t find a hole to hide in. Then three armed strangers rolled up. Scared the shit outta me, but it was perfect timing—I was damn near done.”

“Glad you made it,” Carol said, her smile thin but real.

“Single, huh?” Lori asked, eyeing me.

“Yep.” I leaned on the washboard, hands still, feeling the weight of it spill out. “Last guy fucked me over years back. After that, dating felt like a chore I didn’t have the stomach for.” I glanced away, uneasy with how raw it sounded. “Too damn tiring.”

“Preach,” Carol muttered, a knowing edge in her nod.

We laughed—short, bitter, a shared scrape of truth.

Then Ed’s shadow loomed, souring the air. His voice scraped like gravel, rough and mean. “Less yappin’, more scrubbin’,” he barked, lighting a cigarette, eyes slitting as he glared.

I rolled my eyes behind my shades—small rebellion, but it felt good. Carol didn’t flinch, just kept washing, hands moving like a machine. She’d learned to take it, and that pissed me off more.

I wanted to yell, tell her she didn’t have to eat his shit. But that’d just light the fuse, wouldn’t it?

Andrea and Amy fished from the boat, water lapping soft. The kids screeched nearby, chasing each other. For a second, it almost felt normal—until I caught Carol’s blank stare. If Ed hurt her, what’d he do to Sophia? My gut twisted, sour and tight.

“Get it done,” Ed growled, snapping me back.

My fists balled, nails biting my palms. “I’m gettin’ hungry,” he muttered, smoke curling from his lips.

The simmer in my chest boiled over. “Then go get some food, Ed,” I snapped, voice sharp.

He turned slow, eyes narrowing. “Say that again?”

I stood, hands steady despite the tremor in my bones. “I said get your own fucking food, Ed.” I flung the wet shirt—slapped it hard against his chest, water soaking his grimy tee.

His face twisted, dark and ugly, hand rearing back. I didn’t budge. “Try it,” I hissed. “I’m not a kid anymore. I hit back.”

The air went thick, stagnant. Ed snarled, “Shut the hell up, bitch,” spit flecking his words.

Boots crunched gravel—Shane stormed in, voice slicing through. “Problem here?”

Carol darted forward, grabbing Ed’s arm. “Girl, it’s fine,” she said, desperate, tugging him back.

Ed shoved her off—hard, like she was trash. That did it. Rage flared, hot and blind.

“Don’t fucking push me,” he spat at her, and I lunged—heart hammering, fists ready.

Shane beat me to it, tackling Ed to the dirt. Fists flew, meaty thuds echoing as Shane pounded him. Blood smeared Ed’s face, and a dark, twisted part of me liked it—‘til Carol’s scream cut through.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” she cried, voice shrill, hands clutching air.

I froze. She’s worried about him? My chest knotted, confusion choking me.

“Enough, Shane!” I barked, sharp and loud.

“Shane, stop!” Lori yelled, stepping in.

Shane paused, then slammed one last fist into Ed’s jaw—left him groaning, bruised, a mess in the dirt. Carol sobbed, tears streaking her face, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“Fucking buzzkill,” I muttered, the brief rush souring into a heavy, bitter weight as I watched my friend try to pull her piece of shit husband together.

****

@imadisneyprincessiswear

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Pain Relief Pt. 2

Jack Abbot x chronically ill f!reader

series masterlist, part 3

Synopsis: They finally go on that coffee date

Warnings: language, pills, reader has pots and other unnamed chronic illnesses, eader is an artist

Words: 0.8k

A/n 1: It's finally here! I am so incredibly grateful for all the love and support and am so thrilled that people wanted this to be a series because I'm having so much fun with it! Writing this is so healing for me. Hope you love it! <3

“How have you been doing?” 

You look up from your hands - you’d been fiddling with them for the past ten minutes - as Jack slides into the seat across from you. “Much better,” you smile. “Thanks to you.”

He leans back with his arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Y/n, I’m already here. No need to butter me up.”

You laugh, and he swears it’s the most heavenly sound he’s even heard. “You’ve been taking your Midodrine?” he asks.

Rolling your eyes, you set your hands on your lap. “Yes, Dr. Abbot.”

His eyes gleam with witty desire. It’s been seven days since your visit to the ED, but the two of you had exchanged countless texts over that timespan. He was relieved to finally conversate face-to-face.

“I didn’t order yet,” you tell him, taking your sweater off and setting it next to you, revealing a black, v-neck top you’d found shoved to the side of your closet earlier, waiting for the day you finally go out and party - or, in this case, go on a date with a hot ER doctor. 

Jack feels underdressed in his scrubs, having come straight from work, but you’d assured him earlier that you didn’t care what he was wearing as long as he came.

Jack nods. “I’ll go-”

You stand before he can. “I can go get us drinks,” you tell him, sliding from your seat. “You’ve been on a twelve hour shift. I know your leg is killing you; give it a breather.” 

The chivalrous part of him wants to argue, but the other part is aching. His leg is killing him. He’s hardly sat down since his shift started. “Alright,” he caves, giving you his order and insisting you take his card to pay. You depart with a curtsy, leaving Jack chuckling quietly.

When you come back, sliding him his cup, Jack peers over at the label on yours. “You listened,” he says with the inkling of a smile on his face, nudging his chin in the direction of the drink. 

You look down and laugh. “Yep. I even got green tea because it has less caffeine than black.” You stir. “I’m doing research and everything; you should be proud.”

He nods, takes a gulp from his coffee. “I am.” 

Jack glances outside - (the sun is just starting to rise) - before turning back to you. He takes another gulp this time, but it’s to stomach the butterflies fluttering about as he studies you. “You look nice,” he manages.

You smile, looking down at your top. “Thanks. You do too. Love the outfit.”

Jack laughs at this, straightening out his scrub top. “This ol’ thing? You’ll never guess where I got it.”

You’re giggling again, and Jack flushes. “Spirit Halloween!” you guess jokingly.

Jack hides his smile behind his cup as he takes another drink. “You never told me what you do. For work.”

Beaming, you whip out your phone and begin to tap furiously at the screen. When you put it on the table and slide it his way, Abbot looks down to find a stunning painting of a woman looking out a window. 

“I’m an artist,” you tell him and then point at the women in the painting. “That’s Keria. She made me take a photo to reference after like thirty minutes because she was getting bored.”

Jack picks the phone up and surprises you by whipping out a pair of reading glasses. Your cheeks heat when he puts them on, watching him in all his dilf glory as he zooms in and out. 

When Jack gives your phone back, he looks almost…proud. “You’re really good.”

“Really?” Your smile is bright. You put your phone away. “I don’t know, I feel like I could’ve mixed the colors a little better.”

Jack nurses his cup. “Don’t sell yourself short. That’s pretty damn good.”

All you can do is smile and shyly gaze down at your cup. “I’ve submitted some pieces to a few art galleries.”

“That's awesome.”

You nod, finally meeting his gaze. You flush at the way he’s looking at you - almost in wonder. “Thanks. 

