#Fast and furious 2 references

[rambutanjpeg]

the safest driver in Nueva York 🚗💨💨💨

[tio-shou07]

🌙 Owww shit, its...

Nazuna Nanakusa 🩸

Hey guys, I hope you're doing well, a fanart of Nazuna referencing Paul Walker with Skyline, a simple edit, but I hope you enjoy the satire, have a great day 🌙.

Full credits to the owner of the fanart in the corner of the edition 🖼️.

[screampied]

#TRYNA FUCK ME I'M LIKE OKAY! g. suguru

☆ sum. suguru geto wasn’t used to losing a race, especially to a fucking rookie—but you’ve got him confused, intrigued, and… hard? long story short, ever since he hit it he’s never been the same.

wc. 6.8k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, 2 fast 2 furious references, bratty reader, rivals to lovers ( ? ), geto has a dīck piercing, big size kink, riding, he fucks you on the hood of your car, cunnīlingus, sore loser geto gets humbled lel, overstim, squīrting, dirty talk, praise, petnames.

an. chase atlantic inspired me again </3 same au as this one.

second fucking place. he got second place and he lost to you, a newbie—the newest racer with the prettiest trendy wheels, flashy rims, and a hot pink 2001 honda s2000. stupid, stupid, the reality of losing left a sour taste in geto’s mouth. he can’t remember the last time he’s lost, ever. .

the moment he saw your car bolt in front of him at those last few milliseconds of the race with fiery pink smoke coughing from your steel pipes dusting near his front window, he just knew he lost to you. geto scoffs. “tch,” he’d mumble, slamming his car door shut, and releasing the straps of his custom-made helmet. you leaned against your slick hood, innocently fanning yourself with a pamphlet of the track’s course layout that was given to every racer before glancing at geto. he was quite tall and he looked down at you with a look of intrigue and bitter annoyance. “cheater.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow. you knew damn well who he was, suguru geto—one of the if not the best street racer in tokyo. notorious for his wins and extremly cocky ego - except this time, your win against him bruised that little detail a bit. a small grin spreads across your glossed lips before your eyes rove up and down his dark leather ripped clothes. “you said somethin’?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” he utters, bringing a gloved hand up to his face. doing so, geto tucks his sticky black tresses back inside his helmet. he’s so close, that he practically has you cornered against the hot hood of your car and his eyes stare at the medal that’s pinned near the left side of your chest. that gold medal that was supposed to be his. “besides,” and you nearly gasped once you felt your rear tap against the front of your vehicle. “your ‘riding’ could use a ‘lil work, rookie.”

you saw the look in his eyes. he’s challenging you, geto sees you as a potential threat and he wasn’t fond of losing.. ever.

it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

you don’t know why but beating one of tokyo’s top street racers made cocky pride swell right up in your chest. the same kind of cocky pride that he was used to, and damn were you a force to be reckoned with. he just had to learn that the hard way.

“do i?” you reply, reaching an arm inside of your car to twist the keys out of the ignition. with a roaring sputtering growl, your engine gradually turns off and the sounds of whirring wind fill the air.

geto’s got his hands buried in his pockets as his tall lean body stands still. he’s checking you out.

his head slightly tilts to the side with his helmet cracked open and you can feel his eyes trailing up your entire physique.

he’s studying you - trying to figure out just who this pretty girl that just dusted him in a race.

you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t idolize him just a little bit. he was well known not just in tokyo but worldwide. the fangirls loved him, and the racers despised him with envy.

beating the suguru geto was a rare fever dream of itself.

“or are you just upset you’re not in the spotlight for once?” brat.. though your comment made him scoff with a sly smile curling against his thin lips.

“mm. for a new racer you sure have a smart mouth,” and his eyes quickly dash toward your car.

hot pink, it even looked freshly new and painted. and just to put the icing on the cake, it also has a pretty character design painted near the sides with the addition of a cheetah print wheel.

he lost to . . that?

geto’s quietly admiring your ride though—it looked like it was straight out of a movie. once he looks down at you again, he speaks in a gruff intimidated tone, finishing his sentence. “it’s only your first win, don’t be cocky.”

“i’ll be cocky if i want,” you murmur, and there’s a loud competitive tension between you both.

people started to leave the car meeting spot until it was just the two of you. your car’s parked near one of the garages where geto’s car was coincidentally parked also. you’re still leaning against the pink hood of your car before walking up to him. you close the awkward distance between you both, being just a few inches apart.

you’re bold, and he liked your spunk although he’d never flat-out admit it.

just . . . who were you?

geto didn’t like losing—that’s already been established. but now, he’s starting to realize he probably has to deal with you in future races, and oh- he knew you were gonna be a problem.

and he was right, because perhaps he’d finally met his match.

“besides, even if i did cheat,” you retaliate, your tone sounding more and more coy and foxy. playfully, your arms wrap around his shoulders and you tap against his sheer black helmet that had ‘s. geto’ autographed in bold purple near the other shell. vexed, mousy eyes glare at you through the protective gear and you lean up all the way close. “what are you gonna do about it, suguru?”

famous last words,

because one moment you’re being nothing but a mere brat and the next, you found yourself bent over the hood of your pretty blush-colored honda.

well, fuck.

suguru geto didn’t take disrespect lightly . . although, he liked the brat in you. a nice change of pace, even though it pissed him off a bit - a lot.

“s- shit,” you gasp, feeling your thighs squeeze together. geto’s domineering aura sends you chills, the kind of chills where it runs through your entire soul.

he’s so close that you could almost taste his loud cologne on your tongue. it’s a manly scent, you’d probably guess one of the main ingredients was oak moss. as you’re pondering deep in thought, still trying to get over his loud smell—a hand gingerly starts to brush down your skimpy lace-up chaps.

his touch felt good. . and sure, maybe you’ve fantasized about this exact moment once or twice while watching his races broadcasted on live television. geto’s pressed up against you as you’re idly hunched over, biting your lip. with a huff, you’re so close to your tinted window that you were practically having a staring contest with your rosy windshield wipers. “aw. you planned to spank me over my car?”

“not exactly, pretty girl,” he tsks with a clicked tongue, and that’s when you feel it. something poking against your rear — oh, he was hard.

it was something hard and you don’t quite think it was his helmet..

that couldn’t have been anything else other than a raging boner, and it makes you smugly hum. geto groans once he feels your ass wriggling against his skin-tight leather jeans. “think you’re funny, yeah girl?”

“a bit,” you utter in a breathy tone, feeling his fingers zig-zag down the exposed straps of clothing that reveal a bit of skin. you didn’t mind his touch - in fact, you only wanted more.

the inside of the garage was widely spacious—big enough to fit your car and geto’s iconic skyline gtr. it’s a gorgeous midnight dark purple that glimmers in the dead of night, akin to a raven’s wings.

with the garage lot being empty, it was just the two of you, the witching hour steadily approaching. all that could be heard was the occasional squawks and chirps of squaking birds and loud cars honking near the far distance by the freeway. as he’s still got you pinned over, you bite your pointer finger with a cheeky hum. “hilarious even.”

but, you don’t find anything funny moments later when the street racer’s tongue is shoved right between your splayed, plush thighs.

not at all, in fact- the only ‘words’ that came from your mouth were babbling inaudible whimpers, and he made sure you’d eat your sentences… just like he’s eating out your first place cunt like the starved man he was.

with widened eyes and a stretched jaw hanging open, you stare back with a hand on your ass, giving your skin a soft squeeze. geto grunts, on his knees as you’re hauled right over your pretty decorated hood.

hell! you figured he’d ask to rematch but this..

it seemed like all he wanted to do was take out his loss on your pussy… with his second-place tongue.

and that’s just what he does too.

not that you were even complaining—suguru geto was a nasty man to no one’s surprise. he’s nasty on the road and he’s even nastier with his tongue recklessly driving up and down your slobbering twitching cunt.

you feel a crooked nose sloooowly drag its way like a trail against your entrance. geto starts near the bottom and then makes his way up, making sure to have his button nose dripping with your mess. letting off a sweet whimper, it doesn’t take long before he’s starting sucking against your swollen clit.

“hng,” a needy whine dashes from your throat, and you can already feel a shaking judder spasm between your legs. geto’s unapologetically sloppy with his mouth too. as he’s repeatedly flicking the pointed pink tip of his tongue in crazed different directions, a throaty hiccup leaves from your glued lips. “fuuck, do you usually mhm--do this to your opponents who hah, beat you?”

“only the ones with the smart fuckin’ mouths,” he replies with a quickness, taking a moment to spit right on your sticky cunt. it’s a loud ‘ptui’ and it’s a filthy slimy trail that dribbles past his lips, polishing near the creasing crevices of his mouth.

a rubber-gloved hand snakes toward the crack of your pried open thighs and he spanks your pussy, causing a cute shrieking squeal to leave out your strained cords. “also, a reminder again. you didn’t beat me. i let you win. big difference.”

“s- sure,” you sheepishly moan, feeling vapid air circle around you both.

the night was eerily and silently dead—you swallowed thickly, praying no one would see you bent over your flashy pink hood getting eaten out by one of the most famous street racers in the world. although, the thought of getting caught made you throb in a way you didn’t think it would.

he’s mean with his tongue.

geto was competitive in everything he did, including with how he ate it.

your strapped pants were pulled down along with your panties lazily sticking toward the side of your feeble quaking thighs.

within minutes his jaw would angrily ache, growing slack and locking from how it was reaching soreness - but he didn’t care.

if he didn’t win his race, the least he could do was win by eating you out…right?

geto’s designer mauve-colored helmet probably costed thousands and rests near the side of him. he took it off before he started to feast himself between your sprawled legs.

through hazed doe-like peripherals, you stare at it and admire the designs that paint across his visor.

everywhere, there’s writing and designs—and again, you spot his famous autograph that’s nearly written near the side. typical, of course, he’d autograph his helmet.

he’s suguru fuckin’ geto.

regardless though, you’re still nothin’ but a whining mess though, and as he continues to eat you out, you let off a sweet ‘ooh!’ as soon as he bites near your pearly clit.

it’s soft and tender, but it still makes you babble out a sobbing moan. his teeth gently nibbled against your pussy . . . leisurely slithering his tongue between your flooding flaps.

so good, each time you hear the wet smacks from his lips, you can hear geto huskily groaning out satisfying ‘mmmh’ ‘s.

it’s a feeling that makes your legs stagger within the firm hold of his hands. geto’s still wearing his gloves and each time the stretchy rubber rubs onto your skin, you moan. “fuck, fuckk,” you whine, and he’s groaning right against your sobbing cunt. his hair’s pinned back into a high messy ponytail - a few ravened strands running down the sides of his face. pretty long lashes of his were closed as he was slurping you clean.

so damn sweet . . . he wonders why he’s never seen you on the track until now. well- you were new. maybe he has seen you, but geto’s never been one to pay attention.

either way, you were a meal he didn’t wanna stop tasting, ever.

and despite the bitter taste of defeat continuously lingering on his flat tongue even still . . your cunt sprinkled a bit of flavor to it, an aftertaste of vying rivalry . .

“mmph,” he grunts, feeling you push him further into your cunt with one hand. with a twist, you turn your torso just a bit to look down at him, bringing his face further. geto’s slick wet tongue slides across your nub before he’s sloppily thrusting it in and out of your weeping flowery entrance.

you whimper once he reaches that spot, feeling a sudden heave of a breath snatch its way out from your puffed lungs. geto’s dark brows amusingly knit together and he’s already nose deep—the hooking bridge that smears against your pussy makes you nearly wail out a needy weep.

he’s smearing his face everywhere, and wet splotches of your juices started to coat his clear face.

but he doesn’t mind - geto’s always been one to get a ‘lil dirty during a match.

two slack lips munch against your clit wholly before his lengthy tongue reaches toward your winking hole. “pff,” he clicks his tongue, letting off another husky groan once he feels the tint in his pants arises.

fuck, you made him hard—even more, now that he was eating you out.

the louder you were, the more his dick twitched underneath the rough fabric of his jeans. it’s almost painful- the way his hardened bulge prods its way against the leathery fabric makes him suck his teeth. he needs you.

geto’s lips remain glued against your cunt before he uses a gloved thumb to peel your pudgy sweltering folds apart just a biiiit more.

his tongue creates a downward slope that trickles its way below your clitoral hood that’s frantically throbbing right in his mouth.

ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. . .

pulse pulse pulse after fucking pulse,

a smoky chuckle echoed from his lips as his shoulders slightly shake and fuck- it vibrates against your pussy. “god, she’s a ‘lil crybaby isn’t she,” he breathlessly mumbles as his thumb peels your soaked flaps all the way down. he’s intently staring inside, studying all the pretty nerves and your twitching nub before spitting right inside yet again.

airy cold breath fans over your nude slit and you whimper, feeling his tongue douse itself back inside. “were you drivin’ around this wet the entire time, princess?” and you moan, feeling the rubber of his palm smear a few circles around your clit. “drivin’ around, tryin’ to beat me with a pretty pussy this fuckin’ soaked?”

with a shivering whimper ghosting past your splintered lips, you snivel out a soft mewl.

“sugu—fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” and as your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel him grab a nice chunk of your ass.

at his very grip, he gives your rear a rude spank and the recoil makes him hum in amusement. so soft, the way it bounced just from his palm alone.

oh, and spanking you became his favorite thing to do, especially since you were so fucking noisy.

as a shrilling whine prepares to race out your strained esophagus, you nearly yank his head forward again, hearing him groan against your clit. “d- did you hear me? ‘m close, gonna cu—”

“yeah yeah girl, i heard you,” he swats your hand away, and the low grit that rumbles from underneath his tone makes you throb for the nth time.

geto brings a few digits up toward your cunt to rub against your runny folds, and he starts making out with your pussy - with tongue.

sloppy smacks slosh out from your crying folds and you gasp, feeling him impishly nip your clit with his teeth once more. “mmf,” and his eyes start to become low and hooded.

he’s pussy drunk, very much so.

geto eats you out until you’re abruptly coming undone on his tongue, letting off a sweet euphoric battle cry with your toes curling in your knee-high boots. fuck, and even as he’s savoring the syrupy taste that pours on his flat flushed tongue, he’s still eating you out.

with brief circular maneuvers of his tongue, he’s got you whimpering from the sensitivity. as a staticky twinge pulses through your pussy, your hand grabs at his hair hard, tugging near his roots, having to literally pry him apart.

your cunt was so sensitive, throbbing a plethora of pulses as your mouth fatally goes dry. “f- fuck,” you moan, and you can feel your legs stick together once they instinctively close shut.

“tsk. drama queen,” he soils his lips together that were now perfectly glossed from top to bottom with your juices.

oh, his chiseled chin was just shimmering with such sparkling sap that it even poured a stream down the lower part of his face. his tongue slides near the cracked corner of his right lip, and he’s just luxuriating at the treacly taste of you. if you tasted this good, maybe the second place wasn’t so bad after all. .

as he’s still lapping up his lips with a wolffish grin, geto notices you openly gawking at his bulge and he snickers, patting his fly with a gloved hand. “it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“it’s rude to walk around with a bulge that big.”

“oh yeah? how ‘bout you fix that problem for me then, rookie?”

a brat, almost as much of a brat as you.

geto gets silenced once you slam your lips onto his, not even batting an eyelash that you’re tasting yourself on his tongue that’s swirling around yours.

it’s intense, you could feel your heartbeat start to match the exact pulsing pace from between your legs. his lips were icy, and you moaned—tasting a bit of mint that resides on his tongue.

his breath is freezing cold, it’s an almost sweet candied taste and you whine in his mouth once his hands start to roam up and down your body.

geto’s feeling you up- feeling up the pretty girl who just beat him in a race.

rough protected hands drag down your frame, taking in your curves before toying with the leather straps that droop against your pink lace-up chaps.

it’s as if even the kiss was far more competitive than the actual street race.

both desperately fought to win, swerving through each tongue like swerving lanes.

geto grunts, lightly pushing your ass back against the hood of your car. as tongues twist and tango in lewd unison, he seductively sucks on your pointed tip.

as geto’s eyes open halfway, you open yours, and he’s just staring at you with a look of feral - a carnal smug grin tweaking on each side of his lips.

