#tagging this fic is interesting

[romanoffsbish]

A Bumpy Ride

Scarlett Johansson x Actress!R

Elizabeth Olsen (Wanda) x F!R (a blip of a scene)

Request by: 🦥

A/N: I wrote the EO x R kiss as if I was writing a Wanda fic, literally just wrote the imagined scene. | Also, if this is too beyond what you wanted, feel free to request a do over fic. I might’ve gotten carried away.

Warnings: Jealous/Possessive Scarlett.

Smut: Daddy (Top-R), Kitten (Power Bottom-S), Fingering (S), Face-Riding (S) Kinks: Lactation, Praising, Slight Degradation.

18+ | Minors DNI

Labeled, please don’t report.

Scarlett wore a wide smile as you guided her through the set of your current Marvel film. This was a nice experience for her, watching as the legacy she had an integral part in building continued on through you, and the others.

It was rather bittersweet too though, seeing images from the iconic movies past, when she was younger and in the fittest shape of her life. Now she wears her post pregnancy tummy pouch with reassured pride, and eats a far less restrictive diet as she holds no obligations to have a widely unobtainable superhero physique.

—

Without Marvel she wouldn't have skyrocketed in her career, and she is beyond grateful to them for that, but she more importantly has them to thank for finding you, and the sweet, domestic life she now lived with you and Leo. The pretty little boy grew in her body, but he shared your likeness, as you hadn't the time to be pregnant yourself, so IVF it was until 2026 when your contract with Marvel was finally up.

When you finally turned to take in your wife after droning on about today's filming, you noticed the deep pout she wore, and you softly pecked it away. "What's troubling you, love?"

"I miss Leo," she confessed quietly, and you smiled sadly at her, the ache in your chest was the same as his smiling face tauntingly flashed through your mind, "Me too my love, I miss his kissable little face, and his sweet giggles at the inappropriate hour of 2am," you kissed her pout away, and smiled as she herself giggled.

"It'll be okay soon, my last scenes today and tomorrow you'll have that important meeting, then we'll steal him back from your moms."

Scarlett burrowed into your offered embrace with a muffled huff, "I miss his baby smell."

"Me too," you snorted as you swayed her body.

"Wait, did you say you had a steamy scene with Lizzie today?" Scarlett's mind finally caught up to your previously uttered words, and that once soft pout of hers slipped into a deep scowl.

You chuckled softly, "I'd hardly call it steamy," your wife however wasn't amused, "It's a kiss."

"A kiss that will create a hoopla of rumors."

"Scarlett," you sighed, it was always the same insecurity, and you'd never get mad at her for it, the fans edits can be quite convincing seeing as how you and Lizzie are literal best friends.

"They have been shipping us since the dawn of time, and that's cause I'm an amazing actress," you subtly reminded her of your profession, the one she shares with you, "Do you know how many men I've had to see you macking with?"

Scarlett shrugged, a silent gesture in attempt to brush passed your honest counter to hers.

"It doesn't really matter either, because I am assured every night when I come home to your loving embrace that you're all mine, and it's not a question baby, I'm irrevocably yours."

"I just wish they'd stop it, you know? We're all married now, with our families in the making."

"Yeah, but also Scar, when you agreed to marry me you knew Lizzie was apart of that deal," you teased her as you brought her into the dressing room so you could prepare for the kiss scene.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, it was the truth, she of course saw Lizzie as family, but she didn't have to like the way the world of Hollywood works.

Elizabeth was your first connection at Marvel as you started filming together, so it was no shock that the two of you hit it off. Then your alliance was set in stone from the moment Age of Ultron hit theaters. People shipped your character with Wanda's, but it was a different era, so the palpable chemistry between you and your new friend was swept under the rug, and it was exchanged for a queer coded on screen pining on your character's ends as she explored the more sellable at the time ship with Vision.

As fandoms do though, they took the shipping a step further and soon it was you shipped with Lizzie. Clips from differing press junkets were stitched together, along with solo interviews where you'd be questioned about the other. Elizabeth and you were platonic soulmates, so it was easy for fans to romanticize your replies.

At the time you were out, you never once hid from Hollywood, and neither had Lizzie, she didn't expressly label herself, but the way she spoke so candidly at times gave her away. So the shipping didn't bother either of you much. But it did bother Scarlett, she had her eyes on you from day one, and once she had you she was constantly afraid you'd leave her for the mutual friend who wasn't still hiding away.