Jack takes another sip. “Would you paint me?”

Your jaws drops. “Really?” you stutter.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “My flat’s pretty bare right now; I’ve been looking for some art to put up.”

He can’t be serious. “You’ve only seen one of my pieces. How do you know the rest is good?”

Jack leans forwards, setting his cup down. “How do I know it’s not?”

You turn away with an awkward cough. “How was your shift?”

“Fine. Would you paint me?”

“You’re unbelievable!” you guffaw, swiveling back to face him. 

He’s leaning even closer now. “Would you?”

“Ugh….fine!” you groan, throwing your hands up in defeat. 

He finally leans back, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How’s next Saturday?”

You’re still in disbelief. “I’ll give you my address.”

It’s official: Jack Abbot is going to be the death of you.

A/n: Let me know what you want to see next for these two! I have a few things planned (like how the painting date goes!) but am interested in any feedback. Sending love!

Taglist:

@miraclesabound @qardasngan @mads198-9 emma8895eb

People I thought to Tag (let me know if you want me to continue tagging you):

@codewren-main @thedeviloffics skyyellie

[unclewaynemunson]

It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

[rebelliousstories]

Resolutions

New Year/New Fics

Relationship: Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1,182

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: A new year draws near, and thus the traditions of resolutions that they now have to explain the concept of to an alien.

Consider Donating: Here

“Eddie, what are we doing?” A growl voice interrupted the man who was currently searching for… something. Even the symbiote who was in his thoughts did not know.

“Tryin’ to find a notepad. I’ve gotta have one left over that I can use.” Eddie muttered, shuffling things around.

“Why do you need a notepad, Eddie? What do you need to write down that I can’t remember?” He asked, staying inside for right now.

“Makin’ New Year’s resolutions with the girl today. That’s what we wanted to do, is write them down together. Aha!” After what seemed like forever, Eddie grabbed a random writing pad that was buried under various articles and papers on his desk. Spending another minute, he also found a pen for himself, and set both objects on the coffee table to use later.

Brock busied himself for the next few minutes making sure the dinner he made was ready for when she got to his apartment. Just a simple dinner of a frozen pizza, some hard ciders since he knew she did not like drinking beer, and a chocolate cake from the diner down the block for dessert. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, but he was still getting the pizza out of the oven. However, that was unacceptable for the alien.

“Eddie!” Venom cheered, taking control to drag him to the door. In the process, he dropped the pan with the pizza on it, sending it plummeting to the floor. But inky black tendrils shot out from his back to save the delicious food before it could be ruined. “It’s not nice to keep the lady waiting.”

“Yeah, well, if you would have let me finish putting the pan on the counter, I’d be doing this myself,” Eddie snipped, not even fighting against it. Venom decided that he was going to open the door first, because another tendril zoomed forward to wrap around the knob.

How one could be so beautiful, Eddie would never understand. But the answer was right in front of him. She was just dressed in a simple t-shirt, with a leather motorcycle jacket, boots and jeans, but it was still the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. In her hands, her motorcycle helmet that was decked out in a stunning electric blue color scheme with an owl.

“Eds, hey baby.” Stepping into his apartment, she dumped her helmet on the floor near the door as she wrapped her arms around him. Sighing, the man pressed his cheek onto the top of her head before pressing a kiss there.

“Hey, gorgeous. Missed ya.” He whispered, pulling away just a bit. Being able to take in her features, he was absolutely floored that someone like her was with someone like him.

“Missed you too, Eddie. I-” a loud crash cut her off. The sound of a pan hitting the floor made both humans look at each other. One of them was trying not to laugh, the other was trying to control his annoyance.

“Is that-” she began to ask.

“Yep. You wanna come out buddy?” No sooner had he said that, the black symbiote appeared from his left shoulder.

“Hey, V.” She giggled, rubbing the top of his head like you would a dog.

“Hello, pretty lady. I am so glad that you are here. Eddie says that you are doing something for the new year tonight.” He stated in that gravely voice of his. Eddie chose that moment to usher her into the kitchen while he assessed the damage his friend left.

Thankfully it was not much, the pizza was cut questionably on the countertop, but it was all there. Only the pan and some crumbs were on the floor, to which he groaned as he bent over. Hearing his girlfriend giggle behind him, Brock shot her a playful glare as he stood back up.

“Don’t wanna hear it, doll.” Pressing a hand to his back, Eddie shook his head as he heard more giggles.

“Anyways, as I was saying, V. Yeah, we’re gonna have a quiet little date night in and write down our New Year’s resolutions while we’re at it.” She continued, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“And what do you do with these resolutions?” Venom questioned, still starring at her.

“Well, you try to keep to them for the coming year. Usually it’s things like losing weight, reading a certain number of books, or even picking up a new hobby.”

Plating their food, Eddie put his left hand on her back as the right held the tray. Making it over to the couch, he sunk down into the cushions, set the food on the table, and grabbed his girlfriend’s hips. In an instant, she was yanked down onto his own lap, as Eddie finally got the chance to hold her properly. Nuzzling his face into her neck, he was delighted to hear her giggles as his two day old scruff tickled her skin.

Sighing into his hair, she felt herself relax. “What do you want to do next year?”

“Already starting, huh?” He teased, pulling back just a bit to look at her soft features.

“Well, considering the big guy still over your shoulder… yes.” With a groan, Eddie looked at his alien friend, who was smiling widely with those insanely sharp teeth of his.

“I would like to make my own resolutions, Eddie.” He growled, grabbing for the pen and paper blindly. After he got it, he was scribbling something down, and then passing it to the woman. Honestly, the fact that it was even legible was impressive.

“‘Eat more bad guy brains.’ V, these are supposed to be things that better you.”

“It does. Makes me calmer and nicer. Plus, less bad guys to do bad guy things.” Venom tried to justify it, smiling with all those teeth.

Rolling her eyes, she smirked as she wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck, carefully avoiding where Venom connected to the man. “What about you, Eds? You never answered me.”

He thought for a minute, truly wondering what he wanted to do to better himself in the coming year. “Maybe start that series that I wanted to. Something we could do together? What about you?”

“I’d like to get back into painting. That was always something that relaxed me. I miss it a lot.” She shrugged casually.

“I remember seeing those works from when you were a teenager. You should definitely do that.” Eddie kissed her nose.

“Anything else,” came her ask as she pressed her face into his neck.

“No. We can’t write these down later. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for a minute.” Eddie sighed, starting up a movie for them.

“Okay. Tuck inside, V. You can come back out later.” Her words made the symbiote disappear, thankfully, without a fight.

As they sat there on the couch, Eddie realized that he was going to have to be a bit sneaky with one of his resolutions. The ring box that it went along with was being hidden; so why should not the resolution be?

[nikibogwater]

Everybody sit down and strap in, 'cause I have a doozy of a tale to share.