“turn around again, pretty. hands on y’r hood like…this,” and once he spreads you apart, you moan once he rubs his bulge against the middle fabric of your pants. “good hah- messy girl.” his bulge was so damn hard, it felt like a brick.

the more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body ached and yearned for more.

oh..

his hands, geto kept his racing gloves on the entire time. as the stretchy rubber sensually crawls down your waist, you hear the jangling of his studded skull belt. with a few shuffles, he leans up close, pinning your hands behind your back like you were under arrest.

“just for the record again, you didn’t ‘beat’ me, you cheated,” and you scoff, feeling frigid air waft between your inner thighs. oh- here he goes again. talk about a sore fuckin’ loser.

“sur— mmph,” and he cuts you off, placing a gloved palm over your mouth.

“quiiiiet, you’ll get your turn to talk,” he cuts you off, and you let off a moan once you feel his bulbous tip smack against your sopping cunt.

it’s loud..

dozens of paps and squelches leave it right away and he plants a wet kiss near your exposed neck.

the rubs from his blushing reddened cockhead make loud noises that constantly replay through your empty mind.

“see? let her talk,” and you swallow thickly, feeling him use an extra hand to pry your legs apart further. clammy, big hands glue against the pink hood of your car before your tongue tastes the metallic fibers of his glove. “so eager. poor baby,” he coos against your ear, feeling you trying to swallow and gulp him down right away. your twitching pussy’s aching, and you can’t help the pathetic whimpers that hiccup from your lips. you even try to wriggle your ass but he rubs a hand underneath your clit. “aw, impatient are we? what’s the sayin’, princess? slow ‘n steady wins the race?”

‘okay…but i beat you,’ was what you were saying in your head… but you sort of forgot his hand was covering your mouth. duh girl.

“mmph—” you let off a muffled moan against the palm of his hand, trying to wriggle your ass against him harder.

geto lowly groans and then you groan, feeling what was a piercing that attaches toward his pre-creamed dewy frenulum. geto strokes himself a bit, fisting his cock. with hooded, jaded eyes, he watches his loose skin peel back before arising up again and he hisses. the frenulum perfectly hooks itself over his tip, and oh- how you wished you could have seen it.

you couldn’t see but, fuck did you feel it.

you’re so wet, your swollen pussy lips resemble a blossoming flower as he spreads you apart with two scissoring rubber fingers.

his dick piercing almost tickles once it starts to rub against you some more. he swipes it all against your clit, teasing it near your opening before pulling it right back out. “fuck,” you whine once he finally removes his palm from your mouth, glossy strands of your saliva coating the entirety of your hand. “h.. hurry up, suguru. ‘m gonna fall asleep at this rate.”

geto rolls his eyes, and that’s when with a semi-loud thud, your chest lands against your hood.

“oh please..” he murmurs, a brow twisting upward in annoyance. one of his hands still has its grip on your wrists and you bite your lip in anticipation.

geto’s tip leaked with creamy coating pre, and you felt remnants of it sprinkle against your entrance. with a raspy grunt, he drags his angered pierced crownhead down your drooling folds before roughly smacking it against your cunt.

more sloppy wet splats! of squelches spurt out from your folds as if it’s saying its own kind of lewd language and he grunts.

geto makes sure you’re arched over the hood of your car before whistling at your presented frame. “so damn…pretty,” and within seconds, he’s easing his way inside.

immediately, your eyes widen with your jaw collapsing down like earlier—fuck, he’s big.

from the countless times, you stared at his bulge, you figured as much. geto’s vast head had a rosy-pink tint of vermillion with how close it mirrored to being a pinkish red.

sucking in a greedy breath, he watches as he’s gradually disappearing inside of your cunt. his pierced dick made things even more sensitive, and you moan once you feel the piercing softly graze its way inside of your fluttering orifice.

pasty gummy walls welcome him, and now it’s his turn to bite his lip.

“hng, f- fuckin’ big,” you try to inhale a single breath, and he raises your leg just a bit. it now sits over your hood- and damn it, the angle he has was just brutal.

you just knew you were gonna feel him everywhere.

geto’s obelisk-like girth was wide ‘n fuckin’ tall, you felt him fully and the shaft ring that’s on top of his top continues to kiss against your sensitive throbbing nub.

prince albert to be specific!

it decorates his tip perfectly, making sure to tickle inside of you as he’s feeling you clamp down. “shiiiit,” you slur out your words in a mere whiny syllable, gasping at the curved column of his fat dick search through your walls like a maze. he’s expanding through you and you can’t help but part your lips, squealing before letting off a cute, ‘ooohh!’

your hand prints stick against the pink-stained hood of your car due to the insane amounts of perspiration and you whine once he gives you one biiiig thrust.

just one- and ah!

it rocks your world - literally.

you let off a cute squealing shriek, your legs shimmying a bit from his pressed-up weight.

“atta girl, bare ‘round me, good girl—fuck,” and the warmth you envelop his dick with makes him groan. your pussy was clingy, already so eager to devour him whole.

within a few punctuated thrusts to start, geto’s finally fucking you and each vigorous piston of his honed snatched hips makes your crossed eyes roll back in needy rapture.

his hands now stick toward your sides and you’re just whimpering from his size over and over again.

weighty inches pound into you at full speed, giving you whiplash every time as he impales your sweet greedy cunt. “fuck, mhm,” you bawl a fist against your car, gritting your teeth. riiiight there, the moment his tip smooches its way against that pretty bullseye spot, it’s over. there, he locates a spongy texture with the mushroomy pierced crown of his cock and it earns out a sobbing whimper from you. “ahng! right there, fuck. faster, there sugu.”

“right there, fuuuuck. faster there, sugu,” he mocks your whiny babbles, fully exaggerating.

to hell with him, you didn’t even sound like that but oh, did he enjoy getting on your nerves. just like you did- cute.

geto’s hefty sack smacks back against you from each nudging thrust he creates with his hips. every time, it makes him groan at how your body cutely slams back against him. with how sharp your ass pounds on his dick, those pretty wet sounds singing straight from your cunt- a sound way better than screeching tire wheels. “god, so fuckin’ warm. hah, squeezin’ all around me,” and as his irregular breathing patterns pick up, he leans in to kiss a slope down your neck. “bend over just a bit more- hah. there we go, m- my good girl.”

as your chest continued to lie flat down against your car’s hood now—he’s got you at such an angle to where you feel his cock expand everywhere.

it reaches every depth and rummages through every open orifice or just about near it. “oh my god!” you whimper out, hearing the sloppy sounds of your cunt whistle through the silent night. geto’s hitting you deep, slamming his keen hips into you with such rhythm, and each time he does, your brain short circuits.

tiny invisible stars circle and float over your head as you’re completely dumbfounded, thinking about nothing but how big his cock is and the way his pierced tip just plummets its way in and out of your drooling cunt.

speaking of drooling—you were starting to drool from the slit cracks of your mouth. you couldn’t help it- his dick was out of this world, and maybe you were exaggerating but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. ever.

geto’s hastily rearranging your insides with just a few inches and it felt oh so good.

it was so good that you forgot the two of you raced together. you forgot about street racing as a whole, and instead, he had you dumb from his dick. “biiiiig fuckin’ stretch baby,” he’d grunt, starting to witness viscid stringy strands glue against each slapping thighs. geto’s dick slips out for a minute and he groans, gradually sliding himself back in.

it’s a sloppy ‘pop’ that rings between your cunt and it’s cute. you were wringing him dry, and with how wet you were, it wasn’t exactly helping things.

geto’s hot breath brushes against the open part of your neck before he gives your ass another playful swat. “fuck, that’s it. fuck back against me, don’t get lazy, uh huh. work those hips baby, f- fuck.”

as you weakly try to sway your ass into him to coordinate in sync with his crazed hips, he holds you in place—pumping inch after inch into you.

his cock sheaths inside between your syrupy-coated pussy almost effortlessly, and you let off a melodic moan the second his tip starts making out with your g-spot.

the pierced bulbous head dared to french kiss against there—making you writhe around him, on the verge of losing composure. you don’t think you’ve felt more sensitive than ever.

geto’s silvery dick piercing probes up and down your pearly clit every few seconds and he grunts at the gripping friction. “suguru…..fuuuck!” and as your words start to get bouncy, more sweet whimpers rose out of your sore throat. “more, more.”

“ungh,” he purses his lips together as he feels your cunt hungrily swallow his cock from top to bottom. with a rough pound, your ass smacks against his base—right near his tender plump testes and he groans.

such power-

even geto’s stunned for a moment, and his head throws itself back. the air surrounding you both starts to feel thick as smoke, and his eyes glance at your exposed backside that’s oh-so-pretty while arched.

all for him, and him only.

geto’s hips were simply maddened, and even he didn’t care about the race anymore.

well actually, maybe he did a little..

your pussy was brimmed with cock — sooo full, and you felt yourself starting to pant quicker and quicker. it’s as if you were having a literal street race with your breathing. geto’s getting lost inside of you, and it’s only a matter of time before his hips turn wildly sloppy.

gloved hands still reel you back into him as he’s breaking sweats within each long millisecond that passes. “pheww,” he’d wipe a sheet of sweat off his forehead, veins bulging in his beefy tatted arms. the drenching grip you had on his dick had him craving more…more of you.

the stoutness of his shaft jackhammers inside of your walls repeatedly until you’re on the verge of breaking yet again. geto grunts, the loud quick snap of his hips bringing him back to reality every time he’s about to go into another fantasm.

“fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” his words come out in a quiet rasp, and he claws a hand near the back crown of your head. “god,” his jaw tightens, and geto leans right up close to your neck, panting heavily against the outer shell of your ear. as long tangled tresses of hair freely cascade past his shoulders - all ruffled and messy from his helmet, he groans. “where do ya want it, sweetheart. tell m—”

“insideee,” you whine, barely giving him time to finish his husky words. your legs slightly raise against your headlight as it’s still stretched up and over.

geto’s still hitting you deep - so deeply good, swollen tip massaging every part of your clit and all. dozens of your toes curl up in erotic excitement as your tongue lolls out. you probably looked a sight. “inside, sugu, in- fuckin’- side.”

sassily smacking his lips together, he spanks you. “tch, dumb girl,” and the racer brings a hand to wrap around your neck. with a firm safe grip, his gloved thumb caresses a trail up your neck before he drills into you much quicker.

each snap of his hips draws out harmonic whines from you, gargled moans following out of your throat shortly afterward. the burn that’s twinging near the undersides of his thighs grows more and more intense before he geto lets out a guttural growl.

so……damn….. wet..

your flooding cunt’s slathering all over him, dripping near his base and he can’t help but snicker. “hah, fine. better hold still though.”

“fuck,” you whimper in response, feeling his sharp hips pound into you at such a pace. his rhythm was insane and there was no way in hell you could match his pace.

when it came to geto’s speed- yeah, you’d always lose. sure, you may have won today but when it came to his cock- you were losing with the hasty speed of his hips drilling into you at such miles per fuckin’ hour. .

as his turgid fat tip gives its final thrusting pumps inside of your cunt, geto’s body starts to violently shudder.

oh.. you were about to wring him dry. with a mewling slosh sound leaving the front your folds, you gush out yet again.

but at the same time…. so does he.

geto’s head remained tossed back with his round adam’s apple bobbing out of his throat. gnawing in the inside of his squishy cheek, he lets off a low grunt. his abs cockily flex through the white tee that tucks underneath his half-on leather jacket.

geto pulls out though, and it’s quick like the flash. he doesn’t finish inside to your devastated surprise, and a downturned pout forms on your lips. he huffs, watching such creamy-white amounts gush ‘n goo out in ropes and he sprays it on the outside of your pussy.

“damn,” he murmurs, feeling the awkward needy fidget of your hips. cute. darkened eyes remain on you the entire time and he grabs ahold of his veiny cock, aligning hit pierced tip against your pearled throbbing clit. “heh.. ain’t that a pretty sight,” and he smears it all against your pasty-creamed entrance.

now . . it’s painted with his color, white.

and geto came a lot because it’s still trickling out in ribbony globs, filthily oozing from the thick girthy sides and all like an erupted volcano. his teeth get caught by his quivering bottom lip as he watches such immoderate ropes of cum leave out of him. “such a- hah, messy girl,” and as he’s still lathering his sloppy seed that’s pouring out, sticking wads of splotches between the heat of your thighs, geto squeezes your ass. “awww,” he huffs breathily, noticing a few ivory stains splattered near the pink bumper of your car. “oops. might wanna clean that, sweetheart.”

hours passed . . many hours, and to say that you got fucked stupid was merely an understatement.

suguru geto had the stamina equivalent to a toyota supra MK4. his horsepower was his hips- with the added addition of his cock driving in and out of you.

but oh- you knew he wouldn’t be running out of gas soon.

or would he?

so. . many rounds, geto had you questioning your insanity the entire time, all because of his dick. if it was one thing he knew how to do, it was to fuck.

whether it involved his tongue or not, he knew how to make you feel good. it was one of the many things he excelled at, truly.

the only thing that got in the way was his cocky smug ego. every few seconds, he’d boast and remind you for the umpteenth time that your win was an unruly cheat, a hoax, or that he just couldn’t see the finish line because of your pink fucking smoke.

of course, geto didn’t say that part, that would have been him admitting that he lost the race and his pride couldn’t let him admit that he lost fair in square—

but your pussy could.

“hngh,” he falls back against your front cottony plus seat. geto grunts with a scowl entrapped in his thoughts. you pushed him - the audacity.

both of you were still sensitive but you had a tiny trick up your sleeve. “got some.. nerve,” and with low-dropped eyes, he watches you align yourself on his swollen pierced tip yet again.

he’s soft-flaccid, and he was pretty ran down. maybe now, geto was finally starting to run out of gas. with sweltering reddened lips smearing together, he watches you pick back up his expensive helmet, putting it over your head. “oh, gonna ride me while wearing my helmet, yeah? do your wors— oh.. fuck.”

his priggish words come to a not-so comedic halt the moment your cunt slams down on his cock. geto was still sensitive and he slouches back against your programming warming seat, dark eyes rolling back.

“goddamnnn,” and as your hips swerve around in circles identical to 360 car donuts, he sees you touching yourself while wearing his helmet. “fuckin’ brat—god.”

“aw,” you mock the exact faux caring tone he did to you earlier, making him touch you by bringing his shaky rubber hands toward your chest. geto’s fingers feel against the cropped top you wore, squeezing at your jiggling neglected breasts. “c’mon, sugu. i gotta guide your hands now too?”

“tch, shut up,” he groans, his heavy-sunken base sticking near your skin. dried splotches of cum glue against your sheeny ass as your hips continue to whirl ‘n rotate. you were unpredictable—you moved and jerked while he sat there with the most pussy drunken expression. geto lowly grunts, already feeling his balls starting to tighten up. he was trying to stop a sleazy grin from forming and oh.. was your cunt just making it impossible. “shit, ‘m not gonna last. s- still fuckin’ sensitive…. fuuuckk.”

the pink honda’s loud grumbling engine resounds through the echoey walls of the isolated garage with only the sounds of sheer skin slapping and a mixture of grunts following afterward. without thinking, you lift his helmet off of you, leaning in to kiss him and he returns the gesture almost right away.

geto’s lips were a tad bit delayed once they pressed onto yours. its a small yet cute detail- how he’s so pussy drink that he could barely crash his lips onto yours. as he’s moaning from your hands feeling on his burly tatted arms, his tongue sloppily delves into your mouth with no rhythm whatsoever.

maybe you were crazy, but you think you heard a whimper leave from his lips as he tried to nibble on your tongue. geto grunts, feeling that same pressure from earlier build up and fuck.. you were about to make a mess out of him . . . again!

his dick stills itself inside of you and his hands continue to roam down your body, further and further away from your jostling bouncy tits. “fuck ‘m cumminggg,” he’d moan between sultry kisses as stringy strands of saliva entangle with one another.

wetly, they form a web of sheeny lustrous cobwebs. geto’s foot rests against your bedazzled hard brake pedal before within seconds, he cums again.

this time, inside.

but it’s different this time- so so different.

it feels tenderly warm..

such hot gooey amounts dribble inside of you, spraying further inside your precious womb and you hum at the feeling.

his pierced cock fitting real nice and snug inside and you moan into his mouth, cocking your head in different directions as you trap his lips with another steamy kiss. “mmph.” a muffled whimper gets caught against your lips and you can already start to feel the whiteish searing ropes of fresh cum trail down the insides of your thighs. geto feels you slowing down on his lap—still buried balls deep, and he grunts in defeat..

soon, embarrassment overtakes him once he realizes how early he finished.

it’s a lot, again.

a thick load splatters heavily inside and past the inner lining of your cunt and he’s shivering underneath you. once you finally break away from his lips, your eyes meet his.

geto’s staring back at you, and you don’t see that cocky sly look in his eyes that everyone else sees.

right now, he looks…needy, and you think you broke him.

