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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 day

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baby, do you want to come home with me?

Eddie Munson x Reader

Giving in to the tension feels good

Word count: 702

Contents: Making out. Pre-smut and getting handsy in a bathroom. Female reader (one use of 'her'). Title from Wet Dream, by Wet Leg.

Author’s note: This has been sitting half-finished in my docs named 'untilted eddie make out' for well over a month. It's barely read-over or edited, but here you go, Eddie girls. Come get your man!

His breath is hot against your lips, tinged with smoke and hops. That smokey scent blends with spicy aftershave and the earthy fug of green. Every molecule of you feels aflame, sparked by the slide of his tongue against yours and the gentle command he leads with. He is addictive and you need another taste.

After weeks of tension building, attraction growing stronger each time you saw each other instead of waning, you both gave in tonight. And oh are you glad you did.

Eddie smiles when your mouths meet again; another deep kiss to make you melt between him and the scuffed brick wall at your back. He holds you tighter, closer, and presses up against you to make sure you don’t trickle away into a puddle or twirl off back to the dance floor with your ‘come get me’ eyes. He wants you a little longer and fancies his chances of getting to take you home tonight.

He need not worry; the only place you're going is to find a cab, then home to your place or to his. The music is less loud here, but the base rumbles between your twisted-together bodies.

You can feel him, thick and hard and warm against you through double layers of denim - his and hers. There is buttery leather and surprisingly soft curls beneath your fingers, the sharp line of his flexed jaw and the cool hardware on his jacket. He makes you feel greedy for wanting all of it, all of him, the soft and the hard parts (but especially the hard part tonight).

He makes this little noise when you tug his hair and his jaw falls slack when your nails catch on his scalp just right. You make a note of that for later as he licks into your mouth again, making you keen for him as he pairs that slow deep slide with the firm press of his thigh between your legs that feels so good. Your hips take up a slow roll, encouraged and steadied by his hand at the top of your ass and the perfect press of your jeans right there.

You’re not sure where he begins or where you end anymore, with blurred edges and winding limbs even when you break for breath briefly. A hammering fist on the door is just about enough to halt your kisses - but only after a couple of tries on the handle and an unsuccessful first knock.

“Hello?!! Come on, man, I need to piss!”

“Hold the fuck on.”

Eddie’s voice is rough, a sharp pissed-off bark that echoes around the bar bathroom as you hide your warm face against his chest and give in to a dose of the giggles.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, soft just for you.

His smile is stained with your lipstick, and you do your best to swipe the worst of it away with your thumb as you float back down to earth. He does a little to fix the smear below your lip, tender from kissing and the nip of Eddie’s sharp teeth.

“I think they’re going to know…” you murmur, resisting the urge to take one more taste for yourself.

There will be no hiding it from whoever is banging on the door, whoever is queued up behind them with their full bladders and baggies of coke. It was not like either of you were subtle enough to fool your friends, even before you both disappeared together tonight. Not with your matching stained mouths, or Eddie’s tighter-now jeans. Not when you leave together tonight and arrive for breakfast together in the morning.

“Is that so bad?”

You give in to that need for one more kiss, slow and sweet unlike the last one. It says enough to answer his question.

Loud music and the sound of your own heart beating hard are not quite enough to drown out the complaints and wolf-whistles as you leave the locked bathroom together. Eddie leads again with confidence, bolstered by your lipstick on his face and your hand in his back pocket. Neither of you miss how the table of your friends raise their bottles and glasses as you pass them, a few bills exchanged for bets placed as you go find that cab and decide ‘your place or mine?’

Thank you for reading 🖤 Reblogs, likes & comments are loved and cherished

#eddie munson #bangaveragefics #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut

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mcflymemes · 2 days

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CHALLENGERS (2024) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

who says i want somebody to be in love with me?

i don't want to fuck you to prove a point.

fuck me because you want to.

are you gonna do it or not?

tastes even better than it looks.

i just told you i missed you.

i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world.

you know, it hurts me sometimes how little you believe in yourself.

decimate that little bitch.

let's be honest, you gotta feel bad for the kid.

you're not a spring chicken anymore.

dude. he's a pancake. you're gonna flatten him.

how's this feeling?

we're ready for you.

so obviously this isn't the result you wanted today.

you choked.

i don't want you to embarrass yourself.

i'm just a little rusty. it's a confidence thing.

get your fucking confidence back. i can't do it for you.

i'm so sick of you using this as an excuse to have a fucking meltdown.

you said we could watch a movie.

you're evil.

i'm gonna quiz you on it tomorrow.

sir, i don't know who you are.

i don't think we have much more to talk about.

i haven't spoken to you in five years.

i was just taking a little nap.

move, or i'm calling the cops.

you were really something back then, huh?

we always talked about how amazing it would be to win this together.

i'm a crazy person.

any predictions about how that's going to go?

can you do me a favor? can you not, like... demolish me tomorrow?

shut the fuck up.