I've had anxiety for literally as long as I can remember. I've had periods of my life where it was so intense it became legitimately life-threatening (don't worry I promise this is going somewhere funny). And this was really bizarre because I have zero childhood trauma. Like, my family life is so idyllic it's almost comical. Therapists would do abuse screenings on me and look utterly baffled when I told them everything was fine at home. They'd interrogate my parents just to make sure I wasn't lying. I have one friend who I'm fairly sure believed I was just severely gaslighting myself when I said my family was great, school wasn't too stressful, and I've never lived in a dangerous neighborhood or experienced poverty.

Anyways, despite no one being able to figure out where my disorder was coming from, my doctors were able to help me manage the symptoms so that I would like, not die, and actually be able to finish high school. Which was awesome. Now fast forward to late 2021. My big sister (who has also had intense anxiety her whole life which no one could figure out why) is finishing up her doctorate and getting her physical therapist's license. Somehow, during all her studying and schooling, she finds out about this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which explains literally everything that was going on with us. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that kinda fudges up your body in a whole bunch of little ways, including dysautonomia (episodes of very fast heart-rate that kick your body into fight-or-flight mode), and hypermobility (unusual flexibility). It's a spectrum disorder, so the severity of symptoms vary from person to person, but we definitely checked almost every box on the diagnostic list. My sister went to see a specialist, and yep, she was diagnosed EDS positive. She immediately calls my mom and goes "I know what's wrong with Niki" (thanks, sis, that's real encouraging lol). Initially we're like "okay Katie, that's nice" because honestly this kind of sounds like jumping at shadows, but I go in to see the specialist anyways just to make sure.

One consultation and diagnosis later, and suddenly my entire life makes perfect sense.

Now we get to the funny part. See, the diagnosis stuff happened in early 2022. So by the time late 2023 comes around and we're looking for a new dog (I promise this is relevant), we've been riding that chronic illness diagnosis for a while. Once again, my sister, ever the proactive one, decides she's going to help us get a new dog. She scours the adoption website, sends us photos of the cutest dogs available, and helps us make a decision. This is how we got Beverly, who has been an unstoppable force of chaos in our lives ever since we signed the papers (but she's also really cute so she can get away with it). Now on top of being a very excitable and anxious pupper, Beverly's got a weird little gimp in her hindquarters, which makes her sit all splayed-out and funny-looking, and while it doesn't seem to be causing her pain, we take her to a vet to get it checked out. Vet finds absolutely nothing. X-rays are taken and examined. Still nothing. At this point, they go "well, we could try a CT scan of her brain, which would run about $5,000, and maybe we could find something--" but my parents are already packing this dog into the car like "well that is a HARD nope." So we decide, look, Beverly seems happy and healthy, and those gimpy legs don't seem to bother her, so we'll just leave it be until it becomes clearer what's wrong with her because we do NOT have a cool $5,000 to throw around here.

Readers more astute than my family and I will likely have already figured out where this is going.

This morning, my mom is looking at Beverly sitting in her funny sprawled-out way, and something in her brain goes "wait...weird physical symptoms with no tracible cause that vets can see..." She does a bit of googling. Can dogs have EDS/Hypermobility? Yes. Yes they can. And the listed symptoms describe Beverly to a T.

So not only is my sister the one to finally figure out what's wrong with me, she also unknowingly got us a dog who has the exact same chronic condition as us. Meanwhile my poor dad, who is the only Normal Person in our house, is coming to terms with the fact that he is apparently just fated to always love chronically ill people and animals, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XXIII // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) Ben and Quinn's relationship continues to flourish, but an unexpected encounter threatens to throw a spanner in the works.

Chapter Word Count: 6.3K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

Join the Tag List Here*

The sun sat low behind the skyline, making the clouds blush, drenching everything in a gleaming golden hue. You sat with your legs crossed under the long table, laptop open in front of you as the conference room slowly filled with people, the murmur of conversation and scent of coffee drifting in with them. 

The chair beside you creaked and a hand quickly reached over to mash on your keyboard, forming a line of gibberish across the blank word document. You rolled your eyes, smacking the top of Nick’s hand before turning to him with an unamused glare. 

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Not like you to be the first one at a meeting.” 

“Mm, well I’ve been coming into the office to write. Been here all day,” you replied, sighing as you glanced back to the empty page on the screen. “Can’t focus at home. Too many distractions.”

“Tall, rich, handsome distractions…” 

“No,” you said bluntly, though there was a part of you that secretly agreed with him. “I just… If I try to write at home I just end up watching TV or falling asleep or… suddenly realising I haven’t seen my passport in a year and turning the place upside down to look for it.” 

“How’s it going?” 

“I found it, it was in an old makeup bag in my bathroom cabinet.” 

“Not the passport, dick head, the writing.” 

“Oh.” You sighed. “Well I had a few edits I needed to do for the gala article, then I wrote a listicle about moisturisers. Thrilling stuff.” 

He nodded. “You’re still fuming about your op ed, aren’t you.” 

“Yep.” 

Julia stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and making her way to the large windows. You watched as she lowered the blinds, shielding the room from the bright evening sun as she began to speak. 

“Hello everyone,” she began, her tone cheerful yet commanding. “Thank you all for coming in. Just a quick one today to delegate some coverage pieces.” 

You placed your fingers on the keys of your laptop, eyes fixed on her as she moved to the head of the table, Leo McGrath’s advice still ringing in your ears. 

“Let’s see,” she said, licking her thumb and flicking through a folder in front of her. “I need someone to cover an exhibition at the London Fashion and Textile museum this Friday-”

“I’ll do it,” you said. 

She arched her brow sceptically, before shaking it away and scrawling your name down with her pen. “Okay great. Then we also have a launch party for Roe - some influencer’s new makeup brand apparently-”

“I’ll do that too,” you said. 

A few of the other writers glanced at you in confusion, your willingness to volunteer so surprising that they couldn’t help but stare. 

“Okay…” said Julia suspiciously. “And Draft’s been invited to a Q&A for-”

“I’ll do it.” 

“Quinn, you haven’t even heard what it is yet,” she said, holding back the urge to snap at you. 

You heard Nick chuckling quietly to himself. You ignored it and gave a shrug. 

“Just… feel like taking on more work, that’s all,” you said. 

“Right, well the beauty launch and the Q&A are on the same night,” she replied. “One in Chelsea and one in Mayfair. So are you planning to teleport between them?” 

A murmur of reserved laughter rippled around the table. 

“Fine, well someone else can do the Q&A,” you said. “Or, y’know, I’ll figure out the teleportation thing.” 

Julia rolled her eyes, turning her attention to someone else. 

“You’re going to send her into early retirement,” Nick whispered to you. 

You breathed out a laugh. “I’m an editorial assistant’s worst nightmare.” 

You returned to your desk after the meeting, scrolling through pages of reviews to figure out which moisturiser would take the number one spot on your listicle. It was mind numbing, pointless, filling you with the temptation to find the worst rated cream and give it a glowing write up, just to mess with readers, see how many complaints you could rack up.

Your phone buzzed on the desk. You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the glare of the computer screen before looking down at it, your mood immediately shifting to something less weary. 