Throughout the years it had only got more and more aggressive, and it infuriated your now wife. It occurred at its peak during a time when Scarlett hadn't wanted to have to come out yet. She was still trying her darnedest to wipe away her forced image as a sex symbol, the last thing she needed was creeps fetishizing your love.

However, after about three interviews with your posse of girls during the Infinity War junket your lover finally lost her composure. Four years of having the love she'd built up with you overshadowed by indecent rumors, well that was enough to drive her to break.

They'd handed the three of you a bin of spicy tweets, and when she was handed one to read about you topping Lizzie she lost it, she glared at the unsuspecting man, throwing the ball of paper at him just before staring directly at the camera as she muttered: "The only person Y/N is topping is me, so suck on that scwitch22."

Scarlett wasn't even embarrassed afterwards, she simply took the spot in your lap, and the interview continued on without a hitch, the tweets were significantly thinned out though. No one wanted to risk another outburst from the shockingly intimidating blonde woman.

"Yeah, as our good friend, not my sister wife," Scarlett eventually huffed after moments of silence, she was too busy watching you change. You looked up to see her arms crossed under her enlarged chest, with her plump lips pursed, and you just could not help but to tease her.

"Well, Leo will one day call her auntie, why not change it to mom?" You dodged her hand as she tried to slap your exposed shoulder, "Y/N, stop testing me, I am still rather hormonal, and unless you wish to be on Snapped, I'd stop."

"A feature on my favorite show?" You gasped with a hand flying over your grinning lips, "You're just the sweetest wife ever my dear."

Before she could actually bring life (or death) to her words you snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a pre hair and makeup kiss. "Stop stressing over the press, you have nothing to worry about, I'm yours!"

The kiss was sickeningly soft, and far too quick for either of your likings, "I love you," you whispered against her lips. "I love you too," she tried to mindlessly chase your lips, but as you pulled away with an apologetic smile she pettily grumbled, "I'm also still mad at you."

"Story of my life," you remarked with a laugh and an indifferent shrug of your shoulders.

Scarlett rolled her eyes at your retreating figure, then after three short minutes stood alone she reluctantly (desperately) followed after you to the trailer for hair and makeup.

Watching you getting into character brought a smile to your lover's face, she adored how you took this role so seriously. Resentments to the rumors aside, she admires the way you and Liz had crafted such a beautiful, long winded story for the fans to devour. Today's scene is actually monumental for the MCU, it's the first intimate confirmation for Wanda and Eliza, so she let her anger go in favor of supporting you.

"You're gonna do great," she whispered into your ear from behind your designated chair, she'd seen your tightly furrowed brows, all she wanted to do was make you feel at peace. You slowly peered up from your script to lock eyes with her through the mirror, and she smiled reassuringly along with her words. "Thanks."

Scarlett nodded, "How can I help my love?"

For the next ten minutes you ran lines with her, there was no reason to worry about her leaking the contents, she wasn't Tom Holland. The woman was a MCU veteran, and knew how to deflect even the slipperiest of questions.

A smirk graced her face as the loosely described kissing scene was up next, she was always looking forward to practicing such lines with you, whether for her film or yours, it didn't matter much; the prospect of letting your costar taste her on you was too exciting.

"Hey ladies."

Speak of the devil...

"You ready Y/N/N?" Lizzie side hugged your scowling wife as she spoke to you with a knowing smirk, "You're a cockblock Olsen."

"Can't have you macking on my woman," she jested, dangerously if Scarlett's glare was to be translated, "She's my woman, remember that."

"She was mine first," Lizzie continued to goad your wife, she would've kept going too, and left you with a monster to drive home with if not for the saving grace of your favorite stagehand.

"Mrs. Y/L/N—Johansson, Mrs. Olsen, the set is ready, and the director sent me to collect you."

Lizzie left with him instantly, knowing when to retreat from a standoff with your wife, and you were two seconds away from doing the same, but your stewing wife stopped your attempts. Her hand swiftly cupped the back of your neck, she pulled you into a bruising kiss, tentatively sliding her tongue in your mouth, unfairly arousing you as she groped your clothed ass. She kissed you until you were near breathless, and mindlessly chewing on her fruity gum.