if it matters to you so much, i can just give it to you.

i need it to look like i really beat you.

don't guilt me with your dying grandmother.

she's the hottest woman i've ever seen.

you were... fucking incredible.

baby, we've got to get going.

i'm not going to that party.

are you that threatened by me?

we can't both just go in there, dicks swinging.

i'd let her fuck me with a racket.

hey, do you smoke?

of course they will remember you.

see, that's your problem. you think you're like an artist or something.

you just want to win because you love it when people tell you how talented you are.

are you on facebook?

i told you tennis was boring.

you just got this crazy look on your face.

are you on a date?

i don't kiss and tell.

why did you want to have dinner with me?

i think you might be the worst friend in the world.

i didn't know you were so concerned about my feelings.

of course you still have a thing for her.

we just had what i'm assuming is the best sex of our lives.

i fucked your brains out?

what do you think you need? a cheerleader? a fuck buddy? a girlfriend?

you're talented, you're charming, and you've got a big dick.

excuse me for inconveniencing you.

don't expect to sleep here tonight.

stop going easy on me.

i'll be whatever you need me to be. i'll fuck off if you want me to.

i need you here, actually.

you're referring to when i declared my love for you.

you're not in love with me anymore?

i've been dreaming about this for five years.

i'm gonna propose something to you, and it's gonna make you angry. it's gonna make you very angry. but you have to hear me out, okay?

i'm finally ready to listen to you.

how dare you fucking ask me that.

do you think it's cute what you're doing? do you think it's funny?

that's the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.

i've always wanted you.

you didn't do anything to me. i did it all to myself.

i think i've reached the limit of my willingness to have this conversation with you.

do you understand how embarrassing it is that you're here?

you've never beaten me.

tell me it doesn't matter.

will you just hold me?

i'm not here to fuck you.

i miss watching you play. you were so beautiful.

#challengers #mcflymemes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #look at me making memes left and right today

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imfinereallyy · 1 day

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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 3

a nice long update for ya ♡ part 1 part 2

cw: internalized homophobia and projecting internalized homophobia (from an oc)

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve's first steps into his living room are not met with silence and sunshine; in fact, he is met with two surprises.

The first being Eddie Munson still in his apartment.

Steve rubs the tired out of his eyes, squishing his palm into his lids in hopes of shaking out a morning delusion. He is proven unsuccessful..

His second surprise is that Eddie is awake, staring at Steve in high alert, blankets folded neatly (he must have scrounged around for them in the night, not that Steve minds), sitting patiently as if he has been waiting for hours for Steve's arrival.

If the second surprise hadn't happened, Steve might have excused the first. See, Eddie, in all the years he had known him, had been anything but an early riser, usually choosing to sleep the day away. So if he had been asleep still, Steve might have let him being in his apartment slide.

Steve ponders how he doesn't really know Eddie anymore, so he shouldn't actually be surprised.

Eddie clears his throat, "So, how about that talk?"

Steve has to resist shutting his eyes to relish in the sound of Eddie's deep timbre. His voice has grown scratchy over the years—from singing or cigarettes, Steve can't be sure. It feels like coming home, either way, to have his voice brush over him.

Instead, Steve clears his throat back. "Don't have time; maybe try again in another five years." He moves to the kitchen to start making their morning drinks—hot coffee with cream for Robin and an iced dirty chai for Steve.

When Dustin had been working at a cafe back when he was in college, he made Steve try all of their new drinks. Surprisingly his favorite became a dirty chai—something which Robin finds hilarious.

Steve grabs the chipped green mug from the cabinet and begins pouring Robin's coffee. It had already been hot and ready in the pot, which probably meant Eddie had prepped it for him. Steve doesn't comment.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "C'mon Stevi—Steve. It's ten in the morning on a Saturday. You can't tell me you're busy right now."

Steve has to resist slamming Robin's mug down on the counter, already having being put together after the 1994 incident, he doesn't want to face her wrath.

Gently placing it on the counter, Steve turns. "Actually, I have somewhere to be at twelve, not that you need to know that. And don't act like you know what's going on in my life, Munson."

Eddie smiles, a little laugh escapes him. God, it is like a fucking drug after years of being sober that laugh. Steve wants to beg him for another hit, even though he knows it's bad for him.

With the smile never leaving his face, Eddie raises his hands. "Okay, okay. You're right."

"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny." Steve huffs.

Eddie's face softens, "Sorry, just even though you're mad at me. You're talking to me, and shit, sweetheart. I would take that over silence any day. It's nice to hear your voice."

Steve has to force himself to keep his shoulders tense, wanting to sag into Eddie. He's still mad at him, furious even. But some part of him agrees deep down, this is nice.

He can never let Eddie know that.

"Fuck off, Munson. I have shit to do. I'm sure you're too busy anyway."

Eddie shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face. "No, trust me I have nothing else going on. The band is on hiatus. And even if we weren't, trust me when I say this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now."