Are you still in work? It read.

I am, you replied, catching a smile before it spread across your face. 

Are you almost done? 

I can be done whenever I want. Why?  

I’m outside the building.

Your heartbeat quickened, and you grimaced to yourself in embarrassment. Yet still you packed up quickly, shoving everything into your bag and rushing to the stairs, too impatient to wait for the lift.  

You stepped out onto the street, the air cold as it brushed across your skin, despite the glorious sky. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you glanced up and down the busy street, brow furrowed as you searched for him amongst the sea of pedestrians. 

A familiar black car sat idled further up the road, wheels bumped up on the kerb, tinted windows shrouding the driver in darkness. You made your way over to it, peering down as the passenger window lowered, just enough to reveal Ben smiling at you from the driver’s seat. 

“What’s this about?” you asked.

“I fly out tomorrow morning, wanted to see you before I go,” he replied. 

You felt your cheeks warm as you stepped closer to the car, glancing around at the bustling street. “This was risky of you.” 

“Only if you don’t hurry up and get in.”

You slipped into the car and closed the door quickly, throwing your bag into the backseat as he began to drive. 

“I didn’t think you were leaving until Wednesday,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I got my days mixed up, it’s tomorrow.” 

Your lips curled into a pout, like a disappointed child. He glanced over at you and gave a soft laugh, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh. 

“You know, there’s still time for you to change your mind and come with me,” he said. 

You exhaled a cynical laugh through your nose. “Yeah, I’ll just drop everything to follow you on your press tour.” 

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “It would be nice to have you with me. Think about it; fancy hotels, big beds, deep bathtubs, me, completely at your disposal…” 

“Hm, tempting. But I have to work. Not all of us can just jet off whenever we feel like it.” 

He let out an exaggerated puff of air. “Who needs work? You don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you.” 

“Shut up.” You scoffed, giving him a playful shove. “You don’t mean that.”

He chuckled. “I know I don’t. But in all seriousness though, it would be nice to have you with me. You could write on the plane.” 

“Stop it,” you laughed. “I’m not coming.” 

He pulled into the carpark of a hotel you’d always admired but never been inside. It was breathtaking, a blend of grand architecture and modern details; glass and stone, steel and marble. It was a place celebrities went for drinks or a private brunch without having to worry about mere mortals and prying eyes, a threshold you’d never held the status to cross. 

It felt bizarre to walk with him so openly, to stroll through the foyer side by side without fear of being spotted; no flashing cameras, no screaming fans, no nosy reporters. An employee led you into a lift, and you couldn’t help but flash a suspicious glare at Ben as you passed each floor, wondering how long he’d had all of this planned. 

You stepped out on the top floor, following behind Ben as he made polite smalltalk with the employee on the way to your room. You found yourself fixing your hair and straightening your clothes as you went, as though the building itself was judging you; offended that you could walk its carpets in a pair of trainers, grace its corridors in some well-worn jeans and an old cardigan. 

When Ben opened the door to the suite, you felt your breath still for a moment. It was bigger than your entire flat; bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchenette and large, open living area. Beyond a set of glass doors was a private terrace. You stepped out into the fresh, cool air, taking in the London skyline as it wrapped around the entire balcony. 

The terrace was framed with warm, glowing lights and draping greenery, the city like a glittering tapestry as the sun began to disappear below the horizon. A table stood in the centre, a bottle of champagne resting inside an ice bucket beside it. 

You turned to Ben. “This is… subtle.” 

He smirked, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs. "You like it."

“Says who?” you teased, brushing past him to lean your elbows on the railing, taking in the view. 

He followed, his hands finding your waist and pulling you gently back against him. “Me.”

Your mouth twitched with a smile. “If this is all a ploy to make me say it back…”

“You think I brought you here to trick you into saying you love me?” he asked, his tone soft yet playful, lips brushing against your ear. “I don’t need to hear it, Quinn, I already know you do.” 

The words made your stomach flutter, but you refused to let it show. “Bullshit.” 

He chuckled, spinning you around to face him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You found yourself staring up at him in awe. He was so confident, so certain. It had been a week since he’d said those words, yet he didn’t seem to care that you still hadn’t said it back; his ego unbruised, like he knew you too well, understood you better than anyone ever had. 

Your protest died in your throat when his lips grazed your temple, lingering there as he pressed his body against yours, hands sliding down to your backside.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured, your fingers dancing over the buttons of his shirt.

“What’s not fair?” he asked, lips trailing down to your cheek, your jaw, before pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck. 

“You. Being so… smug.”

“I’m not smug,” he said, though the glint in his eye contradicted him. “Can’t a man treat his girlfriend to a nice evening without being accused of ulterior motives?” 

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “There you go again, saying we’re a couple.” 

“Because we are.” His grip on you tightened, his voice deepening. “If I asked you outright, you’d make me beg. And I’m not above begging, but I’d rather save that for… other things.”

You felt yourself growing hot as his lips found yours, forcing yourself to break away to mutter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are,” he countered softly, tilting your chin up with his finger and kissing you again. “If you weren’t mine, you wouldn’t keep coming back to me.”

He deepened the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other gripping the railing behind you. You slid your hands up to his face, feeling yourself melting into him, excitement and anticipation rippling in your core. 

For a man who’d been so strict in his abstinence, the past week had completely unravelled him. He was insatiable, his touch lingering even in the most innocent moments, his kisses turning deeper and hungrier with little provocation. He’d taken every opportunity to make up for the time you’d lost, and you’d welcomed it gladly, savouring the ache that would follow you in the aftermath. 

He broke away, pressing his forehead to yours. “Dinner will be here soon,” he whispered.

You exhaled a laugh. “You ordered for me?” 

“I know what you like.” 

You slipped away to one of several bathrooms, taking off your cardigan and zhuzhing your hair until it sat just right. It was easy sometimes to forget who he was; the money he had, the power he wielded, the status he held that didn’t just surpass yours, but eclipsed it altogether. Whenever it hit you, it would make you feel uneasy; the imbalance throwing you off kilter, making you wonder what he saw in you, why a man who had the world at his fingertips would let himself fall for a single grain of sand. 

When you returned to the terrace, you found him sitting at the table as a waiter lay out a spread of food in front of him; steaming plates and pretty side dishes, a basket of your favourite bread and the dessert you’d been craving for weeks. The smell drifted through the air towards you, making your stomach rumble, your mouth water with hunger. 

You hovered in the doorway as the waiter placed down the last few plates, tucking a tray under his arm when he was done and pushing a large trolley back towards the suite. You stepped aside to let him pass, allowing yourself a moment to take in his face, the name on his badge. Perhaps it was cynical of you to assume he’d go running to the papers, narcissistic even, to think he’d care to.

Ben stood up as you made your way over to him, pulling out your chair for you with a charming smile. 

“This looks amazing,” you said as you sat down, admiring the food in front of you.

He kissed the side of your head and returned to his seat. “Champagne?” 

“Sure.” 