"Scar," you went to whine, but she traced her thumb around your lips to quell your worries. The lipstick was promptly cleaned off your skin, and a fresh layer was reapplied, it was as if she had never even touched her lips to yours. But the dizzy look in your eye tells her the memory was strong enough without the mess.

For the sake of your career she slid her hand into yours, and guided you to your outdoor set, "Go get em tiger," she winked, and you simply chuckled as she referenced your character's feline tendencies, her silly antics always helped to settle your heart, she was the ideal partner.

Scarlett waved to the familiar director before she settled into your chair, then her eyes zeroed in on the leather jacket they slid over to you, and then she saw the motorcycle. Natasha was always on a motorcycle, it was like her signature ride so she was familiar with the set up for the scene. Scarlett had never been on one though, which now that she thinks of it is rather odd since riding was a leisurely passion of yours up until Leo was born. The Harley taking up space in the garage a daily reminder.

That familiar twinge of jealousy returned to her with a renewed passion as soon as she heard the director call 'action' because then she saw a scene play out that she wanted as her reality.

—~~~~~—ACTION—~~~~~—

Wanda was in the process of slipping on her signature red leather jacket, the one she got (stole) from her mentor all those years ago. As soon as the tight fabric melded to her body you were behind her, slipping your hands just below the chilled fabric to grip her by the waist. Wanda hadn't even a moment to think before a squeal of surprise left her parted lips. With an undeniable strength, and incredible ease you lifted the redhead by your grip on her body, settling her onto the bike, then you seamlessly walked around, hand still on hip, so that you could face her, "You're a bit of a show off..."

"I learned from the best," you sadly stated, a subtle nod to the fallen Avenger who'd trained the both of you into the heroes you were today.

Wanda nodded solemnly, a beat of silence held before you went on, "You ready to go honey?"

You went to step away as she nodded, but the redheads hand shot out to wrap around your wrist to halt you. "Would you judge me if I said I was nervous?" You chuckled softly, but your eyes softened when you realized she meant it.

"Baby," the world rolled off your tongue with a familiar ease, and it successfully made the woman blush, "You've literally flown hundreds of miles above ground without a parachute."

"Eliza," she groaned, her grip tightening at your incessant teasing, "I have control over that."

"Yeah, and this is a walk in the park for me baby girl, I am an expert at this sorta thing."

Wanda bowed her head, a new nervousness settling within her bones as you continued to drop the pet names. "What's wrong Wands?"

The redhead picked her gaze back up, shaking her head from side to side, "Nothings wrong."

"You can't hide from me," you pulled a hand free from her loosened grip, and softly caressed her cheek, her breath promptly hitched, "Eli."

"Mhm?" You smiled innocently, but your eyes shone with an understanding that made her stomach erupt with a soft fluttering. Suddenly your faces were closer, breaths mingling as you both waited on the other to close the small gap.

Wanda felt your hand drift to behind her neck, anticipation built within her as you caressed her heated skin softly. Once your eyes fell to her parted lips she knew it was coming, but in a moment of desperation she surged forward to rush the process along. Her lips pressed to yours firmly, there wasn't much room to move at first as she sought to keep you against her, but when she felt your fingers playing with her baby hairs, while your other hand laid against her hip she knew you weren't going anywhere.

You soon guided the kiss, tilting her head with your firmer grip in her hair you slipped your tongue passed her lips. Even with the kiss deepened, you maintained a softness, exploring her mouth with a tenderness that equated to an 'I've loved you for eons, and I will continue to,' she melted into you in total reciprocity.

"We really have to go baby," you whispered once you pulled away, she panted affectedly while your breathing remained steady enough.

"Why?" The witch whined pitifully, "I don't want this moment to end Eliza, it's perfect."

You smiled in agreement, "Yeah, it was."

Wanda pouted as you spoke of the moment in the past tense, meaning it was over, and so you leaned back in to peck it away, "It'll be even better when we get to a safe house sweetheart."

Wanda sighed, "I'm holding you to that then."

"How about I hold you to me instead?" You teased the witch as your leg flew over the bike behind her seamlessly. Wanda rolled her eyes, but she wore a wide smile that you couldn't see.

