#this is not a very recent revelation but i had never played before + made my mother question what was even happening so i'm kind of proud o

[keeps-ache]

game wants my email to play, i give it my email. i don't play game, because it was kind of eh anyway. they send me emails, because i gave them my email. i ignore them. they send me more emails. i ignore them. they send me email with a subject title that is essentially 'hey free stuff !!!!'. i boot up game. game wants to update. i know this takes forever so i do other stuff in the meantime. it doesn't finish updating for 3 hours. my computer is lagging. my music is bugging. my stylus is trying to fake another death. it's finally done updating !! i hit 'play'. loading screen for 30+ minutes and i can't listen to my music now because i don't have the option to turn off game's music on the loading screen. my everything is so slow. so so slow. but also.. despite all this................. free stuff.........

[lcriedlastnight]

Friends to lovers with Oscar. Maybe Oscar realized his feelings for y/n very recently and he’s still trying to accept the fact that he loves her. And one time at a party he gets extremely jealous like he has never felt before and somehow he ends up telling her "Kiss me like this is one of those stupid movies you love so much."

omg i love when men pine! tysm for requesting anon!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.1k

how was this fair? oscar has to sit here and watch you with him! now, you were not really doing anything with him but it was annoying oscar the way that stupid guy, that he did not even bother learning the name of at the beginning of the party, was sitting so close to you that if he got any closer then he would be sitting on your lap! the more he thought about it the more it pissed him off.

you and oscar were not dating or anything, in fact the driver had just discovered his feelings for you a few weeks ago. it felt extremely unnecessary for him to find out this revelation then only a few weeks later watch some guy throw himself onto you, without any complaints from you. he was not sure if you just could not tell that he was trying so hard to get you to go upstairs with him or if you knew and were just playing hard to get. the brunette was praying it was the former.

this horrible jealous feeling that felt like it was suffocating oscar made him not only want to be with you constantly but also made him feel extremely guilty for thinking so. being your friend for almost two years he knew all too well how much you longed for a relationship, not even just a relationship but one like in those rom-coms you forced oscar to watch on those movie nights where you fell asleep halfway through, head slumped on his shoulder.

while oscar continues to glare daggers into the man sitting beside you he hears a mutual friend approach him. "you alright, mate?" his friend asks, sensing the jealous gaze oscar has stuck on you and your new friend.

oscar hums, eyes never tearing away from you as he watches you laugh at something he says. oscar decides that he has barely seen you tonight and he needs you close to him before he does something he knows he would regret come the morning, or even as he went to bed that night.

oscar felt as if he could hear your laugh ringing in his ears even when you were quiet. that is when he gets up off his couch and trails over to you, your name falling off his lips lightly as he looks at you with a desperate look of longing, he prays you understand.

"hi osc, forgot you were even here, were you hiding?". it is a joke. it is so clearly a joke with the way you laugh through the words and the teasing tone that laces your sweet voice. oscar is not too sure if you were serious with your words though. had you really forgotten that he was at the party? the thought of you forgetting about him sent the australian into a frenzy, mind scrambling for an excuse to get you alone and away from this stupid man who was making you forget that he even existed.

"yeah, i've been here. wanna come grab a drink with me?" oscar asks but in his mind it feels much more like a beg. in his mind it feels like oscar is down on his knees, hands pressed together as he begs for a second of your attention. the sad part is he knew that if that was what he had to do he would do it here, drop down on his knees in front of everyone and beg for you to pay him even a second of attention.

"sure," you smile up at oscar before turning around to face your friend again. "i'll see you later, it was great to chat with you again, it's been forever!" you say your goodbyes and the man beside you does the same. it pleases oscar to no end as he knows for a fact that you will not be seeing him for the rest of the night and it seemed like you knew that too.

oscar is quick to throw a hand out in your direction to help you up. your touching sending bolts of lightening through his nerves. he ignores it in favour of holding your hand all the way through to the kitchen. it had felt like years since oscar had been to a house party, it made him feel older than he was.

"you okay? you're kinda quiet." you ask as you pour your drink and mixer of choice into one of those red cups, just like in those films you adore, oscar notices.

"yeah, m'okay. just missed you." oscar mumbles, not really one for admitting that kind of thing but it felt weird to hide it from you.

"how's your boyfriend?" oscar could not keep him mouth shut as the questions slips out his mouth.

"my boyfriend?" you laugh "you mean liam?" the smile is not nearly enough to distract him from the guy that had made you laugh like that, like he was not just sitting across from you.

"is that his name?" oscar tries to act uninterested but it is very clear he is seeing as he was the one who asked you about him.

you smile at him. "yeah that's his name. he's good, not my boyfriend though." you having, what anyone who was not deeply in love with you, would call a knowing smile on your face as you take a sip of your drink.

"he sure likes to act like it." oscar huffs, blatantly ignoring everything else you had said except the boyfriend part. it almost makes you laugh and you try your hardest to not burst out laughing in his poor face.

"he's married, so i doubt it oscar." you inform him. your words shock him, he looks way too young to be married and he tells you so, earning a half laugh half scoff from you.

"they're highschool sweethearts and have been married for a year already, i didn't know they were married until today though." you explain to oscar who stares at you blankly.

you catch his eyes, confused at his expression. "what?" you ask.

"kiss me like one of those stupid movies you love so much." oscar mumbles before taking it in his own hands and pulling you close to him for your lips to meet briefly. he pulls away, a little panicked at what he had just done. you assure him with a smile as you pull him back in.

if you were being completely honest, it was a sloppy makeout session in someone's kitchen, both of you a little tipsy and a lot in love. it was not one of your proudest moments, oscar's either, but it was the one thing you would never take back. you thought it to be one of the best things to ever happen to you, as it finally bagged you oscar.

[cottoncandytomu]

Scream For Me Doll~ Ghostface!Ellie x F!Reader

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

ITS FINALLY FUCKING HEREEEEEE!!!

(I do not own any of the photos! Just edited them, if they are yours and you want them removed lmk!!)

GHOSTFACE!ELLIE AI AUDIOS HERE!!

Before I even start-

18+ CONTENT MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS FIC IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR MINORS!!

PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU INDULGE IN THIS FIC!!

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to finally finish this fic, I wanted to make it the best I could for you deranged Beauties~. I will say though, I only proofread half of it (I'll proofread the other half later - sorry I just wanted to post it already heeheheh~) so any mistakes I apologize they will be fixed in the future!

Those who asked to be tagged, if you're not interested in this fic in particular or want to be removed please lmk!! :}

WARNINGS!! PLEASE READ!!

This fic IS NOT for everyone, so please if it isn't your cup of tea...move on. Any type of hate sent my way I ask for it to not be anonymous so I can do you the justice and block you straight up. This fic contains the following: (If I forget to put a TW please let me know so I can add it on!!)

LOTS of dark themes, Filthy smut, Knife play, Blood play, Self harm (Ellie's behalf - slightly intentional - she cuts herself on the blade), Degradation (Very minor), Possessiveness, Stalking, Cursing, Deranged reader and Ellie, Mentions of murder/killing.

I think that's it - again if I missed anything please let me know. BUT that's about it folks, hope you Beauties~ enjoy!! (7839 Words)

⛧⛧⛧���⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

The sound of breathing was the only thing to be heard, Ellie’s warm breath bouncing off the flesh of the mask and back into her own. She learned very quickly how to stay quiet in situations like these. Her robe almost touched the floor, flowing right along with her movements. The sun had set hours before, a warm yellow moon took its place. Darkness cascades over the town, it was during these hours where she thrived the most. The shadows made for her stalk within the night, hiding all of her secrets in its shroud. She slowly creeps towards your window, forever thankful that your room was located on the first floor. 

A lot of her nights were spent like this. Reveling in her recent victims over the weeks to then come and celebrate by watching you at your most vulnerable. You weren’t on her hit list, far from it actually. Her obsession for you was different, not one of bloodlust. Although she’d love to see the deep velvet color of your blood drip down your stomach. The tip of her blade digging into your skin, not too hard, not too soft, but enough to pierce the skin. She’d imagine rubbing her gloved thumb across the liquid, smearing it towards your hip bone. Where she’d then grip your waist, squeezing the soft flesh in her palm. 

Her true bloodlust was for the imbeciles who fell into her traps, never clever enough to understand the gravity of the situation they’ve put themselves in. What genius would walk through an alleyway alone after a night of drinking? Or answer a phone call in the deep hours of the night? Only idiots would and Ellie hated the idiots of the world. The ones who deserved to be silenced by her blade, one less ignorant human on this planet. She saw the evils she committed as an act of justice. Just what society needed, one less idiot to exist. But fuck there were so many. That’s why she enjoyed you the most. You weren’t like them. 

The way you were always aware of your surroundings, keeping up on the latest murders of the month. Those murders being her own work of course. She saw the way your eyes lit up at the idea of figuring out who the infamous Ghostface was. You were determined, it was cute in your own way. Ellie was always one step ahead though, she knew about your obsession with the slasher. Being your close friend was her advantage to the game. It was her fun version of tag, except for the fact that you were unaware you were playing it with her. Coming so close to touching her, the tips of your fingers stretched out wide but she was able to run and hide. You having to start all over again just when you were so close. She loved when you got close. 

She’d listen to all the theories you’d come up with about who Ghostface could be. You’ve gotten close a few times, even if it was jokingly pointing the finger at her. You’d laugh off the idea of Ellie being Ghostface. It’s too hard to believe your childhood friend who you’ve spent every waking moment with to be the one. You told her she didn’t have the guts to commit such acts, too blinded by the nurturing friendship the two of you shared. As clever as you were, in which Ellie respected, you always missed that one piece. 

There was a moment that she did want to tell you, to scream it off the rooftops or to stand outside your house with it written in bold letters. Hey, it’s me! I’m Ghostface! Surprised huh? But she knew that’d be too risky, as much as she trusts you with her life she doesn’t fully know if you’d be able to keep this under the wraps. Would you run away screaming, telling the first officer you see? Or is there that slight chance that you’d be alright with it… 

This was another fantasy Ellie loved to live in. You overjoyed with the fact that she was the one. Running up to her and caressing her mask, blood staining the tips of your fingers just moments after her fresh kill. But she knew better. Out of all the secrets you two shared, this was the only one she kept to herself. 

Little did she know you had secrets of your own. Your obsession with the slasher didn’t just end at finding out who it was. You wanted them for yourself. You wanted to trace their mask with your fingers, dragging them down the oversized robe and over to their gloved hand. You dreamt of grabbing that hand that yielded the knife. Tracing it up your chest to your delicate throat. To feel the cool blade against your skin would welcome heat that would pool between your thighs. You wanted them to use you how they wanted, bending at their will, doing whatever for them. It was a fucked up fantasy you couldn’t stop. But did you truly want it to stop? 

You had to bite your tongue every time you talked to Ellie about them. She was intrigued with your theories, always ready to listen in on the newest piece of evidence you brought up. But you didn’t want to face the judgment of her words when you told her the main reason you wanted to see what was behind the mask. You imagined her reaction once. You didn’t imagine it again after that. 

As she peers in she feels her chest swell up. It never felt any different for her, you always made her feel a certain way. Especially during these times. When she had the mask on, it changed her. She became a different person, she felt free. She felt like her true self. It was funny in a way, usually people put on a mask to hide their identity. But it wasn’t the same for Ellie, it brought out the worst in her. She loved every second of it. 

You were fast asleep in your bed, legs in a tangled mess with your blankets. Your brows were furrowed, tightly knit together. She was curious as to what you were dreaming about. Was it a nightmare? Troubles from something that happened earlier in the day? It took everything in her to not climb in through your window, coming close to you to smoothen out the lines between your brows. Her eyes trailed down to your lips, taking in how soft they looked. How badly she wanted to glide her gloved fingers across them. Just to hook them into the side of your mouth and pull back the flesh, making you smile like the joker. 

Her nightly ritual would soon come to an end. Much to her disappointment she had to go back to being the regular old Ellie. The Ellie no one suspected was Ghostface. She took in your features one last time before descending back into the night, the darkness consuming her once again. 

Finding the abandoned shed by her house she shed herself of her shroud and mask, putting them away in her pack. She returned home shortly after, unlocking her door with her key. She couldn't wait to also get some rest. Unbothered to do anything else besides sleep she threw her pack across the room. Flopping into the bed it didn’t take long for her to be whisked away into lust filled dreams of your face. 

The next morning came in a hurry. Ellie woke up in a sweat, the stuffy heat of the summer causing her clothes to stick to her skin. It didn’t help that she fell asleep with her jeans and t-shirt on, too tired the night before to change into something more comfortable. Her hand reaches over on her nightstand, grabbing her phone she checks the time, 11 a.m. It wouldn’t be long until you’re knocking at the door, you both had previously made plans to go out today. Finally having a matching day off you didn’t want to waste it away, even with the stupid curfew in place. Jackson didn’t have much to do but you both made it work. Your favorite spot was going deep into the forest, dangerous yes, but you enjoyed the quiet serene scene. The only sounds being what nature wanted to sing to you that day. 

Today would probably be one of those forest days. The overwhelming buzz of fear that clouded the skies of Jackson was starting to be too much for you to handle. You wanted, no needed, a mini escape from it all. And who better to escape all of it with none other than your loyal friend. She understood how you felt, how sick of the people you were. She understood it all too well. 

Ellie placed the phone back down on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes as she sat herself up. Letting out a sigh she climbs out of bed and goes to get ready for the day. It doesn’t take long until you’re knocking at her door. Toothbrush in her hand she rushes over to let you in. Your soft smile sends flutters to her stomach, precious as always. She sends a smile back your way, standing off to the side to let you in. You were wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts that hugged your thighs just right, she couldn’t help her eyes from checking you out. After you walk in she closes the door and returns to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

You walk over to the door to the bathroom, leaning against the frame watching her finish up. You gave her a knowing look and she knew what would come out of your mouth before you even said it.

“New evidence?” She asks. 

Your grin widens, “Maybe…”

“Spill, now.” 

This happened often, you’d have some new “gossip” about the killer from your unresting research. While Ellie would sit and listen, wanting to know how close you’ve gotten this time. 

“So you remember a week ago when that random man was murdered?” 

Ellie pretends to think about it for a second. She knew exactly who you were referring to, he was a tough one. His extreme persistence to survive almost caused him to escape her grasp, almost. She nods at you. 

“Well apparently he put up a fight.” 

Ellie’s face cringed, thinking back on the memory. Her expression quickly changed to a confused one, now wondering how you knew about his persistence. 

“I know I know, the only reason I found this out is because of someone sharing some info on Reddit.” She waits for you to continue on. “So their Dad is a cop blah blah, shit no one cares for. But because of this he gets inside info. So get this, they found a piece of the handle to the blade Ghostface used to kill him. There’s some overly complicated science as to how they know he struggled. But the piece of it gives them a slight advantage on what weapon the killer uses. It’s honestly crazy how the knife broke. It’s said that the Buck 120 is very durable, some luck huh?” 

Fuck-

Ellie knew her mistake but didn’t think it would be found so soon. By the time she realized the piece had fallen off it had already been too late. That night she was consumed with the need to see you. Specially after that persistent fuck gave her such a hard time. The stress of it all ate her alive, for once she feared she would be discovered if he was able to escape her grasp. Luckily with one hard strike she was able to finally take him down. Enraged after the fact she kept up the hard strikes at his weak skin. Definitely a blood bath, all the emotions clouded her mind. She didn’t realize that her harsh slashes may be the one thing to bring her demise. When she saw you that night all the stress seemed to disappear. She returned home that night, dread still heavy on her head. Seeing you truly did help her but soon as she left you it all came back. The next morning was when she saw the lost piece in her handle. Cursing herself at her stupidity, it was too late. She never goes back to a kill, no matter how satisfying or difficult. It was too risky, the bodies were found usually a day or so after she ended them. 

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of your voice. “Earth to Ellie, you there?” 

She rinses her toothbrush and spits out the paste in her mouth to answer you. 

“Yeah.” She laughs it off, “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about what you said.”

You tuck in your lips nodding slowly at her words. “It’s crazy to think about isn’t it? I’ll find out who it is eventually I know it.” 

“Oh you do now?” Ellie forgets about her previous thoughts. More interested in your words instead. 

“Mhm~ You know how close I’ve gotten.” 

“I also know how many times it’s slipped from you too.” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hear this shit talk when I find out who it is. I’ll prove everyone wrong.” 

Sure you will. Ellie thinks, “I’m gonna talk shit regardless. You know this.” 

You laugh at her words, “You’re right. Anyways hurry up, I wanna be out as long as I can before curfew.” 

Ellie finishes up what she has to, not wanting to keep you waiting. As she gets her things together you go to sit on the couch, patiently waiting. After she’s done you both head for the front door. Before you can leave Ellie mutters a hold on forgetting one last thing. She goes back into her room before descending out with her guitar case in hand. You smile warmly at her. You always loved when she would bring her guitar. Playing the tunes you were never tired of hearing. You opened the door for her letting her exit with her case. Following her out you both took off to the calming forest. Letting go of all the troubles that plagued your minds. 

After a few hours you and Ellie made it back to her house. The time spent in nature was a refresher you both needed. Similar reasons neither of you were aware of. The two of you didn’t eat the whole day so you both agreed to get food once settled in Ellie’s home. Not wanting the night with you to end Ellie made sure to invite you over after. She knew she’d be around you. Regardless if you stayed or not. She could either have you here or have you through your window. As much as she did enjoy the latter, she wanted to be around you as long as you’d allow. Even if it was when she was regular Ellie. 

The both of you settled down onto the couch. Ellie loaded a game up to pass the time, knowing you’d enjoy watching her play. Ellie made you comfortable no matter the situation, being in her presence made you feel such a relief. A relief no one could provide in the same way that she can. You were scrolling through restaurants in the area on your phone. Stretched out sideways along the couch. Your back against the armrest and your legs over Ellie’s as she sat regularly. Her arms were resting on your lower thighs, fingers pressing away at the buttons. She told you to pick what you wanted, not caring what you’d order. She’d eat whatever you put in front of her anyway. You didn’t want anything too crazy, just something comforting and simple. Which is why you decided on pizza, can’t get more simple than that. 

“I’m gonna get us some pizza.” You look up at Ellie from your phone.

Her eyes were trained on the screen, “Sounds good to me.” She shrugged slightly, replying. 

“Okay I’ll get us a large and a drink as well.” 

Ellie throws a quick glance in your direction, “My card should be in my pack in the room.” 

“I can just buy it Ellie…” 

“Fuck no.” When she looks back at you, this time she doesn’t break eye contact, “I invited you over to eat so I pay for it, yeah?” 

You didn’t bother to argue back with her, you’d lose in the end. You always did. You mumbled alright and she lifted up her arms so you could slip off the couch. The warmth of your legs were gone, causing her to shiver from the cool feeling of her air conditioner. 

You walked over into her room searching around for her pack. Your eyes scan the room when they finally land on it thrown over into the corner. You walk over kneeling down to open it up, digging through it you suddenly feel a sharp sting on your finger. Pulling your hand back from the pack with an ow you look hold your hand to see blood dripping from your middle finger. 

“What the fuck?” You mumble. 

Instead of making the mistake to dig around unaware again you slowly pull open the sides of the pack, opening it up to peek at what's inside. Your brows furrow at the black cloth harshly shoved in it. Slowly pulling it out to examine it an object flops to the floor. Snapping your head down your eyes widen, You can feel the blood draining from your face. A sharp flutter fills your stomach, it was a mask. But not any mask, a Ghostface mask. Picking it up with your free hand to examine it you now notice the red splatters, it stands out from the contrast of the bold white mask. Is that…blood? You think to yourself, it can’t be. This is a joke, there's no way she’s Ghostface. You smirk to yourself, was she really trying to fuck with you like this? She’s done stupid jokes before but never went as far as buying the costume to trick you. Some tricks, huh. Nice try Ellie. 

Did she really think you were that naive? You were going to get up and confront her when the sting of your finger got your attention again. You almost forgot about the cut, you then realized that nothing in your hands could’ve sliced you like that. Don’t tell me she bought a knife too, oh Ellie-. You reached into the pack again, carefully this time knowing your chances of getting cut again were high. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the light shine off the blade, she really outdid herself this time. You grasp the handle and bring it out from the bag, it was the exact kind of knife Ghostface used. The knife had the smeared red on the blade as well. 

One part of you couldn’t believe the lengths she’s gone this time to fuck with your “investigation.” But the other part of you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of her going this far. She didn’t truly know what these things did to you. If it was her, which was a long shot, you wondered how much easier everything would be. Not having to worry about who was behind the mask, not that you really cared, but it was something that crossed your mind. What if it was someone you couldn’t stand, would you be able to still keep up that fantasy of them? Could you still keep it up if it was Ellie? Your feelings for Ellie were that of a roller coaster. In friendship terms everything was smooth sailing, there’s no one else on the planet you could trust your life with more. But when it came to the topic of it being more than a friendship, that was a different story. You can’t say you never had feelings for her, you have. You just pushed them down when you realized how badly it could ruin everything. Plus you had no idea, doubted even, that she liked you the same. So you buried your own feelings deep inside, not daring to let them out again. Sometimes though she’d do things that made you shiver. That would cause those feelings to bubble over again, reaching for nothing but the disappointment you’d give them when you continued to shove them under again. 

Although, to know that she did this all for you made those feelings bubble over again. Could she have a clue about your true intentions of wanting who was behind that mask? Is that why she went this far? To make you believe it? To fall for her instead of the true Ghostface? No, she wouldn’t, it’s just a dumb prank. 

You laughed at your thoughts, going the extra mile once again, your delusions would constantly take control when the masked killer was involved. You twirl the knife in your hands one last time before you decide to put it down. As you check it for the last time your fingers smooth over something rough on the handle. Curious, you look at what the disturbed surface could be. 

As you study the handle your heart drops. No, no, no- this can’t be happening, you think. You can feel the anxiety swell up in your chest. You forget how to breathe, your thoughts racing a million miles a minute. All of the countless hours you spent searching, all of the sleepless nights you’ve had. The endless amount of research you would study, day after day. Stuck scrolling on your computer not resting until you get so close to finding out who it could be. The theories of all the different people you had, you even bought a cork board to help your search. You pulled some crazy shit you kept to yourself to find out where or who they could be. Putting yourself in danger in hopes that you’ll be the slasher's “next prey.” 

All of this for what? For it to be your best friend this whole time. The one person you were so sure of it not being. Fuck you felt so stupid. You grew up with her, you knew her better than you knew yourself. You felt pride in knowing that she would never be capable of such a thing, but she was. And here you are, staring at the handle with the piece of it missing that was just discovered by the authorities. As much as you wanted to deny it you couldn’t. Why did you want to deny it? 

In a way this makes everything easier, your mind travels back to your earlier thoughts. The thoughts of what if Ellie was the killer. But why didn’t she kill you yet? If no one was safe from her slashes then why were you? Question after question filled your head, trying to piece all the evidence together to figure out just what you have missed. While in deep thought you heard a loud thud. Locking in place you slowly turned your head to the sound. 

Ellie stood by the door, frozen. The controller that was once in her hand now faced upside down on the floor. She was wondering why it was taking you so long to grab your wallet. She knew it was in her room, in some pack that she threw on the floor yesterday. She hasn't touched it since. It wasn’t until she started thinking about it that she felt the color drain from her face. She was so exhausted yesterday that she forgot to put her Ghostface pack in the hiding spot she usually does. It slipped from her mind until this moment. Now she’s paying the consequences, walking in on you holding her knife. The very knife you just talked about hours earlier. The single piece of evidence that would be 100% proof of Ellie being Ghostface. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. Scared that any wrong move would result in your panic, your screams filling the air as you ran for the door. But you didn’t. You didn’t move an inch, holding the knife in your hand you stared back at her. All of this time it was her, you didn’t want to admit it but you felt a sense of relief. You did it, you found out who Ghostface was. 