“So,” he began, popping the cork in his fist. “Guess what happened today…” 

You narrowed your eyes, cocking your head slightly. 

“I am officially divorced,” he said, almost beaming at you as he filled your glass. “I got the final order this afternoon. Decree Absolute. It’s done.” 

“Oh wow, congratulations.” 

“Congratulations?” he replied, jokingly mocking your voice. “I’m free, Quinn. No more contractual obligations, no more interviews pretending my marriage was anything other than a glorified business transaction. I can finally move forward. With you.” 

You stifled a smile, instead tapping your finger against your lips with a contemplative hum. “I don’t know. Now that you’re a single man, the excitement’s sort of gone.“

“Oh is that so?” 

“Mhm. I mean, where’s the thrill in sneaking around if it’s not with a married man?” 

He smirked, his eyes flitting to your mouth as you took a sip of champagne. “You need the thrill, hm?” 

You nodded. 

“Well you know what would be thrilling?” 

“What?” 

“Coming to America with me tomorrow.” 

You threw your head back and let out an exaggerated groan, making him chuckle as he began to eat. 

“Was worth a try,” he mumbled.

You talked and ate until the sun went down, until the cold puckered the flesh of your bare arms and numbed the tip of your nose. You sat with your legs outstretched beneath the table, resting comfortably between Ben’s as you listened to him speak - not about work, or divorce, or the two of you - but about his family, his childhood, the things that made him happy and the last time he laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. 

In the moments you were reminded of his fame, it was easy to feel starcrossed; like there was an entire ocean between you and no way to common ground. But then the moment would pass, giving way to a warm laugh or a tender touch, and suddenly in that ocean would be an island, where you both resided as equals; your own private paradise. 

His hand had found yours across the table, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles as he continued a sweet anecdote about his mother. You’d never been very tactile, finding the hand-holding and arms around shoulders completely embarrassing, the chaste kisses and legs brushing under tables far too soppy. But here you were, chin resting on your fist, the other hand in his, gazing at him as he spoke, without a speck of desire to pull away. 

You laughed softly as you watched him bring a glass to his lips, somehow missing his mouth and spilling champagne down his shirt.

“I’m not drunk, I swear,” he laughed, releasing your hand to pick up a napkin and dab at his chest. 

“What’s that, like a tenner’s worth of champagne you just spilled?” you teased. 

He laughed again, picking up the bottle and looking at it with a hum. “About… forty quid?” 

Your smile dropped. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

“What?” He shrugged. 

“You’re saying we’ve been drinking a £2000 bottle of champagne?” 

“I think it’s closer to three,” he said casually.

“Oh my god! Wh- I- Well then how fucking expensive was all of this!?” you gestured to the terrace, the food, the suite beyond the doors. “Jesus this is like the watch fiasco all over again.” 

“Which I notice you still haven’t worn…” 

You glared at him. 

“Quinn, it’s fine,” he said softly, taking your hand in his again. “I wouldn’t spend it if I didn’t want to.” 

“But why on earth-”

“Why do you feel like you’re not worth it? Like money spent on you is somehow a waste?” 

“Because…” You settled back slightly in your chair, eyes flitting around in thought. “Because it is.” 

His smile faded, his eyes creasing at the corners as he gazed across the table at you. “Do you really believe that?” 

You shrugged, a defensive edge sharpening your posture. “I do.” 

“Well you’re wrong,” he countered bluntly. 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he continued quickly. 

“I know this imbalance between us bothers you. I know you’re independent, and you don’t want to feel like I’m trying to buy you or show off or make you feel indebted to me. But that's not what this is." He gestured to your surroundings, the city lights twinkling in the distance. "If anything, this is me showing you that you’re not a waste - not of my money, or my time, or my affection - none of it’s wasted on you.” 

His sincerity was disarming, how quickly the evening had gone from joking and banter to complete seriousness. You tried to remain neutral, but your eyes betrayed you with a vulnerable glaze, making his face soften, his hand squeezing yours more firmly.

“You are so deeply rooted in my life now that I don’t see any of this as frivolous,” he said. “I just see it as… being with you. No different than sitting on the couch in front of the TV.”

You sighed. 

“What?” he asked quietly.

“I just… I don’t think I can get away with denying this is a relationship anymore, can I.”  

He laughed. “No. No, you can’t.”  

You laughed too, rolling your eyes when you saw a smile creeping across his face. 

“This- us-” he said. “It’s far beyond the secrets and the sneaking around and worrying what strangers might say about me in the fucking papers. I’m not saying I’m ready to go dragging you down red carpets with me, but I like to think that you see it… getting there, maybe, one day…” 

You drew in a deep, cleansing breath through your nose, trying to soothe the nerves creeping into your chest.

“I love you,” he said. “Whether you say it back or not, it doesn’t make it any less true. I love you, Quinn.”

You gazed across at him for a moment, at the warmth in his expression, the vulnerability in his voice. You swallowed past a lump in your throat. “That’s… unfortunate for you,” you said. 

He dropped his head with a deep, throaty chuckle. “I don’t know,” he replied, eyes meeting yours again. “I feel quite fortunate… Most of the time.” 

You scoffed, taking a sip of your - extremely expensive - champagne. 

He gestured with his head for you to come to him. You stood up and walked around the table, settling in his lap and draping an arm around his shoulders. He held you close with a hand on the small of your back, the other reaching up to brush a stray hair from your face as you leaned down to him, lips meeting in a deep, slow kiss. 

“You’re cold,” he whispered, running his hand up and down your bare arm. 

“I’m fine,” you replied.

He shook his head. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

You stood in the living area, staring up at a painting on the wall, head cocked to one side as you wondered if anyone would notice if you stole it. You shook the thought away as the sound of voices and rattling dishes emerged from the terrace, glancing over your shoulder to see the waiter from earlier wheeling away the remnants of your dinner.

Ben thanked him as he left, shutting the door behind him and sliding the chain lock in place. He spun on his heels to look at you from across the vast suite, though his large strides carried him over to you in moments. 

You ran your fingers over the pale yellow stain on his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you wondered if you’d ever tire of his embrace, if he would ever tire of embracing you. You hoped not. 

“I have the suite for the night,” he said. “But if you’d rather go home, I can take you. I know you don’t have anything with you so I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay.”

“Hm, my tiny, messy flat or this stunning hotel with you,” you replied, pretending to deliberate with yourself. “What a difficult decision.” 

He laughed, kissing you on the cheek before stepping past you.

“Where are you going?” you asked. 

“Bed,” he replied simply. “Are you coming?” 

“Bed? It’s only half nine…” 

He raised an eyebrow as he backed up slowly towards the master bedroom, waiting for the penny to drop. 

“Oh,” you finally said.

“Yeah,” he replied, reaching out his hand in a gesture for you to join him. 

The car idled quietly on the road outside your flat building, the blue morning sky clear and bright, promising a warm day. You knew you had to leave, to climb out and get ready for work, but every time your hand so much as brushed the door handle, Ben’s lips found yours again. 