Wanda melted into your form as you pulled her body back into yours, your arms slid beneath hers so that you could reach for the handles. Her body shuddered once you placed a kiss to the nape of her neck just before you slid a helmet onto her. "Safety first, Avenger or not."

Wanda giggled, then her hand spun in the air, and a helmet appeared over your head next, "The rules apply to you too, nine lives or not."

You snorted, then instead of prolonging the teasing banter you kicked the stand of the bike up, revved the engine, then shot off abruptly.

—~~~~—SCENE—~~~~~—

Scarlett watched the heady kiss without even flinching, it was a bit of a surprise to her, but she found herself envying Elizabeth's chance to ride on the bike with you more so than the making out. The directors had trusted you enough to actually race around the lot, and when you and Lizzie returned in a fit of giggles she felt the jealousy only intensifying. It was not fair to you, but she only gave you a curt nod when you asked if she was okay, she once again cleaned the lipstick off your face, then left to try and simmer her rage inside your trailer.

"What's the matter now?" Lizzie joked from your side, and you only shrugged, but you'd never struggled to read your wife, the way she had glared at the motorbike as if it had killed her entire family was all you needed to know.

This silly scene here opened you up to a future night full of making it up to your wife. You sighed softly before turning to your scene partner, you watched a grin take over her face as a realization of sorts had dawned upon her.

"You're welcome," she winked before turning around to return to the set, you two had one more follow up scene to shoot, and then you'd have to face your attractively jealous partner.

—

The ride home was radio silent; literally, she slapped your hand away when you tried to fill the tense silence with your favorite playlist.

Scarlett pulled into the garage, a heavy sigh left her lips as she unbuckled, but she didn't speak.

Her door slammed shut, she attempted to race into the house, but you were too quick for her. Scarlett's breath hitched when your hands held her firmly in place, "Now, now kitten, why must you make this difficult by running?"

Scarlett tried to keep her angry front up, but when you manhandled her into the air she lost any semblance of control, you spun her around in your hold so that your lips brushed teasingly as you plopped her onto the Harley backwards.

"Is this what you needed baby?"

Scarlett mindlessly leaned back against the handles, her legs spreading as she did, and you couldn't help but to chuckle at the sight of her.

"Such a beautiful, desperate mess you are for daddy, look at you, you're soaked on through."

Scarlett's skin flushed, she didn't need to hear you say it to know it, the lacy, red material was uncomfortably stuck to her skin, and truth be told it had been like that for hours now. Ever since she'd kissed you breathless, and when she watched you handle that scene with a sexy flair she couldn't stop imagining you handling her in a more sinful way. You drove her wild.

"Tell me what you want," you stepped closer to her, ghosting your lips over hers, "I'm not a mind reader baby, but I do aim to please here, so just tell daddy what it is you need from her."

"Can you give me a ride on the bike?" Scarlett was confused herself as the words left her, it was what she genuinely wanted, but you both know she wanted something else much more.

"Oh, I can," you smirked as your lips met hers, "You can ride me however you want Scarlett."

"Fuck," she sucked in a breath as your fingers slid the sticky fabric of her panties to the side.

"Be good for daddy," you coo'd as your fingers trailed teasingly through her folds, she bucked her hips on instinct, causing the bike to shake, so you held her hip down firmly with your free hand, "Relax my love, you know I've got you."

Scarlett's always been super reactive with you, but as she hadn't been touched like this in over six months she was beyond her normal arousal. Her cunt was dripping all over the leather seat, and if it wasn't so hot you might've even cared about it, but honestly the bike needed a polish.

A mewl left your wife's lips as soon as one of your fingers entered her, you kept a slow pace, too afraid to overwhelm her, and even then you still did, she cried out in shock, "I'm leaking."

You looked down, noticing the pebbles of white that left your wife's breasts, she'd only recently stopped breastfeeding your son as her leave was quickly coming to an end. You were truly enamored by the opportunity here, the urge to taste her milk had always been there, but the chance had yet to present itself until now.

"Oh love, that must hurt," you rasped, and the aroused blonde whimpered her agreements as she looked into your blackened orbs, the need you clearly felt for her was palpable, and it only made the sloshing between her legs louder.

You kissed down her jaw, nibbling enough to make her moans sweeter, but not to mar her skin until you reached the valley of her breasts. You sucked harshly, a deeper red blossomed over her hot skin, the sensation only spurred her moans on, and the sound was addicting.