You opened your mouth, trying to get something out, anything out but you couldn’t. Caught like a deer in headlights you thought about your next move. As you thought about it, so did Ellie. You weren’t supposed to find out, even if you did she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted it on her terms, if she were to ever tell you anyway. 

As flustered as she was she managed to speak first, “Seems like all that research paid off huh?” She chuckles. 

Leave it to Ellie to make light of a situation like this, you were used to it though. She always jokes around when shit hit the fan, it was one of the many things you loved about her. You just weren’t so sure if this time was the right time for it. You looked down at the knife again, your fingers gliding against the abrasion.

“It was you the whole time…” Ellie’s eyes widened at your voice, “I busted my ass on research and it was right in front of me the whole time.” 

“Surprise…?”  

You let out a dry laugh at her response, how could you be so fucking stupid. She goes to open her mouth to speak again but you beat her to it. 

“Do you know why I really wanted to find out who Ghostface was?” 

Fuck it. It was out in the open so you might as well be honest. You didn’t know where this confidence came from but after finding out who a serial killer was you realized you only really have two options. She would let you go, which you think is unlikely or she would have to end it right here right now. Killing you to keep the risk of her being found out by the public. You didn’t think she was capable of killing you, you were her childhood best friend after all. 

She stays quiet, letting you continue. You figured you had nothing to lose now, why not let it all out in the open. 

“Finding out who was behind the mask really isn’t all that important to me. Honestly I could give less of a fuck who’s behind it. I just want them for myself. My fucked up fantasy of being with the slasher is all that I’ve been craving.” You sigh, your words becoming just a whisper. “It’s sick… I know.” 

Did Ellie just hear you correctly? Are her fantasies becoming reality right before her eyes? All those nights at your window, watching you, craving you. You writhing under her as she pleased you in the one thing that made her feel like her true self. She watched as your face fell in despair, you were ashamed. There’s no need to be ashamed. 

She wasn’t aware that she said her thoughts aloud, not realizing it until you lifted up your head. 

You looked at her with a shocked expression, “You don’t think so?” 

“How could I?” She starts, “You know what I do. I have no room to judge anyone, plus I’ve wanted nothing more than this.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, did you hear her correctly? 

She continues on, “I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I wanted to tell you so many times but I didn’t know how. Your reaction was something I was scared of the most. But now that I know you want this, I’m ready to take the next step.” 

“What is the next step exactly?” You ask. 

Ellie’s soft expression changes in an instant, a smirk adorning her lips. 

“I make you mine.” 

You felt a slight pang of fear but not too much. Her words catered to your sick mind, they went straight to your core. She took slow steps towards you, as to test the waters on how you would react. You didn’t move an inch, letting her slowly make her way towards you. The grasp you had on the knife tightened in anticipation. When she came close enough she reached out to your hands, loosening your grasp from the knife she took it from you. Her eyes leave yours to study the object in her hands, the object she knew all too well. Her eyes darken as she grasps the handle, pointing the tip of the blade towards you now. The smirk never leaves her lips when she drags the tip of the blade lightly up your throat, stopping to tilt your chin up towards her. 

“You want to be mine right?” She asks. 

You bite your lip, “Only if you’ll allow it.” 

It was at this moment that you saw the true change in her eyes. The Ellie you once knew, the Ellie you grew up with wasn’t the Ellie in front of you now. This Ellie was different…darker…possessive. You wanted to know this version of her more than anything, the true her behind the mask. The person you dreamt of having for so long was finally yours and you were hers. It was at this moment that you knew there was no going back, the two of you now becoming one in her secret. You’d do anything for her, be anything for her. She felt the same, all those nights she watched you at your window. She’d get rid of anyone who tried to hurt you in any way, she’d protect you from any danger that dared to wander around you. God forbid she catches the ones that hurt you, they’d regret their last moments. 

Her eyes flickered back towards yours, keeping eye contact for just a moment before trailing around your face. They stop at your lips, how badly she’s wanted to kiss the plush skin for so long. She wastes no time and throws her knife to the side. Grabbing at the sides of your face she roughly presses her lips to yours. Your hands grasp at her shirt, kissing her back with just as much fervor. The kiss was far from innocent, teeth clashing and spit mixing, just how she liked it. She took your bottom lip in her teeth, pulling at the flesh and letting it flick back in place. Her lips lock back onto yours, you pull her closer by her shirt, needing to get as close as possible. 

She pulls back after a few seconds, you let out a whimper at the loss. Your eyes filled with desperation as you stared up at her. She coos at the sight, her thumb swiping the spit across your bottom lip. 

She licks her lips, “You gonna let me have you tonight?” 

You enthusiastically nod your head, “Y-yes.” You’re still shaken up by the sloppy kisses you two just shared. 

“Yeah? Gonna let me try something out on ya?” 

You continued to nod your head, you didn’t care what she did to you. You’d give her whatever she wanted if she asked, she knew this. Yet she still wants to make sure you’re okay with it. She then took your hands in hers, pulling you to stand up along with her, she then led you to the bed. She pushed you back onto it, you flopped onto the mattress waiting for her next move. She admired you for a moment before walking back by her pack, she grabbed the mask off the floor and slipped it on. 

“You want me to fuck you in this mask hm?” She asks. Not giving you time to reply she continues, “How much did you dream about this?” 

Your words were stuck in your throat, it was all too much but it was so fucking good. You had envisioned how your first night with Ghostface would play out. Staring into their mask, their fingers buried in you, giving you the utmost pleasure you craved. But this? This was better than anything you could have imagined. Especially when it was with the one woman you loved more than anything. 

She picked up her knife, twirling it in her hands. 

“I would use this but that persistent fucker had to ruin it for me.” She shook her head, the loose fabric at the ends swayed in the air. “Good thing I got another.” 

She walks over to her closet, digging around until she pulls out another Buck 120. She flips it over, checking out the shining blade and admiring it. She loved nothing more than her ol’ reliable knife. 

“Got this one as a back up, y'know just in case incidents like before happened. A slasher must always be prepared~” 

Her head looks up, the soulless black eyes staring into yours. You can hear the teasing tone in her voice when she talks to you. She’s well aware she has you wrapped around her finger, ready to do whatever she pleases. 

She stalks towards you, “I’m gonna fuck you with this knife now~.” Her hold on the knife now tighter, “Don’t worry baby it’s clean, haven’t killed anyone with this one…yet.” 

Your eyes widened, her words went straight to your core. You couldn’t help the little fidgets your body made as she slowly made her way towards you. You couldn’t see because of the mask but her eyes were trained on your thighs that clenched together in anticipation. You couldn’t help but rub them together, needing some sort of friction to relieve the heat building up between them. 

You couldn’t help but ask, “Which side?”

Ellie groaned at your question, “Fuck baby~ you want the blade? Are you that psycho for me?” 

You didn’t particularly want to be mutilated tonight, even though somewhere deep down in your fucked up brain the thought was there, you just wanted to make sure Ellie was on the same page. 

“Just curious…” You reply. 

She now stood in front of you, knife in her right hand. Her free hand comes up to rest on your knee, pushing it to the side to open your legs up for her. You can hear her heavy breaths through the mask. 

“As much as I wanna see you bleed, I don’t want it that way. That’s what your thighs are for.” 

Her hand strokes down your thigh, stopping midway to squeeze at the flesh. She brings her knife up to your skin, slicing it lightly enough to draw a tiny bit of blood. She flicks up the knife, her skills on display as she scoops the blood onto the blade, bringing it up to her mask and smearing it on the white rubber. She drags the knife down to the tip of the chin, tapping it against it a few times, as if in thought of what her next move is. You whimper at the sting of the cut, little droplets still flowing from it. She reaches up to smear the blood across your thigh, taking her time watching the way the red liquid spreads. 

“I’ve wanted to see you bleed for me so bad. S’Better than I ever imagined.” 

You bite your lip, holding back your whimpers as you wait impatiently for her next move. You wanted her to do something, to do anything to relieve the ache you felt. She turns the knife around in her hand, the grip pointing towards you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you with the handle instead. That way every time I slash someone I have a memory of you with me. It’ll be the only thing I’ll think about with my victims.” 

Her words flooded through your veins, firing up every cell in your body. You didn’t know she had such a way with her words, if she kept going you’d probably climax just from them alone. As much as her words had an effect on you, you wanted her to go along with her promise. 

“Please…just fuck me already Ellie.” You beg.

“Patience Doll~ You out of everyone should know I like to take my sweet time when it comes to my victims. But since you said please, I’ll give you what you want.” 

She sets the knife down next to you on the bed, her hands grip at the waistband of your shorts pulling them down. You were soaked, the fabric of your panties so wet that you could see the outline of your pussy. 

“Mmh so wet for me, all I did was speak to you and draw a little blood.” Her thumb presses into your slit, pushing against your juices. 

Her fingers hook into your panties pulling out the fabric, she then grabs her knife and cuts off your panties. You breath hitches at how close the blade was to your core, any closer and she would’ve cut you. Making you bleed for the second time that night. She chuckles at your reaction then shoves the panties into her back pocket, saving them for later. 

She pushes up your thigh, opening you up for her and lines up the knife handle to your entrance. She teases you, gliding the end of it up and down your slit collecting up your juices to lube up the knife. 

“You ready Doll?” She asks. 

You whisper out a yes as she slowly slides the handle into your pussy, watching you grip onto it. You can feel her push back on your thigh more, making you stretch so she can get a nice view of you. Even though it was happening in front of her she couldn’t believe you were sprawled out before her like this. She’d catch herself staring at her knife imagining how it would look against your skin, how much she craved to slide it through your folds. Now that she was here it was almost too much, but she didn’t let her excitement take control. She wanted to fully immerse herself in this experience, taking all of you in. From the scrunches of your brows to the curling of your toes, she wanted to see all of you. 

She carefully dragged out the knife, her hand delicately holding the blade. She pushes the handle in and out of you, setting a slow steady rhythm. You writhe under her touch, not being able to hold back your moans anymore, the cool handle adding to the pleasure. You grab onto her wrist, holding her tight. You look up at her mask and she catches your movements tilting up her head. You’re staring hard enough to see her eyes through the meshed fabric, seeing the darkness behind them. She’s wanted this just as much as you did and you’re so glad it’s her that’s giving you this much pleasure. As good as it felt you wanted more, the slow pace was killing you. In a way you felt like she was holding back, still too afraid to lose herself, scared that she might hurt you. 

“Ellie…” You moan out, she twists the knife slightly muttering a yes. 

“Please don’t hold back.” Her movements stop and you whine at her, “I want you to let yourself go, let Ghostface come out.” 

Ellie’s hand quivered at your words, were you sure? Once she’s in that mindset she’s gone, she doesn't wanna risk too much. Although her dark thoughts were always in the back of her mind, how badly she wanted to drill her knife into you and watch you squirm at her force. 

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” 

You loved when she called you that, “Yes, I’m sure. I want it this way, I’m begging you~.” 

You gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze and that was all she needed before the light in her switched. The Ellie you grew up with, knowing better than anyone is not the Ellie that’s in front of you now. That confirmation from you was all she needed to let her true side take control. It happened so fast you didn’t know how to react, Ellie had grabbed you and flipped you over. Making sure your ass was up in the air, almost hanging off the edge of the bed. You braced yourself on your hands, an oof coming out of your lips when she pushed your face down into the mattress. 

You felt a harsh smack on your ass, you moaned at the sting it left behind. She kneads the flesh after, spreading you open and admiring you from behind. Without second thought she reaches down to grab the knife, this time firmly grabbing it by the blade as she plunges the handle inside you once again. She wastes no time fucking you hard and fast, her knuckles white from how hard she holds onto the blade. 

“F-fuck Ellie!” You gasp out. 

You’re in ecstasy, loving the way her demeanor changed. She loses herself in you, focused on the handle pushing in and out of you, how your juices cover the handle and drip down the blade onto her hand. 

“You like that Doll? You’re taking this knife so well~ M’so proud of you.” 

Your moans grow louder by the second, you’re not able to hold back anymore, not that Ellie wants you to anyway. You grip the bed sheets tight, your face repeatedly pushing into the mattress at her relentless force. You knew she was strong but fuck not like this. You were never really on the receiving end of her strength to truly know but now that you were you could see why no one stood a chance against her. She slaps at your ass again before she brings her free hand down to rub circles against your clit causing you to cry out. If she kept fucking you this way it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your high. 

“Shit-” You heard her whisper. 

You whip your head to the side to look at her. You can see her head tilt up to look back at you, she suddenly took her hand off your clit to reach up and tear off her mask. Her hair was a mess, tangled and stuck to her face in other spots from her sweat. Her eyes were blown wide, a harsh darkness to them you’ve never seen before and her lips. Her lips were red and plush from how much she bit them at the sight of you. You were a masterpiece to her, this was all she ever wanted. When she pushed her hair out of the way you noticed the blood that smeared along her forehead. She saw your eyes on her hand and gave you a lopsided smile, her hand going back down to rub at your clit once more. 

“Fuckin’ you so hard I cut myself.” She laughs darkly, “You don’t mind right?” 

Well fuck-

Your eyebrows scrunched together at her words, “No!” You moaned. “Don’t mind.” 

You could barely form sentences from how good she was making you feel, she knew this and she reveled in that fact. A cocky smirk on her lips as her eyes watched the way you squirmed and stuttered under her. She could give less of a fuck that she’s bleeding, your pleasure being the only thing that matters. It didn’t take much longer for you to feel the build up in the pit of your stomach, you were close. 

“Ellie I’m so close, please don’t stop~”

“Don’t plan on it Doll~” Ellie replies, speeding up her movements, if that were even possible. 

You bury your face into the mattress but then you feel a harsh smack to your clit. 

“I wanna hear your moans Sweetheart, don’t hide them from me now.” 

You nod your head rapidly, tears are starting to form in your eyes from all the pleasure you’re experiencing. Who would’ve thought you’d be right here, experiencing the one thing you wanted the most, you never thought your day would end up like this. You’re thankful nonetheless, this is exactly what you wanted and you wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to you. 

It didn’t take long until you reached your high. 

“Ahh~ I’m cumming!” 

Your back arched more, pulling at the sheets so hard they come undone from the edges. Ellie doesn’t slow down her movements either, ignoring the pain in her hand she keeps sliding the knife in and out of you. She watched as your juices flowed down onto the blade and her hand, mixing in with her blood. It made her moan out loud, a sight she’d never forget. 

“Mmm cum for me Doll, just like that. I wanna see your juices on my blade.” 

She helps you ride out your orgasm and your legs start to tremble. She chuckles at the state you’re in and slowly pulls the blade out of your pussy, watching your sticky juice strings stick to the handle. You watch her bring up the knife to her lips, sucking your juices off the handle, you whimper at her actions. When she’s done she throws the knife to the floor, her hands back onto you she spreads her blood up your thigh and onto your ass cheek as she gives you one last squeeze. You’re panting as you turn yourself over to lay on your back, she helps you lie down with a dark smile. She loves how she got you to this point, as much as she’d like to do it again she decides to save it for another night. 

She reaches over to give your hand a quick squeeze saying she’ll be right back as she walks over to her bathroom. After a few moments she comes back with a wet towel, a cloth is tied around her hand to stop the blood from flowing. She walks over to you and wipes away all the blood and cum off your body, giving soothing strokes to your skin afterwards. 

“So…” Ellie starts, “You gonna turn me in?” 

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your throat, “Fuck off.” 

“Is that a no, or?” She questions a knowing smile on her lips. 

“I let you fuck me with your knife, do you think I’m gonna turn you in?” 

She laughs at your response, “Just fuckin’ with ya.” 

She climbs into the bed lying next to you, throwing the towel onto the floor, she faces you and strokes your cheek with the back of her knuckles. You look over at her with tired eyes and a warm smile, she really does switch up fast. 

The two of you wrap up in each other's arms for the rest of the night. You ask all about her time as Ghostface, wanting to know every gory detail and she tells you it all. After a few hours of chatting you both lay in silence, content in each others presence. 

Ellie speaks up first, “So…about that pizza?”

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

RAVIOLIII!! I hope you all enjoyed my fic!! I thank you all for reading my content! I have more on the way but I will be taking a small break to work on my drag projects I got going on!! As always any feedback is appreciated as I always want to level up my writing. Thank you all for being patient with me!! You Beauties~ have a wonderful day/night!!

⛧Taglist⛧

(if you would like to be tagged in any of my works lmk hehe~)

@moonlightdivine , @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshametohidemyshame

[temilyrights]

revelation

Summary:  Emily Prentiss x GN!Reader. Spencer helps you come to the realisation that maybe you've been looking in the wrong place for happy ever after all this time, and the person of your dreams is right in front of your eyes.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: References to drinking alcohol, slight sexuality panic.

A/N: hi it's been a year and a half since i posted anything but i read a half finished fic and suddenly got inspiration?! anyway i've missed you all and i hope you enjoy <3 (my one emily gif because i've lost all my gifs :D i want to cry!!)

How were you meant to know? Sure, you’d watched the movies and heard the songs just like everyone else, but no one had explained to you what it felt like. 

Plus, it wasn’t as if the movies were great demonstrations. They were always so dramatic, with tears and rain and running through airports. 

Spencer was the one, out of everyone, to point it out in the end. 

The whole team was gathered in JJ’s garden, a family event to mark the beginning of summer. Will and Hotch were grilling food on the BBQ, while JJ handed out alcohol that Rossi consumed generously, the kids were playing on Henry’s swing set, and Penelope, Derek, and Emily all spoke boisterously, their voices and laughter filling the garden. 

You stood to the side with Spencer, watching in bemusement. You had no idea what they were saying as they shouted excitedly at each other, but Emily was grinning, her cheeks flushed, and looking more carefree than you had seen her in a long time.  She was wearing a gorgeous blue vest top and jeans. You loved the top on her, it made her glow, complementing her skin and hair in a way that you couldn’t put accurately into words.  

Your heart stuttered, something that had been happening with increasing frequency recently, but you hadn’t given it much thought.

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer said abruptly as his fingers drummed against the side of the cider bottle in his hand. 

You turned slightly to look at him, your brows furrowed at his thoughtful expression. You nodded, “Of course.” 

“Why—" He hesitates. You smile reassuringly at him and he takes a breath before continuing, “It’s not really my business, but I’ve watched the two of you and I guess I'm just confused as to why you’re not dating.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise but he continues. 

“I thought maybe you two were just keeping it a secret from the team, but it’s been years and neither of you have said anything, plus Emily gets this sad look in her eyes sometimes and I think if you were together she wouldn’t, and—”

“Me and Emily?” You stammer, “Why would you think��Emily and I-” 

Spencer’s brows shoot up. 

“She’s one of my closest friends. I don’t…I’m not…”

Your heart beat speeds up and you tug on the collar of your shirt to cool yourself down. 

You didn’t understand, Emily was your best friend. You knew she was a lesbian but you weren’t. You liked men. 

“But you don’t look at the rest of us the way you look at Emily.” Spencer says softly. “You look at her like she’s the sun. Like the world turns because of her.” 

You shake your head. 

No. 

“You love her.” 

No. No. No.

You didn’t. You’d know if you were in love, and okay, so maybe you’d never been in love before but loving a woman had never once crossed your mind. It’s not like you were against it, you'd just never thought about it. Why would you? You dated men. 

…you dated men and felt very little. Your relationships have always been short, and when the men would finally leave you’d feel nothing but relief as if the relationships were draining the happiness out of you. 

But you’d know if you’d like women, surely? Sure, Emily made your heart clench and your stomach swirl. Sure, every time you saw her you’d smile wider and maybe you thought about her often but that’s what friendship was, right? 

You gulp.

Spencer and Penelope were also your close friends, and you did think of them often and enjoy their company but it was different. 

You’d set Penelope up on a date with your friend just like week, but last month there’d been a detective flirting with Emily and you’d been in a terrible mood the entire time. The team had smirked and you hadn’t understood, only thought how unprofessional the detective was being and oh, oh. 

oh.

You loved her.

You didn’t know. 

You really didn’t know. 

No one had told you that this is what it felt like. You hadn’t known. 

A hand on your arm jolts you, and brings Emily’s concerned face into focus. “Hey, are you okay?” She asks, brows drawn together.

A couple of tears had made their way down your cheeks without your permission. Embarrassment burns through you and all that comes out of your mouth is an urgent, “I didn’t know.”

Her frown only depends, rightfully confused, and you don’t know what to say. Too many thoughts rushing through your brain all at once. 

Spencer and Derek stand together a few steps away, whispering hurriedly to each other. You catch your name and Spencer’s worried, “I didn’t think this would be the reaction.” Emily is only focused on you, and doesn’t seem to notice their conversation. 

“What do you need?” She asks, hand still touching your arm and it’s all too much. 

You shake your head, stepping away from the hand that burns your skin. “I just need a minute.” You say, already walking away and into the house where the world is a little bit quieter and there are no watchful eyes. 

You wipe away the tears and take deep steadying breaths as your heart beat slows down. 

You find a glass and fill it with water with shaky hands. You had no idea what happened to your cider. 

You lift the glass to your lips and take a couple of sips, feeling yourself steady even more as you focus on simple actions. You sense when Emily enters the room, able to pinpoint the tread of her boots against the others with ease, and really how had this ever come as a surprise to you?

How had you failed to notice something so glaringly obvious? Emily Prentiss. How many years have you wasted failing to notice her? Going on dates with meaningless men, running yourself in circles and feeling guilty for not feeling enough when that woman makes you feel everything. 

And you weren’t going to waste another minute. 

Your shoulders set as you come to your decision and you place the empty glass of water down on the counter. Emily, equally as tuned to you, notices the change in your stance and from the other side of the room asks, “Ready to talk about what happened outside?” 

You turn around to face her, and your breath catches in your throat slightly. Wow. 

The sun shining in through the window is lighting up half her face, making her dark eyes sparkle more than normal, and bringing out the silver tones in her raven hair. 

“Y/N?” She prompts, brows drawing back together in concern as she approaches you. 

You shake your head, dispelling the thoughts. “We can talk about what happened outside another time. I actually have something else I need to ask you.” 

Emily’s head tilts slightly, confusion masking her expression. “Okay?” 

You blow out a breath, and gathering all your confidence, ask, “How would you like to go out to dinner with me Friday night?” 

“Oh,” Emily smiles, shrugging, clearly still confused. “Yeah, of course, did you want to finally try that new sushi place?” 

You sigh, “No Emily. For a date.”

Her eyes widen, “Oh, oh, uh.” There’s silence for a moment and then “Yes,” As a massive smile spreads across her face and a laugh ripples from her mouth. “What? Are you serious?” 

You can’t help but laugh too, your cheeks warming. “Yes. I’d love to take you out for dinner, if you’re agreeable.”

Her eyes turn soft as her hand reaches out and squeezes your arm, causing butterflies in your stomach. “I would love that more than anything.” 

“It’s a date then.” You smile, eyes dropping down briefly to her lips. 

“It’s a date.” She agrees. 

It may be only five days away but god you would do anything to bend time and move it closer. You’ve waited years, what’s another five days…

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @dalexandriag16 @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @alexblakeswife @quinnharkness @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu @strongsassysexysloane (i have you all listed as being on my taglist but i know its been over a year so if you wanna be removed pls just message me/fill out the form linked on my masterlist and i can take you off <3)

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | explicit | 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is sharing food by @sparklyslug | AO3)

Thursday is officially Eddie's favorite day of the week.

He freely admits that this is a recent development, because before he and Steve started their weekly movie nights, Saturday was Eddie's favorite day. But not even the prospect of having a full day off and another one to look forward to could beat spending several hours alone with Steve.

It's not that he really minds sharing Steve most of the time, because Eddie knows that Steve is happiest when all members of their unconventional little family are safe and accounted for. But the greedy part of Eddie revels in the knowledge that he could have Steve all to himself for a few hours each week.

In hindsight, he should have known that this particular kind of possessiveness was probably not normal friendship behavior. Nor was it really making an effort with his clothes and his appearance for a night on Steve's couch with just the two of them and their movie of the week. But Eddie can be slow on the uptake, especially when it comes to his (previously non-existent) love life.