Your laugh came breathlessly as you finally pulled back, lips blushed and swollen from his endless kisses. “You’re going to miss your flight.” 

His smile was lazy and unapologetic as he yielded, dropping his head slightly with a gentle sigh. “Can I call you when I get to my hotel?” 

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll allow it.” 

He leaned in, and you couldn’t help but kiss him again, feeling his smile against your lips.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he muttered, his hand sliding through your hair. 

You laughed softly. “I’m sure I’ll manage. I took on a ton of work to keep myself busy.” 

He chuckled, but you quickly swallowed the sound with another kiss, leaning into him with more fervour. 

His hand dropped to the side of your face, the other firmly gripping your thigh; his touch making your stomach coil, the orgasms he’d given you last night still echoing in your core. So many orgasms you were sure you’d still be reeling for the next few days. 

You forced yourself to break away again, shaking away the fluster warming your cheeks. “Okay, you really are going to miss your flight if you don’t go.” 

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. His touch lingered, stroking your temple before trailing down to your jaw.

“Last chance,” he said. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

You hesitated as you looked at him. There had been no pressure in his voice, no coercion in his expression, only a gentle invitation, and you could see in his eyes that he already knew your answer.

“Not this time,” you said, the corner of your mouth curving into a small smile.

He gave a smile that matched yours, like the subtle shift in your answer hadn’t gone unnoticed. No longer a flat refusal or a guarded deflection, but something warmer, an unspoken ‘someday’. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning in for one last kiss. “I’m going to miss you.”

You smiled faintly, your usual sarcasm faltering as you replied. “I’m going to miss you too.”

“Two weeks,” he reassured, though you were uncertain which one of you needed it more. “Just two weeks and I’ll be back.” 

“Yeah, for three days,” you countered. “Before you have to go again.” 

“Well, we better be sure to make the most of those three days.”

You nodded, finally reaching for your bag and opening the door.  

You climbed out and closed it behind you, turning around to lean down and meet his gaze through the open window. 

There was a mournfulness to his expression as he looked at you, like it was physically paining him to let you go. And you understood, because you felt it too; already longing for his return before he’d even left. 

The back of your tongue felt heavy with the words you’d refused to utter, almost like they belonged there, ready to pour out of you like an impulse, as natural as a ‘goodbye’. But something made you swallow them, forcing them back down your throat with a sad smile. 

“Have a safe flight,” you said.  

His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving yours. “Bye, darling,” he said, his voice carrying the same forlorn weight as yours.

“Bye.”

You stood on the pavement as he pulled away, watching the car until it disappeared down the street. Only then did you suck in a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh. You remained there a moment longer, staring at the quiet, empty road before finally turning to go inside.

You stared up at the distinctive orange building of the London Fashion and Textiles museum, accents of bright blue, vivid yellow and hot pink decorating its exterior. You pulled out your phone to snap a picture of the large poster hanging near the entrance - Ornamented: The Art of Embellishment in Fashion - as a healthy crowd filtered inside.

You meandered leisurely through the opening of the exhibition, taking pictures and scrawling quick notes in your book, the extra weight on your wrist catching you off guard whenever you raised your pen to the paper. 

The watch face gleamed beneath the soft lights of the museum, the gold bracelet strap shimmering every time you moved. It had sat safely in its box, tucked away in your underwear drawer since Christmas. Every now and again you would take it out just to look at it, perhaps even put it on, but you would always stow it away soon after, like a child secretly trying on her mother’s expensive clothes.

But you were Ben’s girlfriend now. A fact that made your stomach turn with fear and excitement whenever you thought about it for too long. And as his girlfriend, it somehow felt right to wear a piece of him when he wasn’t with you. 

You walked up to a display encased inside a large glass cabinet; an array of intricately beaded flapper dresses from the 1920’s. Time had discoloured some of them, loosened some seams and lost their sparkle. But still, you found yourself almost pressing your nose to the glass, admiring the meticulous patterns and letting your mind wander to the women who might have worn them. 

You crouched down to the ground, resting on your haunches to steady your notebook on your knee as you scribbled your thoughts. You were making a note of the designer’s name from a nearby placard when footsteps approached you, heels clicking on the concrete floor and stopping at your side. 

“Quinn, isn’t it?” 

You glanced up to find Faye Dennehy glaring down at you, her tall stature even more imposing from your hunched position below her. You felt your lungs empty, your heart thumping in a hollow chest as you rose to your feet, blinking at her a few times before snapping out of your stupor. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re… Faye, right?” you replied. 

It was clear that you both very much knew the other’s name. But if she was going to pretend otherwise, then so were you.

“It’s nice to see you with your clothes on this time,” she said, her light, airy tone masking the sharpness of her words. 

She didn’t know you could be mean. Extremely mean. Brutally, mercilessly, remorselessly cruel. She also didn’t know that you were currently pressing your lips together as a courtesy to her, holding back the venom trying to force its way out. 

You gave a weak, obviously fake chuckle. “Yeah that was… quite the morning, for all of us.” 

She nodded with a wry smile before turning her attention to the dresses. You let your eyes trail the length of her; the long a-line skirt and perfectly tailored blouse, the pointed toe heels and long, bouncy blonde hair. You couldn’t deny how chic she looked. She always looked chic. 

Bitch.

You shook the thought away and looked down at your notebook. 

“So you’re here for your magazine?” she asked. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead looking back up at her and clearing your throat. “Yep.”

“Mm. Well I’m sure you’ll give the exhibition a glowing review. You seem very good at painting things in a favourable light.” 

You smiled. “Ben already told me you didn’t like the feature I wrote about him.” 

“Oh he did?” She nodded, peering through the glass at one of the dresses as she spoke. “I wouldn’t say I didn’t like it. It just came across a bit… disingenuous.” 

“Disingenuous. Sort of like… PR relationships…” 

You noticed the muscles in her neck flex, but she remained calm, returning her gaze to you. “Sort of like that, yeah.” 

You closed your notebook and hugged it to your chest before moving towards the next exhibit. 

“Is that a Jaeger-LeCoultre?” Faye asked as you stepped around her. 

You spun on your heels to look at her, a blank expression on your face.

“The watch,” she said. 

“Oh.” You glanced down at your wrist, then back to her. “Yeah, it is.” 

She allowed a slight smile, letting out a short, contemptuous hum. “Expensive.” 

You feigned a clueless expression, doe-eyed and innocent as you shrugged at her. “Is it? I wouldn’t know, it was a gift.” 

“How thoughtful of him,” she replied bluntly, emotionlessly. 

“I never said who it was from…”

“Well,” she laughed. “I doubt anyone else you know could afford something like that.” 

You found yourself holding back again, biting the inside of your bottom lip until it tasted of iron. “Enjoy the exhibition,” you said, feigning kindness as you gestured around you. “I’m sure this theme’s right up your street. We both know how much you love embellishments.” 