"There you go kitten," you kissed up the side of her sensitive breast en route to her nipple, "Let daddy know how good she's making you feel."

Scarlett nearly toppled your bike over when your lips wrapped around her nipple, the way you curled your fingers just as you began to suckle made her mind go blank, and legs shake. The sound of your delighted moan made her feel an overwhelming warmth, an unexpected wave of pride flooded her chest at the idea that you'd like her milk enough to moan like that.

"Thank you daddy," she clutched tightly to your biceps, curling her nails into the skin for grounding that she usually found in bed sheets. As you moved in rushed kisses over to her other breast you could feel her hips trying to meet your thrusts, shaking your bike again.

"Stay still," you mumbled around her nipple, making her urge to move higher, but even in her dizzy state she still managed to cooperate. In the bed you wouldn't mind, normally you'd encourage her desperate thrusts as you teased her, but this wasn't your usual spot; the bike wasn't exactly the safest place for her writhing.

Scarlett's quick compliance made you beam, "You're always such a good girl for me."

Scarlett smiled dopily, she was a sucker for your praises, her walls clenched tightly around you when you returned her smile. Nothing could ever really describe just how much she loved your beautiful smile, it was almost always all she needed to want to jump your bones.

"Kiss me," she begged, the desperation clear as day when her lip had trembled in anticipation. You didn't waver in your stare as you neglected to give in to her pleas, you instead continued to piston three fingers into her slick hole, curling them every few thrusts, and doing so before you couldn't resist the temptation to kiss her.

"You're close," you panted the truth against her lips as you reluctantly pulled back, if you could you'd kiss her until your lips went numb. She whined, her eyes then fluttered open at the loss of your sensational lips took effect on her. The pleading in the haze of her eyes was clear, she needed you to give her permission, to send her tumbling over that edge. "Go on kitten, come for daddy, mess up my bike like a good girl."

Her back instantaneously arched into your handlebars, the horn being set off as her body trembled, her orgasm had taken it's full effect. You watched in amazement as her arousal gushed around your digits, it was only her first release of the night and she squirted all over.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you whispered as you nibbled down her jawline, soft red marks left behind that you knew would fade come morning, she had a meeting tomorrow after all.

Scarlett was beyond dizzy, your moves turned her brain into mush, but even in a delirious state she knew what she wanted, and she'd get it. You had both always had such high libidos, but with the baby neither of you had the time or better yet the energy to keep up with them.

But in this jealous fueled daze Scarlett was not short on energy, no, only patience. As you went to guide her to the bedroom for aftercare she stopped you, even with shaky legs she managed to shove you down onto the couch, "Lay down, and let me mark my territory," you knew she wasn't asking, clearly you weren't rebutting.

"Thank you daddy," she straddled your thighs so that she could lean in to peck your lips, you saw the way she eyed your top, so as a reward for her manners you slipped it off as she rose.

"Come on kitten, let daddy make you feel good," you beckoned the short circuiting woman forward, and without letting another minute fly by she crawled up your body, her abundant wetness smeared on your skin, and the feeling left you salivating for her essence.

Neither of you felt like teasing tonight, so the blonde plopped her sopping folds onto your face, so you followed her lead, and immediately began to devour her. Raspy, choked moans echoed off the walls of your quaint living room, with how sensitive she was it didn't take long for her to grow sloppy with the way she rode. Without even looking you gripped her hips, now guiding her thrusts, and pressing down harshly to help your tongue reach her deeper.

With your arms wrapped tightly around her thighs you used all your strength to flip her onto her back, the jostling movement led your tongue to press into her sensitive spot just as your thumb showed up to stimulate her clit.

"Oh fuck," Scarlett bucked her hips in sync with your tongue as you continued to fuck her fluttering hole even after her cum shot down your throat, and her entire body subsequently slumped into the lived in couch cushions.

Scarlett's face was serene as she rode out the bliss you'd given her, she tiredly smiled when your lips trailed over her body, tenderness was all that you offered as you kissed over her skin. Lips lingering over the marks she'd despised until you made her love them the way you did.

"Daddy," she groggily whimpered your title, her hands haphazardly reached down for you, and her nails dug into your shoulder blades so that she could pull you up and into her lips.