“what . . ?” he grouses, his hands still attached to your waist. his grip- it was gentle and tender a rubber thumb softly caressing down your curve. geto wasn’t ready for you to leave the garage, at least not yet.

“say it, pretty boy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss near his chin. your touch - it drove him mad.

never in a million years would he, suguru geto- have thought he’d get humbled by a rookie . .

humbled by you.

geto’s shooting straight daggers at you, but you can tell how flustered he is because he breaks eye contact a second later. you’re making him nervous, the same feeling he was making you at first when you had your first encounter with him.

as geto’s still warmly buried inside, he grunts once you take it upon yourself to softly wrap a hand around his throat.

oh- you were a mere tease, mimicking his exact movements from earlier. slightly wide-eyed and all, geto stares at you. and as he does—there’s that familiar glimpse of brattiness glimmering in his irises again.

you fucking turned him on..

“heh, f- fine then,” he stammers, heaving every few seconds to catch his irregular breaths. his body felt like it was on empty. no more gas left in him and that same cunning grin that plastered on his lips slowly started to fade.

geto’s not so cocky now, and in fact— he lets off a soft quiet whimper once you start to grind against his lap.

shakily, his hand squeezes your ass before finishing his sentence in a shaky defeated rasp.

“you . . fuckin’ win, sweetheart,” and you let off a sweet gasp once a loud smack! interrupts the moment, his hand swatting against your ass. “mhm,” geto grunts, “didn’t s- say stop. finish ridin’ me, sweetheart,” and his gloved finger swirls itself inside of your stuffed full cunt before pulling it right back out.

again, he’s filthy.

and even while being in such a state, geto brings his fingers up to his lips, slowly poppin’ them into his mouth before tasting the concoction mixture of both bittersweet messes. your syrupy cum and his.

quickly, he presses the tips of his rubber fingers toward his uvula, before staring at you with a greedy smug expression. he’s panting harshly, still trying to get over how you just outrode him literally, and he laps up his fingers right in front of you.

geto reclines your seat back a bit as you still straddled him, and he gives your ass its final spank before tiredly huffing,

“best- two out of three, what do ya say, r- rookie?heh..”

[theoutcastrogue]

"For the past nine months, I’ve heard from a fair number of people, including people close to me and people I’ve worked with, say they don’t want anything to do with Hasbro, WOTC, or D&D. Unfortunately, they’re piling all of 5e in there too. 5e isn’t D&D. Since its release into the Creative Commons by two different companies, 5e is now an open system supported by hundreds of publishers and, in some cases, with whole games built around it. 5e is now and forever an independent tabletop roleplaying platform not tied to any single company. If someone doesn’t like 5e as a system, that’s totally fine. Not every system is for everyone. I know many who love the tactical crunchiness and character customization of Pathfinder 2. I know many others who love the fast and furious grim dark fantasy of old-school games like Shadowdark, EZD6, and Old School Essentials. That’s cool. Likewise, if you’re happy with D&D and don’t want or need anything else, that’s cool too. Most D&D players probably never consider products outside of what WOTC produces for D&D. I definitely recommend looking at the many awesome D&D / 5e compatible products many other publishers have created. Here are ten notable products for 2022 and my YouTube video segment on favorite products of 2023, all from other publishers than WOTC. Check them out. If you enjoy 5e but you’re done with Hasbro or WOTC or the D&D brand, this message is for you. 5e isn’t D&D. You can enjoy the hell out of 5e without having to use any products or pay any money to Hasbro. There are several excellent alternative core books for 5e – my current favorite being EN Publishing’s Level Up Advanced 5e and more on the way like Kobold Press’s Tales of the Valiant. These companies pay no license fees to Hasbro. Their work is completely independent from D&D. In A5e’s case, they have their own system reference document they wrote and released under a Creative Commons license that’s significantly bigger than the 5.1 SRD. These systems and products are completely independent from Hasbro or WOTC or D&D. 5e's rules were built by designers, many of whom aren't at Hasbro anymore, based on principles that go back 50 years and two full company acquisitions ago. Yes, 5e came from the development of the 2014 version of D&D. 5e stands for “5th edition” and that’s the 5th edition of D&D, but that doesn’t matter now. Now, all of the mechanics are released under a Creative Commons license and, as mentioned, there’s a whole separate one you can use instead if you don’t want to use the one published by WOTC. If you love 5e, as I do, don’t throw it out just because you’re mad at one company publishing material for it. 5e is ours and I personally think it’s awesome. You’re not hurting anyone or supporting the wrong group by buing products for it, running it, and playing it. Game on."

(by SlyFlourish)

[komfort-kollection-by-kassiopeia]

Joy Ride

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Brian O'Conner X Fem!Reader

Description: Brian finds you walking home late one night and offers you a ride, which turns into a night-long joy ride around Miami.

Warnings: Fluff, Speeding, Friends Or Future Lovers? (You Decide)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Sooooo, I watched 2 Fast 2 Furious for the first time a around a month ago and this guy has been on my mind ever since. I have always really loved Paul Walker so this was bound to happen eventually. 😂 I don't know if I plan to write more for him or if this will just be a one time thing, but I have been working on this fic for quite some time now and I'm happy to finally be posting it. More to come from other beloved characters soon! Enjoy the fic and if you want more Brian O'Conner fics in the future, let me know in the comments or inbox! 🖤 (Also did any of you get the reference in the name? 👀)

Main MasterList: 🖤

Kassie's Angels: @mornandil, @lorebite.

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

2002

The air is pretty cool for a night in Miami, but I don't mind. I walk with my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, protecting them from the slight chill. It's nothing too intense, but I haven't been used to being in cooler temperatures for awhile now.

I walk quickly down the sidewalk as a few cars pass from time to time. The sounds of their engines make my fingers and feet tingle a little, my body missing the feeling of the steering wheel gripped in my fingers and the gas pedal under my foot.

I wrecked pretty badly during my last race, resulting in my car becoming too banged up to drive. Most street racers have other cars to fall back on. Unfortunately for me, my girl was all I had. Now I'm left to walk on foot until I can get enough money to fix her.

The ambiance in the street is pretty calm until I hear the familiar rumble of a very specific engine approaching my side. To my surprise, that iconic silver and blue Nissan Skyline pulls up, slowing down to drive at my walking speed. But the slick paint job or glowing underbody isn't what makes it difficult to look away. The driver is none other than the man who beat me in my last race, Brian O'Conner.

I'm met with a kind smile as he rolls down his windows, his bright blue eyes glancing up at me from the shadows of the interior. There is just something about that man that draws me in. I could never tell what exactly it was, but it pulled me in his direction like a bee to a flower every time I was in the same location as him.

"Ey, need a ride?" He queries in a rasied voice, nearly shouting over the Skyline's growl.

Though it's tempting, I don't want to throw a wrench in any plans he may have. Knowing him, he has another street race or date to get to at this hour. So, despite the aching pain in my feet that is screaming in protest, I respond casually, "Nah, man. I'm good. Home's not too far away anyway, y'know?"

Even though it wouldn't take him too long, it would be pretty pointless to drive only a couple blocks anyway. He takes a mere second to let my words sink in and find an answer, his eyes hopeful as they are taken off the road and landing on me once more.

"We don't gotta take you home. The night's still—" He checks his watch, and his eyes widen slightly as he realizes the time. "—Well, middle-aged, but that don't gotta stop the fun."

I can't contain a faint chuckle at his dumb joke, rolling my eyes as I do so. The next thing I know, my feet are subconsciously coming to a stop, and he gently lays on the brakes. His car is also stopping right beside where I now stand, but the engine still purrs softly to alert all of its consciousness.

"Ah, c'mon, girl. Let's live a little, eh?" He flashes me that dangerous half-smirk that beckons me forward into mischief. It now dawns on me that he might not have the intention of taking me home, which is intriguing in a way.

I contemplate my options for a moment. The only thing waiting for me at home is a couple bottles of beer and some cold pizza left in the fridge from the night prior. It seems like I've been spending most of my time alone lately. Maybe it would be good to spend some time in good company.

"Alright," I give in with a subtle but still noticeable sigh, backing down in my mental debate.

He reaches across and opens the passenger door for me as I round the car, its headlights illuminating me for a brief moment as I cross in front of the bumper before hoping into the seat offered to me. It felt weird being in the left seat and not having a steering wheel before me. I could never get used to those foreign imported cars. 

But regardless, it sure is a beauty. The leather interior smells oddly fresh and calming, with a faint hint of exhaust filtering through the open windows. It's clear he just cleaned her up. Brian was always the type to take care of his rides.

I pull the seatbelt across my chest and lock it in securely, mentally preparing myself for the wild ride I know damn well he is about to take me on. He looks at me and flashes me that cocky yet proud smile as he revvs the engine for only a moment before taking off into the night.

With windows down and speed carrying us, I feel like I'm floating on air. The soft breeze I felt only moments ago is now a fast wind in my hair, and the soft ambiance of the nightlife in Miami is now disturbed by a machine growl.

I glance over at him, and it's as if time slows for just a minute as I take in how happy he is. He's a simple man. He doesn't need the fancy things in life, just a fast car to make the corners of his lips part into that iconic grin I have grown to love.

"Wanna get fuckin' nuts?" He asks me, his voice taking me out of my thoughts and putting me back into reality. That's when I notice that mischievous look in his ocean blue eyes, their pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

Hm... Blue and full of adrenaline, like the blood pumping in our veins.

"What?" I blurt out, not fully comprehending what he is asking, until my gaze wanders down to where his thumbs hovers over the nitro buttons.

I look at the road ahead, seeing that it is completely barren of all life, and I can't help but smirk at the thought of what he is suggesting. It's a dangerous game—playing with speed in such a way—but a thrilling one, for sure.

Taking my eyes off the road ahead to look back at him, I notice the hopeful glint once again in his eyes, only pushing my thought process toward wanting to comply. So without a second breath, I cheer, "Fuck yeah!"

With a simple click of two buttons at once, we are off like a rocket in space. Suddenly, the street lights look like comets, and the lines on the road are just blurs of colors. It's oddly beautiful in a way, and I marvel at how it ignites my soul with such a unique feeling, which I can't possibly seek from anything else. My fingers dig into the sides of my seat as my heart pounds against my ribcage like thunder, both overwhelmed but thirsty for more of this intoxicating rush.

Though Brian only lets this last for a moment, just seconds passed that will remain with me for an eternity. We laugh as the car slows to a semi-normal speed again. My smile is so wide, I can feel my face begin to hurt.

But I don't care. I am just so high on the thrill that my mind is lost in a cloudy space of euphoria. It's crazy how the night went from a quiet walk home to taking a joy ride with one of my rivals, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Once our laughter dies down, the soft purr of the engine is the only thing heard yet again as we both seemingly get lost in our own thoughts. What is he thinking? I wish I knew. The only thing on my mind is how happy I am. It isn't until a couple minutes later that he speaks his mind, taking a deep breath before his lips finally form the words he has been pondering.

"We should do this more often," he suggests in that nonchalant tone he carries quite regularly for someone with such excitement in his life. "Y'know, hang out outside the racing world? You're a cool girl."

I can't repress how my smile softens for a moment at his words as my eyes flick over in his direction while a million responses filter through my mind. This guy is a legend—a local celebrity, if you will. To have this opportunity is an honor. However, I don't necessarily get the vibe of entitlement from him. Instead, his atmosphere reflects something else—something friendly and inviting.

"And you're a cool guy. I'd love to hang with you more often." I reply, trying to sound chill but coming off way more sincere than intended. Though he doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he seems to be pleased with my response.

The next thing I know, he is pulling into a public beach. Its sands are abandoned by any human life due to the lateness of time, though the footprints of the visitors that day still remain like ghosts of the past, their memories carved in the sand until they get washed away by the waves.

He locks the car in park, unhooks his seatbelt, and gets out. I watch through the windshield as he rounds the side of it to rest back on the hood. My eyes study him as he lifts himself to sit on the hood, not once looking back to see if I leave the car as well. It's almost as if he expects me to.

So to fulfill his silent expectations, I swing my door open and hop out after freeing myself from my seatbelt, nearly stumbling as the ground is unexpectedly unsteady where I stand. My feet sink into the sand, and I'm grateful I chose to wear boots tonight over anything else.

Once out of my sticky situation, I take a moment to appreciate the freshness in the air—the sweet smell of the ocean before me for just a second. After approaching him, I rest beside him on the hood, watching the waves crash before us. It reminds me that life is quite like the sea. It's unpredictable, a little scary at times, but beautiful in many unique ways. I release a soft breath, my body relaxing in this calming moment.

"I remember the first time I saw you pull up in that black Trans Am to the race. Fuckin' engine and bass on your stereo roaring over the sound of the crowd." He chuckles while he reminisces about old memories.

"Buni," I correct him as I smile fondly, thinking about the beauty that's currently under a tarp in my garage, just waiting to be repaired and set free on the road once again.

"Yeah, Buni." He parrots me in an almost teasing way. I know he finds the fact that I named my car ridiculous, but I can see it in his eyes that it amuses him all the same. "You're something else, (L/N). A damn good racer, though."

My heart flutters at the compliment, and I feel my cheeks heat up with this familiar warmth that only he ignites in me best. The soft breeze blows through my hair as I think of a reply, running through my strains like an angel's fingertips. But it's not the breeze nor the location that has me in such a calm and joyful state.

I continue to study him—the way his blonde curls blow in the breeze, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly to show his contentment, his biceps flexing ever so slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. It amazes me how all the different shades of blue in his iris reflect the scene before us. It's like I could literally drown in them each time I gaze into them to admire their beauty.

"Yeah? You and your Skyline ain't so bad either." I finally quip with a small bit of sarcasm dripping from my tone after forcing myself out of where my mind has disappeared to for a short time. He smiles softly at my words, because it's evident how I really feel about him. He knows, and I know that, but I don't really care anymore.

We talk until sunrise and watch as the black sky fades into orange and pink, blending with the stars to make them barely visible. Though they are out of sight, I know they still shine brightly above us, like angels waiting for us in heaven. It's quite special—maybe even magical.

The sea reflects the morning sun as it rises from the horizon, its golden rays shining upon us as we remain on the hood of the car. It's just us out here in our own little world. If I learned anything from last night, it's not the place that makes a moment special, but the person you share it with.

I don't know where this road will take us. I know it will be a long one—with plenty of traffic and bumps ahead—but the ride will be an enjoyable one with a new friend in the seat next to me as we speed through it all. And if we happen to get separated some point along the way, I know in my heart that I'll see him again.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[sunmontuewrites]

MOVIES...

Okay - we're trying to watch a movie a week with the kids to broaden their cultural frames of reference etc etc. So far we have watched (this is not a complete list, just the ones I remember off the top of my head and adding to when people remind/ask if they've watched things...):

Mighty Ducks

Princess Bride

Dune 1 & 2 (plus the original from the 1980s)

Schindler's List (watching this tomorrow night)

(All the Marvel movies + Xmen Movies)

Pirates of the Caribbean movies

Star Wars etc.

Truman Show

Barbie

Matrix movies

All the LotR movies and Hobbit etc.

Night at the Museum movies

What other movies would you consider 'classics' or movies that hit hard in terms of topic/culture. We end up talking about the subject and unpicking things and sometimes talking about filming styles and use of lights, and other times it's the subject matter. And other times I make them watch mini-documentaries before watching some movies so they have better context (e.g. history of slavery in the USA before seeing Black Panther).

To the list I am adding: (with your help!)

Bohemian Rhapsody

Hidden Figures

Yesterday

Se7en

Indianna Jones movies (thanks @jayjay-thejet-plane!)

Green Mile (thank you @halestrom for these...)