You walked away without waiting for a response, blowing out a puff of hot breath and fanning yourself with your book until you reached the next display. On a small platform stood a row of mannequins, each one draped in a stunning jewelled sari. You squinted to read the placard beside them; the history, the significance, the craftsmanship that went into them. 

But you were soon disturbed again, letting out a huff before turning to Faye again. 

“Are you following me?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eye.

“I don’t know what you think you know about my marriage,” she began, speaking quietly, her tone curt. “But when he inevitably gets bored of messing around with you, I hope you have enough integrity to keep it to yourself.” 

“I have no intention of ever exposing you, Faye.” You shook your head. “But I’ll be sure to let Ben know you think our relationship is doomed to fail.” 

“Relationship,” she giggled.

You narrowed your eyes at her. 

“Is that what you’re calling it? A relationship?” she scoffed. 

“What else would it be?”

“You’re the fun, Quinn. The wild oats he sews before he decides he’s ready to settle down.” She gestured to your watch. “You’re the one he spoils, keeps sweet, flies out to whatever country he’s in because he feels like a quick fuck.” 

Her voice was so quiet, so soft, but the words were bitter and torturous. It made the back of your neck tingle, your ears burn, stomach twist.

“And I don’t blame you,” she shrugged. “He’s a celebrity. Who’s going to turn down the opportunity to have a fling with a handsome, charming actor? But what happens when that novelty wears off? When you realise how… wrong for him you are?” 

People were passing back and forth around the exhibition, buzzing with conversation, brushing shoulders, gathering at displays and moving on to the next. But the place might as well have been silent, bare, just the two of you in an empty room. 

You gave a clipped laugh, though no smile accompanied it. “How on earth would you know if I’m right or wrong for him? You don’t know me.“

“No but I know him,” she countered assuredly. “I know that he wants children, and he wants them soon. That’s one of the main reasons our marriage ended. Are you willing to give him that?” 

“Well actually, I’m three months pregnant right now, we’re very excited,” you replied dryly.

She narrowed her eyes. “No you’re not.” 

“Of course I’m fucking not,” you said quietly, rolling your eyes.

“And when he wants you to be, what then? When he comes to you a year from now and says ‘Quinn, I really want to be a father, and I’m not getting any younger’. Is that going to fill you with excitement, or dread?” 

You kept your face expressionless, but your heart was beginning to race, her words travelling right to the place where they stung the most. 

“He wants to live equally between here and America, did he tell you that?” she continued. “Are you willing to pack up your whole life and follow him back and forth? Give up your career? Live in houses you have no equity in? Drive around in a nice car you didn’t pay for?” 

She straightened her posture, chin raised with indignation. “Quinn the kept woman,” she taunted. “The trophy wife that the media never actually cares to learn the name of because she’s unimportant, insignificant when compared to him.”

You swallowed past a lump in your throat, though you couldn’t tell if it was made of sadness or pure rage. But still, you found a way to compose yourself, checking over your shoulders before stepping closer to her. 

“I know it must hurt,” you eventually said. “To be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. To be married to him, to convince yourself that ‘maybe with time he’ll see we’re meant to be’.” You lowered your voice, leaning in to speak slowly. “Yet still, after two years, the only time he’d willingly touch you was when there was a camera there to catch it.” 

Her face hardened, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“And I don’t blame you either, Faye. If I were you, I’d want to hurt the woman he actually loves too.” 

She forced a smile, blinking away what seemed to be tears forming in her waterline. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m warning you.” 

She turned away, beginning to walk off before stopping and looking back at you. 

“I may not have liked what you wrote in that feature,” she said. “But the way you wrote it wasn’t half bad. I just think it’d be a shame, for someone with so much potential to end up known only as the one that came after me.” 

You held her gaze until she finally turned around, disappearing into the crowd with a flick of her hair. 

You stood there for a moment, frozen, staring down at the spot where Faye had stood. The buzz of the exhibition faded back in, a cacophony of excited voices, camera shutters and footsteps. But it was still muffled, like there was a bubble around you, separating you from the rest of the world. Faye’s words echoed in your mind, breaking through the armour you’d built around yourself and burrowing down to the quietest corners of your soul, the places you didn’t like to visit. 

Quinn the kept woman. The one that came after me.

You wondered if she was right, if you could ever be satisfied living a life that always had to bend to the shape of Ben’s. He had never denied the pitfalls of his fame, never sugar coated the demand of his work or hidden his desire for a family, for children. Were you really holding him back from finding someone to share all of that with?

You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes to soothe the itch behind your lids, and with trembling hands, you opened your notebook and forced yourself to carry on to the next display. A collection of gowns embroidered with floral motifs, their petals moulded from delicate beads and sequins that seemed to bloom beneath the soft light. You traced the edges of one with your eyes, jotting down notes with uneven, messy handwriting.

Your watch caught the light again, the gold surface glinting like a mocking wink. You almost wanted to take it off, but instead you fiddled with it for a moment, recentering the face in the middle of your wrist.

By the time you finished your tour of the exhibition, your notebook was full, but you could barely remember anything you’d written in it. You slipped it into your bag, hoisting it over your shoulder as you walked toward the exit and out into the late evening air. 

The sun was still shining, but there was a bite to the breeze that made you shudder. You pulled a cardigan from your bag and shrugged it on before taking off down the street towards your car. You pulled your phone from your trouser pocket, looking up Ben’s name, thumb hovering over the call button as you walked. But you never pressed it, unsure what you would even say, where you would start.

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[hellfiresky]

Where’s the Delta Squad? Good question. Read what went down behind the scene below!

This crack is based on a conversation I had with @orangez3st! Keep reading!

Boss: alright, picture time! Everybody move move MOVE! Goddammit these non-clones are moving like kriffing conduit worms. DIDN’T YOUR BUIR TEACH YOU HOW TO MARCH? MORNING ASSEMBLY? NO?! Karking hell. Of course you lot had normal childhood.

Sev: TALL PEOPLE AT THE BACK. MONSTERS, SPACE KAIJU, Everyone!!! No, not you Batcher. You’re not a monster. Your handler is.

Fixer: The fuck was that?

Sev: sniper business

Boss: first Atin, now Crossy?

Scorch: Mmmm. Everyone’s here, yeah? I feel like we’re missing something. Don’t you think?

Fixer: we’re missing four actually

Boss: yeah.

Sev: Fives, Hardcase, Fox, and Bly

Scorch: Riiiiiight. Totally, yes. Yep. Who else, huh?

Fixer: not us, we ain’t canon.

Boss: we were in that one episode though, remember?

Scorch: AHHH YES! Where Fixer stayed at the ship?

Fixer: yeah I was busy

Sev: busy watching Kaminoan sex ed

Fixer: you shut up *pokes Sev*

Sev: aye, I don’t judge

Boss: EVERYONE SHUSH! We need to take the photo!!!

————

Kit Fisto: are we good? Do you guys need any help? 😀

Sev: no, no, sir. We’re good.

Fixer: damn he looks good. How is he always so happy?