It took Steve kissing him with lips that tasted like the buttery popcorn he had prepared for them for Eddie to realize that what he felt for Steve was different from what he felt for his other friends.

After that, their movie night routine changed slightly.

It was still every Thursday, but now Eddie usually stayed at Steve's place or vice versa after the movie was over.

They still took turns choosing the movie, but now they always had to pause or rewind whatever was playing because they got lost in each other again.

It was still a rule that they had to bring their own snacks, but now they made sure to bring something that the other one liked, because they knew that's what their kisses would taste like.

Of course, about two months after their friendship has evolved into what it is now, Steve has to break one of their few (admittedly unspoken) rules.

"I can't believe you would betray me like that," Eddie exclaims as Steve squeezes the cold plastic tube into his hands so Eddie can put it in the freezer. At Steve's questioning look, his eyebrows practically hidden behind his floppy hair, Eddie waggles the ice cream in Steve's face. "Mint chocolate chips! The ice cream of heathens and old men."

The sound of Steve's laughter fills the trailer's small kitchen.

"I don't know what's so funny, Steve. This is disgusting. I refuse to let you near me if you taste like this vile abomination."

"Oh wow, tell me how you really feel," Steve laughs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He crosses his arms over his very broad and lickable chest, the white t-shirt straining against his biceps and distracting Eddie enough that he doesn't notice the calculating look in Steve's eyes.

"I bet I can convince you otherwise before the night is over," Steve says, sounding like he has no doubt he can change Eddie's mind. As if he never had to deal with Eddie's stubborn ass before.

"Yeah, sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

With a cocky smile on his pretty face, he looks just like King Steve did at the height of his reign, only now the sight makes heat pool in Eddie's groin.

"Wanna bet?" He asks and Eddie's animal brain senses the danger behind those two simple words, a predator playing with his food. Too bad Eddie has a very twisted sense of self-preservation, so he just sticks out his hand for Steve to shake.

"Sure, I'll bet you can't get me to like mint chocolate chip ice cream by the end of the night. If I win, I get to pick the movies for two months."

"Two months?" Steve exclaims loudly, clearly shocked, before he catches himself and the confident look returns to his face. "Fine. After I win, I get to take you on a weekend trip to Indy, on me."

Eddie blinks at him, confused, because that doesn't sound like a price to Eddie, more like a reward. But Steve looks so sure of himself that Eddie doesn't correct him. It doesn't matter anyway, because there's no way Eddie can lose this bet.

They shake hands on it, both holding on longer than necessary to seal the deal.

After the brief interlude in Eddie's kitchen, the rest of the evening goes on as usual. They watch Stand By Me because Eddie loves Stephen King and Steve secretly loves coming-of-age movies, which is no surprise considering his own upbringing was filled with absentee parents, a rude awakening to the shiteness of his ways, and, oh yeah, monsters and fighting for his life since he was 16.

The movie doesn't really set the mood for making out, even for two chronically horny boys in their early twenties, so they just watch it bundled up under the blanket, pressed together in a way that could almost be called cuddling.

They never really put a name to what they do every Thursday night, but cuddling before their clothes come off is new. It turns Eddie's chest into a garden of perilous hope, like cherry blossoms unfurling in response to the warming embrace of the spring sun. It makes it hard for him to concentrate on the movie, and he's glad that he's read the book several times, so Steve doesn't notice anything off when he asks Eddie about his opinion of the movie.

Eddie really needs to get a handle on this whole thing. He has fallen in love with the boy who casually rocks his world every Thursday, only to be the best friend Eddie has ever had the rest of the time.

It's neither smart nor safe.

It will most likely end in heartbreak.

As the credits roll, Steve stretches lazily like a big cat in the sun, pressing his body even closer to Eddie's. The sensation of hard muscle and soft flesh so close makes his hands itch with the urge to touch, and Eddie feels the burning hunger inside him, dormant during the movie, awaken.

One look into Steve's eyes tells Eddie he's not alone.

They don't need words when Steve gets up from the couch and holds out his hand, waiting for Eddie to take it. When he does, Steve pulls him to his feet and takes him in his arms, their faces suddenly inches apart.

"Hi," Steve says, brushing his nose against Eddie's, making Eddie's stomach flutter.

"Hi," he whispers back, embarrassingly short of breath. Steve has that effect on him, and he wonders absently if he should quit smoking before Steve sends him to an early grave just by being Steve.

It's his last thought before Steve leans in to capture Eddie's lips in a soft kiss. It's almost chaste, the way Steve explores Eddie's lips with his own until Eddie opens his mouth, silently begging Steve to claim him, to turn this kiss into something hungry.

Steve has never denied Eddie anything, and he's not about to start now.

Wandering hands search for heated skin, clothes discarded all over the living room floor as collateral damage from the wildfire Eddie has willfully ignited.

His hands work on the button of Steve's jeans as Steve gently pulls away from their kiss, forcing Eddie to lean back and look at him as well. It's a sight to behold and Eddie admires how disheveled Steve looks. He preens at the sight of Steve's perfect hair a mess, his lips shiny with spit, his eyes glassy and his cheeks pink.

Eddie did this.

"Go and wait for me on your bed. I'll be there in a minute." Steve tells him. Orders him, really. They haven't talked about it, but they both know that some days Eddie wants to be told what to do. He wants the chance to be good, but more than that, he wants to be able to just let go of the weight of responsibility that has been on his shoulders since he was a kid, when he had to learn to take care of himself because his father clearly wouldn't, and put it in Steve's strong hands.

Eddie trusts Steve to take care of him.

"Okay," Eddie agrees, stealing another quick kiss and earning a smack on his ass.

"Brat," Steve says with a smile before getting serious again. "I want you to be naked by the time I get to the bedroom."

Eddie swallows hard and nods before turning around to do as he's told.

When Steve enters the room a few minutes later, Eddie is on his back on the bed, naked and painfully hard.

"Look at you," Steve says, and the awe in his voice makes Eddie squirm. He turns his head, needs to see the look of lust that he knows will be on Steve's face, and takes it in, greedily. Steve has stripped off the rest of his clothes as well and Eddie's mouth waters at the sight of his heavy cock swaying slightly from side to side as Steve walks toward him.

The bed sinks under Steve's weight, his shitty mattress on the soft side, causing Eddie to roll slightly toward him. Steve reaches out to steady him and his hand feels shockingly cold against Eddie's heated skin.

"What the fuck?" he exclaims, the heady feeling of seconds ago gone as he leaps back from the freezing touch.

Chuckling slightly, Steve apologizes, "Sorry, I didn't think -"

"Didn't think? Why are your hands so cold, Stevie? Are you a ghost?" Eddie asks, only half-joking, blurting out the first thought that comes to mind.

"What? No! I'm not a ghost, you idiot. I just brought something for us to play with."

Surprised by these words, Eddie pulls his eyes away from Steve's face and looks around, searching for whatever Steve brought. It must be in the hand Steve has strategically placed behind his back, and Eddie knows what he has to do to get it.

"Show me? Please?" he begs, his eyes widening even more and his lower lip sticking out just a little. It teeters on the edge of being too much, but for some unknown reason it works like a charm with Steve.

His eyes soften even as he playfully nudges Eddie's shoulder. "Get rid of those puppy dog eyes, man. I'm not falling for them," he insists as he moves to show Eddie what's in his other hand.

It's the fucking ice cream tube.

Eddie groans at the sight and tries to sit up and get away, but Steve is faster. Before Eddie knows what's happening, Steve has straddled his hips and is practically sitting in Eddie's naked lap with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Nuh-uh, we have a bet and I intend to win it."

Huffing, Eddie rolls his eyes. "You can't order me to like it."

"No, and I don't have to. You'll be begging me for more soon enough," Steve replies and Eddie wonders if they're still talking about the goddamn ice cream.

He's not sure he wants to know.

"And how are you going to do that?" Eddie asks as he puts his hands on Steve's hips to keep him on top of him. He may not like the taste of mint chocolate chip, but he sure likes the weight of Steve in his lap.

Instead of answering, Steve takes the spoon he's also holding in his big hands and plunges it into the ice cream before taking a spoonful of it into his mouth. It's already on the creamy side and the sight of it on Steve's tongue is surprisingly hot.

Even more so when Steve squeezes Eddie's jaw between his fingers until Eddie opens, then leans in and practically shotguns the ice cream into Eddie's mouth.

Before Eddie can react, Steve's tongue follows, sliding the cream back and forth between them until it's gone, their cold mouths heating up quickly as the last of the taste fades.

"Good?" Steve asks, and Eddie is so far gone that he almost, almost agrees. He catches himself just in time and clicks his tongue.

"Nice try, Stevie."

Steve just hums and does it again. Puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth to share with Eddie. When it's gone this time, he doesn't even ask if it's good, just dips the spoon into the tub to get another.

By the time they share the fifth spoon, Eddie begins to believe that Steve has never tasted like anything but mint chocolate chip, and he doubts that he'll ever kiss him again without searching for that taste in his mouth.

So when Steve starts to pull away from their kiss, Eddie blindly follows. He sits up and wraps his arms around Steve so that he couldn't get away from Eddie if he tried.

"Good?" Steve asks again, but this time Eddie is prepared.

"Uh-uh," he says, shaking his head before fastening his mouth to Steve's neck.

Above him, Steve giggles and it's such an endearing sound that Eddie can't help but smile against the spit-slick skin beneath his mouth.

He's in no way prepared when Steve grabs his hair close to his scalp and pulls his head back. Before Eddie can ask what's wrong, suddenly afraid he's done something wrong, Steve demands, "Stay still."

He lets go of Eddie's hair and when Eddie does as he's told, he's rewarded with a quick kiss on the forehead and a gentle, "Good boy."

Then Steve takes another spoonful of ice cream, the frozen dessert well on its way to melting, and dribbles it down his neck and chest. Some of it gets caught in his chest hair, and when a drop lands on his nipple, Steve inhales sharply.

Between them, Eddie's cock twitches.

"Come on, puppy. Lick it up, be a good boy for me," Steve purrs, and fuck, Eddie has no idea where this is coming from, but judging by the way his dick is so fucking wet that it keeps dripping onto Steve's hairy thighs where they bracket his, he's really, really into it.

And judging by the sounds coming out of Steve's mouth as Eddie licks and nips all over Steve's skin, so is he.

Eddie alternates between broad strokes with his tongue and sucking motions with his mouth, adding a bit of teeth as he scrapes the remaining sweetness from between the coarse hairs between Steve's pecs.

When it's all gone and Steve's skin is glistening with Eddie's spit, they kiss again because this is Steve's favorite ice cream and Eddie has to share the taste with him.

He gets lost in the smooth glide of their tongues and when Steve moans "fuck" into his mouth, he thinks it's just because of how hot everything is. But when Steve pushes him away with a firm hand on his shoulder and grabs his chin to direct his gaze down, Eddie realizes what caused that particular sound.

There's half-melted ice cream all over Steve's beautiful cock, running down the veiny flesh and onto his heavy balls. Someone whimpers and Eddie fears it's him.

A gentle hand on his cheek pulls him out of his reverie and he lets himself be moved, his head slowly lowering as his back bends until his lips close around the head of Steve's hard cock.

"So good, baby, so hot, lick it all off, yeah?" Steve babbles and Eddie hums in approval. He's going to be good, he's going to lick it all off Steve and then share the taste with him again.

That's what he does, his tongue swirling around the head before he lowers himself even further onto Steve, lips and tongue eagerly scooping up the sweet cream. The coldness of the cream only adds to the hotness of it all, the contrast of the soft, cold cream against Steve's hard, hot flesh slowly driving Eddie crazy. Steve is not faring any better, his moans turning to whimpers, his voice breathy and high as he continues to praise Eddie in an endless litany of filth and sweetness.

It's a surprise when Steve suddenly freezes over him, his whole body going rigid as hot cum floods Eddie's mouth. It spills from his lips before he realizes what's happening and drinks the rest down eagerly. Its taste mixes with the taste of mint chocolate chip in his mouth and Eddie knows that Steve has won the bet here and now.

He'll be begging for more as soon as Steve catches his breath, dreaming of how it will taste when he licks it out of Steve's hole and from between his cheeks.

But first he seals Steve's mouth with his own to share his new favorite taste.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Being friends with Eddie is interesting, now that Eddie knows they're friends. Or trying to be. Or whatever it is that's happening.

If Steve thought Eddie was in his personal space before, it's nothing compared to now. It's not like this is a revelation to Steve, he's been around and seen how little Eddie cares for everyone else's personal space. It's just interesting to be part of that group, now.

He leans in close to stage whisper about anything and everything, especially if what he has to say will get a stir out of one of the kids. He gets to be on the receiving end of Eddie's touching now. Always touching. Eddie's hand on his arm as they talk, an arm flung around his shoulders as Eddie laughs about something and uses Steve to stay upright, so many high fives and fist bumps. Like, so many.

It's not like Steve is a stranger to touch. Robin leans against him all the time. The kids have no problem doling out hugs and attempted tackles in equal measure. And even the other Hellfire club members have warmed up to him, offering high-fives or handshakes when they show up for games. Except for Gareth, whose sole greeting seems to be clasping hands and pulling him into a half hug before patting him on the back like he's trying to burp a baby.

Not that Steve is complaining about the lack of personal space. He's just making an observation. He can now see just how much Eddie has been holding back when it came to touching him, back when he was still trying to befriend Steve. No, none of this is a problem. It's just, well, Steve didn't expect to crave the physical touch as much as he does now, is all.

It also turns out that beyond losing all access to his own personal space, Eddie is funny, can be kind, and is taking accountability. Steve was witness to Eddie pulling Lucas aside to talk, and even though he couldn't hear what was said, he did get to see the hug it ended it. And while Steve still declines all invitations to actually play Dungeons and Dragons, Eddie's been taking the time to explain it to him. To talk him through the words that swim on the pages of the Player's Handbook. He answers any questions Steve has after ever session of the campaign they play, and recaps the ones Steve isn't around to hear, whether because of work or a migraine (Dustin has a key to his house to let them all in when Steve is gone).

He and Eddie have been hanging out after ever Hellfire session, along with two or three more times in the week. Robin is still the person who Steve spends most of this time with, but Eddie is a close second these days.

So, overall, befriending Eddie has been interesting this last month, and that brings him to the now.

Now, Eddie has just finished cleaning up after the most recent game and Steve is lounging on the couch. It's perpendicular to the table, so Steve's laid out on it, head at the end furthest from the table so that he can watch as well as listen. Steve watches as Eddie fiddles with some papers, brows furrowed in thought, for a good five minutes before Steve speaks up to break the silence, "what are you thinking about?"

"I just- I made you something."

He props himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Eddie, "You made me something?"

"Don't, uh, don't get too excited. It's nothing fancy," he says, before grabbing the pieces of paper he was fiddling with and marching over with determination. "I know that you might never play a game with us, but here."

Steve sits up fully now that Eddie's approached the couch and reaches out to take the pages.

They're homemade character sheets. His character's character sheets. Three pages per character, where he can very clearly see that Eddie has taken the time to keep his handwriting neat, even, and as Steve examines the words, he can see Eddie has done his best to mimic Robin's handwriting, which Steve had mentioned very briefly, and only once, being easy for him to read. Robin's letters all look so different from each other with the 'f' having a slight curve at its top, but every 't' is perfectly straight. For reasons Steve doesn't fully understand, it makes it easier for him to read. Robin's writing rarely swims on the page like printed words do. Even the numbers are painstakingly written to look different. The 6's curve while the 9's are almost as straight at the t's. The 5 perfectly mirror a printed 5, with straight lines and a curved bottom but the 2 looks more like a capital cursive Q, all rounded edges.

The third page of each character sheet, however, has a character portrait drawn in a corner of the page. The top character is his dwarf paladin, drawn to look like Steve with a thick, full, braided beard. He laughs out loud at it, too touched and happy to keep it in. "Did you draw this?"

"Yeah. Will's not the only artist here," Eddie grins at him.

Steve flips to the last page, to see how well Eddie did with the elf magic-user. Steve didn't base this character on himself. When Eddie asked how he imagined the elf to look like, Steve had tried his best to describe him with words and gestures, demonstrating how long he thought his ears would be, and the length of his hair.

What he sees makes his heart skip, or stop, he's not sure. Because even though Eddie's never seen him, what stares back at Steve is Christopher. It's not perfect, the jawline is more angled than Christopher's was, and the hair is too long but that's because Steve described it that way. It's as close to being Christopher as one could get without seeing a picture.

It makes Steve's eyes water.

"Is it that bad?" Eddie asks.

He just shakes his head in response, setting the pages on the coffee table and stands. He disappears into the study and returns with a single photo frame. He reaches for Eddie's wrist, pulling his hand up and shoving the frame into his palm. Eddie grips the frame and frowns down at it for a moment, a confused expression on his face.

Steve feels a lump in his throat, emotion blocking words that usually come easily to him. All he can do is grab the page with the character portrait on it, offering it up to Eddie to see again. Eddie looks from the photo to the drawing and back a few times before quickly looking up to Steve. "I- is this... Christopher?"

He nods. There are three people in the picture frame. Christopher in the center with Amber and Robert on either side of him. A Santa hat hangs off his head while the twins are each wearing headbands with antlers on them, all three of them in ugly Christmas sweaters. It was sent along with a Christmas card and his mother, perhaps in a pique of nostalgia, framed it. It had sat on the mantle above the fireplace for a few years before migrating to the bookshelf in the study.

"Oh," Eddie whispers, looking between the two pictures again. Then he looks up again, a soft smile on his face and mischief in his eyes as he says, "you think Hopper'll hire me to do the police sketches? Turns out I'm pretty good at drawing from verbal descriptions."

That helps clear the block in his throat, helps him find his words again. Eddie's good at doing that. Saying just the right thing at just the right time to make Steve laugh instead of cry. "You? Working for the police?"

"The police!? No! Slander! I'd work for Hopper, though."

He does laugh, then. "I think your character is developing, or whatever."

Eddie snorts out his own laugh before passing the photo frame and paper back to Steve. "Yeah, well, I'm trying."

And Steve see it, is that thing. That Eddie is trying, has been trying. He makes less comments about conformity and says less snarky things about the customers that come into Family Video when he's loitering around. He does it even when Steve's not around to see this. Robin vouches for him, so do the kids, and even Wayne mentioned that Eddie sat and watched a full baseball game with him without his usual scoffing and ranting.

(And by mention, Steve means that Wayne pulled him aside when he went over to the trailer recently to tell him, "Eddie watched a whole game with me last night and didn't bitch once. And of course I questioned if he was gettin' sick and he said someone had given him a needed talkin' to about bein' a right ass 'bout some things and he was workin' on his way of thinkin' 'bout those things. I think I got you ta thank for that."

"What? Why?" Steve had asked.

"Eddie 'n I don't have much we bond over, believe it or not. Even though Eddie's decided baseball still ain't for him, he said he wouldn't be opposed to watchin' with me again. Don't think he'd of done that without ya.")

So, Steve sees it. He sees that Eddie is trying to be a better person than he was, and that he's drawn an almost perfect picture of Christopher because he listens when Steve talks. He wrote out character sheets that might just make it easier for Steve to read them, instead of just trying to argue that words don't move and if he'd just try harder he'd be able to read like everyone else.

He sees Eddie and it makes Steve want in a way he's been repressing since he was a freshman and first thought Eddie was cute. Eddie's fingers brush against his as he hands the pictures back, and even though Eddie's touched him probably a million times since that first talk, this is the time it makes electricity run through him and his stomach swoops and he feels his face heat.

Not wanting Eddie to see him blush, he turns on heel and speed walks to the study. He places the photo back on the bookshelf where it was before and then pauses to lean his forehead against the wall. They just got to the point of friendship! Steve cannot ruin this by catching feelings.

Although.

He did tell Robin he had a crush on her and got a soulmate out of it.

No. What are the odds he'd get two soulmates? No. He needs to talk to Robin.

He gathers himself and heads back to the living room, where he plans to sit and chat with Eddie like they do after every game and pretend everything is normal.

He crawls through Robin's window that night. She wasn't expecting him, but the window is always cracked.

"Rob, you awake?"

"Mmm," Robin hums back, rolling over in the bed to pop one eye open. She watches him untie his shoes and toe out of them before scooting herself to the edge of the twin, lifting the blanket she's under up for him to slide in. Usually when he does this, it's with his back to her, but this time he needs to see her face, to see the reaction to his confession. He climbs in and settles facing her, watching as she blinks herself more awake.

"What's happened?" she says around a yawn.

"I want to date Eddie."

Robin's eyes go wide. "Oh! Ah, so, that's definitely wake me in the middle of the night kind of news."

"It's barely midnight, but yeah."

"So... how, umm, did you find out?"

Steve sighs, wiggling to lay on his back and stare up at the ceiling now that he's dropped the bomb and it didn't explode instantly. "That I like boys, or that I like Eddie?"

Robin wiggles forward and slings an arm over his torso, curling into his side. "Were they different epiphanies?"

"Yeah."

He feels Robin nod her head against his shoulder. "So, how long have you known?"

He swallows thickly before whispering, "since the summer of '78."

A long silence follows that, and Steve doesn't try to fill it. Steve knows that there is no universe in which this confession to Robin ruins their friendship, but that doesn't mean she can't be mad or upset at him for not telling her. He tells her everything.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" is the question she asks after an eternity, and Steve feels tears in his eyes because she doesn't sound angry or hurt, just curious and maybe confused.

"It didn't matter before," Steve says and waits a moment to see if Robin will say something, but she doesn't, so he continues, "I thought it never would matter, living here in Hawkins. And- and a little part of me was afraid you wouldn't even believe me. If I said it out loud, if I'd let anyone know, and they scoffed, or, or rolled their eyes, or- I know I would have shoved it down. 'Cause I knew I could just like girls for the rest of my life and it would be fine."

She squeezes him with the arm draped over his torso. "Hmm, shoulda known that you'd like girls and boys, ya slut."

The laugh he lets out is way too loud to this late at night, but he doesn't care. That Robin is teasing him means they're okay. That she's not too hurt or mad at him for keeping this from her. For letting her think she was alone. His voice holds no hint of that laughter when he says, "I'm sorry."

"Unless the thing you are apologizing for is speed-running the gay crisis, which is unfair, you better shut your stupid mouth, Steven Michael Harrington."

"Don't government name me while we cuddle in your bed."

"I seem to be the only one doing the cuddling, so I'll say what I want."

He huffs out an exasperated breath but wiggles his arm under and around her. "Better?"

"Yes. Now, Eddie, hmm? I don't see the appeal, but neither can I claim he's a dud like Tammy Thompson. Give me a crush you had I can mock."

"... Tommy H in freshman year."

"No!" Robin is so flabbergasted by that she has to prop herself up on an elbow to look down at him.

He knows he's blushing because of the heat in his face but the room is only lit by the light of the moon, so she might not notice. "It was like for a month. A confusing time where I couldn't tell if it was a crush crush or a friend crush."

"Disgusting."

"Yeah. I know."

They giggle after that and Steve shifts so he can place a kiss on Robin's forehead, bending his arm to pet Robin's hair.

"Alright. You want to date Eddie. Do you... think he likes guys, too?"

"I don't know. We don't sit around discussing who we like, you know? Eddie's never mentioned liking anyone. Ever. Lots of talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his guitar, though. Hmm. He calls it sweetheart. Did you know that?"

Robin snorts. "What a dork. I lied. Eddie's a total dud and loser. Who gives their instrument a name, much less that name being sweetheart."

"What, you don't have a name for your trumpet?"

"God no. I'm a band geek but I'm not a total weirdo."

"Well, does Vickie have a name for her instrument?"

Robin gasps suddenly, a realization of some sort, and says, "Oh! This is why you were so sure Vickie liked me back at Warzone! Why you were so sure she could like both! Because you did!"