Fight Club

Shawshank Redemption

Stand and Deliver

Goonies (I have a feeling we've already watched this...)

Life of Pi

Imitation Game (thank you @celandinebergerac for these!)

Citizen Kane

La Haine

120 bpm

Billy Elliot

Pride

La Vita e Bella

Lost in Translation

Chinatown (thank you @sign-seeker! Some stellar recs!)

Interview With The Vampire

Ghost Dog: Way of The Samurai

East Is East

Brassed Off

Tea With Mussolini

Wolf Children

Stand By Me

Alien

Terminator

Predator

Die Hard

Priscilla Queen of The Desert

To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything Julie Newmar

Brokeback Mountain

But I'm A Cheerleader

The Birdcage

My Own Private Idaho

Beautiful Thing

Moonlight

Rocky Horror Picture Show

Death Becomes Her

Goodfellas

The Godfather

Albino Alligator

The Usual Suspects

Silence of The Lambs

Catch Me If You Can

The Shining

The Sixth Sense

The Whole Nine Yards

Groundhog Day

Blade

Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon

House of Flying Daggers

Once Upon A Time In China

Ip Man

FIFTH ELEMENT!!! HOW DID I FORGET THIS ONE?

AND SAVING PRIVATE RYAN!

AND DEAD POETS SOCIETY!

Made in Dagenham (thank you @b1g-biscuit!!!)

Sunshine on Leith

Groundhog day

Miss Congeniality

Ocean’s 8

National treasure 1 & 2

Hot Fuzz

Labyrinth (thanks @chocoholicannanymous 💛💛💛 - maybe I save this for when you're here?)

Cry Freedom

Latter days

The old guard

Red white and royal blue

The Help (thank you @jakekazansky for these ones...)

James Bond

Fast and Furious series

WHAT WOULD YOU ADD?

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Envy (Mayhem) Part 2

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader Word Count: 4k Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, and weapons. References to bombs. Mention of death and the description of one of the unsubs k!lling himself at the end. The Purest Things Masterlist

au! may 2008

Bookend: "We win together as a team, and we lose together as a team." - Kenny Smith

“Penelope, what do you see? Are they hurt?” you plead, the panic rising in your chest.

“Hotch seems to be okay, but Kate hasn’t moved. He’s not moving her either,” Penelope responds, her voice shaky. “Okay,” you answer, trying to steady your own breath. “Check on the others. I’m going to Hotch and Kate.”

“Please be careful,” she begs, the worry clear in her voice.

As you pull up to the bomb site, the scene is chaotic. The road is blocked off with first responders, their presence thick and tense. You slam the car into park and rush out, already knowing what’s coming. An officer steps in front of you, prepared to stop anyone trying to get through.

“You can’t come through, ma’am. None of us can. Orders,” he says sternly.

You shake your head, irritation boiling over. “I’m with the FBI. We created those orders. Let me through.”

He doesn’t budge. Instead, he holds you back, unyielding.

“My boss is in there!” you snap, voice rising in urgency.

He pushes you back, and then you hear it—the sound you were dreading. Hotch’s strained voice, distorted like it’s coming through a haze, “Officer down! Please! We need help down here!”

Your heart sinks, and everything inside you screams to break past the barricade, but you’re still stuck.

“Let me through, damn it!” you yell, hands shaking with frustration.

“We’re here! Please!” Aaron cries out again.

Your heart feels like it’s tearing in two at the sound of his pain. You fight to keep your tears at bay.

Just then, Morgan pulls up. He’s already furious, storming toward the barricade. The officers try to stop him, but Morgan’s presence is far more intimidating than yours, and they turn their focus to holding him back.

You lock eyes with him, giving a subtle signal. It’s risky, but you need to take the chance. Morgan ramps up the theatrics, getting louder, and playing his part perfectly.

You don’t hesitate. The moment they look away, you slip through the gap, moving fast, heading straight for Hotch. You can hear the commotion behind you, but all that matters is getting to him.

“Aaron!” you scream, your voice breaking through the chaos.

His eyes find you, and a wave of relief washes over him.

You rush to his side, immediately checking him over. He seems okay, just some cuts and bruises, but you can tell he’s shaken. You glance at Kate, who’s bleeding heavily, and then at the man standing next to Hotch. Something about him feels off, but your focus stays on Hotch and Kate for now.

“I’ve got it pinched off, but I can’t move her without losing my grip,” he says, his voice trembling.

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to help her, just hold on.” Turning toward the barricade, you call, “Derek! We need you!”

It takes a moment, but Derek eventually breaks through the crowd of officers and runs to your side. Together, you all work to stabilize Kate. But you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with the man standing off to the side, looking too calm, too collected.

“You need to leave,” you say to him, your voice firm. “We can’t help her until you’re out of the way.”

Derek’s phone rings, and you signal for him to answer it. His face immediately falls, and you follow his gaze, your heart sinking as you look at the man again.

“Hotch,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s him.”

Hotch, still trying to keep his composure, turns to the man. “Go, Morgan. Y/N, stay with me.”

Finally, you think to yourself. You’re not going anywhere.

A paramedic comes running through the chaos, rushing to Kate’s side. He immediately begins assessing her injuries, his face grim as he kneels beside her, gently pulling her into a more stable position.

“She’s losing a lot of blood,” the paramedic mutters, working quickly to apply pressure to the wound. “We need to get her out of here now.”

You step forward, keeping your eyes on Hotch. “I’ll take my car and clear a path for you to the hospital,” you offer, your voice unwavering despite the alarm building in your chest.

The paramedic looks up, nodding sharply. “Good idea. We need to move fast. Go ahead.”

You nod in return, already moving toward your car. “I’ll be right ahead of you,” you call out, glancing back at Hotch one more time.

With determination setting in, you climb into your car and start the engine. You weave your way through the barricades, ready to clear the road and get Kate the help she desperately needs.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The hospital doors burst open as you and Hotch rush into the ER, trailing closely behind the gurney carrying Kate. The medics shout vitals and updates to the doctors, their words blending into a blur. You follow closely, your eyes locked on Kate’s pale, bloodied face.

“She’s stabilizing,” one of the doctors says as they wheel her through the double doors toward the OR. You exhale deeply, relief washing over you, though your body still hums with tension.

Turning to Hotch, you expect to find him focused and composed, but instead, his face is ashen, his steps unsteady. His hand suddenly grips your arm.

“Aaron?” you say, alarmed, as he sways.

Before he can answer, his knees buckle, and he collapses to the ground. 

“Hotch! Someone help!” you shout, panic threading your voice.

A nurse rushes over, quickly assessing the situation. “We need a gurney here!” she calls to a nearby orderly. Within moments, they ease him out of your arms and onto the gurney.

“I’m fine,” Hotch mutters weakly, though his pallor and shallow breathing suggest otherwise.

“You’re not fine,” you counter, your heart pounding as they wheel him toward an ER room. “Aaron, just let them help you.”

He doesn’t argue, his head lolling back slightly as his eyelids flutter. The sight unnerves you, but you force yourself to stay calm, following closely as they take him into the room.

The nurses hook him up to monitors, checking his vitals and administering fluids. “Looks like exhaustion and stress-induced shock,” one nurse says, glancing at you. “He needs to rest.”

You nod, your worry settling into a sharp ache in your chest. “He doesn’t stop, not even for a second,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Hotch’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, his voice faint. “Kate… the team…”

“Shh,” you interrupt gently, stepping closer to him. “Kate’s in surgery. The team’s fine. Right now, you need to focus on you.”

He gives a slight nod, his hand brushing against yours on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” you ask softly, leaning in so he doesn’t have to strain his voice.

“For scaring you,” he replies, his gaze flickering with guilt.

You squeeze his hand lightly. "I'll get you back one of these days.”

The tension in his features eases slightly, his breathing slowing as the monitors show his vitals stabilizing. You stay by his side, unwilling to leave, your own relief tempered by the knowledge that the night is far from over.

You sit in the waiting area, your eyes darting toward the entrance every few minutes, hoping Derek will arrive soon. The hum of the hospital feels louder than usual, amplifying your nerves. You’ve just managed to settle into a moment of calm when raised voices echo down the hallway.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t need to be here,” you hear Hotch’s unmistakable tone, clipped and insistent. Your stomach drops.

You jump to your feet and hurry toward the noise. As you approach his room, the nurse’s frustrated voice cuts through.

“Sir, you need to stay in bed! You’re still being monitored—”

“I don’t need monitoring,” Hotch snaps. “Where are my clothes?”

Rushing in, you find Hotch halfway off the bed, his hospital gown untied and his hands fumbling with the IV line attached to his arm. His face is pale but determined, his jaw clenched as he tries to pull the monitors off his chest.

“Hotch, what are you doing?” you exclaim, moving quickly to his side.

“I’m fine,” he says without looking at you, his voice low and stubborn. “The team needs—”

“No, they don’t need you like this,” you interrupt, your tone firm but calm. “Aaron, you’re going to make this worse.”

The nurse stands frozen, clearly exasperated. “He’s refusing to cooperate,” she says, looking between you and Hotch.

Before you can respond, Derek strides into the room. “Hotch, man, you need to chill,” he says, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hotch bites back, still tugging at the IV line. “I’m fine, Morgan. I’m fine.”

Derek steps closer, but Hotch’s eyes flash with irritation, his composure fraying. “Don’t,” he warns, his tone sharp.

You take a step forward, gently placing your hand on Hotch’s arm. “Aaron,” you say softly but with authority, “look at me.”

His movements still for a moment, and his eyes reluctantly meet yours. There’s a storm of frustration and exhaustion behind them, but you don’t waver.

“I know you feel like you have to keep going,” you say, your voice steady. “I know you think you’re fine, but you’re not. Your body is telling you to stop, and you need to listen. For Kate, for the team, for me.”

His gaze softens slightly at your last words, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough for you to continue.

“Please,” you add, your tone almost a whisper now. “Sit down. Let them do their job. You’re no good to anyone if you collapse again.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to argue, but then he lets out a long breath and sits back on the bed, his hands falling to his sides. His eyes close briefly, the fight draining from him.

You glance at Derek, who gives you a small nod of approval, before turning to the nurse. “Can you give us a minute?”

She hesitates, then nods and steps out of the room.

Hotch looks up at you, his voice quieter now. “I just… I can’t stand waiting. I need to be doing something.”

“I know,” you say, sitting beside him on the bed. “But right now, waiting is the best thing you can do. Trust me, okay?”

He exhales again, his hand brushing against yours briefly. “Okay,” he finally agrees, his tone resigned.

Derek leans against the doorframe, smirking slightly. “Guess I’ll leave this to you next time, huh?”

You shake your head, your focus still on Hotch. “There won’t be a next time.”

Hotch gives you a faint smile, and you know he’s far from fully convinced, but at least for now, he’s staying put.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

A short while later, the doctor gives the all-clear for Hotch to be released. You wait outside his room with a fresh set of clothes, ones you managed to grab from a nearby bag the team had on hand. When he steps out, he looks exhausted but determined, his expression already refocused on the case.

“Here,” you say, handing him the clothes. “Let me help.”

He hesitates for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the assistance, but he nods and lets you adjust the FBI vest over his shirt once he’s dressed. You tighten the straps securely, your hands brushing against his shoulders before stepping back.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, glancing down at you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it all night.

You meet his gaze, knowing now is the moment to say what’s been weighing on you. “Hotch,” you start, “the profile. Something about it isn’t right. It’s been bothering me ever since we presented it earlier.”

He frowns, his attention sharpening. “What do you mean?”

“When I first laid it out,” you explain, “I said it was a test, but also a diversion—something meant to distract us while the unsubs worked toward their ultimate goal. We got too focused on the idea of it being a test run for something bigger. I think we’re missing the real target.”

Hotch exhales, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. Then, unexpectedly, he looks back at you with something resembling regret. “I should have listened to you sooner,” he says, his voice low but sincere. “You were right from the beginning, and I dismissed it.”

His apology catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. “It’s not too late to make it right,” you reply. “But we need to shift our focus before it’s too late.”

He nods, already slipping back into his leadership role. “Let’s regroup with the team. We’ll start from scratch if we have to.”

“Are you okay?” Emily asks as you both enter the room.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I’m still alive,” Aaron responds, his voice low.

“I was asking her,” Emily corrects, motioning toward you. “She’s the one who had to deal with you.”

Aaron looks at you, his expression flickering with insecurity—or maybe regret. He glances down, avoiding your eyes.

You offer him a soft smile, brushing your hand lightly against his arm. “He was a good patient,” you reply with a touch of humor.

Aaron inclines his head slightly. “Y/N has a lead. Her original profile suggested the unsubs might be using these attacks as a diversion or working toward a larger goal,” he says, stepping aside to give you the floor.

Taking a breath, you step forward, the weight of everyone’s attention on you. “We know terror cells evolve and adapt, learning from one campaign to the next. What if this isn’t about the individual attacks? What if it’s about what comes next? They’ve been deliberately targeting isolated locations, ensuring minimal civilian casualties. It’s not random—it’s calculated. Each move is designed to refine their process. They’re testing, learning, and perfecting their methods. This isn’t just a series of practice runs; it’s a setup for something much bigger.”

You catch Hotch flinching slightly, his hand rising to rub at his ear. He meets your gaze and gives a subtle shake of his head, silently asking you not to mention it.

“Hotch,” Spencer calls out, pointing to the computer screen. It’s playing security footage of the car bomb explosion, showing Hotch and Kate being thrown through the air. Hotch freezes, watching it play out, his jaw tightening. You glance away, unable to watch the moment replayed, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter.

Hotch finally speaks, “Same, the kid who stayed by Kate and me, did anyone locate his phone? Did he call 911?”

“It was a disposable phone,” Spencer answers. “He never called 911, only the same number six times every few minutes. Garcia tracked the number, but it went dead right after Sam died. Whoever had it destroyed it.”

Hotch’s brows knit together in thought. “If he didn’t have a secondary device to detonate, there’s only one reason he stayed with us.” He turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “What was it?”

“To make sure the ambulance got to you,” you say, the pieces clicking into place. “And in a city on lockdown, an ambulance with its siren blaring and lights flashing can get through every roadblock virtually uncontested.”

Hotch steps closer to you, his voice dropping slightly. “And straight into a hospital with a bypass order on it.”

“What does that mean?” Morgan asks, trying to piece it together.

“Secret Service has a bypass order for this hospital,” you explain, your tone grim. “It’s closed.”

“Secret Service?” Morgan echoes, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Who are they protecting?”

“We need to find out,” you answer, frustration mounting. “So Sam was calling the man in the ambulance the whole time.”

Hotch’s expression hardens as realization dawns. “The ambulance I was brought in. This hospital is their target.”

He pauses for a beat, then looks directly at you. “Y/L/N, I need you with me.”

The words settle over you, and despite the pressure of the moment, a spark of relief and pride ignites in your chest. Finally, he’s not shutting you out. You nod, ready to follow him. “I’m with you.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The hospital halls are a frenzy of activity, but you and Hotch cut through it with singular focus, questions sharp and urgent as you flash your badges at every nurse, doctor, and hospital staff you come across. The paramedic in the ambulance—it all comes back to him. No one can recall his name, and the details are too vague to pull from memory, but you piece together his last known location: the parking garage downstairs.

“He never left the hospital,” you say, adrenaline spiking.

Hotch nods, already moving toward the elevator with you right behind him. “If he has the detonator, he won’t leave willingly.”

The two of you reach the garage, your breaths echoing in the eerie quiet. The space is dimly lit, with shadowy corners creating a sense of unease. Then you spot him—sitting on the edge of a low concrete wall, the dim glow of the garage lights catching the blade of the knife in his hand.

The man looks up, his face pale but eerily calm. He isn’t scared; he’s resolved.

“FBI,” Hotch announces, stepping forward with his hands raised in a show of nonaggression. You follow his lead, your eyes locked on the man’s every movement. “Put the knife down. We just want to talk.”

The paramedic shakes his head, his other hand clutching a small device—the detonator. “It’s too late for that. You don’t understand what we’re doing here.”

You take a step forward, voice steady but firm. “Then help us understand. Tell us what you’re trying to prove. Killing yourself won’t make your message clearer.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You think I’m afraid to die? You think I’m afraid of you?” His grip tightens on the detonator. “That ambulance—your agent is driving it right now. One press, and—”

“Stop!” you cut in, heart pounding. “You don’t have to do this. It’s over. You’ve already made your point.”