Scorch: probably because he doesn’t work with you

Fixer: I WILL WHOOP Y-

Boss: DELTA I’M TRYING TO GET SOME GOOD ANGLES. BE HELPFUL FOR ONCE!

Sev: *ten seconds sighs* fine. *grabs a lighting set*

Scorch: Oh I can do that! *takes the lighting set*. Sir, do you want a light boom? Or an explosive party?

Fixer: Nah, that’s my job *takes the lighting set and starts setting it up*

Scorch: Booooo! Okay. I know what i’m good at. EVERYONE MOVE CLOSER TO EACH OTHER. YES LIKE WE HAD SAID EARLIER, TALLER PEOPLE AND MONSTERS AT THE BACK. YES, ZEB, YOU CAN GRAB A CLONE. THAT ONE BITES, BE CAREFUL! NO, JAR JAR YOU CANNOT GET ON REX’S SHOULDERS HE’S SENSITIVE. GREGORRRR YESSSS REPPING US COMMANDOS!!! COMMANDER WOLFFE, YES I WILL SHUT UP. YES, SHINY WITH THE OLD ARMOUR YOU CAN STAND AT THE FRONT WITH THE CUTIES. CAPTAIN HOWZER, YOU LOOK DASHING, COME CLOSER A BIT.

Scorch (to Delta): Damn, Howzer really looks nice. How does he do it?

Boss: He moonlights as an underwear model

Scorch: we should go to GARber and get the Howzer cut tomorrow

Fixer: that won’t fit you, you bantha fodder

Scorch: LOOK BABY WOOKIEE!

————

Sev: *holds at least a dozen datapads* I’m afraid my hands are full, sir. Yes, Senator Amidala, you’re an exception, hand me the datapad.

Quinlan: One more one more! Come on, man. Just one more datapad. This is spiPhone 16, better than Boss’ camera.

Fixer: *coughs* fuckin spiPhone users

Boss: OKAY EVERYONE READY????

Wrecker: THREE TWO ONE SAY YEAAAHHH

Scorch: I thought I was the director

Sev: you got anything better to say?

————

Rex: *side eyes Jar Jar* COME ON GUYS BE QUICK

Kit Fisto: My teeth are drying here 😀

Fixer: lighting ready

Scorch: We’re not using Wrecker’s line

Boss: got anything better to say?

Scorch: SAY RED GREEN REEED AFTER ONE!!! GOT IT?

Scorch: THREE. TWO. ONE

Everyone: RED GREEN REED

Scorch: OKAY NOW EVERYONE SAY YEAAAAAH

Everyone: YEAAAAAAAH

————

Sev: HOLD THAT POSE. HOLD THAT POSE, PLEASE. YES, INCLUDING YOU, ZIRO. YOU’RE GOING BACK TO PRISON. I STILL HAVE FOUR MORE DATAPADS *takes more pictures using people’s datapads*

Quinlan: OH THAT’S MINE! MAKE IT GOOD I’M POSTING IT ON SPINSTAGRAM

Sev: Fucking guy *takes pictures anyway* AND DOOOONE.

————

Boss: Okay, what did Cody promise us again if we did this impossible group photo job?

Fixer: A confirmation that he and General Kenobi are official. Did you boys see them? They stood beside each other!

Boss: Seriously? That’s the only reward?

Sev: there’s a betting pool, we all voted yes, and now we have a hard evidence. We’ll bathe in credits

Scorch: Then we can go on a holiday! To Kashyyyk!!

Sev: Too soon, you di’kut!

[apomaro-mellow]

idk how detailed of a prompt ur looking for but: Eddie thinks Steve's chest hair is hot for the bingo

im thinking of them going to the lake or something and Steve takes off his shirt and Eds nearly has a heatt attack bc yeah he'd seen Steve's chest before but he kinda repressed it? along with the whole upside down deal so he's like choking at the sight and at the newly found memory lol

but anything you come up with will be amazing im sure <3

every time i get a prompt i rub my lil raccoon hands together ehehehe

They weren't going to Lover's Lake. That had been the one thing everyone agreed on at first. Too much to unpack but it went without saying that no one wanted to relive the memory of what had happened in those waters. They all packed up and went about three hours away to a totally different town with a totally different lake.

"Summer time, a bunch of teens, a town where no one knows us", Eddie commented as they parked. "Did we just drive into another horror movie set up?"

"I think we can handle some random killer in the woods", Jonathan said.

Eddie couldn't argue. He knew for a fact that Steve had packed away his oh so trusty nail bat and that Nancy was strapped too. At a moment's notice, Robin looked ready to turn a beer into a makeshift molotov. But that was the last thought he wasted on the spring break from hell. Because the moment everything was set up, Steve pulled his shirt off like he was in a goddamn cologne ad.

That unnecessarily sexy way where he grabbed it off his back and pulled it of, shaking out his hair as if it would dare to fall out of place.

So here's the thing.

Eddie saw Steve shirtless that one time back in Hawkins. But it had been dark, and they were on a boat hunting an evil wizard and then in an underworld running from demon bats and there had been a lot going on, okay? He's ogled Steve plenty since then, now that he had time to, but he hadn't had an opportunity to see his naked chest again.

"Put on sunscreen!", Robin shouted, tossing it at Steve's head.

"Ow! Rude!" Steve picked it up and obeyed anyway, starting at his arms. Time seemed to slow. Or maybe Steve was purposely going slow, it was hard to tell. Then his eyes met Eddie and his next stroke up towards his neck seemed very intentional.

Eddie swallowed.

"Mind getting my back?", Steve asked.

Eddie didn't trust his mouth for once, so he just nodded, taking the tube of sunscreen and was definitely not thinking about squirting another kind of creamy white substance onto this beautifully dotted back. He tried to distract himself by looking at what the others were doing. Jonathan had already lit up a joint that he was now passing to Nancy. Robin was laid out in a chair, nose in a book.

Argyle was leading the kids down the shore to where they could rent out canoes. Or was it kayaks? All Eddie knew was that El was adamant on some sort of boating adventure.

"You okay back there?", Steve asked.

"Yep, yup, mhm. Almost done." He was done. The sunscreen was completely gone and he was just rubbing circles into his skin for no reason.

"You mind doing my chest too?"

"Wh-hat?", Eddie choked.

"I don't really like the feel of sunscreen on my hands", Steve justified and that was good enough for Eddie.

He still wasn't prepared for when Steve turned around. Eddie sat between his legs and god this might've been the closest they've ever been. Especially with this little amount of clothes between them, both of them in their swimming trunks and nothing else. Eddie squeezed some sunscreen onto his hands first, rubbing them together and warming it before pressing them to Steve's chest.

Goddamn it felt so....would it get thicker as he got older? It went all the way up to his collarbone and there was just a hint of a happy trail now but maybe with some time...

"They do know we're still here, right?", Nancy asked after letting out a puff. True, they were some feet away but still.

"I've got a spray bottle in case they go below the waist", Robin said, shaking said bottle.

Steddie bingo under the cut