Steve shushes her. "Is this how you want to come out to your parents?"

"Right. Quiet time," Robin whispers, "I can do that. Anyway, back to you and Eddie. Are you going to... pursue that?"

"I don't know. I know I'm usually a Pursue Immediately kinda guy but this time... I'm scared, Robbie. I've never been friends with someone before dating them. I've never had something to lose if they said no."

"I don't know what to say," Robin says like a confession, quiet. "I don't know how to help. You're the only person who knows about me because I'm also scared. I don't want to lose our friends 'cause I don't know what they would say. You can never know how people will react about it until they, like, have to actually react. But whatever you decide, however you proceed, just know I'll always be here."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, you giant sap."

May gives way to June and graduation parties. Steve conspires with Wayne to hold Eddie's graduation party at his house. The trailer wouldn't have room for all of Hellfire and the kids. The graduation ceremony goes by quickly and the party is a hit. Nancy and Robin are at their own graduation parties hosted by their parents, so this one is only for Eddie.

Which is what Steve wanted. He didn't want Eddie to have to share this day, a long time coming, with anyone.

(He does make an appearance at Robin's party, because that's his soulmate, but she tells him to go away after fifteen minutes with a my parents already want to betroth me to you, if you stick around, they'll actually try).

"Thanks for hostin'," Wayne says once the party starts to wind down, plopping down into the camping chair he'd brought with him. He'd actually brought four of them, to ensure enough seating for everyone when factoring in the chairs Steve already had at the house. Wayne then gestures across the pool, where Dustin, Lucas, and Max are welcoming a recently dropped off Mike, who had to spend most of the day at Nancy's graduation. "Speakin' of hostin', you gonna let 'em play their game here over the summer? I can start chippin' in snack money."

Steve laughs. "It never even occurred to me that they'd stop once school ended. So, yeah, if they want to keep playing then my place is open. We can take turns buying pizza."

"Best tell Eddie that. He's been tryin' ta work up the courage to ask ya. I can hear him pacin' 'round his room, mutterin' to himself."

"Is he... scared to ask?"

"Nah. Just don't wanna overstep himself, I think," Wayne says, then leans forwards, elbows on his knees. His expression is serious and his voice is low when he adds, "Eddie might not look it but he's always had a fear of bein' too much, y'know? It's not anything you've done, son. It's just Eddie, gettin' up in his own head again."

That Steve understands completely. "Don't worry, Wayne. I'll make sure Eddie knows I want him here."

Wayne nods, reaching out to pat Steve's leg and then use it pull himself out of the chair. "No doubts, here. Now, I think there's some potato salad left callin' ta me."

Steve stands, too. Wayne heads inside to where the food has been safely stored away from the bugs, and Steve heads off to join Eddie, Frankie, and Jeff in whatever they're talking about. They're discussing band stuff, so Steve listens happily, chipping in when they ask his opinion.

Eventually, Frankie and Jeff claim they want to go throw Gareth in the pool as payback for some earlier misdeed, and Eddie opts to stay and chat with Steve.

"So, I originally came to ask if there were any DnD snacks you'd like to change up. We've been getting the same things for a couple months now. Any summer specific snacks?"

Eddie's face glows with delight, smile big and eyes bright. "You're not sick of us yet?"

"No way," Steve smiles back. "I like having you and the guys around."

Eddie's face softens into a fond expression and Steve feels butterflies erupt inside him. Eddie opens his mouth to say something but a shriek interrupts and they both whip around to the sound of splashing.

"Oh. They were serious," Eddie says, which is a weird thing to say. If Eddie didn't think they were serious about throwing Gareth in the pool, then he must have thought they were just making an excuse to get out of conversation. Why?

"Looks like it," is what Steve says, instead of questioning Eddie.

"Oh! Steve! I had an idea," Eddie blurts.

"Oh! Eddie! What?" Steve parrots his phrasing back at him.

"And, like, you can tell me this is none of my business and to drop it, but, uh, Christopher's younger siblings, they're the same age at like Dustin and the rest, yeah? I was thinking, maybe, you should invite them to come stay with you for a couple weeks. Like you used to do with your grandparents? I mean, what's the difference between one older relative and another, right?"

Eddie keeps going, talking about the pros and cons, how it might be cool to get their kids to be friends with Steve's cousins, and Steve hears him, but also isn't listening at the same time. It's a great idea. Steve wonders why he hasn't thought about it. There's nothing stopping him from calling up his aunt and uncle and offering. He doesn't know if Amber and Robert still spend a month of their summer in Michigan, but he wants to know.

And that Eddie has been thinking about it. Has been listing ideas for group activities so Amber and Robert have fun while here. He's got great ideas, and it sounds like he plans to be around for the whole thing, like he wants to be around for the whole thing.

The want swells inside him and Steve just acts. He grabs Eddie's wrist and drags him into the house, passing Wayne as he's heading back outside with a new plate of food. Which is good, because Steve had forgotten Wayne was inside but with him back outside, they are alone in the house as he drags Eddie into the kitchen.

"Uh, what-" Eddie starts to ask once Steve has stopped walking, but Steve cuts him off. He's turned to face Eddie, dropping his wrist to reach up with both hands and cup Eddie's face between them.

"Can I kiss you? Please? Please can I kiss you?"

Eddie's eyes widen but he's nodding his head almost frantically and Steve pulls him into a kiss.

It's electric, like that first time Eddie's fingers brushed his own the day he realized he had a crush on Eddie. Eddie presses in, his own hands wrapping around Steve's waist, pulling him in as much as he's pressing forward. He runs his tongue along Eddie's bottom lip and Eddie opens to him immediately.

Eddie backs him into the wall that divides the dining room from the kitchen, kisses turning heated, biting. It's a heady feeling for Steve, to not be the one pressing someone against the wall; to instead be pressed. There's a high-pitched whine that echos through the kitchen and it takes Eddie breaking away to kiss his way down Steve's neck for him to realize he's making that noise, encouraging Eddie with it.

"Fuck, Eddie," Steve says as Eddie shifts, his leg sliding between Steve's own. "Wait, stop. Wait."

Eddie pulls back, although reluctantly. "Hmm?"

"Anyone could walk in here. And your party is still going. We gotta slow it down."

"Right, shit, sorry," Eddie pulls away, far too quickly, and Steve doesn't like the uncertainty that settles on him.

"Hey, no, don't apologize. I just- Jesus Eddie, I want to continue so bad, but not if we have to rush. Not some quicky in the middle of your party."

Tentatively, Eddie reaches back out, takes one of Steve's hands in his. "So, this isn't just a- this is something you've thought about?"

Steve nods. "Yeah. I told Robin almost a month ago I wanted to date you."

"Yeah?" Eddie looks shocked and shy at the same time.

"Yeah. So, uh, let's finish this party and we can talk about us after?"

Eddie nods, bringing Steve's hand up to his lips and planting a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Definitely."

[bettyfrommars]

Everlong

part 1: hello, I've waited here for you

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

18+Only, smut, older!eddie, older!steve, unprotected anal sex, first time experience, oral m/m, anal play, rimming, fingering, no Vecna, deep feelings, mention of porn and of an orgy, creampie, but it's also very fluffy, Eddie has had a crush on his best friend for a long time. wc: 5.9k

It's the mid-late 90's in Hawkins, Eddie and Steve are both in their 30's, and have recently moved back after several life upsets. Eddie has his own trailer across town, and that is where he offers to let Steve stay for a week, and old feelings resurface.

author's note: There will be 2 parts to this. I fully intended to work on something Halloween themed, but then the inspiration for this happened. Just goes to show how my mind doesn't like to be told what to do.

"If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when..."

-- Everlong, Foo Fighters

Steve’s week-long stay with Eddie was half over, and Eddie felt that reality sink his heart as he opened the door to his trailer.

“Honey, I’m home,” he announced with a spring in his step.

He lived in a trailer park across town now, it was double wide, and felt like a luxury after all of those years he spent crowding in with Wayne.  He missed the old man though and went over to Forest Hills every couple of days to visit. 

He never thought he’d be back in Hawkins a decade after high school, but he’d dropped everything to move to Indianapolis for a girl he was seeing, and then got his heart shattered a year later. 

Coming back to his hometown felt a bit like failure, but it also felt safe. He still had good friends there, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore.  Working as a welder at the local fabrication shop was not his dream job, but it paid the bills, and he was comfortable. He even got to play a show with his old band every now and then.  

He put the Chinese take out on the island between the kitchen and the living room and called Steve’s name again.  But then he caught sight of the piece of paper on the coffee table:

 “Went for a run. BRB.”

The note made Eddie grin and feel all goofy, like somehow that small courtesy was such a huge act of love.  He hadn’t been treated very well by his partners over the years, and that revelation stung him in moments like that.

Steve had also done the dishes, and the living room was spotless and organized.  The ashtray on the coffee table had been dumped out and cleaned, all of the Guitar World magazines stacked neatly.  When he opened the fridge to grab a beer, he found that they were all lined up in a row.  Eddie kept telling him he didn’t have to do any of that, but Steve said that if he didn’t stay busy, he’d go crazy, and Eddie respected it.  

Steve Harrington and Eddie had remained best friends, even through the years and the distance and the failed relationships.  It just so happened that Steve was at the tail end of a very messy divorce, and needed a place to crash now that he was back from Chicago.  His ex-wife had managed to take him for every penny he had, so Eddie was quick to offer his place after he joked about having to sleep in his car (it wasn’t a joke).

Eddie played the message blinking on his machine to find that it was from Robin.  She’d also moved back to Hawkins recently, but she worked 50 hours a week, had two roommates, and was dating a woman from another town, so they didn’t get to see each other as much as they’d like.  The three of them had a bowling date set for that coming weekend, and it gave Eddie the warm fuzzies to think about them all being back together again.

Eddie was in the shower with his dick in his hand, stroking it, when Steve burst in.  “Hey man,” the intruder grabbed something from the medicine cabinet, and then braced his hands on 

the sink before splashing some water on his face. “God damn, I am out of shape.  That was rough.”  Steve coughed a few times and then wiped his face on the nearby towel.

He couldn’t see Eddie through the dark blue curtain, but had he heard him? There was a possibility that Eddie had been talking to himself, thinking about Steve, and grunting a little as he got himself hard.

“Food smells good,” Steve added as he walked back out into the hall, but left the door wide open. “I’m starving.”

Nah, he hadn’t heard anything.

“I got those weird noodles you like,” Eddie shouted over the sound of the shower.  “And sweet and sour chicken.”  Steve didn’t have to tell Eddie what he wanted from the restaurant down the street; Eddie always paid attention to those things.  

“Hey, leave me some hot water,” Steve was in the doorway again.  “Or should I just get in there with you? Save some resources?” 

“Not unless you want to soap my balls, Harrington,” and then Eddie threw his fist against the curtain.  “Get out, and shut the fucking door, you creep.”

—-------

After dinner and a beer on the porch, the boys retired to their respective positions on the couch while Eddie rolled a joint.  The movie Ghostbusters was on TV, but it was interrupted by a string of commercials, and Steve tucked his foot under him on the opposite end of the couch while he watched Eddie lick the paper.

“Okay if I have a drag?” Steve asked, resting his cheek on his knuckles.

Eddie snapped a look at him and raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, hell yes.  You think you can handle it?” The metalhead sat back, rolling the piece between his fingers, and then he wet one end and grabbed his lighter.  

“I can handle whatever you can handle, Munson.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Harrington,” Eddie smirked and took a stiff inhale before passing it to his friend.  

Steve’s ex-wife had insisted on a very straight-edge lifestyle, and he hadn’t had a whiff of weed in almost 3 years, so he took a cautious pull.

And then he coughed, and banged his chest, and spittle flew from his wet lips. 

“Damn, alright,” Eddie hummed.  “I take it back, you are a badass.”

“Shit,” Steve could feel the drug seeping into his bloodstream and his senses.  “Feels good. Feels kinda…tingly.”

“Ahh if only to have your tolerance again,” Eddie mused, taking another long drag. The show came back on, and the Ghostbusters were checking out the slime and stacks of books in the library.  

They watched a few minutes of the movie while Eddie continued to smoke.  He offered it to Steve again, but he passed.  

“Hey, do you remember that one time we watched a porno together?” Steve just blurted it out from nowhere, completely unprompted.

Still, Eddie knew exactly which porn he was talking about, and the exact night that it happened.

“I think so,” Eddie tapped his ash out. “Maybe.  Were we at my old place?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen.  “It was the summer you graduated, and Wayne was at work and you were like ‘hey Steve, wanna watch some vampire ass fucking?”

Eddie scoffed.  “Shut up, that is not what I said.”

“Well,” Steve was clearly exaggerating, chuckling to himself.  “That’s what they were doing.”

The movie was called, “Bloodsucking Orgy” and it was a bisexual vampire porn.  But the actors were wearing fake, plastic teeth, and the cheap makeup dripped off of their faces as they fucked, but it was some of the hottest shit Eddie had ever seen at the time.  

What Steve didn’t tell him was that he had to pull over to jerk off in his car that night, not only thinking about the raw breeding on film, but the way Eddie had palmed himself over his jeans, clearly aroused.  That was the first night, all those years ago, when Steve had first questioned his sexuality.  

“I had that vhs with me for a long time,” Eddie held in a tight breath and then released a large plume of smoke. “It was under my bed in a box for years, but I think my ex took it.”

“Trevor?” Steve asked, thinking of the last boyfriend that Eddie had introduced to him that he didn’t like.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t approved of any guy or girl Eddie had dated in a long while; In Steve’s mind, no one was good enough for his best friend.  

“Nah,” Eddie lowered his chin, shyly.  “I only dated him for like, a week. It was barely a handjob.  I’m talking about Jake, the one with the mohawk.”

“The guy who juggled bowling pins at the fair?” Steve rolled his eyes.  “I swear, you know how to pick them, Munson.”

Eddie squinted across the couch at his friend as another commercial came on.  Maybe the weed was a little stronger that night but, was Steve…jealous?

Steve stole a long glance at Eddie when he got up to use the bathroom, taking in the curve of his muscles under the thin white Hanes of his t-shirt and the arc of his resting cock under his sweats.  

They watched a bit more of the movie, speaking the lines to the parts they knew by heart. 

“I’m going to miss this when you go,” Eddie muttered.

Steve’s apartment would be ready by Monday, and Eddie was dreading the lonely nights when Steve wasn’t there on the couch with him.  

“I’ll be just down the road, man,” Steve assured, taking a sip of his beer.  “I thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair, so you could get back to your bachelor pad life.”

Eddie figured Steve was just confused, so he decided to jog his memory.  “I haven’t so much as gone on a date with anyone in almost a year.  This is hardly a rockin’ bachelor pad.”

For some reason, this gave Steve a sense of relief.

Ghostbusters ended and Eddie told Steve to wait right where he was, as if he’d go anywhere, since the couch was also his bed.  

When Eddie sauntered back from the dark hallway, he was carrying two black, clamshell vhs covers.  They were blank on the outside, with no words on the spine, and Steve knew exactly what they were, even from far away.

“Let me guess,” he raised his eyebrow.  “Bloodsucking Orgy Part 2?”

Eddie chuckled. “Close! No, but they are just as bad.”

Steve adjusted himself in a way that made Eddie look over his shoulder as he put the tape in the vcr.  “You okay with this? I figured…for old time’s sake?”

“Sure, yeah, why not?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair a few times and adjusted the collar of his tee because suddenly he felt very hot. 

To say that Eddie was testing Steve would be wrong.  Eddie had no idea that the events in Bloodsucking Orgy had been a bit of a sexual awakening for his friend.  

The actions in the movie would turn Eddie on, sure, but he could control himself for a few minutes if it meant being able to get a laugh at the way Steve’s face twisted up at the ridiculousness of it all.

The credits came on to let you know that this was a “Two Dicks, One Hole Production” and the boys clapped.

There was about 3 minutes of what you’d call “plot” where a bunch of zombies stormed inside this woman’s house while she was having a tupperware party, and then they were suddenly all compelled to have sex.

“Look out, Scorsese,” Steve bubbled a laugh into the palm of his hand.  

Eddie clucked his tongue. “No one appreciates good cinema these days.”

One zombie had its head between a woman’s legs on the table while one of her friends squatted down on her face and rode her tongue.

Some of the husbands came by to rescue their wives, but then they ended up getting dicked down as well.  It was all purely entertaining at first, but all of a sudden, Steve felt his cock twitch.  He palmed himself over his boxers, and looked over to find that Eddie was doing the same thing.

Eddie glanced over and caught Steve staring at him while he touched himself and suddenly, he wasn’t at all interested in the movie anymore.

“Why does it--” Steve started, swallowing hard. "Why does it always look like it feels so good?"

“What?” Eddie rested his head on the back of the couch.  “Being attacked by a flesh-eating zombie?”

“No,” Steve nibbled at his lip.  “When they put it…in their ass…like that.  The dudes I mean.”

Eddie couldn’t even hear the sound from the tv anymore, his ears were ringing.  “Because it does feel good, sometimes, when the right cock is in your ass.”

Steve’s breath hitched at the tone of Eddie’s voice. “You like the feel of it, don’t you?”

Eddie couldn't help himself; he cupped his balls under the blanket. “Yeah, um, I do.”

“I’ve wondered about it,” Steve admitted in a whisper, sliding a hand down slowly to palm himself over his jeans.  He was getting hard and needed the friction. “I've wondered what it would feel like. I think I might like it.”

“You do?” Eddie’s voice was low.  

Was this really happening? Was Steve just shooting the shit? Or was he trying to throw clues down? If so, how should he handle it? He’d masturbated to this scenario so many times in his life but had no idea how he would make his move in real time.  

Steve hadn't planned this. He'd had thoughts about Eddie before, sure, but he never imagined he'd do anything about it while he was staying at his place. How embarrassing would it be if his friend rejected him? He had to play it cool so he could make it out like he was kidding if that happened.

With a surge of adrenaline, Steve scooted closer, and his friend met him in the middle of the couch.  

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Steve’s eyes searched the other pair of chocolate orbs, and they were so close now, Eddie’s pulse was skyrocketing.  “I don’t want this to make anything weird between us.”

“I’m fine with it if you are,” Eddie mumbled.  There was a voice in his head screaming at him not to miss his chance. He pinched the front of Steve’s shirt.  “We could experiment, if you want? What are best friends for?”

Eddie knew there was a platonic best friend line in the sand that was about to be crossed, and it could never be uncrossed, but the way Steve was looking at him with those puppy dog eyes made him not care one single goddamn bit.  

He’d do anything for Steve. Even if it meant he was just another “experimental experience” for a straight guy. 

Steve leaned in for a kiss, and as much as he wanted it, Eddie pulled his head back.

“Say it,” Eddie muttered.

Steve squeezed himself through his boxers and frowned, confused.  “Say what?”

Eddie moved in close again, brushing Steve’s lips with his.  “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Steve choked on the words at first, and then he told Eddie what he needed to hear.

Their mouths met in a frenzy of clumsy tongues and cries, and then they made their way to the bedroom, stripping clothes off as they went.  

It wasn’t long before Eddie was naked next to Steve on the bed, pushing a lubed finger inside him one knuckle at a time.  “Is that okay?” He kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. His friend’s eyes were closed, but Eddie’s were wide open—he didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Yes—fuck,” Steve squirmed, but his hips were moving down, needing Eddie deeper.  He gripped Eddie’s back with one hand, and the other came up to fist his own length where it throbbed.

Eddie moved his head down, his hair dragging along his companion's chest. “Let me,” he mumbled.  Steve held it at the base so that the metalhead could take the swollen, leaking tip into his mouth. Now he was twirling his tongue around the head and fucking his finger inside of his best friend.  He savored the taste of the salty tang, making lewd noises as he sucked and swallowed.

Eddie’s mouth was magic, and Steve was hiccupping erotic sighs.  “Tell me again, why did we wait this long?” He chuckled, and Eddie smiled around the gift in his mouth, both of them caught in mutual disbelief and bliss.

“You feel that?” Eddie came up for air long enough to ask, pupils blown, rubbing deep onto Steve’s prostate with purpose.

“Yeah, I feel it,” Steve shuddered.  He bent his knees up and placed his feet on the mattress so that he could arch his pelvis up to give better access.  “I think...I think I need more,” he breathed.

Eddie chanced a look up at his friend: his head was back, throat exposed, and–oh shit— he loved seeing what he was doing to him.  The way that he was the one giving Steve Harrington this much pleasure, to be the one to make him unravel.  

The second finger went in, stretching him, and Steve’s muscle squeezed around Eddie’s digits so tight, it made his cock ache to take their place.  The phalange in question was tucked against Steve’s hip, aching, and he rutted it there a few times, leaving a snail trail of juice on his partner’s skin.

“Move this leg,” Eddie advised, and Steve licked his lips, watching every move, hoping to god that he did not stop fucking him.  He was switching positions now, getting in between Steve’s thighs.

Steve used the slick from Eddie’s saliva to work the tip of his cock a few times as his eyes roamed the wash of tattoos over his friend’s sinewy muscles, and the guitar pick necklace that swayed against his chest.  

“Does this feel okay?” Eddie buried the second finger in and scissored them to stretch out Steve’s hole, feeling the resistance throb in his own balls.

Steve winced with a hiss, and Eddie’s hand stilled, but then Steve’s eyes snapped open. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop.” 

Eddie was quick to lower his head to take over the tending of Steve’s huge member, making his friend moan long and hard.

When he looked down at the top of Eddie’s head, and the way his arm moved in and out between his legs, listening to the soft, wet, sucking sounds, Steve started to have some real feelings.  They were feelings he was afraid to think, let alone say out loud.

“I-I need you inside of me, Eddie,” Steve managed.  “I need you to fuck me right now.”

Eddie rose up, staring into Steve’s eyes as he took his fingers out to put the head of his dripping cock against the slip of Steve’s hole, rubbing it up and down.  “Are you sure?” Eddie mumbled. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Me neither,” Steve blinked a few times, liking the way Eddie bit his bottom lip and searched his face.

Eddie’s heart was about to explode in his chest.  He imagined bits of his heart and cum sprayed everywhere when his strewn body parts were found the next morning.  

After a few moments of working the tip through and moaning at the way his hole sucked him in, Eddie leaned forward and pressed into Steve, spreading him open, letting him give a silent scream into his mouth. Eddie braced his partner’s hips, trembling at the sensation as he clenched around him.

Once he sank all the way in, Eddie intertwined his fingers with Steve’s above his head and began to move.

“The way you’re gripping me—holy shit,” Eddie murmured against his mouth.  “Does that feel okay?”

“It feels…so fucking good,” Steve hushed. “Don’t stop.”

Steve’s bent legs were up now, and Eddie was thrusting against him, deep and hard, unable to hold back the emotions that drove his movements.  Steve’s body bent so that his stomach wrinkled as Eddie found a mouth-watering pace, his guitar pick swinging in the air.

Foreheads pressed together, Eddie said, “wrap your legs around me,” and that’s when it happened; that’s when Steve could feel the coil snap in his stomach as Eddie drove into him with purpose.

Eddie grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and pulled tight, yanking his head to the side, making him whimper.

“Cum inside me, Eddie—” Steve cried.

Eddie gave a strangled gasp at his words, because he was close, but it didn’t take long to slide one hand between them to find Steve’s leaking tip to help him along. 

“I’m gonna cum in your tight little asshole,” breathless, Eddie was pounding him now, and neither one of them cared if the wet slapping sounds could be heard next door.  

It was all Eddie could do not to declare his love then; to tell Steve that it had always been him, and it would be him forever after.  “I’m so in love with you,” he wanted to say, and the thought alone made his orgasm rise. 

The way Eddie made him feel so full would have been enough, but then his friend’s strong, calloused hand was yanking at his cock and Steve began to convulse under him.  “Oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.  Eddie, I’m cumming!”

First of all, did Steve just call him baby? 

But then there was no time to consider it because there were warm ropes of his release shooting between them, and Steve’s muscle gripped Eddie’s length over and over, milking him.