"You're insatiable Scarlett," you chuckled as she relinquished her lips hold on you, she met your amusement with a smirk of her own, "If you had a smoke show for a wife you'd be too."

"I do," you deadpanned, and she smirked even wider as she winked, "Glad you're self aware."

"Oh, I am, the amount of people that want you is endless," you huffed, a twinge of jealousy to rival hers showing through, but she helped to melt it away with another kiss to your lips.

"We're clearly just Hollywood's hottest couple," she reasoned, "I guess I should have expected all the attention, of course people want you."

"I really do hope you understand that you're all I'll ever want Scarlett," your eyes glistened with happiness, visions of your future with her all you needed to bring you to tears, "You, and Leo are my entire world, nothing will change that."

"I miss him," she reaffirms her earlier feelings, as do you, "Same, I need my bubba butt back."

"But wait, I have a proposal," she mused, and looked to you with a sinful grin and dark eyes.

"I'm listening."

"Well, my meeting won't end until like five, and it's over an hour away to my moms," she spoke with feigned exasperation, "Why would we pick him up tomorrow near his bedtime? That's just irresponsible. We should let him sleep, and use our bonus night off for an overdue date."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending as if you were actually thinking over her sex coded offer, "I could just pick him up in the morning," you didn't mean it, but you'd never give up the opportunity to tease, and neither would she.

"Nope," she popped the p, and smirked up, "You're coming to the office baby girl, and we'll be taking your bike so no room for the baby."

"Oh, we are now?"

"Yeah, you are my guinea pig for the day as we test out our newest products, I didn't tell you?"

"No, you most certainly didn't," you grumbled, and climbed off of her, she went to protest the loss of your warmth but she didn't get the chance as you threw her over your shoulder.

"If I'm your guinea pig tomorrow, then you're my cum dump for the night," you threw her down onto the mattress, smirking as her dilated eyes widened at your promise, and so you winked. "What? Might as well use our free time wisely."

Scarlett smirked victoriously once you turned away to collect your strap, her plans for a full weekend now coming to life before her eyes. Leo's return will likely be postponed, it's a good thing she already confirmed a Monday pick up.

——

4,908 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

[its-tea-time-darling]

im sorry, we turned your boyfriend into a mole. yeah and all of tumblr‘s interested in him now. sorry

edit 9/12/23 11.22 CET

and so it begins…

fic1, fic2 @pathsofoak ao3 tag. Mole Poem @thaliaisalesbian . fic by @tourmelion .

update:

ao3 link. please vote for mole scene in most underrated goncharov scene poll

[writeouswriter]

People sorting ao3 solely by stats and only clicking on fics with a certain amount of kudos or comments, you will not survive the winter, nor the summer, nor at all, *brings out knife,* run

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

[aunnokokyuu]

what if YOU were a poor little animation studio who kept straightifying the very homosexual moments between a tiger and a malnourished victorian child in order to make the anime more appealing to the general public. but THE MANGAKA HIMSELF said NO here’s a scene where said malnourished victorian child sensually bites the tiger’s neck while he’s transformed as a vampire and U HAVE TO ANIMATE IT THIS TIME BCS ITS IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT!!! now bones if you straightify that scene like you did to akutagawa telling atsushi to run you fool then you can trust that i’ll find you more than you trust in god

[emchant3d]

part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over. 

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve. 

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things. 

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that. 

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?” 

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up. 

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…” 

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.” 

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything. 

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck. 

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?” 

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s. 

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

[ikeasharksss]

hey im curious

feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!

[fivepibbles]

they have him pinned, but at least they're warm!

fanart for @tsunochizu 's backwards through the snow fic! im SO normal about this story (still emotionally recovering from chapter 15) i love this fic so much <3

they are the STINKIEST of family...