Hotch inches closer, his tone commanding but calm. “Look at me. You don’t need to die here. Tell me why. Tell me who sent you.”

The man glances between you and Hotch, his resolve flickering. For a moment, it seems like he might relent, but then he shakes his head again, muttering something under his breath.

“I can’t,” he whispers, more to himself than to either of you. He raises the knife, his hand trembling but resolute, as though preparing to strike himself. For a fleeting second, you think— surely he wouldn't.

"Look away!" Aaron shouts, his voice sharp and commanding. Instinctively, you obey, turning your head.

A metallic clatter rings out, followed by a sickening thud. When you look back, the knife lies on the ground, blood pooling around the man's lifeless body. His eyes are vacant, his chest still.

You freeze for a moment, your mind racing to catch up with what just happened. Hotch moves swiftly, stepping over the body to grab the phone clenched in the man's hand.

His fingers close around it, but before either of you can react further-

A sudden, deafening explosion erupts in the distance. The blast reverberates through the parking garage, shaking the veryground beneath your feet.

"Derek," you whisper, fear clawing at your chest.

Hotch doesn't let go of the phone, his expression hard as he pulls his comms to his mouth. 

"Morgan, report! Do you copy?"

The static seems endless, each second stretching unbearably as you and Hotch remain frozen in the garage. The weight of the explosion lingers in the air, the silence amplifying every doubt in your mind. Then, finally—

“Hotch? Y/N?” Derek’s voice crackles through the comms.

You exhale sharply, a rush of relief making your knees weak. “Morgan!”

“I’m good. Ambulance is toast, but I got it clear of the city just in time. Shook me up a bit, but I’m in one piece.”

Hotch presses his comms button. “You’re sure? No injuries?”

“No injuries, man. I’m solid. What’s the status on your end?”

Hotch glances at you briefly, then replies, “Situation contained. I’ll fill you in later. Good work, Morgan.”

As Derek’s voice fades from the comms, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your eyes shift back to the paramedic slumped on the ground, the crimson stain spreading beneath him. The stark finality of it hits you, and your stomach churns.

Hotch steps closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. His presence is grounding, his warmth pulling you out of the chaotic swirl of emotions.

“It’s over now,” his voice is steady.

You shake your head, your gaze locked on the lifeless figure. “He stayed behind to make sure the bomb went off. He really believed in what he was doing.”

Hotch’s hand moves to your back, his voice low and steady. “We stopped it. That’s what matters.”

You nod, swallowing hard before pulling yourself together. Your hand brushes against his arm as you steady yourself. “Kate,” you say suddenly, looking up at him. “You need to check on Kate.”

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, the determination in your voice not quite masking the lingering tremor. “She’s been through enough already. Go.”

Hotch gives a short nod, squeezing your shoulder one last time before stepping away. As he moves toward the stairs, you turn back to the paramedic one last time, the reality of the night settling over you like a heavy fog.

The team gathers in the hospital lobby, their exhaustion etched into their faces. Derek slings his go-bag over his shoulder and glances at you. “You coming?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll stay. Hotch shouldn’t be driving himself. He’s been through too much tonight.”

Rossi gives you a knowing look, nodding slightly. “Take care of him.”

Emily squeezes your arm briefly, offering a small smile, and Spencer gives a quiet, “Call if you need us.” They head out together, leaving you alone with the low hum of the hospital and the weight of waiting.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours until the elevator doors finally slide open. Hotch steps out, and your stomach tightens. He looks pale, his face drained of color, his eyes dull and distant.

You approach him, searching his face for something to hold on to. “Hotch… how’s Kate?”

He stops in front of you, his posture stiff, his jaw tight. His eyes flick to yours, then away, as if looking at you directly is too much. “You didn’t have to wait,” he says, his voice low and almost resigned.

Your throat tightens, but you steady yourself. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t.”

He finally meets your gaze, and for a moment, you think you see something break behind his guarded expression. “She didn’t make it,” he says softly. The words seem to drain the last bit of energy from him.

Your heart sinks, the air catching in your lungs. You reach out instinctively, your hand hovering near his arm, but you hesitate. The uncertainty between you lingers, a barrier you’re not sure how to cross.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods slightly, but it’s a hollow gesture. His eyes seem focused on some distant point, lost in the enormity of the night.

“Hotch,” you say hesitantly, trying to find the right words. “Let me drive you back to the hotel. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

For a moment, he seems ready to argue, his jaw tightening, but then he exhales, the fight leaving him. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You guide him toward the parking lot, keeping close but not too close. The silence between you is heavy, but for now, you stay by his side, knowing that even if words fail, your presence might be enough.

[excalculus]

I saw some mentions of rabies going around again and have no clue what's set it off this time, but given recent scientific developments I want to revisit the idea of curing symptomatic rabies.

First things first: there is still no practical way to do this. The famous Milwaukee Protocol fails far more frequently than it succeeds, and even the successes are not making it out in anything like a normal state. It's been argued that it should no longer be considered a valid treatment [1] due to these issues; any continued use is because there's literally nothing else on the table.

However. There are now two separate studies showing it's possible to cure rabies in mice after the onset of symptoms. The lengths you have to go to in order to pull this off are drastic, to put it mildly, and couldn't really be adapted to humans even if you wanted to. But proof of concept is now on the board.

long post under the cut, warnings for animal experimentation and animal death. full bibliography at the end and first mention of each source links to paper.

Quick recap - rabies is a viral disease of mammals usually transmitted through the saliva of an infected animal. From a contaminated bite wound, it propagates slowly for anywhere from days to months until it reaches the central nervous system (CNS). Post-exposure vaccination can head it off during this phase, but once it reaches the CNS and neurological symptoms appear it's game over. There will typically be a prodromal phase where the animal doesn't act right - out at the wrong time of day, disoriented, abnormally friendly, etc. This will then progress to the furious (stereotypical "mad dog" disease) and/or paralytic phases, with death eventually caused by either seizures or paralysis of the muscles needed for breathing.

That's the course we're familiar with in larger animals. Mice, though, are fragile little creatures with fast metabolisms.

In the first study's rabies infection model, lab mice show rabies virus in the spinal cord by day 4 after infection and in the brain by day 5. Weight loss and slower movement start by day 7, paralysis starting from the hind limbs from day 8 on, and if not euthanized first they're dead by day 10-13. [2]

This study (fittingly conducted at the Institut Pasteur) had two human monoclonal antibodies, and wanted to see if there was any possibility they could be used to cure rabies after what we think of as the point of no return.

Injecting the antibodies into muscle saved some mice if done at days 2 or 4, and none if done later, even at high doses of 20 milligrams per kilogram of body weight of each. Conclusion: targeting the virus out in the rest of the body is no use if it's already replicating in the CNS.

Getting a drug past the blood-brain barrier is, to use a highly technical term, really fucking hard. It's the sort of problem that even the best-funded labs and biggest companies in the world routinely fail at. And that's for small molecule drugs, which are puny compared to antibodies.

But this isn't drug development for a clinical trial. This is a very, very early proof-of-concept attempt, which means you're willing to ignore practicality to see if this idea is even remotely workable. So you can do things like brute force the issue by cutting through the skull to implant a microinfusion pump, which lets you deliver the antibodies directly into the normally-protected space around the brain. Combine this with the normal injections, and you can treat both the CNS and the rest of the body at the same time. Here's a survival graph of treated mice. X axis is days, Y axis is percentage of mice in that group still alive.

Figure 2A from reference 2, accessed February 2024

The fact that the blue, green, and purple lines did anything other than sink horribly to zero is unheard of. When the combination treatment was started at day 6, 100% of the mice survived. Started at day 7 (prodromal phase), 5 out of 9 mice recovered and survived. Started at day 8 (solidly symptomatic, paralysis already starting to set in), 5 of 15 mice recovered and survived. And when they say "survived", they kept these mice all the way to day 100 to make sure. Some of them had permanent minor paralysis but largely they were back to being normal mice doing normal mouse things. So, success, but by pretty extreme means.

Enter the second paper [3]. This was a different approach using a single human monoclonal antibody against Australian bat lyssavirus (ABLV - closely related to rabies, similar symptoms in humans) to try for a cure without needing to deliver treatments directly into the CNS. They also made a luminescent version of ABLV that let them directly image viral activity, so they could see both where the virus was replicating and how much there was in a live mouse.

Figure 1 from reference 3, accessed February 2024

Mice infected with ABLV start showing symptoms around day 8. You can see in the figure that at day 3 there's viral replication in the foot at the site of infection, which has shifted into the spine and brain by day 10. So what happens if you give one of these doomed mice one single injection of the antibody into the body?

Done at day 3, the virus doesn't make it to the brain until day 14, and while disease does set in after that around 30% of the mice survive. Days 5 and 7 are much more interesting. Those mice still develop symptoms at day 8, but the imaging shows the amount of virus in their spines and brains never gets anywhere near the levels seen in untreated controls, and within days it starts to decrease. Around 80% of day 5 and 100% of day 7 mice survive.

Okay, sure, you can stop another lyssavirus, but technically you did start treatment before symptoms appeared. What about symptomatic rabies?

The rodent-adapted rabies strain CVS-11 starts causing symptoms as early as day 3 after infection, and untreated mice die between days 8 and 11. The same single dose of antibody saved 67% of mice treated on day 5 and 50% of mice treated on day 7. Without making the luminescent version of the virus there's no real-time imaging of the infection, but you can still track symptoms.

Figure 2 from reference 3, accessed February 2024. CVS-11 is the name of the rodent rabies strain and F11 is the name of the antibody.

Disease score is a combination of several metrics including things like whether the mice are behaving normally and whether they show signs of paralysis. In untreated mice it goes up and up, and then they die. If one of those lines starts coming back down and continues past day 10 or so, that's a mouse that recovered. The success rate isn't as good as against ABLV, but again, this is a rabies strain specifically adapted to rodents and treatment wasn't started until it was well-established in the CNS.

So how on earth is this happening? The antibody neutralizes both ABLV and rabies really well in a test tube, but we've already established that there's no way a huge lumbering antibody is making it past the blood-brain barrier without serious help. Something about the immune response is clearly making it in there though. And it turns out that if you start trying this cure in mice missing various parts of their immune systems, mice without CD4+ T cells don't survive even with the treatment. By contrast mice without CD8+ T cells take longer to work through the infection, but they eventually manage it and are immune to reinfection afterwards.

To grossly oversimplify the immune system here, CD4+ are mature helper T cells, which work mostly by activating other immune cells like macrophages (white blood cells) and CD8+ T cells (killer T cells) against a threat.

Normally, T cells are also kept out by the blood-brain barrier, but we know that in certain specific cases including viral infection they can pass it to migrate into the brain. In the brains of the infected mice for which antibody treatment either wasn't given or didn't work, you can find a roughly even mix of CD8+ and CD4+ T cells along with a whole lot of viral RNA. But in the brains of those successfully fighting off the infection, there's less viral RNA and the cells are almost exclusively CD4+. So the antibody doesn't work by neutralizing the virus directly - something about it is activating the animal's own immune system in a way that gives it a fighting chance.

Again, neither of these proof of concept treatments is really workable yet as a real world cure. The first one is almost hilariously overkill and still has a pretty good chance of failure. The second is less invasive but careful sequencing still shows both low-level viral replication and signs of immune response in the brains of the survivors even at day 139, so it may not be truly clearing the virus so much as trading a death sentence for life with a low-level chronic infection. But now we know that 1. curing rabies after symptoms begin is at least theoretically possible, and 2. we have some clues as to mechanisms to investigate further.

Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe not never, either.

References:

Zeiler, F. A., & Jackson, A. C. (2016). Critical appraisal of the Milwaukee protocol for rabies: this failed approach should be abandoned. Canadian Journal of Neurological Sciences, 43(1), 44-51.

de Melo, G. D., Sonthonnax, F., Lepousez, G., Jouvion, G., Minola, A., Zatta, F., ... & Bourhy, H. (2020). A combination of two human monoclonal antibodies cures symptomatic rabies. EMBO molecular medicine, 12(11), e12628.

Mastraccio, K. E., Huaman, C., Coggins, S. A. A., Clouse, C., Rader, M., Yan, L., ... & Schaefer, B. C. (2023). mAb therapy controls CNS‐resident lyssavirus infection via a CD4 T cell‐dependent mechanism. EMBO Molecular Medicine, 15(10), e16394.

[dawn-does-art]

2 fast 2 furious you will always be iconic

(separate background and characters + reference screenshot under the cut)

[anonallalong]

What a day

yn x Gideon gemstone

YN is on a trip visiting her boyfriend from LA. He promised to take her around his childhood home and show her everything that South Carolina has to offer. Unfortunately, and fortunately some things change those plans.

“Ughhhh, where is it?”

Throwing my clothes across the already trashed hotel room, looking for the perfect skirt. I had been in South Carolina for about a week, and somehow I’d already gone through most of my clothes. Stumbling over suitcases and shopping bags, searching for something I hadn’t worn yet, I heard my phone ringing from somewhere in the room, changing my search from clothes to my phone, mumbling to myself out of annoyance.

“Great, I can’t find a good outfit now I can’t find my phone….” Eventually, after what felt like forever, I finally found my phone, I saw my boyfriend's perfectly handsome face light up my screen, the small green button below flashing. The call wasn’t unwelcome, but it was a bit confusing. Gideon had a shoot today doing some action shots for some new indie studio action flick. and according to my calendar, he wasn’t supposed to be done for another 2 hours.

“Hi, baby… Did you miss me so much that you couldn’t wait a few more hours?”

“Hello, is this Y/N?” My body tenses…… Something feels wrong.

“Yes? Who is this? Where's Gideon?”

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Joseph Paterson. I am the on-site paramedic for this project. This was the most recently contacted number. Are you available for…”

“YES WHATEVER….HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG… WHAT'S HAPPENING?

“Ma’am, please Unfortunately, there has been an accident on set today. Emergency services have been called, and the situation is being taken care of. The patient is responsive for the time being and is being treated for serious injuries. Our reports so far are either back or neck injury and possible concussion.”

I have never been more furious in my life. The meathead production crew this studio hired are no better than the fools in LA. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can���t help but roll my eyes

“EITHER? POSSIBLE? It’s not that hard to give a straight answer, unless the incident was your fault, and I know it probably is because my Gideon is talented and he’s always safe. If he’s even the one who’s hurt, apparently you don’t know how to directly address a situation and inform the person you’ve reached out to who…. isn’t actually on the emergency contact list for said patient unless you are using very old documents, but going off the fact you referred to me as the most recently contacted person, I’m assuming you are not up to date on certain safety protocols or even know what the fuck is actually going on…

After being met with silence, I speak up again.

“Ughh, well, what’s the address? Tell me where I need to go.” I ran down to my car, listening to this man stutter out the address and how to get in, blabbing out the rest of his required explanation plus some damage control. Letting him clamor on, I zeroed in on the road in front of me. His explanation was just like those know-it-all assholes I deal with every day; it's the kind of life I signed up for working part-time at my family’s academy insurance company. I’ve been trained on all the protocols—lead actors, background, stunt, you name it, I’ve done it all. None of it matters to me right now; I’m supposed to be on vacation. I’m with Gideon…… God, I feel sick. All I can think about is getting to my baby as fast as humanly possible. I've broken about fifty traffic laws and speed through the parking lot until I see it. All the cast and crew standing outside the stage, the frantic producer and production team on phones, and the ambulance and security cars scattered around. I didn’t even pull into a spot; I just parked my car and ran up, pushing through the people. I looked around. I had seen the ambulance when driving up, but it was currently empty. There were so many voices and so much going on until I spotted them. The EMTs are pushing a stretcher from the stage hanger. I rush over and call out to him.

“Gideon, baby,” the closer I got, the more I saw…. Gideon was strapped to the gurney, a few cuts and bruises forming, but most troubling brace around his neck. He was looking around. I could see he heard me but couldn’t tell if it was real. Moving towards him to grab his hand, some big paramedic man steps in front of me.

“Ma’am, please, you need to step back. We have a serious injury.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, gigantor. That’s my fucking husband, you freak.” Pushing past him, I grab Gideon’s hand and walk with the gurney.