The way Steve cried out made Eddie’s movements erratic as he emptied himself, scooting closer, and bending his friend more in half to get deeper, to keep pumping with each aching grunt.  

“Shit, you feel amazing,” Eddie cursed as everything got slippery and he could feel his seed leaking out between them.

Once they both came down from their highs, Eddie pulled himself out of Steve and kissed his knee before shimmying off the bed.

“Damn,” Steve looked down at himself, at the spray of jizz that began to pool in his belly button and noticed the sensation of Eddie’s release dripping down his ass.  “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Hold on, I got it,” Eddie returned from the bathroom with a washcloth, brushing hair out of his face, and Steve watched him climb onto the bed to nestle between his thighs again.  His cock was still half-hard, bobbing in the air as if it were already preparing for another round.  

Eddie had the wet rag ready, but then the cum glistening on Steve’s stomach gave him other ideas.  

“Are you giving me all that sweet aftercare now?” Steve scoffed.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows before bending down to lap at Steve’s bellybutton with his tongue.  “You’re my guest.”

The feeling of his friend’s tongue dragging along his sensitive flesh was about to make Steve erect again, and he writhed at the sensation, eventually scooting further away, up against the headboard.  Eddie watched him go, not sure what he’d done wrong, and passed him the washcloth.  

Steve was having a hard time looking at his best friend now.  Maybe because it had been the best orgasm of his life? Maybe because the past hour had made him question everything he thought he knew about himself? 

He didn’t know what to do with the towel when he was done, so he handed it to Eddie, and he tossed it to the ground with a flop.  

Eddie was about to move up next to Steve to kiss him, or at least sit next to him, but instead Steve got up off the bed and bent down to put his boxers on.  

“So, does this mean—” Steve stammered, keeping his back to Eddie.  “Does this mean that I—that I’m a bottom?”

Eddie was about to chuckle as he stretched long on the mattress and put his head in his hand, but then he realized Steve was asking a serious question.  

“Did you enjoy it?” Eddie asked, cautiously.

“Um, yeah,” Steve bent down to pick up his shirt.  “Obviously I did.”

That response elicited a quiver of a smile from Eddie, putting parentheses on either side of his mouth.

Eddie exhaled a long breath and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.  “It means…whatever you want it to mean.  I’m not one to really care for labels.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve nod, taking in the information.  He went to sit at the edge of the bed, fully clothed now, and Eddie ran a hand down his chest, thinking of his next words.

“We could always try it…the other way,” he said it so nonchalantly, and it made Steve turn his head, curiosity piqued.

“The other way?”

“You know,” now it was Eddie averting his eyes.  “You could fuck next time, if you want.  If you want to try it, I mean.  See if you like it.”

“Next time, huh?” Steve ran a hand up and down his face. “I don’t know, man, this is —kinda blowing my mind right now.”

“I get it,” Eddie could feel a familiar heartache rising in his throat.  “We could just forget this ever happened, if you want.”

There was a heavy silence then, thick and weighty with the fear of the unknown.  

“No, I don’t want that,” Steve whispered.

Eddie lifted his head up.  “You don’t?” His voice cracked, and then he cleared his throat and sat up to brace his elbows behind him.  

Steve stood and put his hands on his hips before turning to his friend again.  He raked his fingers through his hair.  “I want to keep doing this,” he muttered.  “But I don’t know what that means.”

“Hey,” Eddie scooted himself down so that he was sitting close to where Steve was standing, legs off the bed, and looked up at him.  “We’re the only ones allowed to define this…whatever is happening between us. No one else.”  

And the next thing you knew, Steve surprised himself for the second time that night, by going over to stand in front of Eddie.  He brushed a few strands of his outdated bangs off of his forehead and Eddie closed his eyes to bask in the attention.  

But his eyes opened when he felt Steve lower his head and grab onto Eddie’s shoulders.  His mouth was so close now, and their noses slotted together.  “I think I need to kiss you again,” he hushed.

Eddie’s hands went to the hips of Steve’s shorts, making fists in the material; he could feel himself getting hard again already.

“You better fucking do it, then, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled.

Once their lips met, tongues were quick to follow, and then they were crashing into the kiss and Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck.  He had so many questions, and so many concerns about what this would look like to the outside world, to his friends and estranged family.  But, in that moment, nothing mattered more than getting as close to this person he loved as he possibly could.

He wanted to be inside of him.  

Eddie dropped to his knees and took Steve’s boxers with him, making Steve curse once he was back inside Eddie’s warm mouth. 

Eddie pulled back to spit on the head, connecting a string of saliva to his mouth when he looked up to stare into his companions' eyes.  

“You know where I want to put that,” Steve told the man on his knees.

Eddie’s moan was full of yearning.  “I want you to fill me up,” and then he licked down the shaft and spit again until it was soaked.  Eddie sucked his finger and then snaked it back to push the tip into Steve’s clenching muscle while he gave kitten licks to the freshly juiced pre-cum.  

Steve jumped. “Fuck, baby—you’ll make me cum like that,” he barked a laugh.

Eddie’s smile was huge—-holy shit, he was so in love—-but then he stood to full height and grabbed Steve by the throat to kiss him.  “We’ve got all night.”

Steve found his partner's rock-hard length and began to roll back the foreskin with a firm grip.  He had no idea what he was doing but decided to go with whatever felt right.  “Bend over,” Steve told him, taking a fist full of his hair. “Get on the bed.”

Steve’s tone made Eddie clench, and his balls were preparing for duty again.

Steve stepped out of his boxers and took his shirt off, keeping his attention on Eddie’s ass, and the way it was on full display for him now.

“The lube is in the—” Eddie started, but Steve silenced him with a “shush”.

“You’re a big boy, Harrington,” Eddie continued.  “I don’t want to get ripped open toni—-”

But then big hands were spreading his cheeks apart and an eager tongue was dancing around his asshole.  

Eddie pushed his hips back and the tongue dove inside. “Does that feel good?” Steve asked in between licks.  

“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathed.

With that new burst of encouragement, Steve slid his thumb in, making the metalhead throw his head back.  

Steve considered the logistics of it all for a moment, and then: “Can you get on your side?”  

He moved into position without question.  Steve didn’t have the nerve to say it, but he wanted to see Eddie; he wanted to be able to look at his face when he came.  When they were both ready, Eddie rubbed the lube on his friend’s generous length, and then Steve squirted a bit on that pink, puckered spot, and Eddie yelped at the cold sensation.

More low chuckles, more tender laughter.

Eddie watched over his shoulder at the way Steve was concentrating as he lined the tip up.  His best friend was so fucking beautiful, and he hoped to god it wasn’t a dream. Steve straddled Eddie’s bottom leg, while his top bent to the side, twisting at his hip.  

Steve stammered a few curse words when he sank in an inch, halting.  “Oh shit, I had no idea how tight—holy fuck Munson.”

“Fuck, please don’t stop,” Eddie mumbled into the pillow.  

Steve groaned long and hard with each thrust, pushing himself in, taking his time, and then pulling out a bit until his hips were almost flush with Eddie’s ass.

“You like it when I stretch you out, don’t you?” 

Eddie’s jaw went slack, and he reached down to touch himself, rutting into the mattress.

Steve buried himself inside Eddie, spreading his cheeks apart to watch.  “Tell me I’m the only one who fills you up like this.”

“You’re the only one,” Eddie was whimpering now, trembling with lust and love. “I need you to start moving right now, Harrington!”

Steve was snapping his hips then, pounding Eddie just the way he wanted.  The sounds escaping both of them were egging each other on, and Steve held Eddie’s leg up to get a better angle.

“It’s never felt this good,” Steve blurted.  “Look at me.”

Eddie turned his head to meet his partner’s hooded gaze, sweaty hair sticking to his cheek.  What if he said, “I love you”? What then? Because it was right there on the tip of his tongue.  

“I’m so close, Eddie,” Steve’s movements stuttered a bit.  “I need to see you.”

It was only a few more seconds of that intense eye contact before Steve was losing every last bit of himself inside his friend, slapping their skin even harder together as warm wetness filled the space.  Steve’s toes curled on the mattress, and he threw his head back, holding onto Eddie's leg so that he didn’t fall over.  

Being inside Eddie, to share something like that with him, felt so right and so perfect, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

He flipped his partner over so that he was on his back, neglected cock straining against his tattooed stomach, and Steve bent over to put it into his mouth.

“Steve—!” Eddie was already about to blow his load before those soft lips were on him, but now his balls were tightening up close to his body. “I’m so close, I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

Steve nodded, humming on his friend’s swollen length as the salty spill poured over his tongue and he drank it down with eager swallows.  Eddie writhed, shaking as he came.  

They showered together again after that, and Steve found out about Eddie’s insatiable appetite when they jerked each other off one more time before they found sleep.  They were all a tangle of limbs and legs, hot breath against the skin of each other’s throats.

The next two days brought much of the same. They had dinner together when Eddie got home from work and held hands in front of the tv.  Until hand holding turned to touching and it was time for Steve to experiment being inside Eddie from a different angle.  They both lost count of the number of times they came inside of each other.  Well, Steve lost count.  For Eddie, each one was precious and something he cherished.  

On the third day, while the Saturday morning cartoons were on, Eddie’s head was in Steve’s lap while he played with his hair and rubbed his scalp.  Eddie’s eyes were rolling back in his head, and he suddenly understood why cats purr.  It all felt so natural, hidden away there in Eddie’s cozy trailer with the curtains drawn, like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.

But then there came the sound of footsteps bounding up to the porch, and someone tried the door handle before offering a few quick knocks.

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” The woman’s voice exclaimed.  “Open up, this is the police.”

Steve’s eyes bulged and he practically pushed Eddie to the ground, trying to cover himself with the blanket. He was wearing his boxer shorts, but it made him feel very exposed.

Eddie’s hair was a mess when he sat up, and he gave Steve a curious frown.  “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Robin.”

“I know,” Steve took a breath.  “It just startled me, that’s all.”

Eddie threw a pillow in Steve’s face and shouted, “coming!”

“No, no, wait!” Steve lurched up and grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him back down to the couch.  

Eddie gave him a few confused shakes of his head.  “Are you losing it man? You knew she had the day off and might come over.”

“It’s not that,” Steve was whispering.  “I want to see her I just—did you tell her…does she know…about us?”

Eddie’s face sobered.  “When would I have a chance to tell her? I’ve spent every free second with you.”

“Okay good,” Steve’s shoulders sank, showing that he was clearly relieved.  “Let’s keep it between us, alright? I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Anyone…ever?” Eddie was searching his companion’s eyes, hoping to find that same glimmer from the past couple days there, but it was gone. He understood that coming out could be complicated and difficult, and he didn’t think Steve would be shouting it from the hills, but surely Robin could know? They were the three amigos, the best of friends.  If anyone would embrace him for exactly who he was and who he wanted to have sex with, it would be her.  

Maybe he just needed more time, and that was fine, Eddie had plenty of it.  

Robin knocked again, more forceful this time.  “What the hell? I’m growing mold out here.”

Eddie remained still, passing his tongue over his teeth, and thought about what Steve was asking of him.  

“I’m going to put some clothes on,” Steve got to his feet and jogged out of sight, to the bedroom, leaving Eddie to sit there, feeling the weight of being a secret, yet again.  

“Hey!” Steve hissed from the hallway where he struggled to pull his jeans on while Eddie walked to the door.  “Could you light a candle or something? It smells like sex in here.”

Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.  

Anything for you, King Steve.

-----

Hi! Thank you for reading! Always love hearing from you. Look out for part 2 🧡

[in-hav3n]

Hi! So I had an idea for a write. So you know how recently at one of Metallica’s shows, James got emotional. Can you write something where his girl comforts him. Like comes up on stage to hug him and after the show and stuff

𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 

When James grabbed the mic to speak, your heart knew something was about to happen...

"I've gotta tell you I wasn't feeling very good before I came out here. I was feeling a little bit insecure, like I'm an old guy, can't play anymore — all this bullshit that I tell myself in my head. So I talked to these guys, and they helped me — as simple as that. They gave me a hug and said, 'Hey, if you're struggling on stage, we've got your back.' And I tell you, it means the world to me".

A punch in the stomach, a pinch to the heart and tears invading your eyes. This is what you felt the moment you heard the words coming out from his mouth.

Unconsciously, your joined your hands and placed them on your beating heart, holding back the tears that wanted to be free, the words of his revelation going through your mind.

You held your breath for a second, fighting against this urge to ran on the stage to hug your boyfriend, this urge to comfort him no matter the consquences but you for an unknown reason, you stood backstage, witnessing the comfort the guys, his brothers, came to give him.

You had noticed the tears coming in his eyes when he was singing some songs such as "Bleeding me" but you never expected him to open up about his struggles and fears on stage, in front of the world.

You knew still James always had been honest with his fans about his past, his failures, his weaknesses but it was the first time he was talking about this and somehow, you wondered why he never talked to you about it...

The guys finally separated under the audience cheers and applause and James took the mic again to add : "And seeing you out there, I… I am not alone. I am not alone, and neither are you."

Totally heartbroken, with silent tears running along your cheeks now, you decided to cross the boundaries. You didn't even care if some staff member decide to stop you, you wanted to reach the man you love. He needed you, now. You wanted to show him all the love you had for him and everything you were ready to do for him...

Without thinking twice, you walked on the stage, reaching James. The audience started to scream when they saw you coming. Even if you were really discreet about your relationship, they knew who you were. James looked on his right side and didn't say anything. He was surprised to see you up on stage, knowing how much you hated the attention towards you but somehow, he appreciated that you were fighting your fear for him...

When you got closer, he crashed into your arms and hid his face on the base of your neck. You put your head at the same place, caressing his hair with the palm of your hand.

"You're not alone baby...I promise you...You're not alone", you whispered as you felt him tightened his embrace and arms around your tiny body.

"I love you", he mumbled against your skin, kissing the sweet spot there.

"I love you you so much... show them what a 59 years old is ready to do to kick some ass with his guitar...show them baby...I'm so proud of you".

"I promise", he said as he kissed your neck again before he pulled away to kiss your lips, cupping your face between his large hands.

The audience was in awe in front of such cuteness and you knew the guys were doing silly faces behind your back to lighten the mood. Behind James' back, you noticed Lars and Kirk pretending to be the two of you and this made you laughed loud.

"Go back backstage sweetheart", James whispered before pecking your lips one last time. You nodded and smiled at him.

"Love you", you mouthed before you disappeared backstage, hoping this was enough to give him back strength and confidence...but you knew he was a fighter. And he knew he wasn't alone...

A/N : What a cute ask omg! My heart broke when I saw him crying on stage. I hope I'll write it good cause it's not easy to write about someone else's thoughts and struggles. I did my best and hope you'll like it sweet anon <3 Btw, I didn't write the second part of your ask cause it was kinda similar to something I wanted to write later so I save it for later, hope you don't mind :)

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which lunch is had, old stories are told, and a misunderstanding is cleared up.

part five of the post-marineford portion of the near miss fics! (1, 2, 3, 4) if you have no idea what i'm talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that's the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus some complaining about writing, one inspirational improvised musical number, and a snippet of shanks pov) if you do know what i'm talking about: my intense examination of the cover to chapter 581 and frustrated googling of phrases like “oden cart curtain name” has finally paid off! also, i’d apologize for where this part ends, but that would be an enormous lie, i’ve been planning on ending this part on that line from the very beginning. >:3c enjoy!

With heavier topics taken off the table, the flow of conversation became smooth and easy.  Shanks asked about Buggy’s crew, his recent travels, his plans for the future; Buggy asked about the best places Shanks had been, who he’d met.  At Buggy’s request, Shanks devoted a full twenty minutes to a detailed description of his meeting with Rayleigh; to Buggy’s delight, it turned out Rayleigh was in Sabaody because Shakuyaku, the former Amazon empress, lived there.  Buggy had always been impressed by her, if a little privately judgy of her taste in men, so hearing that the two of them had semi-retired together made him smile.

As did the revelation that Shanks had first seen a wanted poster for Buggy the Clown—his earliest one, actually, before he’d perfected the crossbones and had still been experimenting with lip tints—when Rayleigh pulled a copy out that day.  “He keeps an eye on all the newspapers, from the four big seas and the Grand Line alike,” Shanks explained, digging his toes into the sand. (Buggy had gotten tired of his push-pull relationship with the tides and insisted they move further up the beach.) “I think he’s found and kept a copy of every one of our bounties.”

Buggy tried not to be obvious about how much that meant, but he had never been good at holding back the waterworks when he got emotional.  Sniffing thickly, he said, “That stupid old man… your bounty’s gone up so many times over the years without the picture ever looking different!  What a waste of his space.”

One of Shanks’ eyebrows went up—probably, Buggy realized a moment later, at the implication that Buggy had also been keeping track of Shanks’ bounties.  Ah, well, in for a penny… “Seriously!  It’s bad design!” Buggy insisted.  “If the only changes someone like me ever noticed are that you grew that shitty little beard—”

“Shitty?”  Shanks pouted, running his thumb along his jawline.  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s worse without the mustache,” Buggy said bluntly.  Shanks played up his shock, gasping and grabbing at his heart like an elderly man.

Buggy rolled his eyes.  “As I was saying: if all I ever noticed was the beard and that your hat disappeared at some point, your average citizen’s not going to realize the Marines have released a new poster and the bounty went up!”  Jabbing a thumb brazenly at his own face, Buggy said, “At least I had something new going on each time.”

Shanks cocked his head at Buggy.  “About that… do you change your makeup style so often for fun, or are you still searching for the perfect look?”

Buggy scoffed.  “There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to art, or fashion,” he said.  “There’s just advancing your craft.  Every time I change my look up, I’m incorporating newer and flashier techniques, and better supplies.  The makeup I had access to fifteen, even ten years ago would never have lasted a day in Impel Down, let alone weeks.”

“That’s true,” Shanks said thoughtfully, hand on his chin.  “The stuff you have these days is much—” He cut himself off, glancing over Buggy’s shoulder.  Buggy turned to see a cluster of men in ragged prison uniforms standing maybe forty feet away, staring at them and then glancing away awkwardly when they met Buggy’s eye.

“I told them not to bother me today,” Buggy grumbled, giving the group a half-hearted glare.  They visibly quaked, knees knocking, but neither moved nor explained themselves.

“I guess our presence is interfering with their shore leave,” Shanks said, slipping back into his sandals.

Looking past the men revealed the beach had gotten crowded while Buggy wasn’t paying attention—save for a fifty-foot ring of emptiness centered on him and Shanks.  These men had only approached them because there wasn’t anywhere else to be.  Sighing, Buggy stood up, brushing sand off the seat of his pants.

“Lead the way, then,” he said grimly.

With a polite smile and a wave to the former prisoners, Shanks walked back up the beach.  Buggy gave them a glare, and a threatening slice-your-throat gesture (made more emphatic by the way Buggy separated his neck as he sliced) to encourage their silence before following Shanks further inland.

The terrain got a bit jungle-like as they went on, but there were neatly trodden paths between the trees.  It was a civilized corner of nature, and Buggy found he didn’t mind walking through it with just Shanks and his questions for company, even when those questions started getting a bit specific for Buggy’s tastes. (What did Shanks need to know about his plans after he found Captain John’s treasure, anyway?  Was he trying to go after Buggy’s next prize while he was still busy with the current one?)

It was the middle of the lunch hour by the time their jungle path led them back into town, which was almost suspiciously convenient timing.  Buggy glanced at Shanks, trying to figure out if he’d planned this or was just aimlessly wandering.  Well, either way he’d better lead them somewhere soon—Buggy was hungry!  He wanted to eat the kind of food he couldn’t get back on the ship—nothing a typical chef in a typical kitchen could manage.  He wanted something that involved a deep fryer, or another equally specialized device.  Something that would be too much of a hassle to make on a ship.  Something…

“Hey!”  Shanks turned to grab Buggy’s attention, pointing at a yatai on the opposite street corner.  “What about that?”

Buggy spotted the word written in bold white letters on slate gray cloth and started to laugh. “What are we, on a themed vacation or something?”

“You’re the one who put the idea in my head!” Shanks said defensively, grinning.  “I know it’s out of season, but…”

“No, you’re right, we have to,” Buggy said, and led them to the oden-ya.  “I’m just going to look like I’m obsessed, is all.”

Ducking under the bamboo noren curtains, they found themselves in a cozy space, with three stools set up along a polished wooden table the same length as the cooktop.  A gorilla mink stood behind the partitioned oden pot, rotating skewers of fishcake in their niches within the steaming broth.  He glanced up at their entrance, a friendly customer service smile spreading across his face.

“Welcome!  Looking for oden this afternoon, or just something to drink?”  He gestured to one side, where beautiful little sake flasks and other bottles of alcohol were arranged on shelves that took up the whole side wall of the cart.  “I’d be happy to warm a flask of sake up for you on the stove if you’d like.”

“We’re looking for both, thanks,” Shanks said warmly, stepping up to the counter.  “I don’t suppose any of your sake is sourced from Wano?”

The mink wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.  “I may have some in storage, but that stuff tend to run a little pricier, given… well, if you’re asking for it, you must know.”

“Of course you have expensive tastes in booze and nothing else,” Buggy said with a smirk, bent down to inspect the sake that was actually meant for sale.  “Come on, look, they’ve got some West Blue stuff, you were always a sucker for your home ocean.”

“Oh?”  Shanks leaned over Buggy to get a better look at the stock, and a prickle of heat went up Buggy’s spine.  “Ooh, I do like that stuff.  But I really had my heart set on something from Wano…”  Turning back to the mink, he said, “Sorry to trouble you, but can you bring out what you have from Wano?  I promise the price isn’t an issue, and I won’t have any problem drinking a flask of each.”  The mink ducked around back without complaint.

“More like a couple flasks of each,” Buggy muttered, but he didn’t mean it cruelly.  Shanks liked a drink, he always had—and rumor said the last time he saw Whitebeard before all this he’d matched him cup for cup.  Whitebeard-sized cups, too, which meant he had to have a crazy tolerance these days.  Good for him.  Buggy wasn’t quite as capable, but he could hold his liquor.  He wouldn’t be any kind of ex-Roger Pirate if he couldn’t.

“Guilty,” Shanks said, sing-songy, reaching over Buggy’s shoulder to snatch one of the larger bottles of shochu.  “Can you grab a flask or two of the West Blue sake for me?”

Buggy rolled his eyes, grabbing two.  “One of them’s for me.”

“We can share,” Shanks said mildly.

Buggy snorted. “If by ‘share’ you mean I get one cup and by the time I’ve finished it the flask is empty, sure, we can share.”

Shanks laughed.  “Am I that bad?”

“You’re just too fast about it is all.  I like to linger over a drink, really savor it.”

“Oh, you like to take your time, do you?”  Shanks’ smile, already suggestively wide, spread wider still when this comment flustered Buggy.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he snapped.

“No?”

Why do you sound disappointed, Buggy was tempted to ask—except no, no he wasn’t, he did not want to know why Shanks might be disappointed Buggy hadn’t intended to be suggestive.  He had already decided he wasn’t going there.  “I just mean you rush things a bit.”

“…do I?”

Once again feeling like Shanks was reading things into what he was saying, but this time not at all sure what deeper meaning Shanks was taking from his words, Buggy averted his eyes, setting the pair of sake flasks down in front of the stove top.  “Yeah, I know you like getting drunk, but there’s such a thing as pacing yourself, you know?”

Before Shanks could respond to this—with who knows what kind of misinterpretation of Buggy’s words this time—the mink returned, a crate of sake in flasks and jugs of various sizes in hand.

“Here we are!”  With a soft grunt of effort, the mink set the crate down in front of Shanks.  “Let me know if anything catches your eye.”  He spotted the flasks of West Blue sake Buggy had set down and quickly made room in a pot of steaming water for them to sit and warm up.  “Now, were any items looking especially appealing today?”