(for those who haven't read this fic, first of all, go read it now. but also pebbles is mostly ok. kinda. hes just dirty and stinky... amongst other things)

[normal-about-the-dca]

sun, knowing EXACTLY what he's doing but playing oblivious because he likes to see you fluster: oh my, friend. you're really red! are you sick? huh? huh??? rest a while! we can cuddle and watch videos on your phone until you feel better ^^

moon, no idea what he's doing but pretending he does, immediately after pretending to throw y/n from the balcony: ohh you want me so bad!!! you wanna kiss me silly sloppy style, huh? hehehehe! you wanna get smooched sssso so bad- wait no why are you angry (<-genuinely thinks scaring them is flirting)

[benjaminthecoathanger]

okay, because i saw a poll earlier and i thought the choices weren't clear enough and also the answers i saw to it annoyed me and also i'm curious:

NOTES:

I am including having watched gameplay of a game and not having played it as having watched the source material

In this context if you are writing fic/making art and you are not being commissioned to do so. This is purely for funsies

You getting into something because you saw a post/gifset/video about it and then watched the source material does not count. That's just how you get into new things.

Goncharov does not count because it's not real. I'll break kayfabe here I don't care.

[zillychu]

woke up from a dead sleep last night realizing I could make soroku flavored pitch pearl and no one could stop me

edit: you know what? I'm feral and I won't apologize. more under the cut bc this is my house

I slammed this out all at once so I apologize for the quality but I'm having EMOTIONS

so imagine. bc of the way Danny was quickly resuscitated, his ghost only barely started forming. With the excess blast of ectoplasm from the portal being created, that little whisp was given form even after Danny's soul returned to his body.

except this ghost (Phantom) slowly comes into consciousness while trapped in Danny's body. they're separate entities sharing one body, but Phantom doesn't really have a sense of self right away. he pieces together vague fragments of Danny's memory to get a basic understanding of the world, and is mostly just observing like a backseat passenger.

Phantom starts reflexively protecting Danny, his powers and instincts bleeding through when his emotions are high. Danny doesn't really transform, and his personality doesn't totally shift that much at first because Phantom’s mind isn't complex yet. but as time goes on, and Danny has tense conversations with ghosts, Phantom realizes that's what he is. he's a ghost, somehow trapped in his old body. and even now, this early on, he already feels separate. he doesn't have all the memories Danny has.

this slowly turns into horror. into rage. sorrow, mourning a life he never got and will never get to have. forever trapped behind the eyes of someone else, never able to interact with the world. Phantom's rage eventually boils over until it allows him short bursts of taking over Danny's body. it starts out small–a stray hand moving without his consent, knees locking up, ghost abilities going awry. Danny can start feeling emotions that don't belong to him. get vague impressions, almost hears a voice inside him.

and eventually, Phantom is able to fully take over. this is when Danny “transforms". at first, Danny blacks out because his consciousness isn't used to being shoved into the back seat. but eventually, he's awake for these “episodes", trapped in the back of his mind while Phantom controls his body. this only happens when ghost stuff is happening, when Phantom feels threatened enough. he's not protecting Danny, he's protecting himself. Phantom knows instinctively that if Danny dies, he dies too. he's not a normal ghost, he wouldn't be freed. he'd simply disappear.

at one point after a fight, Phantom can feel Danny struggling to take back control. and he talks to Danny for the first time, acknowledges he's there. asks how it's fair that Danny is the one that gets to exist. but Phantom is tired and weak, he slips back into the passenger seat.

over the next few days, he's able to start talking to Danny even while he's not driving. though he's not chatty, it's only when necessary. and Danny knows, can feel it across the link between them–Phantom hates him. the ghost he created is desperate to find a way to take over completely. and as time goes on, Danny realizes with horror that it might actually be possible for Phantom to do that. he grows stronger every day, can stay transformed longer, controls Danny's body with much more ease.

it's only through a chance meeting with Frostbite that Danny and Phantom fully learn what happened to them. Danny feels sympathetic towards Phantom now. this isn't a malevolent ghost, it's a person who was never given the chance to live. who's trapped. who has to watch someone else live a life they're just as deserving of.

and Phantom feels that emotion from Danny. is so shocked by it, he doesn't know how to handle it at first. it takes him a while to contemplate, to talk to other ghosts like Frostbite. until one day, Phantom realizes… he feels sympathy for Danny, too.

neither of them asked for this. both of them deserve to live. Danny didn't do anything wrong. they're both villains to each other's story. and if anything… doesn't Phantom owe his life to Danny in the first place?