“Y/N… what?”

“I’m here, baby, don’t worry.”

“I think I really hurt my neck, baby. Something feels wrong, and I can’t think right. My head—”

“Suhh, it’s okay, my love; we will take care of it later.” I kiss his palm and take a step back while they hoist him into the ambulance. Following behind him quickly and grabbing his hand again used my free hand to brush his hair out of his face. Looking him up and down, I see how banged up he really was.

“Gosh, Gid, what happened?”

“I don’t know, I’ve done this so many times before. I must have overshot it or…or…” Panic rises in me when I see how hard it is for him to speak. Also noticing how his eyes were drooping as he started nodding off.

“Gideon, baby, look at me, okay? You have to stay awake, okay? It will all be fine; just try and talk to me.” Kissing his hand over and over again, I did everything I could to keep him awake. I didn’t know what could possibly be taking the paramedic so damn long. Then I saw another figure appear at the back of the truck—some man in a suit with a phone, a producer I’m guessing. He immediately that bombarding us with documents trying to get us to sign off on something is no doubt a last-minute risk doc he drew up to keep him from getting into trouble for what he did to my Gideon.

“Get the hell out of here! You’ve got some kind of nerve coming in here, keeping us from going to the hospital. Do you know who I fucking am? Do you know who my family is? You’re fucking done; you’re finished. This ridiculous joke of a film? It’s done. Funding pulled, contracts dissolved, you are going to owe us so much money your great-grandkids will be paying it off. Get out of my face before I give you a new one! GO GET OUT,” practically shoving him out of the ambulance. I grab the door before pointing out the one remaining EMT: “You get in the damn ambulance and DRIVE.” Slamming the doors shut, I go sit by Gideon, assuming my usual spot, his hand held tightly in mine. He smiled weakly and then mumbled out a few words of gratitude.

“I love you so much for taking care of me.”

“He’s never going to work again. I’m going to ruin his life.” My words were spiteful, but my tone was so sweet. The ride to the hospital was tense; Gideon's awareness was fluctuating, and every time we hit a speed bump, his face tightened in pain. I did my best to make him feel better, soothing him when he would begin to panic and distracting him when he became restless being strapped up and not in complete control of his body. Finally arriving at the hospital, they took Gideon back to get an X-ray for his neck and examine him further. Trying to keep myself from going crazy, I used the time to make calls to my family’s lawyers, working out what action I could take. Then calling to let everyone back home know I was going to stay a little longer than planned.

…….

“MY PARENTS! Wait, I need to tell my parents. Where’s my phone and my stuff?” A sudden burst of energy hit Gideon.

“Don’t worry, baby. I called them. They had to wrap some things up at the church, but they left around a half hour ago, so they should be here in a bit.”

His body relaxed. “God, baby, you are the best. Hey, I'm really sorry about this, angel.”

“Bubs, why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, this kind of ruins your trip. We can’t do anything we had planned. I was going to show you around…you know, take you around your future home.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Gid, I promise. And we will just do all that when I move here. Okay, baby.” I moved over to sit on the small hospital bed with him, cuddling into him the best I could. “Besides, I get to practice doing something else that I’m going to be doing in the future.”

“Mumm, what’s that?”

“Taking care of you and smiting your enemies…that’s from the Bible, right, smiting?”

“It is, but I’m hoping that’s not something that fills our future.” For the first time all day he laughed—well, it was more like a strained cough, but regardless, “Baby, I have a question.”

“What’s up, baby?”

“I don’t know if it was just my head injury-induced brain fog, but I could’ve sworn I heard you call me your husband at one point today.”

“Oh yeah, some big idiot was trying to keep me from seeing you. Baby, you remembered that after everything?”

“Mumm was the best part of my day, actually, if you can believe it.”

“Well, I thought I should start practicing that, you know, for the future. For any future traumatic bodily injury situations or if someone ever tried to flirt with you in front of me, like, Hey, bitch, that’s my husband.” I turn to face him, a big smile on my face. We hadn’t gotten to have a real date, but sitting with him in this tiny bed, stiff sheets over our legs, and the array of cafeteria snacks I had gotten earlier was just as nice because he was safe and because he was here.

“Baby, you are so perfect. Really, I mean everything you do and everything you are. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. The way you’ve been handling everything. I love you more than anything in the world. I don’t know if I will be able to handle it when you have to go back home.”

“What if I don’t… I could just stay here. I’ll sell my apartment from here and take care of everything else; everything is online anyway. I love you too, Gideon. I’m happiest when I’m with you, I don’t want to waste any more time not being together.”

“Marry me. Let’s just do it, baby; we can go ring shopping when I get out. Let’s get married, no more practice or talk of the future.”

“Oh my god, OH MY GOD… YES, oh baby,” in a mildly inappropriate tone for a hospital, I began shrieking and wrapped myself around him, immediately pulling back when I heard him suck in a breath.

“Oh, sorry, fuck….”

“It’s alright; I’d be more physical about it too, but you know.” He cupped my cheek awkwardly. “You’re my forever.” I grabbed the hand that’s covered my cheek and smiled before I got anything else. We heard the door open and people rushing in. I turned to see Gideon's parents looking frazzled as they finally arrived.

“Oh, my baby boy, what happened? I knew this was too dangerous, that people didn’t know what they’re doing.

“I’ll be okay, Mama. Y/N’s been taking care of everything.”

“Oh, sweetheart, thank you so much. How are you, darling?”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“See, being a big Hollywood big shot isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh? Damn near crippled yourself. Thank God that girl of yours got a good head on her shoulders.”

“Thanks, Pop, really appreciate the concern. And, yes, she does going to need it planning a wedding in this family.” I watched as his eyes widened. I wasn’t sure how you were going to handle our spontaneous engagement, but I guess this was it.

“Oh, we are engaged… and my neck’s broken, just to catch you all up.” Smiling nervously at them, I watch their faces as they take everything in. This definitely wasn’t a typical date night , but when was this family ever typical…?

“God, if this is you all’s engagement, I can’t imagine what the wedding is going to be like.” Jesse laughed but Gideon paid him no mind. We were staring into each other’s eyes grinning ear to ear.

“It will be perfect.”

[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs, pt 2

yall i hit 250 posts a few days ago so here's the Updated Version of my first post! aka ive read and posted a fuckton of buddie content since then :)

also i still don't tend to read long novel length fics very often so all are under 100k (most aus being 50-100k), and most oneshots are 5-10k words

best aus

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good. fast and furious au that sounds like it should be unexpected but honestly is more in character than canon

friends don't mean nothing to me (its us) by Kwills91. buddie becomes friends before eddie becomes a firefighter, and its just done ugh so well it was so brilliant. like seriously spamming my friend's texts brilliant keep chortling to myself abt it brilliant just ugh so good

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher. time loop buck pov where he thinks he doesn't love eddie back and its goddamn delightful ok

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. yep ive posted abt this one already and i probably will again jfcccccc

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

canon compliant (ish) feelings realisations/first kiss

to build a nest (to build a home) by Kwills91. (yes ive been slowly working thru this writer's entire ao3 archive and yes theyre all brilliant, so im only putting a few on here. go read them all). this one made me fucking cry (for totally unimportant reasons don't think abt why shush) its so sweet go forth and enjoy

the ebb of your tide by twobirdsonestone. firefighter convention in indeannopolis (how tf do i spell that) = only one bed! super fun super cutesy

call me hot and pretty by anon. honestly conceptually i thought this would be kinda cringe and it fully wasn't i was so along for the ride

short n sweet (can you tell its my favourite kind)

inappropriate use of federal funding by spotsandsocks. this one is so...teehee teehee very fun

last and forever by kwills91, post s8 ep 6 which is super cute

what would you prefer i call you by kwills91 (seriously go look them up already). buddie first fight but its adorable

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre. another fic where everyone knows buddie is married but buddie

friends don't by disasterbuck. so silly so fun so real honestly

an inch away from more than just friends by ummrys. if you too want sapphic buddie smut go forth and enjoy and yes it will make you gayer

anything to make you stay by intellectual_applesauce. teehee bc eddie notices something about green shirts...

angsty and happy ending

stay with me (you're all i need) by accio magic. yep i reread this one and yep im recommending it again they COOKED ok they COOKED

leave the light on (ill be coming home) by HMSlusitania. i could not for the life of me remember if id read this one or not before so i just read it again and it was just as good it was soooo sooo good.

that is by no means all of the wonderful fics ive read but it is the extent im willing to go through my ao3 history. pls also check out the original post which has plenty more! ur all welcome (its a mess of an ao3 history guys this post has taken me ages)

also i should maybe self plug? ive got two random eddie pov oneshots up under the same username but ill do a new post when i start posting my big hiatus fix it fic!

[hbyrde36]

Chapter Eight

WC: 6858 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal Ideation/Depression | Ch 8/10 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 <-

“I’m losing my mind, Robin.” Steve groaned, slumping in his seat on the other side of the booth.

It felt a little strange leaving Eddie alone back at the house after he’d talked about leaving this morning, only to be guilt tripped into staying. Steve was furious with himself for slipping like that, for not being able to hold it in and just let Eddie go, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t relieved that the other boy had changed his mind.

Mostly relieved.

“That's a little dramatic,” Robin said around a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger. “I think Eddie’s rubbing off on you.”

Steve cut her a hard glare. If she only knew. “That’s kinda the problem.”

“Ew,” she mumbled, before setting her food back down and pushing the plate away.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'm serious!”

“Again, ew, but tell me more.”

After a quick glance at the empty tables directly surrounding them, Steve launched into his explanation in a hushed frenzy.

“He made it very clear he wasn’t interested but now he’s sending me more mixed signals than ever. And I know myself, okay? I fall too fast and too hard. I knew it would be tough to get over, but it’s like ever since he rejected me, things have only gotten more… more… everything! More intense, more flirty, more physical, more confusing. And then this morning I woke up and he was, y’know—”

Steve trailed off, bringing his hands up attempting to mime the not-unwelcome, but definitely compromising, position he’d found himself in that morning.

“I don’t get it,” Robin said. 

“Come on, you know…” 

Steve tried again, curing two fingers of his left hand in to create a crack, and extending his right pointer finger to rub aggressively between them.

“Still not getting it,” she said again. “I  think you should keep going.”

This time Steve could hear the laughter in her voice and see the strain in her lips from trying not to smile.

“Oh fuck you.”

Robin smiled sweetly. “I’ll pass, thanks, but it sounds like Eddie’s up for it.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said with a sigh. “The second he woke up and realized it was me he was dry humping in his sleep, he freaked and ran out of the room.”

“He was probably just embarrassed or something,” she insisted, waving a hand.

Steve grimaced. He’d have thought the same thing, except…

“I pretended to sleep through it.”

“Steven!”

“What else was I supposed to do?!” He hissed.

Robin raised both eyebrows, taking a long loud sip from her almost empty strawberry milkshake before responding. “Say something maybe? Hump him back? I don’t know, I don’t know how people with penises communicate with each other!”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“You want to know what I think?” She went on. “I think you’re both idiots.”

“Not helpful.”

She shrugged. “If not idiots, then either one or both of you is suffering from a serious case of denial.” 

“No—he just doesn’t like me like that,” Steve said. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Suuuure he doesn’t, that’s why he flirted with you so much during the whole Vecna thing.”

Steve was less than amused that she referred to their hellish ordeal over spring break as, ‘the whole Vecna thing’, but aside from that.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.

Robin’s mouth dropped open, and she gave him a look of pure disbelief. “Are you serious right now? The bambi eyes? The vest? Big boy? Should I go on?”

And sure, Steve had noticed those things… and everything after. It was part of why he’d gone and finally kissed Eddie in the first place, but clearly he’d read it all wrong. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I think he’s just like that.”

“How have you been on so many dates and yet you have no idea when someone is genuinely flirting their ass off with you?”

“I don’t know.” Steve whined, resting his cheek on the table and throwing his arms over his head. 

Steve was hit by a wave of relief when he turned onto his street and saw Eddie’s van still sitting in the driveway, smiling to himself as he pulled his car in right next to it. He hadn’t realized til then just how worried he’d been that it might not be. That Eddie might have changed his mind and left while he was out to avoid another talk.

He schooled his face into something more neutral as he climbed the stairs, after finding the first floor empty, assuming Eddie was in his room writing away. But a peek in the open guest room doorway found it vacant as well and he quickly pivoted on his heel to look in his own room instead.

“Oh—” Steve breathed, the sight in front of him hitting him like a ton of bricks. Eddie was there alright, sitting speechless on the floor in front of a cardboard box. A very particular cardboard box. 

Shit.

“Um… I can explain?”

With everything else going on he’d almost forgotten about it.

Much of Steve’s memories from the night they fought Vecna were clear and sharp… too sharp in some ways, but his recollections turned a little hazy after they were forced to leave the hospital without knowing if Eddie would live or die. 

Robin had wanted to stay with him, but her parents were already there at Steve’s house, camped out on his doorstep after searching for her all over town. They’d practically dragged her out of his car when he parked. In a way, Steve had been glad for it. He couldn’t have the breakdown he needed to have in front of her. She screamed and fought until Steve told her to go, that he’d be fine, and he’d call her the next day. 

He’d trudged into the house, clutching Eddie’s vest in his fist, his legs growing heavier and weaker with each step. As the last of the adrenaline in his system faded away, he stumbled, landing hard on the foyer floor, all alone in his big empty house, and couldn’t find the will to get up.

On hands and knees he’d crawled down the hall to the small bathroom on the ground floor, the angry wounds at his sides and back pulling with every movement, a searing pain that made him want to curl up and cry—or maybe it was just the critical mass. 

With tears beginning to blur his vision he finally reached the sink, pulling himself up with hands that were still tacky with the remnants of dried blood. He washed and scrubbed but the reddish-brown color of it had settled deep into the lines of his palms and under his nails and it’s not like it mattered. His hands would never be clean.

Even if Eddie did make it.

A sudden wave of nausea had him lunging for the toilet, violently expelling what little was in his stomach, and once it was truly empty, dry heaving for good measure before finally collapsing to the ground, pressing his cheek into the cool tile below.

The faint light of dawn was streaming in through the bathroom’s small window by the time he scraped himself up off the floor, grabbing Eddie’s vest from where he’d dropped it in the hall before making his way up the stairs to his room. 

He carefully folded the bundle of filthy denim, soaked in blood and gore and laid it down on his desk before taking off his own ruined clothes. Somehow he found the energy to shower, and a few blinks later he was as clean as he was going to get, dressed in a fresh pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, staring down at the heap of soiled cloth he’d just stripped out of, so stained that the shirt and jacket looked like they were a completely different color than when he’d put them on at The War Zone.

It was so much blood he could hardly wrap his head around the reality of it. In the moment, he’d been a little more focused on getting Eddie’s heart beating again. It hadn’t really sunk in. Could a person really survive losing so much? Could they have gone through all this, gotten Eddie safely to the hospital only for him to die anyway?

Would that just be it? Dead and gone without a goodbye? 

Steve fought to cut that thought off at its ankles, to think positively, to have hope, but it refused to fall away completely. Pulled by a force he didn’t understand at the time, and only barely did now, he went to his closet, dragging out a box that held his old school books, binders, flashcards and the like, and dumped the contents to the floor.

He considered again the pile of his dirty clothes and thought nonsensically that these bits of Eddie, his blood, his vest… If the worst happened they might be all Steve had left to remember him by. Without further hesitation he scooped it all into the box, and after running his fingers over the buttons on its front one last time, he placed the vest on top of the stack, closed the box’s flaps, and slid it under his bed for safe keeping.

But he couldn’t say all of that, could he?

“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, I know it was crazy. I-I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Steve expected a lot of things in that moment, most of them involving Eddie fleeing from the room like his hair was on fire, and never speaking to him again. What he didn’t expect, could never in a million years have seen coming, was Eddie’s voice so softly saying, “not crazy,” as he rose to his feet and padded closer. 

A hand gently circled Steve’s wrist, pulling his hands away from his face, and left him looking up into Eddie’s heavy lidded gaze. 

“Or if it is, I don’t fucking care—.”

The next thing Steve knew Eddie was climbing into his lap, running those long fingers through his hair, and kissing him like the world might end again if he didn’t.