Buggy glanced sideways; Shanks was occupied with intently inspecting the sake.  Well, if he wanted something specific he could ask for it later.  “Two bowlfuls of whatever the chef recommends, for now.”

The gorilla nodded.  “Coming right up!”  And he was as good as his word, quickly throwing together a wide, shallow bowl of savory golden-brown broth with a skewer of fishcakes, an egg, and a few slices of daikon for each of them. It looked wonderful, warm and familiar, and it smelled even better.

Before Buggy could take a sip, Shanks had flung his arm across Buggy’s chest, blocking the spoonful of broth from reaching his mouth.

“Hang on,” Shanks said, weirdly serious.  “You have to have this first.”  He held out a small flask of Wano sake, tilted just far enough to encourage Buggy to grab a cup and accept the pour.

“Not warmed up?”  Shanks expression didn’t so much as twitch.  Buggy huffed.  “Fine, fine... you and your expensive tastes.”  He accepted the cup, swirled it for a moment to breathe in the aroma—they really did make it different in Wano; was it something in the water, or the rice?—and took a sip.  Then blinked, goggled at the half-drunk cup, and slung back the rest with a warm floaty feeling in his chest.

Setting the cup down, he breathed, “Is that...?”

Shanks grinned.  “Special pure rice brew.”  He spun the flask around to reveal the maker’s mark.  “From the Kuri region of Wano.”

Buggy snatched the flask away.  Looking it over, he said, “Seriously?! From the same brewery?”

“And you wondered why I was so insistent.”

Buggy shook his head, laughing a little in disbelief, and poured Shanks a cup of the stuff.  He glanced up at their host, politely not bothering them even though he had to be confused, and said, “This exact same sake was the first drink the two of us had, back when we were—what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Something like that,” Shanks said, watching Buggy with a pleased smile.  “Stolen out of Oden’s rooms on a dare—”

“—you’re the one who dared me!” Buggy snapped.  Thinking back, he added, “And he must have let us take it, we weren’t sneaky enough at twelve to get past Oden—”

“—oh, definitely,” Shanks agreed.  “Bet he thought of it as a rite of passage, stealing your first drink from under the nose of your honored elders.”

Buggy snorted.  “Definitely,” he echoed.  Giving Shanks a look, he passed this flask along to the mink as well.  “This stuff isn’t so fancy heating it will ruin the taste, right?  Might as well try it the way it was meant to be had.”

“Of course,” the mink said with a gracious smile, adding the flask to the steaming pot on his stove.  He watched the two of them dig into their bowls—delicious, of course—without comment, but as he carefully retrieved the first of the West Blue flasks from its bath he said, “Now, I haven’t thought about this in a long time, so I’m afraid I can’t quite recall… which of you is Shanks and which is Buggy?”

Buggy blinked dumbly up at the gorilla, his mouth full of radish.  Next to him, Shanks was pulling a similar face.

Hastily swallowing his mouthful, Buggy cleared his throat and said, “You know… both of us by name? But not well enough to know which is which on sight?”

The gorilla smiled sheepishly.  “I wasn’t sure until you brought up Oden.  That’s Kozuki Oden, isn’t it?  Which means the two of you must be Shanks and Buggy, they were the only other young people on the boat in all the stories I heard.”

“What stories?”

“‘The only other young people’…” Shanks lit up.  “Do you know Dogstorm and Cat Viper?”

Buggy nearly smacked Shanks.  “Seriously?!  Not every mink knows each other, Shanks!”

“Heh, actually...”  Buggy stared up at the gorilla mink in disbelief as he shrugged, making an embarrassed expression.  “The truth is, I only learned how to prepare oden at Duke Dogstorm’s request.”

“Duke Dogstorm?”  Shanks whistled.  “Somebody’s moved up in the world.”

Buggy jabbed him in the side with a free-floating elbow.  “I don’t want to hear that from you, Emperor Shanks!”

Shanks winced—an exaggerated gesture for the benefit of their audience—and leaned away from Buggy.  “Oh, come on,” he whined, “it’s not like I meant to become an emperor or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes and shoving a piece of tsukune in his mouth.  Eyes shut, he declared, “I’ll bet I can tell you exactly how it happened, too.  You had a meal with some mediocre pirate crew and made friends. Then some shitty Marines started beating the hell out of them; they could’ve just arrested the crew, but they decided to torture them for their own amusement.  Well, you could hardly let this abuse go unchallenged, could you?  So naturally you had to step in, and sent the Marines running with their tails between their legs.  And it was only natural that the pirate crew was thankful to you, but you never dreamed they’d all vow to follow you forever, forswearing their own flag in favor of yours.  Not daring to call themselves true Red-Haired Pirates, of course, but Red-Haired Pirates adjacent.”  Rolling his wrist, Buggy concluded, “And then that happened another twenty or thirty times, because you never learn.”

Opening one eye a crack, he glanced at Shanks.  “How’d I do?”

Shanks, red-faced, his fist pressed to his mouth to hold back laughter, nodded weakly.  “Well, uh... you’re not wrong,” he wheezed out.  Taking a drink to clear his throat and calm down, he sighed.  “Though you make it sound like far more of a foregone conclusion than it felt like when it was first happening.”

“That’s the benefit of an outside perspective,” Buggy said snippily.  “And also hindsight.”  Waving a hand in Shanks’ face, he said, “But enough about you!”  Jabbing the pointer finger of that same hand at their host, Buggy said, “What’s this about you learning to make oden for Dogstorm?”

The gorilla mink smiled, his eyes wide, and Buggy suddenly remembered hearing once that gorillas didn’t actually smile, but instead bared their teeth as a threat against potential enemies.  He pulled back his hand as casually as he could manage it.

“Do you really want to hear the story?  I’m told I can be a bit long-winded,” the mink said, fishing one of the Wano flasks out of its water bath and offering it up.

“Yeah, let’s hear it!” Buggy said, pouring a cup for Shanks, then handing over the flask so Shanks could do the same for him.  “I don’t know about Shanks but I haven’t heard anything from Zou in years, I’m dying to hear what those two have gotten up to.”

Closing his eyes, Buggy took a sip of the warmed Wano sake, not knowing Shanks was doing the same thing at the same time.  They set down their cups and sighed in unpracticed unison.  Suddenly aware of their double act, Buggy scowled at Shanks, who ignored him and made an encouraging gesture to their chef.  “Please, go ahead. I’d love to hear news of Dogstorm and Cat Viper.”

A sad expression washed over the gorilla’s face.  “I’m afraid I can only give you news of Duke Dogstorm.”  At the looks on his guests’ faces, the gorilla threw out a hand and said, “Not to say—please don’t misunderstand! Lord Cat Viper still lives! It’s just that I have not met with him since he and Duke Dogstorm first returned to Zou.  They... keep separate courts, and hours, and my service has always been to the day.”

A wrinkle appeared in Shanks’ brow.  “They don’t talk anymore?”

“It always turns into a fight.  Often one with devastating consequences for their surroundings.”

Buggy frowned.  That didn’t sound right.  Well, not the destruction—that sounded like those two—but fighting so badly they couldn’t even share waking hours... “What happened?”

The gorilla sighed.  “As I understand it?  Kozuki Oden died, and neither could forgive the other for failing to save him.”  A moment later, he gave Buggy a concerned look.  “Oh, are you hurt?”

Buggy blinked.  Staring down at his hands, he realized he’d snapped his chopsticks in half.  “I... no, I’m okay.”  The gorilla carefully plucked the broken shards of wood out of Buggy’s grasp, along with a splinter or two that had tried to wedge their way into his palms.  Thankfully the Chop-Chop fruit could handle any kind of stabbing, from needles up to legendary meito, so Buggy really was fine.

While the gorilla disposed of the pieces of wood, Buggy clenched his jaw, feeling Shanks’ eyes on him.  “I can hear you thinking.”

“…it makes sense,” he said quietly.  “What else could come between those two but the loss of someone who was as important to them as Oden?”

Buggy shot Shanks a narrow look out of the corner of his eye.  “Pretty sure I told you this morning that I was done talking about sad shit,” he warned, and Shanks raised his hand in a placating gesture.  The gorilla confirmed that Buggy wasn’t hurt, pointed out the extra chopsticks sitting in a cup to his left, and at their insistence told his story while they returned to their meal.

Dogstorm’s court sounded like a sight worth seeing.  Minks of countless animal forms, musketeers and attendants! To think Oden’s retainer had retainers of his own now!  And to think that he acted like a guy with such noble dignity, after the way he used to behave.

As the gorilla reached the end of his story—having made the closest thing to oden as could be produced with ingredients native to Zou, with Dogstorm pleased by the effort but quietly unsatisfied by the taste, the gorilla had left the court making a vow to learn the secrets of the oden-preparing arts, promising not to return until he was confident he would be able to put a true smile on the duke’s face—Buggy nudged Shanks in the side.  He glanced at Buggy, a half-eaten skewer of fishcakes sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Can you believe,” Buggy said with a shit-eating grin, “that the noble, wounded Dogstorm this guy is talking about is the same one who tarred and feathered Mr. Rayleigh?”

Shanks nearly choked before starting to laugh.  “How did I forget about that?!”

“I’m sorry, Duke Dogstorm did what?” the gorilla said incredulously, staring between the two of them.

“Wait, wait,” Shanks said, before Buggy could start to tell the story.  “If we’re sharing stories of mutual friends, you have to share a drink with us too.”  He grabbed a clean cup from a stack to one side and handed it over to the mink.  Shanks gave Buggy a pleading look, and with a magnanimous smirk Buggy chop-chopped a hand to swipe another sake flask from the water bath and pour for both of them.  “So—”

“Don’t you tell it!” Buggy snapped.  With a grin and a wave of his hand, Shanks metaphorically turned over the reins to Buggy, and took the opportunity to return to his sake and his meal.  “So,” Buggy said to the mink, “the first thing you need to understand about Dogstorm and Cat Viper is that they acted like respectful little attendants when Oden was around, but when it was just the four of us?”  Glancing at Shanks, who was grinning around the skewer in his mouth, Buggy cackled.  “They were just as bad as we were.”

Buggy went on to describe the prank in loving detail, alternating bites of fishcake with the reactions of the crew (mostly hysteria, especially from Roger) and the multiple attempts to blame the prank on someone else (Dogstorm nearly succeeded in pinning it all on Buggy, but forgot himself and corrected Rayleigh on where the tar had come from).  Shanks followed this up with a reminder of another time the four of them had been absolute nightmares to the crew of the Oro Jackson, and the story Buggy told about that day brought their host to literal tears of laughter.

They went around like this for over an hour, topping off their bowls and drinks all the while, recalling old times with the golden burnish of nostalgia softening the edges, easing the hurts and offenses of youth.  Gradually, the last of the fear Buggy had been clinging to all day faded.  It was hard to think that your childhood dread mattered much when looked at from so far off, in so fond a way. It was easy to smile at someone who so readily smiled back.

Eventually the broth pooling at the bottom of their bowls grew cold, and the flasks of sake they’d bought ran dry.  Not a soul had tried to enter the yatai while they were present, and Buggy felt a fleeting burst of pity for the gorilla’s business… until he saw how well Shanks tipped. With a light heart, Buggy waved a slightly drunken farewell to the mink—he’d paced himself pretty well, but a half-dozen bottles of sake split between two men were still going to have an effect—and ducked back out into the wider world.

The air outside was not exactly cold, but it lacked the cozy warmth of the oden-ya’s atmosphere.  It set something within Buggy out of alignment—or maybe back into place?  He stood just outside the noren with a hand pressed to his chest, trying to place the feeling, when Shanks made his own exit and nearly ran into him.

The proximity of Shanks at his back, with the last traces of that soup-warmed air drifting in his wake, sent a burst of longing down Buggy’s spine so intense his knees went weak.

Shanks’ hand went to his shoulder.  “Careful,” Shanks said, hoisting Buggy fully upright, the flat of his arm firm along the breadth of his back.  “You alright, Buggy?”

Fuck.  Even though it was the wrong arm, something about Shanks putting an arm over Buggy’s shoulder made his stomach flip and his heart kick into high gear.  Stupid, loyal organs didn’t have the sense Buggy’s brain had been given, to recognize that feeling feelings for Shanks was a very bad idea.

“Fine,” Buggy croaked out, taking a few careful steps away from Shanks to confirm he was steady enough to make that lie truth.  He shook himself off.

“Your tolerance not what it used to be?” Shanks teased.

“My tolerance is normal,” Buggy insisted, not looking back at Shanks.  “Yours, on the other hand...”

“Yeah, unlike you I’m actually fine,” Shanks said, picking up his pace to match Buggy’s stride.  Glancing around, his back straightened involuntarily with recognition.  Nudging Buggy’s shoulder with his own, he said, “Here, there’s a park nearby where we won’t be bothered.  We can sit down, let you sober up a little before heading back to the ship.”

Buggy drifted in Shanks’ wake on some old instinct.  It was only mid-afternoon.  “There wasn’t anything else you wanted to do?”

Shanks glanced at Buggy over his shoulder.  “What?”

“I dunno, some... sight you thought I should see, or a shop you like or something?”

Shanks blinked.  “Buggy, I’ve never been to this island before. I asked the locals for recommendations yesterday so I could have a good time with you.”

Buggy’s face went hot.  “You—stop saying shit like that!  Don’t you know how that sounds?”

“How it sounds?” Shanks echoed. He led Buggy through a tall, metal gate, into a walled-off plot of land with very little to it, just rock-paved paths, plaques underneath oddly colored trees, and the occasional bench.  Closing the gate behind them, he spun on Buggy.  “How does it sound?”

Buggy scowled and stormed past him.  Like Shanks didn’t know.

“If it sounds like I’ve missed you—well, sorry, Buggy, but I have.  I thought I’d been pretty obvious about that.”  When Buggy turned an incredulous look on Shanks, the corner of his mouth turned up, amused.  “Obvious to everyone but you, I guess.”

“You—you didn’t miss me,” Buggy said, insistent.  “You missed—” he gestured vaguely between the two of them. “—someone knowing you, without you having to say anything.  You missed having a history with someone.”

Shanks shook his head.  “I would love to see many people from back then again, but I’ve never missed any of them like I did you.”

“Oh, come on!” Buggy spat, “what was there to miss?  A greedy little brat who couldn’t decide if he hated you more than he was jealous of you?  A coward who ran and hid from every fight?”  The memory of Shanks leaning in close, a hand on his face, shot through Buggy.  Resisting another stab of longing, he blurted out, “Some stranger’s pretty face?”

“I missed my best—” Shanks’ face screwed up in confusion.  “A pretty face?”

Buggy hadn’t meant to say that.  He grimaced.  “You know.”  Swiping a hand across his face, he chop-chopped his nose off for a moment, hiding the gap behind his free hand.  “This one, that you liked so much that time.”

Understanding lit up Shanks’ face.  “Oh, the gorgeous stranger with stunning eyes.”  A sheepish expression coming over him, Shanks looked away, askance.  “Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

Buggy blinked.  Not the response he’d expected.  “Uh, sure?”

“I only thought those eyes were so stunning because they reminded me of yours.”

Buggy’s jaw dropped.  “The hell they did!”

“They did!”  Shoving his hand over his eyes, Shanks smiled self-consciously.  “Oh, I felt so ridiculous later.  That poor guy, I thought, was deserving of more than my secondhand affections.”  Dropping his hand to look at Buggy, he said, “Though that’s nothing compared to how ridiculous I felt the other day.”

Buggy swallowed, mouth dry.

“I’m sorry, Buggy,” Shanks said after a long, silent moment.  “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Buggy blinked.

Well.  Of course he wouldn’t have.  That went without saying.

He stepped back.  “I know that.”

“You do?”  Shanks frowned.  “I… good.”  Shoulders hunched, he turned to peer down at a plaque mounted beneath a pink-leafed bush.  “That’s good.  I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between us.”

“What’s there to misunderstand?”  Buggy spotted a bench and sat down.  He immediately felt clearer-headed.  Maybe Shanks was right about his tolerance.  “I get it.  You kiss strangers, not old friends.”

Shanks paused mid-step.  “Are you…” He spun to frown at Buggy.  “Are you deliberately misunderstanding me?”

“Hm?”  Buggy had just gotten comfortable, hiking one knee over the bench’s arm.  What was Shanks talking about now?

“Buggy.”

Buggy craned his head back to look up at Shanks.  He looked tall from this angle, and taller still when he leaned over Buggy, resting his hand on the back of the bench.  Shanks’ expression was unreadable, but intense.  Buggy’s mouth felt dry again.  Oh, this was bad.

“I was not apologizing for kissing you.  I was apologizing for kissing you wrong.”

“Kissing me wrong?” Buggy echoed bewilderedly.

“If I’d known that stranger was you, I still would have kissed you, if you’d let me,” Shanks said bluntly.  “I’d kiss you now, if you’d let me.  But it wouldn’t be like that kiss, it would be different.”

Buggy blinked, dumbfounded.

Shanks… wanted to kiss him.

Not the stranger he’d taken him for back then, but Buggy himself.

Had wanted to kiss Buggy then.

Still wanted to kiss Buggy now.

Would kiss him in a different way from a stranger.

“Different how?” Buggy croaked out.

For a long, agonizing moment, Shanks stared blankly at Buggy.  A furious heat rushed into Buggy’s face—there was no way to take a sentence like that back.  He couldn’t pretend it was simple curiosity.  He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t eager to be kissed.

Slowly, Shanks grinned, infuriatingly smug.  “Would you like me to show you?”

[lexosaurus]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

A little Tech Hunter AU oneshot I wrote for DP Angstfest 2023! I based this off of @kinglazrus' AU fic for the @dpauzine in which Tucker is the Red Hunter. It's been stuck in my brain ever since, so I couldn't resist writing her AU for this event!

[ao3]

****

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That's what people always said, anyway. It's what actors spouted in Hollywood blockbusters as their characters sipped their old fashioned in the dimly lit bar. It's what people typed in their chat logs online, thinking of themselves as high and mighty, very cool, not to be messed with, while they cracked open their fifth serving-sized bag of Doritos that day.

But this wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It wasn't Tucker talking up himself to random usernames online.

As he looked at Danny, who was animatedly chatting to Sam about some recently released video game that Tucker couldn’t pretend to care about anymore, he knew that this wasn't just a cool verse. It was real, at least to him. 

“The final boss was way too easy,” Sam was saying. “It's like the devs weren't even trying.”

“I beat it in like five seconds flat,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, because you exploited the armor glitch,” Sam said. “If you played the game like it was supposed to be played, the final boss would have taken at least a little longer.”

Danny tsked his tongue. “It’s not my fault that I’m obviously just one step ahead of the devs. And you, actually.”

“Come on,” Sam laughed, catching onto the mood. “Stop messing with me.”

Danny grinned back at her, his fangs poking out over his lips. “Samantha Manson, when have I ever messed with you?”

Tucker ducked his head before his face could show. Though, each day that passed seemed to allow that quiet mask to slip over his face far more easily than the day before. And he wasn't even talking about the little yellow mask that lived under his skin.

He remembered the day he'd pieced it all together. The day all the lies, all the little breadcrumb clues, suddenly snapped into place.

He'd been home, as usual, watching videos of the rapidly increasing ghost attacks targeting the city. And of course, at the epicenter of it all was Phantom.

Danny fucking Phantom.

He remembered Danny calling him, his face popping up on Tucker’s home screen, and Tucker pausing the video and holding up his phone to see the two faces side by side. The same smile, the same freckles, the same jaw and haircut and they were the same. 

He couldn’t believe it. But…it made sense. And maybe that was the worst part because it meant that his friend, his best friend, was dead. And worse, he’d turned into a monster. 

But when? When had he died? Was it that “accident” that he sometimes referenced? The day he’d gotten hurt by some of his parents’ equipment?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he was Phantom. But how was he Phantom? The ghost that Tucker loathed. The ghost that Tucker had long since blamed for turning their safe city into a fucking warzone.

How did his best friend turn into…that? Was death really so horrible that it completely changed a person? 

Or was this always inside Danny, deep down in the recess of his subconscious? So deep, so hidden, that Tucker had never noticed till now.

Some people saw Phantom as a hero, and he seemed to revel in it. His cockiness was overflowing, and he took great pride in arriving at every scene precisely when the new ghost of the week would show up. He'd throw a few puns, assure the crowd that, “Don't worry, citizens! I've got this!”, and then he'd beat the ghost up, suck them in his thermos, and would disappear until the next attack.

Phantom had fooled many of the masses. But despite what Dash's stupid nicknames would suggest, Tucker was no sucker. Even if everyone else had their heads up their ass, he didn't.

Tucker didn’t do anything at first. Maybe he’d just been in too deep of a denial. After all, who wanted to pin the destruction of their city on their fucking best friend? 

But then, he started paying attention. To Danny, the “human,” more. All his little quirks, his habits. The way he seemed to jump when Sam casually put a hand on his shoulder (he’d never used to do that), the way his teeth started to sharpen (humans don’t have fangs), the way his eyes would spark green sometimes (it wasn’t a trick of the light), or how he’d always disappear right before a ghost attack (almost like he knew they were coming).

But Tucker stayed silent. Because if Danny was Phantom, then Danny was dangerous. Who knew what Phantom would do if Tucker revealed that he knew? No, it was better to stay docile, not rock the boat, not put his life at risk. Just play it cool.

That plan only worked for so long.

The breaking point wasn’t an explosion of flashy lights so much as it was a seed, planted, but not yet even watered. It was Tucker booting up his virtual computer and opening Tor after school like any other day. 

The usual usernames were chatting in his group. People working on their various projects, coming to the chat room for tips or just talking about whatever other topic was on their mind. This was typical—welcome, even—after the confusing mess that had been Tucker’s every other waking moment as of late.

And then the conversation took a turn. 

To Phantom.

Sporksmith: I haven't wrapped my head around whether Phantom is a good guy or not. ChaseK: It's sus that as soon as the ghosts started showing up, so did he. Sporksmith: That's what I'm thinking, but the guy takes so many beatings a week. I feel like it's more likely that he's crawling out of the same dimensional holes that they are because the dude has family here or something. Mole: That's probably it. He uses modern slang, so it's pretty obvious he died recently.

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Phantom. He was a fascinating subject and under much national scrutiny. But this time, Tucker finally stepped in.

GoldenFryer: You guys don't know what you're talking about. ChaseK: You know something then? GoldenFryer: Yeah, I have some inside info. Can't say much, but Phantom isn't who he seems. He's dangerous. Sporksmith: You sound like a guy who's got something up his sleeve.

He hadn't, at that point. But still, it needled his mind. He was closest to Phantom, wasn't he? Even if Danny himself didn't know. Of everyone, wasn't it Tucker’s responsibility to do something about this?

To set the soul of his dead best friend free?

GoldenFryer: Not yet, but maybe I should.

Of course, he couldn't do it by himself, but there was someone who could help. Someone with money, power, and a vocal hatred for ghostly invaders.

“Tucker Foley,” Vladimir Masters said, opening his door. His hair was pulled back in his signature ponytail, and he wore a gaudy green Packers bathrobe. “You’re awake early on a Saturday for a teenager. My, where's your other half?”

“No Danny today. Just me,” he said, keeping his tone casual despite the sudden anxiety spike in his gut.

Vlad grinned and stepped aside, sweeping his arm over the now open doorway. “Excellent, why don't you come in?”

Tucker followed the gesture and stepped through the door, trying to ignore the guilt that was clawing at him. Danny always talked about how much he hated Vlad, and how creepy the guy was. And while Tucker agreed that Vlad was more than a little slimy, Vlad was a businessman, and more importantly, a billionaire. Being slimy kinda came with the territory.

And besides, Vlad had only moved into the town a year ago, after Danny had already turned into Phantom. So, it wasn't Danny who hated Vlad, not really.

“Come, make yourself comfortable. You're a bit too young for me to offer you a drink, but maybe some water, perhaps?”

“I'm fine,” Tucker said. His voice echoed around the empty house.