Phantom takes over less often. Danny doesn't feel hatred from him anymore. anger, yes–but not aimed at him. in fact, Phantom starts controlling their body in little ways in order to protect Danny from things that aren't even dangerous. just to avoid pain that would only affect the human tethered to him.

it isn't long before they're separated, either thanks to another ghost or Danny's parents. they're thrown apart in the middle of a horrific fight, and when Danny sees Phantom's equally shocked expression, he's terrified.

this ghost that hated him for so long–at best, Phantom would leave him defenseless. at worst, surely some part of Phantom still wants to kill him for stealing away his chance for autonomy.

and yet, when fire rains down on them, Phantom risks it all to grab Danny and get them both to safety. they're still both shaken and stunned this is even happening, but Phantom is able to nervously be like shit shit shit okay stay here don't go anywhere or I can't protect you, okay?

after the fight is over and dust settles, Phantom offers Danny his hand. they stare at each other and god if this isn't the weirdest thing. like, uh, okay, what now? they decide to go see Frostbite, who confirms that they're fully separate now. they ask if there's any chance of merging again and Frostbite assures it's impossible.

Phantom asks, even if I overshadowed Danny? or stay real close? yes, it's nothing to worry about. they leave, and back in the quiet of Danny's room, they talk. Phantom isn't sure what to do. now that opportunity is in front of him, he feels paralyzed. Danny does his best to let Phantom know that… they might be separate now, but if he ever wants help or even just a friendly ear, he's here for him.

Phantom is quiet for a while. then says maybe he just needs to rest first. he'll think about it tomorrow. they're both exhausted and injured. Phantom asks quietly… if he could rest in Danny for the night.

Danny's shocked, and–really confused. Phantom blushes and is like I don't know what my haunt is yet, I don't know where to go, but I know… you're kind of my home. now that I know I can leave whenever I want, it's not something bad anymore. I miss feeling your heart next to my core, just a little bit.

and Danny is just as surprised when Phantom overshadows him, then quietly nestles into the passenger seat again. he didn't realize how he got used to feeling Phantom with him. it's a feedback loop of contentedness, and Danny sleeps easily. (they also find out while sharing a body, Danny gets to reap the benefits of Phantom's supernatural healing)

anyway that's all I got for now thank u for coming to my ted talk

[cappydoodle]

rereading my own fic and yeah I'm a comedic genius I think

[invisible-pink-toast]

[ri-afan]

Bout to leave for work but this hit the brain after reading a twin fic on here:

Danny is Damien’s twin, but it’s fraternal. Damien only knows his sister and has mourned quietly for her.

Danny, trans, does his life and death in Illinois as per usual. There’s some ghost-meeting with Phantom for whatever but Danny’s just got eyes for his brother and Damien is like — but I don’t have a brother, I have a sister named ______. Danny’s like, yeah, no, I’m a guy, but good news, you gained a(couple)nother sister(s)!

Why didn’t Danny try find him? Idk, that could go many ways like memory issues/self-suppression due to ✨trauma✨ and by the time he gets it and goes to get research done he finds Damien died (Talia and the Clone) and was waiting/searching for his ghost while he’s scrambling with his halfa-status and it’s a whole wreck until finally —

[loadedberetta]

my brain cannot function until I write this out

Ghost has a one-night stand with Reader and she gets knocked up

TL;DR she can't find Ghost, all she knows about him that his name is Simon and he's a soldier since they knew each other for about an hour before hooking up.

Ghost leaves for a mission, isn't home for almost a year. in that time, she somehow, somehow finds a lead on him. (Christ maybe she meets Gaz's wife in maternal care while she's pregnant I'm unwell)

then she's introduced to Price and eventually brings the kid in a carrier when Simon arrives from a mission.

he's not mad she got pregnant, he's not mad she's asking him for child support, he's mad at himself because he didn't tell her his last name so the baby couldn't have his last name.

(he asks her out on the spot, nobody can convince me otherwise)

[arson-09]

Man, Rhysand was never the dreamer in that god awful series. It was always Tamlin

Tamlin is the one who has always done everything he can do to stop injustice. Protecting mortals, always accepting fae from other court in his land, trying his damnedest to find a way to break the curse instead of stealing a mortal. He has always dreamed of a safer and more just world and has always tried to make that come true. Even after loosing so much he always did whats right and true in the end.

but hes doomed by the narrative. His good deeds and genuine soul over shadowed by the biases of the narrator. Hes the age old tragedy of wanting to be the best he can and do the best he can.