Steve whined into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie deepened the kiss, their lips slotting together as if they were always meant to meet this way. It made him regret all over again that embarrassing morning in the kitchen. This should have been their first kiss. But, if that moment had in any way led them to this one? 

He’d do it all again in a heartbeat. 

When they were forced to come up for air, Eddie pulled back, grasping Steve’s shirt by the hem and tugging it over his head in one quick movement. Steve moved to do the same in return, wanting to feel as much of Eddie against as much of himself as humanly possible before he woke up from this glorious daydream. But Eddie stilled his hands as they grasped the cloth of his faded t-shirt, his eyes suddenly guarded, nervous, where moments ago they were filled only with heat.  

That wouldn’t do. 

Steve understood well the fear of being seen, in all meanings of the word. He had his own scars and imperfections, and if it had been anyone other than Eddie perched in his lap right now, stripping him bare, he might have had a similar reaction, but Eddie knew where he’d been, what he’d endured, what they’d both fought against together. If anyone could understand them, it was each other, and he couldn’t let Eddie go on for one more second thinking otherwise. He released his hold on Eddie’s shirt, taking both of Eddie’s hands in his and slowly raising them to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. 

“I wanna see you too,” he said, his mouth still hovering above the back of Eddie’s hand. “Please.”

Eddie stared, eyes shining and mouth agape for a moment before squeezing Steve's hands and pushing them aside, before slowly pulling his shirt up over his head himself, tossing it to the floor.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had seen Eddie shirtless, but it was the first time he allowed himself to admire the view openly. Pink and red scars stood out, stark against the pale expanse of Eddie’s chest and midsection. 

Steve leaned in, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses over every inch of still-healing skin, worshiping the scars he’d only glanced at before, afraid to stare too long and give himself away. Wrapping one arm around his back, Steve held Eddie close, his other hand caressing up the length of his side, rolling a thumb over Eddie’s remaining nipple as he licked the scar tissue where the other would have been. Eddie shuddered at the touch, head thrown back as a breathy sigh escaped his lips.

It could have gone on like that forever and Steve would have been in heaven but soon Eddie was taking his chin in hand, angling his mouth up to claim it with his own as he pushed back, and back, until Steve was lying flat on the bed with Eddie full weight resting on top of him.

They ground against each other as their tongues danced. Eddie was hard, undeniable so, the length of him pressing deliciously into Steve’s own throbbing cock, every movement of their hips together sending sparks of pleasure through his core. Just when Steve thought he couldn't take it anymore, that he was going to come in his pants like some blushing virgin, Eddie shifted.

Raising himself up on his knees, Eddie began to slide down Steve’s body, kissing and licking and biting a trail from his throat, all the way down his chest and stomach until he reached the waistband of his Jeans. Eddie paused then, looking up as he took the button fly between two fingers, as if asking silent permission.

Steve reached down to cup Eddie’s cheek, brushing over his full swollen lips with his thumb. “Are you sure you want to?” He asked.

Eddie’s tongue darted out, licking the tip of Steve’s thumb as he nuzzled into his touch. “Are you kidding?”

With deft hands, Eddie worked Steve’s pants open, turning his head to press a kiss to his palm before moving away, climbing down off the bed to pull Steve’s jeans all the way off. He was left lying there in only his boxers, his hard cock tenting them obscenely as Eddie gazed down at him, licking his lips.

Steve stared right back, holding Eddie’s eye as he slipped his hands through the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down. 

A punched out sound escaped Eddie’s throat when Steve’s length sprang free and he started to rush forward, before pausing to push his own pants to the floor, underwear and all, leaving them both completely bare for the other, for the very first time.

Until that moment Steve had sort of forgot that this was new to him, that it was his first time fooling around with a man and he should probably be feeling nervous about that, but all he think was how right it all felt and the only thing making him nervous was that this was Eddie, someone he’d come to care about so fucking much.

Finally, Eddie crawled back onto the bed, his cock swinging heavy and hard between his legs, a tempting sight that made Steve’s mouth start to water, before settling himself on his stomach between Steve’s thighs.

After pressing a tender kiss to the inside of Steve’s thigh, Eddie dove right in, taking the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth.

The feel of Eddie’s tongue swirling around the tip of him was second only to the sight of it, those stretched lips, the way he held Steve’s gaze through the curtain of his dark lashes as he sank down, taking more and more into his mouth, and it was all Steve could do not to throw his head back and revel in it.

He wasn’t going to last at this rate, it simply felt too good.

Steve tried to hold himself still, let Eddie take what he could, what he wanted, but when he hollowed his cheeks Steve hips bucked of their own accord, until he slammed into the back of Eddie’s throat. 

“Fuck,” Steve cursed, half crazed with pleasure, but fighting against his every instinct to not move again. “S-sorry, I—”

His stuttered apologies were cut off by a needy, strangled moan, the vibration doing nothing to cool the heat building like a wave in his body. Eddie's eyes rolled back, and his hands slid under Steve’s ass, squeezing, encouraging him to thrust again.

That was all Steve needed to let go, to begin fucking up into Eddie’s throat with abandon, spurred on by every little whine and whimper, and the way Eddie’s throat convulsed as he swallowed around him. 

“Close,” Steve forced out as he lost his rhythm, hips bucking erratically. It was the only warning he could muster, too lost in the haze to form more words than that.

He expected Eddie to pull off, maybe finish him by hand, not that he’d need much help, but instead he doubled down, meeting each thrust to help drive Steve’s cock deeper and deeper until the wave of pleasure inside him became tsunami, cracking over and through him until he came, shooting hot down Eddie’s throat with a choked off cry.

Steve came back to himself in bits and pieces, his softening cock still engulfed in warmth as Eddie held it in his mouth, gently sucking him clean.

It made him squirm, feeling both amazing and too much all at the same time, and as soon as the blood returned to the rest of his body Steve was hauling Eddie up to lay on top of him again, claiming Eddie’s ruined mouth with his own.

The kiss was salty and bitter and filthy and wonderful, and as much as Steve never wanted this moment to end, he could feel Eddie, so hard where his cock was trapped between them, grinding against his naked hip.

Steve pushed up against him, offering more friction as he continued his assault on Eddie’s lips and tongue. 

“God, Steve,” Eddie cried out, pulling back to catch his breath. “I think I could come just like this.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wound his hand into Eddie’s hair, lightly griping it at the base of his head, angling it up to give him better access to his neck. Eddie arched his back at the touch, a high-pitched keening noise slipping from his mouth as he ground his hips faster, chasing his own pleasure. Steve tightened his hold on Eddie’s hair, tugging harder, at the same time dragging his teeth along Eddie’s throat.

Eddie spilled between them suddenly in a hot rush, his nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he rode out his orgasm.

Their lips met again in a few slow lazy kisses as Eddie came down, until finally they relaxed into each other, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s chest.

All too soon the afterglow was fading, and Steve could feel his anxiety creeping in, the worry that Eddie would regret what they had just done. 

Or worse, that it hadn’t meant anything to him, when it had meant the world to Steve.

That nothing had actually changed.

Before he could turn his fears into coherent thought, let alone give voice to those thoughts, the sound of someone laying hard on the doorbell downstairs rang through the house.

“Shit, I forgot,” Eddie said, jumping up from the bed like a shot, leaving Steve cold and alone, his arms suddenly empty. “Wayne said he was off tonight and he wanted to stop by.”

Steve glanced at the clock, anything to stop himself from watching Eddie clean himself off with a wad of tissues and scramble around frantically for his pants, looking spooked.

6:00pm.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie cursed again, sounding truly panicked as he tried to turn his t-shirt right-side-out with shaking hands, and it was enough to have Steve swallowing his own feelings, knowing there'd be plenty of time to wade through that mess later.

He rose from the bed, ignoring his own nakedness and gently took the shirt from Eddie’s hand, flipping it around and slipping it over his head for him. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly, reaching up to run his fingers through Eddie’s curls. His hair still looked wild, but less like they’d been rolling around in bed, and more the way it usually fell. “Why don’t you go let him in, see if he wants to stay for dinner, and I'll be right down. Okay?”

For a beat Eddie just stared at him, but then the frazzled look in his eyes eased a bit and the ghost of a smile appeared across his lips. “Yeah, okay. I’d… um, I think he’d like that.” 

After another long pause with those big doe eyes trained on Steve’s face, which had his heart threatening to climb up into his throat, Eddie went for the door, looking back over his shoulder one more time before disappearing out into the hall.

The instant he was alone Steve dropped back down onto the bed, Eddie’s cum still wet on his hip and dripping down his thigh. He took a moment to collect himself, wiping the evidence of what they’d done together off with a handful of kleenex the same way Eddie had. 

He was glad Wayne was there, he knew the man had to have been missing his nephew, and vise versa, but the timing was… not ideal, to put it mildly.

Burying his face in his pillow and trying to ignore the dread pooling in his stomach, Steve thought over what they had in the fridge. It took him all of three seconds to decide to take it easy on himself and order a pizza.

Now he just had to get dressed, put on a good face for Wayne, and make it through an entire evening before he’d get to find out what happened now, and how Eddie felt. 

“It's good to see you, son,” Wayne said, wrapping Steve up in a tight hug. 

The moment Steve had walked in the living room, finding both Munsons on the couch with Cokes in hand, Wayne had smiled, a rare sight, and gotten up to greet him as though he’d missed Steve as much as his own family.

Steve swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat as they separated. “Y-you too, Mr. Mu—”

Wayne clicked his tongue, looking at Steve pointedly.

“—Wayne.”

The older man nodded, pleased, and retook his seat. “Eddie was just fillin’ me in on what you boys been up to.”

“Um…” Steve felt himself go pale, shooting a confused and slightly panicked glance at Eddie.

“I think it’s great you spent some time with that little fella Dustin and the rest of your young friends. Even let ‘em sleep over, I hear. You’re a right saint, Steve.”

“Right, yes! The kids,” Steve rushed out. 

Eddie snorted a laugh, hiding it behind his hands. 

Steve shot him a look, before turning back to Wayne. “It was a great night. They really missed Eddie.”

“Not gonna tell him about my own bit of altruism?” Eddie asked, puffing up his chest.

Steve rolled his eyes, crossing the room to plop down on the open end of the couch next to Eddie. The little back and forth was doing wonders to settle his nerves. This should have been one of the more awkward moments of his entire life, and it was a little, but it also felt kinda nice, teasing like it was any normal day.

“Don’t pretend it’s some noble act to run your little nerd game for them. You know you love it.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, Ed,” Wayne said, voice cracking a little. He turned away for a second, wiping it as eyes. “Sorry, just glad to see you enjoying yourself, and a’course, It’s good to hear you talking about Demons and Daggers again.”

It was Steve’s turn to snort. “It’s Dungeons and Dipshits, actually,” he couldn’t resist chiming in.

“I hate both of you,” Eddie grumbled.

Wayne chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Sure ya do.

The pizza came in record time, and the three of them quickly dug in, eating straight out of the box, a roll of paper towels Eddie had swiped from the kitchen doubling as their dishware and their napkins.

Steve’s mom would have been appalled.

“You boys mind putin’ the game on? Should be a good one,” Wayne asked, tucking in to his second slice.

“Come on,” Eddie whined. “You know I hate basketball. Haven't I suffered enough?”

Steve tossed the remote to Wayne, who nodded his thanks.

“Lucky for you it’s baseball season,” Steve said, bumping his shoulder lightly against Eddie’s.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffed, sinking back into the couch cushions with his arms crossed, pouting. “Lucky.” 

Unfortunately the game was not very exciting. Sometimes baseball was just like that, but though the Cubs and the Cardinals weren’t putting on much of a show, Steve loved every second of it anyway. It might just go down as one the top ten best evenings of his life. He wondered if this was what family dinners were supposed to be like, instead of the stuffy affairs he’d suffered through on the rare occasion his parents were actually around. He much preferred the playful bickering, punctuated by comfortable silences. He could get used to this, and wasn’t that a frightening thought when he still had no idea if he and Eddie’s unexpected romp in the sack meant that the other boy’s feelings had changed.

Though he was thoroughly enjoying the company, once the pizza was gone and the game was over, Steve decided to say good night early. He needed a shower and the Munson men needed a little time to themselves.

He’d just hit the top of the landing, half lost in his own thoughts when Wayne could be heard, whispering loudly from below. 

“Alright, kid, I know it’s none of my business, but at least tell me you boys are bein’ safe.”

The question stopped Steve in his tracks, and had him straining his ears to hear more.

There was a soft sputtering noise that clearly came from Eddie, before he stuttered out, “W-what? I don’t know what you–”

Wayne’s gruff voice quickly cut him off. “D’you think I'm blind? Like I can’t see you two making goo–goo eyes at each other right in front of me? You know I don’t got a problem with it. I love you just the way you are, and it looks like I aint the only one.”

There was a long beat of silence before Eddie spoke again. “What are you saying?”

“Christ, I know you struggled in school but I always thought it was ‘cause you didn’t care, not because you were actually dumb as dog shit.” Wayne let out a deep, long-suffering sigh. “That boy is in love with you. No surprise after what he’s done for ya, an’ the way he talked about ya, and listening to me yammerin’ on all the time.”

Steve held his breath, gripping the railing tight enough to make it creak as he braced himself for Eddie’s reply.

“No,” Eddie scoffed. “He can’t… t-that’s not—it’s not like that, okay? We’re just… friends.”

“Does he know that?” Wayne snapped.

“Um—”

“Don't bullshit me, boy. I don’t know what’s goin’ on here… whether you’re lyin’ to him, me, yourself, or all three of us, but I didn’t raise you to be cruel. Don’t be leadin’ him on If you don’t feel somethin’ for him.”

It was enough. 

It was too much, actually. Steve could practically feel the pity in Wayne’s voice and he couldn’t bear to hear any more, wishing he’d never eavesdropped in the first place. He fled as quickly and quietly as he could for the bathroom at the end of the hall, locking himself inside.

He wasn’t one to expect good things to happen, not anymore, but he’d let his guard down, let himself begin to hope and it all came crashing down as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, scrubbing himself like he could erase it all with a loofah and a bar of soap.

When he was as clean as he’d ever been in his life, and fresh out of excuses to keep hiding in there, he wrapped himself in a towel and crept out of the bathroom. He tiptoed past the guest room and into his own with a relieved sigh, only to startle when he found Eddie sitting on his bed, the bed they’d been sharing, the bed where only hours before Steve’s entire world had shifted, his feelings for Eddie crystalizing, for better or for worse, into something lasting.

Something with the power to break him.

Eddie glanced up, his gaze fixed on Steve’s chest before sliding slowly down to where bare skin disappeared under his fluffy white towel. 

“Hey,” Steve said, breaking whatever spell Eddie had fallen under.

“Hey,” Eddie parroted back, quickly looking away, cheeks pink. “Can we talk?” 

Steve knew what was coming, and he trusted Eddie to let him down easy, like he had before. But unlike before, Steve now knew what Eddie’s tongue tasted like, his sweat,  skin. He knew the shape of Eddie’s face when he was filled with want, and the desperate way he whined when a cock hit the back of his throat. 

And he knew heartbreak was inevitable, but he couldn’t bring himself to face it quite yet. “I’m kinda tired. Can it wait till morning?” 

Eddie studied him for a long time, chewing on his lip, before finally nodding.

Steve went for the dresser, turning his back to Eddie as he moved on autopilot towards the next step in his usual bedtime routine, but as his hand rested on the top drawer’s handle he thought, if this was his last night with Eddie before it all blew up in his face, he might as well take a chance.

With a gentle tug he loosened the towel around his waist letting it drop, the air of the room cooling the now bare skin of his ass and thighs, overwarm from the too long shower. The cloth had barely hit the floor when there was a soft gasp from behind him. 

Gathering all the confidence he could, Steve turned back around. Eddie’s eyes were fixed on him once again, darker now, hungry as they raked up and down Steve’s damp body.

In a mirror of their earlier encounter, Steve crossed the room, straddling Eddie’s lap where he sat and bringing their lips together in a deep, all consuming kiss. 

Eddie melted against him at first, his arms winding around Steve’s back, holding him tight until he pulled back, panting for breath. ”I thought you were tired?” he said.