“Then sit.” Vlad pulled out a seat at the bar. “I just brewed myself a pot of tea. Maybe you'd care for some of that?”

“No thanks,” Tucker said, his voice jilted as he forcefully remembered his manners. Even if it was Phantom who hated Vlad, Tucker wasn't too keen on being behind closed doors with the man any longer than necessary either. 

Vlad paid him no mind, of course, and poured his tea into a fancy china cup. He brought the cup up to his nose, sniffed, and then smiled, setting it down on a small plate on the counter and settling into a seat for himself. “So,” he started, clasping his hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on this fine day?”

Tucker blew a breath out, trying to expel the mounting anxiety in his system. “Okay, I realize what I'm about to say sounds absolutely insane. I get that, but I just need you to let me explain.”

That slimy smirk was back on Vlad's lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Okay.” Tucker wrung his hands in his lap. “Okay, just—just hear me out. Trust me, nobody wants to say this less than me.”

“But of course, my dear boy.”

Tucker exhaled one last time and then began. “So, I know who Phantom is. You know, the ghost? I—he's disguising himself as a teenager, and I know who it is.”

“Oh, really? My, that doesn't sound good.”

“It's not.” Tucker closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his hand. “It's the worst, really. Because the person that Phantom is pretending to be—and I know, I know, just let me explain—but it's Danny. Danny Fenton.”

Tucker peeked through his hand to see the smile on Vlad's lips widen. 

“Daniel Fenton, my godson, you mean?” Vlad said. “That's quite the accusation.”

“I know it is. Trust me,” Tucker said. “But—okay, so basically, I think what happened was that Danny was in some sort of lab accident, and it killed him. He talks about it sometimes, but he doesn't give any details. But I'm pretty sure that was it. Because only like a month after that happened, all the ghosts started appearing. And Phantom too. I—uh, here. Hang on, let me show you...” Tucker leaned over and pulled his tablet from his backpack. He opened it and went to his files, opening a pdf of his comparison photos. He handed the tablet to Vlad, saying, “This is them side by side in different positions. You can really see it there, when the photos are lined up like this. They look exactly the same. But that's not all! Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Vlad said, swiping through the pdf.

“Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but Danny's just...he's different now. He disappears before ghosts attack, he comes back all beat and sometimes bloody. He's cold, way colder than normal, and sometimes I see him—when someone's annoying him or if he's pissed—where it's almost like...like he can't even contain his human form anymore. His eyes get green, and sometimes ectoplasm sparks in his palms. It's not human.”

“And you see this as...a problem?” Vlad looked up from the tablet. “If Daniel was Phantom?”

“Why wouldn't it be? Don't you have this whole initiative to get rid of ghosts?” Tucker argued.

If anything, that seemed to amuse Vlad more. He set the tablet down and said, “But of course, I wasn't insinuating anything. I merely just acknowledge that Daniel is your best friend and that most of you youths enjoy Phantom's presence in this city.”

“Only the blind ones do. I know better. Phantom is bringing the ghosts into this town. Mr. Masters, you know how all ghosts have Obsessions?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, Phantom’s Obsession is being a hero, right? What's more heroic than setting up a bunch of ghost fights to 'save' people from?”

Vlad's smile was almost impossibly wide now. “Yes, I understand.”

Something was amusing to that billionaire creep, but Tucker hardly had time to figure out what before Vlad was up out of his seat, pacing around his kitchen.

“You see, I already know all this. You understand, I'm the one funding this city's anti-ghost initiative. And I also know that young Daniel is Phantom.”

Tucker's jaw dropped. “You do?”

“But of course, I do!” Vlad pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it for a minute before passing it off to Tucker. In an encrypted app that Tucker didn't recognize was a video. 

“Well, go on,” Vlad said.

Tucker pressed play on the video to see a dimly lit alley with Phantom standing at the end of it. He glanced around, and then white rings appeared, passing over his body. A white T-shirt and jeans replaced a black suit, and black hair replaced white hair.

The rings disappeared, and the person that remained was none other than Danny Fenton.

Tucker blinked, and his head snapped out of the memory. His eyes refocused, and Danny Fenton sat in front of him, still talking to Sam, his posture still far too easygoing for someone who wasn't even human.

His human form was impressively detailed. His unruly black hair, dash of freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes, and pointed nose—all signature traits of Danny. He had gotten it almost perfect.

Almost. 

It made Tucker's blood boil, and he struggled to push it down, keep it in check. Ghosts could feel intense emotions.

The calm mask slipped over him once more, and Tucker was empty. Just empty.

Just how, when he stared into Danny's eyes, he could see that same emptiness too. There was no humanity left. No, that'd died almost two years ago now. All that remained was a ghost. 

He wanted his friend back. But that was impossible. The only thing that he could do now was wipe all ghosts out so no one ever suffered the way Tucker was right now.

He was a hacker, so once he got the tech, programming it was a piece of cake. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than that, but he was nothing if not determined.

And he was nothing if not a damn good programmer.

And now he had the power to fix this, end the ghostly invasion in Amity, end Phantom's terrorizing reign, and set his former friend free.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Danny turned to face Tucker.

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, his elbow nearly slipping from his desk. “Sorry, what are we talking about?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you really have been spacey today. Sleep well last night?”

No, he hadn't, actually. Because Phantom had set up another attack at 2 a.m. and so Tucker had to intervene.

Danny was wearing long sleeves today. Good. It meant that Tucker's shot really had nailed his bicep.

“No, sorry,” Tucker chuckled. “Was rushing to get Lancer's essay done. I can't work on it this weekend; my cousins are coming to town.”

“Again?” Sam asked.

No, they weren't. Tucker hadn't seen his cousins since Christmas. 

“Yeah, my aunt and my mom are in this whole midlife crisis thing right now. Want to make sure we all bond properly or something.” Tucker waved his hand haphazardly. “You know how moms are.”

That was the perfect trigger for Sam, who huffed expectantly. “Oh yeah, don't even get me started. My mom is still trying to make me bond with Kate. Kate's two years older than me and was the head of her cheer team. Like, hello? You can only imagine what her playlists are like.”

“You should blast some death metal next time,” Danny said.

“Trust me, I have. It's the only way to get her to shut up.”

“Must not be death enough.” Danny flashed his teeth in a mischievous smile. “I’m sure I can help put together a playlist if you want.”

That cocky motherfucker…

Did he enjoy gloating over everyone? Did he really laugh at them when he was alone, all the stupid, idiotic, airhead humans who he thought didn’t notice anything?

Squashing his emotions was suddenly too difficult, and just before the internal tea kettle was able to whistle, Tucker was saved by the bell.

Oh, thank god.

Tucker was out of his seat before anyone else, scooping his notebook from his desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and racing out the door before Sam or Danny could catch up.

Still, when against his better conscience he glanced over to his friends, he didn’t miss the subtle look Danny gave him or the green glint in the corner of his eye…

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

If only it was easy.

****

[read more of my work]

[tumblingxelian]

Wednesday Fanfic Concept - Rivals and Roommates to Lovers

Summary: With her parents fast approaching for a string of "Family Therapy Sessions" and with the looming promise of their intervention in her nonexistent love life, Wednesday is forced to take drastic action.

"Enid, Barclay, I have need of one or both of your assistance in a little deception for the duration of my parents extended visit."

Concept: Wednesday's parents are coming weeks before parents day for multiple family therapy sessions at Kinbotts suggestion. They also insinuated they would use this chance to introduce Wednesday to some 'respectable suitors', much to her chagrin.

Wanting an excuse to bail on them at a whim, use others to distract them & something to obscure their interests in playing match maker she corners Enid & Bianca after fencing (With Yoko & Divina watching) to request one or both of them play the role of paramour.

Flabbergasted shock and intrigued amusement reign but discussions do happen; though be it not all at once as the topic brings up... Revelations.

Enid is willing to go along with things cos she's a friend but does expected some repayment in girls nights. She is also insistent the fake relationship be healthier than her parents decades long marriage and is very committed to it.

Bianca is more put off at first, but a blend of anger at Xavier, competitiveness, and the desire to extract Wednesday's promise to help them win the fencing tournament is enough to get her to go along with it.

There are revelations however that come fast and quick:

Outcasts of high standing do practice arranged marriages, but it is possible to cancel them as they are more a ceremonial idea to maintain alliances.

However the process to do so without creating huge problems or looking stupid requires several steps to be met for everyone's pride.

Wednesday is furious she was not told she had fiancé's (Her parents never intended to force the issue they just didn't want to bring it up until they felt she'd not actively cause a political incident out of spite)

Bianca is furious Xavier lied to her about having no prior commitments or relationships as it has become evident he never intended to stay with her in the first place.

Enid was the one who actually figured out there would be arranged marriages due to culturual osmosic and snooping.

Yoko is roped into assisting with the cancellation process, & Divina into helping helping stage semi real dates.

Thing was assigned to spy on Weems so he's missing all this.

Said fake dates and manufactured confessions of interest primarily exist to give the relationship legitimacy for the romantic Addams:

Wednesday: My parents are romantics at heart, they can readily accept mny things if it fits a narrative they would like to see spun.

Bianca: Oh do tell, what made us so perfect for the role of your paramours?

Wednesday:... With yourself Barclay, they would hardly question the simmering tensions that can emerge between rivals of the blade and intellect. Though your penchant for social climbing would perhaps raise eyebrows given my tastes otherwise.

Bianca: Oh how charming.

Enid: So what about me, they seemed kind of put off by my pastels.

Wednesday: Surprise would certainly echo in their otherwise empty heads. However it is not unprecedent given my uncle Festers tastes in women and for all our differences... You are very careful with my eccentricities.

Yoko: Rivals to lovers, oh my god they were room mates; fake relationship 400K slow burn, another win for the gays! (cackling)

Romantic inspiration moments discussed include:

Wednesday forcefully revaluating her opinion of Enid after she threatened Wednesday on the first night and revaluating her opinion of Bianca after her loss in their first duel. (Her parents find both the roommate romance and rivals to lovers very inspired)

She confessed to Enid recently, after seeing her maul the schools bus in a rage & Bianca a few days later after a roof top duel in the rain that ended in a draw. (There was wine drinking from each others glasses before & after, cos while this is all staged, Wednesday is not a some uncivilized boor who won't treat her dates well)

Enid romantic moments are Wednesday helping with the Poe Cup & she says she used to crush on Bianca before she dated Xavier. When Xavier is pissy about Wednesday "Breaking things off" and her refusing to sit near him in class, Enid goads him by kissing Wednesday's cheek and then mocking him at fencing.

Xavier loses it, but throws his sword at Bianca rather than Enid thinking its her scheme and Enid attacks him. So violently that they Yoko, Divina, & Coach Vlad just to hold her back. (The former two actually know Enid's temper)

For Bianca the moments would be Wednesday's words to her before the Poe Cup forcing her to take a look at her truly and parse her feelings regarding the matter of Xavier, followed by the roof top duel.

While for Enid it would be seeing her efforts to maul Xavier and them having a "Talk" after the fact. Her & Enid's relationship is framed as "Seeing where it goes" while their interest in Wednesday and hers in them is more direct.

Naturally real feelings start to or are already developing. They also time it all before the dance so they can make their dramatic debut.

Also thanks to his spying Thing learns that Weems is in talks with the Mayor regarding the monster and seems to know something, so they get confirmation of it from that angle rather than Xavier's art and the cave.

This also means Thing is flabbergasted when returning to the room & seeing Bianca there, putting herself right in the middle of the room, to mildly intrude on Wednesday's space but not go overboard. This is to be in contrast to Enid who is more careful with Wednesday's boundaries but sometimes to the point of inaction.

Xavier's inability to respect Wednesday's boundaries or words & Wednesday hating Galpin's dad and finding Tyler confusing (Cos of his rambling about signals) is why she didn't go to them. Meanwhile Eugene makes her think of her brother which squicks her out so he was off the table.

Also parents day likely ends up hella more dramatic and Bianca and Enid get some big development from their mutual mom situation. Plus Wednesday realizing she's growing… protective.

[poisonandpages]

Gender and style ramblings ahoy!

Growing up I was never really "girly", and by that I mean I love pretty things, elegant things, stereo-typically "feminine" things, but more...more as a bystander than a participant, if that makes any sense? So in my teens while I was figuring out what I liked, I preferred sort of masculine-androgynous styles... and I was made to feel like absolute crap about it. Constantly facing sneers and frowns even from people I loved and trusted, and the pressure to change got 10x worse when I started working and suddenly found myself meeting hundreds of strangers daily.

It was weird because I grew up in a fairly progressive place with relatively progressive people and saw loads of women one might describe as "butch", so I never really understood why they could get to be themselves but I was heavily discouraged from the same. So I guess I rationalised it in my head by thinking that butch was a style for women who were either very handsome or very confident and capable, and neither of those described me. I wasn't "good enough" to be masc so I'd instead have to put in a lot of work to be more feminine (something I'd never say about another person, but I've always been much more cruel to myself than I am to others).

I think in part this was to do with my undiagnosed autism as well - maybe people thought that if I looked more like their idea of a woman I'd stick out less as a weirdo.

So for the past decade or so I've tried to fit myself into a shape that prioritised what other people would like to see instead of who I'd like to be. And I thought "ok, if I can be feminine but kind of edgy, everybody wins! Funky haircuts and punk or retro clothing but with a shedload of makeup and holding myself in a way that makes me look smaller, that'll do, right?" I trimmed myself down and covered myself up until I could be palatable to those around me.

But over this past year or so I've learned a lot of things about myself, and I've been deconstructing a lot of things about the way I view myself that I had already dealt with years ago about how I view others, and I came to the conclusion that all that wasn't making me happy. There were elements that I liked, I still love my dangly kooky earrings and sometimes playing around with makeup can be fun, but altogether the femme identity started to feel like a jacket that fit me really badly to begin with and was getting worse with each passing year, to the point it was squishing in my ribcage and giving me breathing problems.

In recent months I've been experimenting with more masculine/neutral clothing, wearing makeup way less, and had a barber cut my hair shorter than it's ever been before (which was a whole revelation because previously I've paid upward of £35 to have hairdressers ignore my instructions, and this lad did a perfect job for £12 in my living room). I was so scared that I'd look ugly or stupid but instead, I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm still 90-something percent sure that I'm cis, but as an autistic lesbian I feel like I have a more unique relationship with gender as a concept and it feels so freeing to now be able to express it. I'm getting much more comfortable with my natural face (not completely as you can see, I am still a recovering victim of 90s eyebrow trends, but we'll get there.) I accentuate my naturally broad shoulders and square jaw instead of trying to hide them. I wear shirts bought from the men's section of thrift shops. And when I look in the mirror I see me, and not the masquerade version of myself that others might want me to be.

I'm really happy, but I wish I had figured out all this sooner.

[gristlegrinder]

Hm... For the OC asks: how about Fear, Ghost, and Mistake for the GW2 OC you most recently played in-game?

not-so-nice oc ask meme

hello anon! unfortunately the answer to that question is almost always siya. i play them too much.

content warnings for discussions of trauma, near death experiences, and death. this one got heavy in my drafts. sorry, it’s a long one!

GHOST: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

there’s a joke here about siya having a shitty ex-boyfriend literally named ghost. anyways.

siya ran to lion’s arch to get away from the grove, and quickly adopted it as their home with a sense of pride. i really cannot emphasize enough how much of their early sense of identity hinged on belonging to a city of pirates and scoundrels. they fell in with all the other misfits that had called it home, and reveled in late nights, bad decisions, and having the future laid out in front of them, as unending as the ocean.

scarlet briar destroyed it without warning.

they never said goodbye. their tenement was burning rubble before they even woke up among the survivors. there are friends and neighbors and regulars at their bars that they never heard from again, that they’re reasonably sure are still alive but don’t have the means (or true desire) to get back in touch with. when they close their eyes, they can retrace footpaths in alleyways that don’t exist anymore. gendarran apples dipped in dark chocolate, notches in their usual booth’s tabletop made with sif’s pocketknife, the stench of fish being unloaded at the docks at four in the morning, their face against the cool tile of moldy bathroom floors.

it aches. and they never went back— they still haven’t. they’ve been avoiding it for years, taking the long ways around travel routes to avoid the asura gate hub and the ports. too much has changed, in really painful ways, and they don’t want the memories they have of the place to be “spoiled” by plaster-and-stained-glass pavilions sponsored by the captain’s council. they want the shadows, and the shiplap, and the sense of self-discovery that sent them there in the first place. even if those memories aren’t particularly good, anything else feels wrong, and bad.

whether or not that preservation would actually make a difference (they can’t go back to that version of lion’s arch either way) doesn’t matter; there’s a finality to accepting that things are gone that they’ve been putting off for the last decade of their life, mostly in the form of never thinking about it ever and avoiding all reminders of it forever, reinventing themself as who they are today in the process.

FEAR: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

okay, so i think there are two ways i could take this question— first is a very tangible fear, in the sense that they very clearly have PTSD from what happened in lion’s arch. siya was there when the first bombs dropped and the miasma had a coin-flip chance of killing you. their actual memories of what happened are spotty, on account of the blast, but their unconscious body was pulled from the wreckage after the initial chaos, and it was deemed a miracle that they had survived.

for a long while, that lingering panic manifests as a twitch in their hands when the air gets too thick; tensing up at sudden loud noises and drawing exit strategies for any enclosed space and fighting any situation where medical personnel want to put their hands on them.

(siya finds refuge in the canopies of the maguuma jungle for a time, living in the wyvern cliffs with a friend. mordremoth sends the pact fleet crashing down into the trees and it startles them more than the dragon’s call itself ever could. afterwards, they flinch at the slightest provocation and spit that they’re going to personally shoot the killing bullet into mordremoth’s skull, when they remember how to feel anything at all. that’s the first time they realize there might be a problem.)

it’s hard not to be honest about it all when it’s visible on them (the hacking cough, the scarring on their face, the bad knee) so they don’t bother trying to hide that something’s fucked them up. if anything, it doesn’t matter that you know— they just don’t want you to stop taking them seriously. they can hold their own in a fight, they can handle themself.

and while that fear hasn’t ever gone away, it’s stabilized; helped by years of distance, self-soothing rituals, and lithium salts. the love of their life is a volcanic eruption, and they’ve grown to find comfort in heavy, warm pressure blanketing them.

what they’re really afraid of, underneath that, is death. the lights being snuffed out for good. rolling bad dice, finally, and getting unlucky. not knowing what’s gonna happen afterwards (do they get the gold chariot? do they float through the ceiling?). not wanting to lose the few good things they’ve got. braham’s prophecy starts unfurling and they spend months picking their wounds and watching him like a hawk when they can’t sleep at night, in case he’s the one that doesn’t make it.

that one, they don’t talk about. they can’t.

MISTAKE: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

siya has never made any mistakes in their life, ever.

okay, that’s a lie— but most of their mistakes feel petty in the grand scheme of the world. shooting themself in the foot (metaphorically) by reading situations wrong, talking a bit too much and slighting somebody, fumbling a good thing by being a little too much or pushing somebody away before anything can start. that’s just being neurodivergent. none of those are life-ruining on their own.

likewise, there are things they would consider to be significant mistakes of theirs that i don’t personally agree with their judgment on. lying in the grass underneath a friend they’ve already lost to the nightmare court. locking eyes with ghost across the room in a dive bar that was never up to code. staying home with garm and a migraine when braham gets invited to the all-legions rally.

(okay, that last one hurts more, but they can’t get too caught up in it for the same reasons they don’t let braham get caught up in his own what-ifs.)

not taking the lionguard suggestion to re-enter the city when able to do so, in order to retrieve the rest of their belongings, probably ranks up there. they took whatever they were rescued with, shoved away every worried medic trying to stabilize them, and followed their gut instinct to get as far away from the burning wreckage as possible. it was an irrational, anxious impulse, and they do really regret not getting to say goodbye before that became insurmountable.

[ivpapaemeritusiv]

Chapter 17: Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Summary: In this chapter, Addy and Papa wrap up the tour, navigating the challenges of caring for a newborn in a cramped bus. Fortunately, the multi ghoul is on hand to offer support and assistance during this demanding time.

Word Count: 4,100 words

Kaisarion was a few weeks old, and the tour was back in full swing and it was show time! Addeline had missed the fast-paced life of moving from city to city. She missed hearing Papa on stage and the way the crowd cheered for him. She loved seeing everyone else adore him as much as she did—recognition for his hard work. She knew it made him feel good to be appreciated. It was a validation she was unable to provide.

She was in the green room with him, holding Kaisarion in her arms. The newborn was wide awake but very quiet. Ashley was applying the final touches to Copia’s face—a mask that changed him from just Papa to Papa Emeritus the IV.

He turned around in his seat, “How do I look?”

Addy took a deep breath in, “Very dashing.”

“Ah, good,” he responded, giving his child a pat on the head, “That’s what I was going for.”

He stood up so that he could dress quickly. There wasn’t much time until he had to be on stage.

“That is one quiet baby,” Ashley said as she helped the Cardinal with his wardrobe.

As the man threw on his shiny sequin jacket, he gave his wife a small wink, “That’s because his mother is holding him. As soon as she puts him down, he will be louder than the crowd.”

The people in the room laughed as Papa started walking off. He turned around to notice Addy was not following him, “My dear, are you coming? Or should I carry you while you carry him?”

“Oh…” she was confused, “You want me to… you mean I can…”

“Yes, yes, come darling! Did you think I was going to keep you locked up in this green room? Nonsense! My little ragazzo needs to see what his future looks like.”

Addeline ran to catch up with her husband. There were so many people walking in all directions—so many people that made the show possible. It was a rush of adrenaline.

After quite the stroll, they finally reached backstage. Addeline had to admit, she actually missed Sister Imperator being in front of the monitor. Papa looked at his wife who was deep in thought, “A kiss for good luck, Amore?”

She gave him one of the kindest kisses she possibly could and sent him out on stage. Of course, as always, the crowd yelled out for him upon his entrance.

“Good evening, Lyons,” he addressed the crowd as he always had, “We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

He went through and introduced all the ghouls, allowing them to play a solo for the audience one at a time.

“I want to introduce you all to one more person,” he began to say, “Well… two more people. You see, just recently I became not just a Papa but a daddy,” he held up two fingers in the air, “for the second time.”

Upon hearing this, the crowd went insane. She was sure some of the hardcore fans probably knew Papa Emeritus had a family, but the couple was very good at concealing their private lives. Many people had no idea of their relationship.

“Yes, yes. I am a daddy to two beautiful children, a girl and now… a boy.”

The faces in the audience emitted more noise with each revelation Copia threw at them, “And they are backstage right now.”

Oh boy… Addy thought to herself, knowing what Papa was about to do.

“Can somebody get my wife out here for a second?”

Addeline, already hearing that she’d been summoned, began to walk out on her own. She was met halfway by Swiss who helped her across the stage to where Papa was standing. Papa gave her a kiss, and whispered in her ear away from the microphone, away from the busy crowd, “I want them to know what drives me to continue doing what I do.”

She blushed.

“Everyone, my wife.”

Papa let the crowd’s claps and whoops subside before introducing his next guest of honor, “And this little guy right here is Kaisarion.”

The sounds of screams were so ear piercing it stirred the infant and he began to cry, “Shh, shh,” The Cardinal quieted the crowd, “Do not fret everyone. Kaisarion always calms down when his mother is holding him.”

Addeline took this as her queue to leave. She gave Papa a passionate kiss as the crowd ooohed and ahhhed at the sight. Not being a big fan of public affection, she walked off stage as red as a beet.

“This next song is dedicated to that beautiful woman! You might like this one!”

The music started and Addy could hear, “Call me Little Sunshine,” begin to play. She sang the lyrics to her young son who quickly quieted upon hearing his mother’s melodic voice.

The show ended and as usual the crew began packing up. They had decided to drive through the night to the next city so that they could rest at the hotel the next day. Papa, Addeline, Kaisarion, Swiss and Cirrus rode in one bus while the rest of the crew and musicians rode in the other.