In reply Steve only leaned back in, recapturing Eddie’s mouth.

Again Eddie kissed back, like it was instinct, only to break it seconds later, resting their foreheads together. “S-Steve, I really think we should…” 

“Please, Eddie,” Steve begged, cutting him off, voice breathy as he ran his hands up under Eddie’s t-shirt. “Not yet.” 

Eddie groaned, low and long, and Steve thought he would argue again, but as if he’d used up all of his restraint, Eddie snapped, crushing their lips back together. 

Steve smiled into the kiss, breaking it himself only long enough to rip Eddie’s shirt off before licking back into his mouth. His hands roamed all over Eddie’s back, sides, arms, whatever he could reach, trying to commit the feel of him to memory while he had the chance. When he was satisfied that he’d never forget the skin under his hands, Steve pulled away, sliding to his knees at Eddie’s feet without a word.

Eddie froze, mouth hanging open until Steve reached for the waistband of his sweats and began to work them down his body. He returned to life enough to lift his hips off the bed so Steve could pull the pants the rest of the way off. 

Starting at his ankles, Steve caressed his hands slowly up Eddie’s pale legs, lightly kneading his calves, and brushing over the soft fine hairs of his thighs before gently pushing them apart. Eddie’s cock stood out, thick and already so hard for him, glistening where he leaked at the tip.

With one last look into Eddie’s eyes to make sure he wanted this, and by the wrecked expression on his face he definitely did, Steve leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of Eddie’s cock before licking into the slit.

An unexpected moan crossed Steve’s lips as he caught a bead of precum on his tongue. Heat pooled in his belly, and he had to resist reaching down to touch himself as he opened wide to take Eddie fully into his mouth.

Steve bobbed his head slowly, getting a feel for the way the weight felt on his tongue, the way it filled his mouth, taking special care to make sure he kept his teeth safely out of the way. 

It was so different to going down on girls, something Steve had always enjoyed, but not bad different. Not bad at all. He loved the velvety feel of Eddie’s shaft, how it glided past his lips so easily when it was slick with spit, and the way he quickly got lost in it all. No thoughts, just overwhelming sensation and focus on making his partner feel good.

Eddie was going wild above him, shaking and letting out a non-stop string of wordless curses and moans. It made Steve preen, feeling bold enough to try and take his cock deeper, faster, until he got too cocky, accidentally choking himself just a little.

He recovered quickly but suddenly Eddie’s hand was in his hair, tugging him off.

“Why did you make me stop?” Steve asked, leaning against Eddie’s thigh, panting as he caught his breath.

“I… I want—” Eddie hesitated, his own chest heaving like he’d been running a marathon.

“Whatever it is, Eddie. It’s yours,” Steve promised, meaning it so goddamn much that it hurt.

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Steve very nearly blacked out for a second, already imagining Eddie sprawled on his back, his hair splayed out around him, how good it would feel to push inside.

“Please?” Eddie spoke again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

As if he needed to beg for something like that.

Steve groaned, pushing himself to unsteady feet, all the blood in his body decidedly not going to his head. “I'm the one who should be saying please,” he said, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

“You have lube, condoms?” Eddie asked, laying himself back on the bed. 

Steve was already a step ahead of him, climbing over his bed to the far side so he could reach into his nightstand. Sure he’d never had sex with another guy before but apart from needing a bit more prep, or so he assumed, the mechanics of it were simple and familiar enough.

Watching quietly, Eddie’s eager eyes followed his every move as Steve brought the small bottle and foil packet over, slicking up his fingers. Eddie pulled his knees up, spreading his legs to reveal his tight hole and Steve wasted no time reaching out to press the first digit in.

Eddie writhed as Steve worked the finger deeper and deeper with each pass. He listened carefully to Eddie’s body, letting it be his guide for when he could move more or add another finger, until he was three deep, stretching Eddie as quickly and carefully as he dared.

“I’m ready,” Eddie gasped, working his hips, fucking himself down on Steve’s hand as he let out breathy moans. “I need—I need more.”

“Fuck.” Steve could have watched him like this for hours and never be bored but Eddie wanted him, needed him, and his own arousal was starting to become too insistent to ignore. Gently, he pulled his fingers out, running a soothing hand down Eddie’s thigh when he whined at the loss. 

“I’ve got you, I promise,” he said, finally tearing into the foil packet and rolling the condom on himself.

Eddie’s legs were already shaking as Steve lined himself up, and he hooked an arm under his knee helping to hold it up as he began to push inside Eddie’s tight heat.

The feel of it was so overwhelming it took all of Steve’s will not to thrust hard and fast. He didn’t want this to be over before it’d be begun, and he didn’t want to hurt Eddie but the way he was clenching down on him and the needy sounds that spilled from his lips with every inch he took made it so hard for Steve to hold back. 

“Fuuuck,” Eddie cried out, unrestrained when Steve finally bottomed out. And when he felt like he could do it without coming instantly Steve finally started to move.

“So good, Steve” Eddie rasped out between cries of pleasure. “Making me feel so good, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The pet-name set Steve’s blood on fire and he hiked Eddie's leg up higher, bending him a little in half so he could lean down and capture Eddie’s lips in a brief, messy, open-mouthed kiss, never slowing his thrusts.

In no time, Eddie’s moans became more and more constant, near frantic sounding with each snap of Steve’s hips.

“What do you need?” Steve asked, voice husky as he crept closer to his own peak.

“Touch me,” Eddie called out, breathlessly. “Please—please touch me.”

Steve did just that, spitting into his palm before taking Eddie in hand, stroking him in time with his thrust as he felt his own orgasm building. 

They came together. Eddie spilling over Steve’s fist, while Steve pulsed deep inside Eddie’s body, whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer as he did.

They laid tangled together for a long time after, Eddie’s cum spreading between them into a sticky mess that neither seemed to mind, but eventually Steve forced himself to get up. He took a quick trip to the bathroom, disposing of the condom in the trash and wetting a rag in the sink.

When they were both cleaned off, Steve collapsed to the bed, exhaustion—mental, physical, and everything in between already beginning to pull him under. He barely managed to roll over on his side, reaching back to pull Eddie’s arm around his waist, before falling into a deep sleep.

Steve woke to an empty bed.

He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, but even knowing that didn’t stop his stomach from dropping or his heart from racing.

Eddie’s side of the bed was cold. Though it was obvious he’d been gone a while Steve still leapt up in a panic, shoving his legs into the first pair of shorts he could get his hands on and racing into the other room—Eddie’s room.

Empty.

Empty of everything that had made it Eddie’s. No more notebooks and cassette tapes strewn all over the dresser, no clothes littering the floor. He’d even made up the bed. If the sight wasn't so heart-shatteringly painful, Steve might have been impressed that Eddie had managed it all without waking him. The only sign that he’d even been there at all was the lingering smell of cigarettes and old spice. 

Predictably, Eddie’s van was gone.

Steve sat down on his front step and dropped his head into his hands.

After everything he’d overheard last night, he should have known this would happen, but as dumb as it sounded he’d still had hope that maybe things would be different this morning.

Why—because the sex had been good? Because it had felt less like fucking and more like making love?

God, he was pathetic. 

It didn’t matter that every kiss had felt like a promise and each moan had sounded like ‘I want you, I need you,’ when really all Eddie had been trying to say was goodbye.

Distantly he heard the sound of bike tires crunching over grass, the chain rattling as it fell, then a pair of red converse sneakers came into view.

“Oh, Steve,” Robin said, crouching down in front of him, resting her head against his for a moment.

“How did you know?” He asked without looking up.

“Wayne called me.”

Steve groaned, rubbing at his face before finally raising it. He’d given Wayne her number a while back just in case. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind at the time but he supposed he should be grateful.

“He said he didn’t know what happened,” she added. “Except that Eddie had come home in the middle of the night and I should check on you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

Steve blew out a long breath. “Not really, but let’s go inside and I'll tell you anyway.”

Chapter 9

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

Fic taglist (open): @sidebarre

[epikreese]

Cuttletavio art

I have like 20 photos from 2 fast 2 furious for art references

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Club Zy 029 - Ruki interview excerpt (January 2016)

[...]

Interviewer: Do you come up with guitar riffs as well?

RUKI: Yes, I do. I always create riffs while playing the guitar; I don’t just program something that sounds like a riff. Right now, I’m practicing playing fast (laughs).

Interviewer: Really?

RUKI: It’s not like I want to play guitar solos or anything, but if I’m not good enough at playing guitar, I can’t perform the riffs or backing parts I imagine. If I can’t play them properly, I don’t feel excited when creating demos. Once you can play fast, it helps improve other skills too, right? So, recently I’ve been practicing fast picking quite a bit.

Interviewer: It's typical of you to not leave things to others, RUKI. Going back to UGLY, the lyrics depict a wicked woman, don’t they?

RUKI: When we were making this single, a lot of absurd things were happening. I turned that anger directly into the lyrics. It’s not about some imaginary wicked woman—it’s based on real events. At the time, I was so angry that it was impossible to write lyrics about anything else. I’m glad UGLY wasn’t tied to a commercial deal or anything (laughs).

That said, I’m not sure if I fully managed to express my anger. I struggled a lot with how to express my anger through words. Even though the lyrics are about anger, I didn’t want them to feel overly *murky. It’s like being absolutely furious, but at the same time, there’s a sense of laughing it off. It’s not about holding a grudge—it’s more like the ultimate form of being pissed off. In the end, I’m glad it didn’t turn into something like a curse song (laughs).

*ドロドロ (dorodoro) something sticky, murky, or dark, emotionally heavy.

[...]

Interviewer: DEPRAVITY is a cool song you’ve managed to create despite having little time. The lyrics of this track also depict anger toward absurd events, don’t they?

RUKI: Yes, it’s about one of the many absurd things that happened. So, it’s like 'Absurdity 1' and 'Absurdity 2' (laughs). However, when it comes to DEPRAVITY, there’s a sense of sadness to it—a kind of helpless feeling. That’s where it differs from UGLY.

Also, I only wanted to express the anger within myself, not explain what exactly happened. So, whether it’s UGLY or DEPRAVITY, I hope listeners vent their own anger and frustrations during these songs. Think of them as tracks for blowing off steam (laughs).

Interviewer: That’s a great idea (laughs). The third track, GODDESS, is a new direction for you—a powerful and emotional number.

RUKI: When I first heard the demo, I thought it was something very different from what the GazettE had done before, and it was really great. Once we decided to go with this track, I started by adding a melody to the chorus. I played it for Aoi, the composer, and when he gave it the 'OK', I worked on the rest of the parts with that direction in mind.

Interviewer: So, the melody for GODDESS was your creation, RUKI?

RUKI: That’s right. There was a sort of guide melody included, but I muted it and started from scratch. The melody for the chorus came to me instantly, and it ended up being used just as it was. For the parts where I got stuck, I’d unmute the guide for reference, but sometimes there was nothing there. It was like, “Ah, no hints here...” (laughs). That said, I did struggle in some places. There were moments when I thought, “I want this kind of melody, but the chord doesn’t fit...”

Interviewer: In cases like that, it’s common for the backing chords to be adjusted to match the vocalist’s ideas.

RUKI: Really? Please write that in bold (laughs). I’ve never asked anyone to change the chords. If I started doing that, then people might start asking me to change my parts, like, “Since you changed the chords back then, can you adjust this now?” (laughs). I’d rather avoid that, so I make a point of not complaining (laughs).

Interviewer: I see (laughs). Could you also talk about the lyrics for GODDESS?

RUKI: Following the anger in UGLY and DEPRAVITY, this song is about "living while carrying pain." These three songs are connected in a flow, almost like a concept album (laughs). The three songs were created around the same time, and by writing about my real feelings at that moment, they took this form. The lyrics of GODDESS are about how even in a life full of pain, there is salvation, and that to me is like a *goddess.

*女神 (megami)

[...]

[natp20]

Me trying to figure out the movie references from Never Stop Blowing Up of the movie posters you recently posted

i've got your back!

2 Quick 2 Perilous - 2 Fast 2 Furious

Squeeze - Scarface/Heat (or any movie about organized crime)

Shadow Falcon Protocol - Hackers

Atomic Brunette - Atomic Blonde/Salt

Santo Patron - Casino Royale/007 movies

Tough Kill - Die Hard

[stivesketch]

Would you share your headcannons for the Julie-Beau-Edyth throuple dynamic?

Thank you so much for asking! Here is a summary: Two supernaturally powerful best friends fall for a man they can easily kill.

Now context. I am writing and drawing an office AU, so all the characters I adapt are older here than in the original text. Beau is 26, Jules is 24 (keeping in the spirit of Jules being 2 years younger), and Edythe was 27 when she died.

Starting with Edythe. She is less close to the Cullens. Edie considers them to be cousins, just like the Denalis. Edythe frequently relapses into hunting bad people, barely being able to go through a year without feeding on human blood. She still tries, occasionally having golden eyes. But after a couple of relapses, Edie could not stand the thoughts of pity and guilt from the Cullens. So she left. Edythe still keeps in contact with them. She sometimes even visits for Christmas and Thanksgiving. But only as a cousin.

Edie keeps the surname out of gratitude and respect for Carine. She has also fostered friendships with other meat-eating vampires. Of course, the Volturi are in contact with her. Edie has lost track of how often senior management tried to poach her. But she has befriended wandering vampires too, such as Victoria and Lauren.

However, when Edythe met Jules at her new job in Seattle, the vampire promised herself that she would not run away. She would stand her ground, and finally become friends with a non-vampire. Edie knows that Jules is also an immortal like her. If Edythe’s new co-worker kept shifting into a bear-sized wolf, she would have a human-ish friend for the rest of her immortality.

Which brings us to Jules, who heard of the old legends, but since the Cullens did not return to Forks in this AU, Jules only started turning after the new girl arrived. Too sick to even drive back to La Push for help, answers, or guidance, Jules thought she was going to die in her studio apartment. That is until the new girl entered through her window. Jules’ apartment is on the 12th floor.

Initially furious, to the point that Jules almost shifted in her small living quarters, she calmed down once she saw Edythe’s sorrowful, guilt-stricken face. After a discussion, the two women agreed not to kill each other. Jules was even okay with Edythe drinking human blood after the vampire explained her selection criteria.

To their surprise, Jules and Edythe became fast friends. Edythe had found her immortal non-vampire friend at last. Jules had a tour guide for the supernatural world. But soon, the friendship grew beyond that. When they talked about the Star Wars prequels or whether a hundred duck-sized horses could defeat a horse-sized duck, Jules and Edythe knew they were inseparable now. And the two women would talk about cars and motorcycles a lot!

With that, we arrive at Beau. He had known Jules since childhood and hung out with her again when he returned to Forks. However, they only became best friends. After high school, the two went to different universities and lost contact. So it was to Beau’s surprise when he landed a job at the same company Jules was already in.

It was even more surprising when Jules’ new best friend acted strangely around him. The half-blank, half-apocalyptic look (Yes, it is an IWTV reference) that the Cullen girl gave him from across the office. How Edythe would ignore him one day and talk him up the next. The way her eyes would shift from honey-gold to dark crimson as the weeks rolled by. How Edythe stopped him from slipping on a wet floor when he could have sworn she was at the other end of the vast lobby.

Jules was herself, maybe a bit happier since she sees her two best friends at work now. But Beau wondered how every time they high-fived or placed hands on each other's shoulders, Jules’ skin was uncomfortably warm.

He must be imagining things. Beau decided that he probably should not dwell on it. He is best friends with the two people he admires most. Sure, Edythe and Jules are starting to get flirty with him. But right now, things are looking up.

Okay, context done! Now for some of their dynamics.

Edythe wants to shield Beau from the supernatural. Jules believes that Beau has a right to know, especially since it concerns his physical safety. Beau has some inkling that something is off, but it is a future Beau problem.

The two leading ladies do NOT want their feelings for Beau to ruin their hard-won friendship. Of course, neither has yet to confess to Beau. They still believe the man will pick up on their signals.

As for the fun stuff, Edythe and Julie are 100% doms & Beau is 100% a sub. The two women love teasing Beau & the man still cannot believe how lucky he is.

But at its core, this AU is about three best friends who love and cherish each other more than anything else. The three know that whatever happens to them romantically, they will always be friends till the end. Or not. They could all live forever :)