The two ghouls were in the middle of the bus playing cards while Addeline was lying next to Copia in their space in the back. He lay very still although she knew he was not yet asleep. He could sense her staring at him—or maybe it was the little movements of the bed that gave her away every time she glanced in his direction.

“Is there something you need, “Bella mia?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

“No… nothing,” she softly whispered.

He was not convinced, “Can you not sleep?”

“I… I…”

“Ah, you want your Papa? Is that it?” he said, still without moving an inch.

Addy let a very timid, “Yes,” escape her lips.

Papa turned his head toward her, “My dear, your Papa is very tired.”

She scowled, disappointed that he had teased her.

“Don’t look so blue,” he told her, “Perhaps I can find enough energy to put my little pet to rest.”

Her eyes lit up. They were so beautiful, Copia thought, so full of optimism at what he would give to her.

“Are you naked, Papa?”

“I am, Tesoro,” he admitted, although he had been too tired to remove his make-up from earlier.

Addy herself was only wearing a T-shirt she’d bought from an earlier concert—of course with Papa Emeritus’s face on it.

Making decrepit noises, he climbed on top of her, being very careful not to press on her stomach. He started to give her light kisses around her ear. A well-placed shiver swam through her body, down to her toes.

“Shh,” Papa tried to quiet her, as she made soft grumbles from underneath his chest, “The ghouls in the next room might be trying to sleep.”

She attempted to stifle her own noises but accidently let out a shrill gasp when Papa grabbed her thighs and forcefully pulled them apart. He pushed himself in between them and slid the tip of his cock into the wanting girl. For her, it was enough to make the room turn upside down.

Addy’s eyes seemed even blacker to him in the dark of the night. They were enchanting. He slowly began to push himself in—as slowly as he had ever done in the past. He definitely did not want to fill her up all the way as he knew they were not even supposed to be playing in this manner.

“Papa, you have to pull out.”

The tiny command from his wife made him chuckle.

“You are telling me how to fuck you?” he asked, not missing a beat.

She recoiled. He continued sliding in and out, delicately and slowly, but it was enough. After going so long without feeling one another, it was more than adequate.

“Papa, I’m not going to last much longer.”

He knew this was her way of asking for consent to get off—something she’d been taught to do from the very first fuck. Normally, he would not want it to end so suddenly, but he too was on the brink of letting go.

“Be my guest, my dear.”

She entered a trance-like state, screaming into the room. The cardinal cuffed her mouth with the inside of his palm and muffled the cries as he went on making love to her. When he saw the intensity of her orgasm subside, he quickly withdrew, spilling himself onto her stomach.

Addy, breathing very heavily, felt the warmth of it trickle down the sides of her, “You… you pulled out?”

“It was difficult,” he admitted, “But we can’t break two rules in one night, eh?”

Just then, a voice from the other side of the curtain shouted, “Hey, will you two assholes keep it down in there? There’s a fucking baby on the bus for God’s sakes!”

“Oh my, God!” Addeline shrank beneath the covers, “I forgot about them.”

“Yes, you did,” he agreed, his ears still ringing from the sounds of her shrieks, “But, Swiss has caught us in the act before. He will not be traumatized by this.”

“Permission to enter Papa,” Swiss said outside the curtain, obviously teasing Addy.

“Ah yes, entrare, entrare.”

Swiss opened the curtain, Kaisarion in his arms, “Here’s your baby. If you guys aren’t too busy, I think he’s hungry.”

Addy reached out for the infant who was making quite a fuss as the Cardinal took his original spot in the bed.

“Thank you so much for keeping him occupied for a bit,” Addeline expressed her gratitude. It was hard to be on tour with a newborn. The infant was attached to her hip every hour of the day. Any time Addeline put him down he seemed to cry but it was established quickly that for some reason the tiny boy enjoyed the embrace of Swiss.

“He’s a sweet kid and he hates everyone but you and me and that makes him okay in my book.”

“You just want to feel special,” Cirrus called from outside the open curtain.

“Yea,” Swiss continued, “Well, you’re just mad he likes me more than you.”

An object came hurling toward Swiss’s head. It caught him right between the eyes.

“Ouch!”

“Alright, out!” Papa shouted, as Addeline began to feed their son.

Swiss closed the curtain and ran to tackle his ghoul friend. The family dynamics amongst the crew were strong.

“Lay down and feed him, my sweet,” the Cardinal told his wife, “You need to get some sleep.”

Addy laid down, her back pressed up against Papa’s chest, and let one breast rest in Kaisarion’s mouth. Now, with the child being calm and her urge satisfied, she was able to drift off to sleep.

* Papa was awoken by the sound of his son’s crying. Still very tired, he grabbed his watch off the nightstand and glanced at the time. He’d been asleep for just 3 hours and there was still another 3 to drive. All was silent, except for Swiss snoring beyond the curtain.

The Cardinal grumbled, “Amore?”

She was sleeping heavily and not answering. The baby continued to cry.

“Addeline?” This time he nudged her. She repositioned slightly but did not wake up.

“Addy?” He said more loudly, “Kaisarion is awake.”

She groaned and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

Papa could see that she was not going to get up. He reached over her body and gently lifted the baby. Trying to console little Kaisarion, he rocked him back and forth, “There, there…”

After several minutes the Cardinal got out of bed with his son and walked into the middle of the bus where his other two companions lay resting. The little screams from the baby woke Swiss.

“Cardinal?”

“Ah, good,” he said, “You’re awake.”

“Yea, how can anyone sleep with you bringing that racket in here?”

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do?”

Swiss sat up and rubbed his eyes, “He’s probably hungry. Give him to Addy.”

“Addy won’t wake up.”

“Oh,” the ghoul said flatly. “Well, you feed him then.”

Copia looked around, somewhat frantic, “Feed him what exactly?”

Swiss burst into laughter, “Breast milk. Babies drink breastmilk.”

The Cardinal answered frustratedly, “The milk is in the breast and the breast is on my wife who will not wake up.”

“Check the fridge. Adds keeps some in there.”

Swiss watched on shaking his head, as Papa walked to the fridge to get his son’s food, “Cardinal isn’t this your second kid? Have you not been alone with your spawn before?” he continued ridiculing the frontman.

“Fa schifo al cazzo! Just get up and help me!”

Swiss threw himself out of the small cot that attached to the wall and walked over to a black mini fridge, “She keeps bottles in here just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Papa wondered out loud.

“Just in case you wake up in the middle of the night, and don’t know what to feed your kid.”

Swiss handed Papa the bottle, teasingly, and watched him shove it into Kaisarion’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” he wondered.

Papa, somewhat flustered, repeated the question, “What I am doing? I’m feeding the baby!”

Swiss covered his forehead in angst, “Papa, you gotta warm the bottle up first.”

The Cardinal went to put the bottle in the microwave.

“No!” Swiss quickly closed the microwave door shut. He reached under a cabinet and grabbed a pot to fill it with hot water, “You can’t put it in there! You have to let it warm up like this.”

“How do you even know all this,” Papa asked puzzled.

Swiss shrugged, “I watch Addy do it.”

The ghoul took the bottle from Copia and placed it in the pot, “Hey, I know it’s not my business, but you might want to start helping her take care of these babies you keep making.”

“Excuse me,” The Cardinal was a bit offended.

Swiss lowered his tone, realizing he may have been making Copia angry, “No offense, but that’s why you can’t wake her up. She’s exhausted. If you haven’t noticed that baby is literally suckling her for life support. She can’t put him down.”

Papa nodded, “Yes I have noticed that.”

“She told me she’d love to sing in the next couple shows.”

Papa quickly looked at Swiss, moving his neck so quickly it made a snapping sound, “She said that to you?”

“I mean… yea. But how can she? Kaisarion won’t let her do anything.”

“Well, she’s just had a tough delivery. She always thinks she can do more than what she’s capable of.”

“I don’t know,” the ghoul said, “I think she’d surprise you.”

“When does she talk to you about this? What else does she say?” Copia was quite dismayed that his wife would confide in somebody else instead of him.

“Don’t take it personally but you two have this weird power exchange going on all the time,” Papa listened as Swiss explained to him the dynamics of his own relationship, “She hangs on to your every command—she waits for you to tell her what to do.”

The Cardinal seemed oblivious to this information, “I don’t tell Addeline what to do.”

“Cardinal, with all due respect, I’ve never banged a woman who needed my permission to get off before.”

“You think she is afraid to talk to me?”

“It’s not that. She likes being subservient to you. It’s some fetish you guys have had from day one. It kind of makes me want to throw up honestly,” he joked.

Swiss gently removed the infant from Copia’s grasp as he reached for the bottle to begin feeding the newborn, “I’m saying you gotta approach her. You gotta pick up on what she wants, what she needs, cause she’s not gonna tell you. You’re HER master. You gotta tell her what’s best and what’s best is what SHE wants. Make sense?”

The Cardinal wore a blank gaze, his mouth gaping wide. He waited a few seconds before snapping, “It’s too early for this shit, Swiss.”

“Ah go back to bed; I’ve got the kid.”

Copia graciously nodded, retreating back behind the privacy of the curtain that separated him from the rest of the bus.

* Addeline woke up when she heard the squeaky brakes of the tour bus. Finally she thought. The bus was quite an uncomfortable and cramped place to sleep. The movements of the vehicle across the bumps and gravel of the road did not help with slumber. She looked at Papa, who had finally passed out, then noticed that Kaisarion was not next to her. She panicked, frantically looking around for him. She called his name while tossing blankets around the bed. This still was not enough to wake the Cardinal.

She busted through the curtain, hyperventilating but quickly calmed down when she saw the baby sleeping soundly next to Swiss. Oh my God she thought as her fight or flight instincts settled. She walked over to where the ghoul lay and knelt by the bed. She rubbed her son’s head and softly whispered good morning in his ear.

This woke up Swiss whose eyes fluttered open at the sound of Addy’s voice. He took a while to come to but met her eyes after blinking and rubbing his own, “Good morning, you.”

“Thank you. You are so good with him.”

“You need to train your old man, Addy. Poor guy can’t even heat up a bottle.”

She giggled and began to reach for her baby, “When did he eat last?”

“A couple hours ago,” the ghoul said, “He took a bottle and a half but there’s one full bottle left in the fridge.”

“I think I’ll just feed him from the water hose,” Addy laughed, speaking about her engorged boobs.

Swiss couldn’t help but noticed Addy was leaking through her T-shirt, “Looks like you need milking.”

Cardinal walked in to see his wife at Swiss’s bedside, “What’s this,” he asked, perplexed.

Addeline quickly looked up at him and then back to Swiss, hurrying to grab her child so that she could stand, “Nothing, Papa. Kaisarion fell asleep with Swiss. I heard someone had trouble feeding him,” she joked.

Copia grumbled as he walked over to steal a kiss from Addy, “Unfortunately, I am not as perceptive as he.”

Swiss furrowed his brow as Addy shrugged in his direction. At about this time Cirrus also woke up.

“How the fuck did you sleep through the night,” Swiss asked her.

“Why? What happened?”

Before Swiss could answer, the Cardinal walked toward the exit of the bus, summoning Addy to follow him, “Tesoro, can I speak to you for a minute?”

She followed Copia outside, a little uneasy at the manner he called her in, “What is it, Papa? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, my darling, of course not. I wanted to know if you would like to do backing vocals for the next show?”

Her eyes lit up, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, Amore, I mean it.”

Addeline jumped into his arms. She was ecstatic and the Cardinal quite pleased he had taken Swiss’s advice.

“Do you think my ghoul costume will still fit?”

Copia looked her up and down, noticing that she had lost most of her baby weight already, “You bounce back quickly, my darling. The costume will fit perfectly.”

“What about—”

“—Kaisarion? There are plenty of people on standby to watch him, my dear.”

*

Addy was thrilled at sound check, unlike everyone else who had done the same one an endless number of times now. She walked onto the stage fully equipped in her nameless ghoul attire and walked up to Swiss.

“Wow, you’re the sexiest ghoul here,” he joked.

She took a playful bow, thanking him for the compliment, “So where do I stand.”

Swiss looked behind his shoulder at a small circular platform, “You’re behind me. They’re keeping us altos over here while the banshee stands on the opposite side of the stage,” he referred to Cumulus who was a skilled soprano.

Swiss pulled out a book of sheet music with all the lyrics to the songs they needed to perform, “You’re not going to be on stage the whole time but I’m going to go over the songs Papa put you down for.”

“Okay,” she said bright eyed and ready.

“And you’re not getting paid either so calm down.”

She smirked and crossed her arms, “Just tell me what I’m doing.”

“So, for Mary on a cross we’ll have you matching my vocals, so I’ll show you how to do that. My mic will be louder because I’m better.”

Addeline shoved him playfully, causing him to lose his balance a bit.

He chuckled and continued, “We need you for Darkness. Papa Emeritus likes that thing you do when you’re singing a lower note and you cut to the high note real sharply, it’s almost whiny, so we’re putting you on for Spillways and Pro Memoria—we especially need you to carry the harmonies on the…” Swiss demonstrated, “To ride with me… to ride with me…” raising his hands in the air as though he had a baton, to show Addy a visual representation of the musical note.

Swiss put in a solid hour of hard work, guiding Addy through her parts. As they practiced the ending for Mary on a Cross she struggled to catch her breath before the final note. Frustration escaped in an exasperated “Ugh.”

Swiss quickly reassured her, saying, “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. Just a long note.” He gently positioned his hand on her back and under her rib cage, sandwiching her diaphragm, “Take a deep breath and stand tall,” he advised. “Save all your breath at the beginning and release it all for that powerful final note.”

Papa walked up to the two to see if Addy would be ready for the show.

“How’s she doing, Swiss?” he asked.

“Well,” Swiss began, “She thinks she’s the main character,” he laughed, “She needs to be part of the vocal harmonies instead of singing on key with the frontman.”

“Trying to steal my job, Amore?” The cardinal joked, giving her a small pinch on the waist.

“There’s actually a lot going on out here, Cardinal. If you don’t mind, I think it might be easier to go backstage with some earpods.”

“Yes, yes, do what you must,” Copia gave them permission to retreat and practice in a quieter place.

Swiss and Addy went to the green room to continue their session while everyone else practiced outside. The two worked diligently for one more hour, preparing for the upcoming show.

“I can’t believe you guys do this so many times in a row,” Addy said.

“Well, if you enjoy something it’s easy to do it over and over again,” he looked down, smirking, “You should know that, Adds.”

She laughed, assuming Swiss was talking about having sex with Copia.

“In any case,” he continued, “I think you’re ready. We need to get out there and do the real thing now. You should probably go find Cumulus so she can grab your ghoulette get up.”

He started to walk off but then noticed Addy’s shirt was wet, “Adds? Go milk yourself.”

The woman looked down and realized it had been a few hours since she fed her son. She covered herself, somewhat frustrated, “Goddamn it, this always happens.”

“Ha!” Swiss chuckled, “I don’t mind it. It’s kind of hot.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze, and her words spilled out, “You know? I love the kids, but I think Kaisarion is my last. It’s not that I don’t adore being a mother, but sometimes I feel like I’m meant for so much more.”

“I’ll buy you a box of condoms then if the show goes well tonight!”

“I’m serious,” she said, “And having Kaisarion was so scary. If you hadn’t found me in the hallway—”

“—But I did find you,” He interjected.

She looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes. He always seemed to be coming to her rescue.

Swiss met her gaze too but quickly shook himself out of it and looked down at his guitar, “Anyway, just tell him you’re done having kids. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Yeah,” she nodded,” a hint of skepticism in her voice.

Swiss himself was being facetious. He couldn’t help but be amused at the idea of Addy telling the Cardinal how things were going to be. He also knew the man wanted more children and that it would be a heated discussion. Still, he was curious to see what would happen.

“Alright, see ya out there,” he said, disappearing from the room, the thought lingering in his mind.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Demons (4x23)

Amy gasps, jolting awake and upward in darkness. The ear piercing buzz of the drill slowly fades into the void of her subconscious. Oh God, another black out? Where is she? Her heart beats frantically through her chest as she fumbles for the bedside lamp. Flowered wallpaper, cream-colored curtains, David snoring beside her… right: her bedroom. Not back there.

Another nightmare. No, a memory.

Her teeth clench, thinking about the thousand ways she may have been hurt, violated years ago. Then she thinks about how many ways she was but doesn’t remember. Her stomach twists. Flashes of unseen hands poking, prodding, pinning her down haunts her in the light of day. But it’s during the dark of night when the remnants of bone deep pain and fathomless fear soak her sheets with sweat. Like always, her hands tremble when they instantly clutch her stomach and palm her face, soothing an invisible ache. When her tongue swipes instinctively across the arc of her soft palette, somehow anticipating the warm tang of blood pooling in her mouth, tears sting her eyes. 

Every night it’s the same. Every night it’s worse. 

Amy gets out of bed and walks downstairs, careful not to wake David. He too gets little reprieve from his own hellish abduction memories he’d much rather forget. A luxury Amy simply cannot fathom. Frustration at living like a blindfolded prisoner inside her own body is at an all-time high, amping up her anxiety and desire for knowledge of the unknown. She has never needed the truth more. But when her brain fails to provide details of her hijacked agency she yearns to recall, her body’s muscle memory built upon the bulk of buried trauma does it for her. That scares her more than any truth ever could. Because at least now the truth will not remain buried. At least she will finally know. 

Amy swipes the sweaty tendrils of gray from her forehead and hisses when her finger nicks the fresh scab forming at her hairline. 

Dr. Charles Goldstein and his innovative method of treating memory repression has been a true revelation. David refuses to dive any further than surface level into their murky past of bright lights and missing time. But, as her psychologist, Dr. Goldstein suggested she consent to this multi-session treatment to regain pieces of her memory, and Amy has reveled in it.

She enters the crowded sunroom full of her recent artwork of her childhood home by the lake. A place where she used to feel safe and happy. Where she’d spent her wedding night with David and woke up six weeks later on life support. 

Amy settles in front of her half-painted canvas and presses play on her answering machine as the saved message from last night whirrs to life:

“Amy Cassandra, my name is Fox Mulder, I’m a Special Agent with the FBI. I’ve read the recent article in Abductee Magazine you were interviewed for about your experience years ago—in fact I’m looking at it now, and I’m interested in speaking with you in person. Uh… very interested, actually.” 

Amy stares thoughtfully at the machine as the younger man on the other end clears his throat. His tone is soft, reassuring, and Amy can’t help but wonder if a child of her own would be as understanding about her past as this Agent Mulder is. If she could’ve had children, that is. 

“…You mentioned a certain therapy you’d started that involved recovering repressed and buried memories. If you’re willing, I’d like to know more. I need to know more. For personal reasons. And Amy, I want you to know I’ll listen. Really listen. I’m sure many others haven’t before, but I will...”

Amy waits as the agent leaves his number and hears the desperation in his voice. She nods, her decision made, shouldering the corded phone attached to the wall as she dials. It’s either too early or this FBI agent screens his calls the same as David. Leaving a message, an olive branch is all she can do.

“Agent Mulder? This is Amy Cassandra, and I think I can help you…”

A predawn haze shines just enough light on her palette for her to dab out an array of acrylic in a rainbowed arc. Her hands itch to paint.

“Please delete this message after you hear it, but it’s true I’ve been slowly recovering flashes of voids or gaps within my past with the help of my psychologist. My husband and I— well, it’s been a tumultuous road to reclaim what’s been taken, but there’s so much more I must know…”

Amy anxiously grips a wooden brush and dips the bristles in vibrant green, thinking about what to say next. She paints her childhood home because it’s been the only place other than her resistant mind that holds the truth. As she speaks, the deep wound in her skull throbs, reminding her that that was true, until weeks ago when she’d traded the nightmare of one penetrating drill with the reality of another. 

“And you’d think willingly having a hole drilled into your head would be crazy, until realizing crazy is your only option to be sane,” Amy huffs into the phone at the irony. She’d apologize for her eccentric ramble but she doesn’t feel sorry for the warning. 

“Anyway…” Amy squints to shape the bend of the wind-blown tree just right along the canvas. Detail matters. It’s the details that complete the whole picture. The whole truth. The bad, the worse: all of it is what will save her sanity. “If you’re serious about knowing more, meet me at Dr. Goldstein's office in Rhode Island for my next session and you’ll see. Maybe he will help you remember your own truths...”

Art has always been therapeutic, but ever since the experimental therapy, painting has become momentous in bringing forth the evil lurking within her darkness. 

“Maybe, Agent Mulder, it’s time to exercise your demons too.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@monikafilefan

[denimbex1986]

'With “The Giggle” finally hitting Disney+, the three David Tennant-centric Doctor Who specials have come to a close, with surprising and spoilerific results. We’ve known for ages that Neil Patrick Harris was playing a new incarnation of a 1966 1st Doctor villain, The Celestial Toymaker, but until now, nobody knew how that was going to play out. And of course, there’s the whole question of the 14th Doctor’s surprising regeneration. With deep dives into recent lore, the return of Mel (Bonnie Langford) from the 6th and 7th Doctor eras, “The Giggle” will give fans plenty to talk about for a very long time to come.

But, squeezed into all of this was one very telling line from the 14th Doctor, a kind of revelation we’ve heard before, but that truly helps to contextualize the more contemporary Doctors as being very different from the 1st Doctor, William Hartnell, for one crucial reason. Just because the 1st Doctor appears to be a literal grandfather, that version of our eponymous Time Lord is among the youngest, and least-wise of all our Doctor Who incarnations...

As Donna and the Doctor are trying to escape the domain of the Toymaker, the Doctor vaguely recaps the events of “The Celestial Toymaker.” As the Doctor explains, he allowed the TARDIS to slip into a “hollow beneath the under-universe,” which brought him in contact with the Toymaker. Interestingly, in the context of the original serial, this wasn’t the Doctor’s first meeting with the Toymaker; and that vague origin has never been outright depicted on screen. But, the more interesting revelation here is the way the Doctor talks about the events of “The Celestial Toymaker.”

“When I was young I was so sure of myself, I made a terrible mistake,” the Doctor says. Now, if you didn’t know he was talking about a William Hartnell-centric adventure, your mind might call up a vague younger version of the Doctor, perhaps even one of those secret “Timeless Children,” versions. But that’s not at all what the Doctor means here. He means Susan’s Grandfather, the 1st Doctor, the grumpy, gruff stick-in-the-mud. And the idea that gets reinforced here is fairly simple: The elderly Doctor was, in fact, the youngest and most immature version of all the primary incarnations we’ve seen.

Meanwhile, the more conventionally youthful Doctors — including the incoming Ncuti Gatwa — are considerably older than the Hartnell Doctor, meaning, they’re infinitely wiser and less immature. Part of this comes from more experience, but it also comes from the fact that the newer Doctors are, for lack of a better term, simply more Doctor-ish. Over the years, the Doctor has become more of themselves through a variety of critical points.

In “The Giggle,” the 14th Doctor mentions that he is “a billion years old,” which is significantly older than he was back when Donna first met him in “The Runaway Bride,” at a time which the Doctor usually cited his age as somewhere in the 903 range. Is the 14th Doctor counting all the time the 12th Doctor (Peter Capaldi) spent in the confession dial? Are we also adding in all the missing years from the time of the Fugitive Doctor (Jo Martin), and other “Timeless Child” or “Brain of Morbius” Doctors who have had their pasts erased?

In a way, whether they’re a few thousand years older than the Hartnell Doctor, or a few billion, it hardly matters. The newer Doctors are simply much older and smarter than the older ones. Just because William Hartnell or Patrick Troughton might seem like senior citizens compared to Jodie Whittaker or Ncuti Gatwa, the reality is those classic Doctors are the young punks. Those are the Doctors who made the mistakes and messed up space and time, and various galaxies. In this way, the story of the new incarnations of Doctor Who isn’t about a Time Lord’s constant quest to look young. Instead, it’s all about undoing our preconceived notions of what a responsible hero should look like, and realizing the one that looks the most like a revered elder, is also the person who was likely the most reckless.'