Steve can't help the snort that comes out of him, "Funny you're asking me to trust you, asshole. That went out the door with your bags five years ago."

Eddie flinches back, "Okay, I deserve that one."

Steve doesn't mention to Eddie how he knows his band has been on hiatus for over a year now. How he's kept up on the band, even after Eddie left. How he is curious why they went on hiatus at all, they have two successful albums, and supposedly were working on their third, when suddenly they all decided it was time for a break.

Peak of their career, and they chose silence. Normally, a horrible career move, but it seems it makes the rock community want them even more.

Steve can understand that partially. When it comes to Eddie, you can't help but want more, even when he disappears without a trace.

"I got to go get ready. Seriously, Munson. I know you think I don't mean it when I say leave. I think you're stuck on the Steve from five years ago, and how the Steve from then wouldn't really mean it. But this is the Steve now. And Steve from now means it when he says, get the fuck out. Go find someone else who could actually use your presence, like Dustin. God knows the kid deserves a phone call."

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't get to chance to say his peace, Steve's already on his way back to his bedroom with their drinks in hand.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

Steve is running late.

It's not his fault, he has a fucking ghost haunting his living room, and it takes him ten times longer to work around it. Robin tells him to cancel his lunch, but Steve doesn't, even though she's right.

Robin's always right.

Steve can't help but feel a little smug when thinking back to leaving his apartment, though. He looks good, wearing his nicest Levi's and soft white button-up. Steve had made sure to keep the top few buttons undone, showing off his gold necklaces that landed perfectly on his exposed chest hair.

For Drew, of course, not for Eddie.

Still, Steve knows he looks good. So when he leaves his apartment and Eddie doesn't even bother to try to talk to him again because he is just too busy staring at Steve.

Steve makes it to the restaurant only five minutes late. It would have been on time if it had been in his athletic prime.

Resturant, Steve realizes, is a bit of a stretch. It appears to be a cafe--but not one of those cozy ones with crazy colors and a fun name. No, this cafe is incredibly fancy. Everything is so sleek and high up, the name in an Italian word he'll have to asked Robin to translate later.

Steve looks around the cafe in a huff, realizing Drew is nowhere to be found. He is momentarily flooded with relief, knowing he has beaten Drew to the cafe.

Steve finds a table in a corner and waits. His brief relief is quickly swept away into annoyance as he sits there for minutes with no signs of Drew.

It takes another thirty minutes, before Drew is finally at the cafe.

"Sorry, I'm late, baby." He says breath even. Steve knows he was in no rush to be here on time. He doesn't move to kiss Steve, not on the cheek and certainly not on the mouth. Drew isn't one for PDA, or so he says. Instead, he smooths down his dark blue Armani suit and sits across from Steve.

"You know, you could give me a kiss. I haven't seen you in a week." Steve decides to move past his being late; there is no point in arguing. If it had been him, Steve is sure he would never hear the end of it.

"Sweetheart..." Drew whispers and brushes his hand against Steve's knee. Steve's lip twitches; he doesn't like it when Drew calls him that. "You know it isn't safe to do that."

Steve wants to throw Drew's hand off of him, but he doesn't. It's always like this between them, Steve wants more, and Drew pulls back. It's beginning to feel tiresome, this game between them. They have been dating for a year and have made no progress in public. Steve's lucky Robin gets to know, seeing as basically no one else in either of their lives knows about each other. For Steve, everyone knows of Drew but not his name. For Drew, Steve is almost sure no one even knows he's gay.

Steve wants to hit himself for the thought. It's unfair of him to put these expectations on Drew, everyone comes out at their own pace. He would be a hypocrite if he pushed him; it had taken him nineteen years to figure out he was bisexual. Took Eddie leaving for him to come out to anyone other than Robin.

It feels different somehow with Drew, though. Like this isn't him scared to come out, but more like Drew doesn't actually see a future with Steve. It had taken them six months to even label themselves as boyfriends, moving from late-night booty calls to watching a movie together in Steve's living room in the middle of a Tuesday.

Steve rubs his temples instead of smacking Drew's hand away. Steve feels tired of this cycle. He knows this is the best he's going to get when it comes to dating. With women, they often want him to admit that he was experimenting, wanting to shun parts of himself away. That or they are convinced he's gay. Well, he is, but it's more than that, and they don't seem to get it.

With men, it's the opposite problem. Either they need him to admit being bisexual is just something he used to make himself feel better, or they are only looking for a quick hookup.

Hookups are nice, but approaching thirty, Steve wants something real and is perhaps sick of finding out the man he brings home from the bar is married.

He knows this is the best he's going to get.

"Maybe if we met a cafe in my neighborhood, we could be a bit more affectionate. The one down the block has a rainbow flag and everything."

Drew scrunches his nose, "Why do that when we can get nice coffee like this?"

Steve doesn't point out that neither Drew nor himself has ordered coffee. Steve can't afford the coffee here, and Drew was late. "I think that's your way of saying where I live isn't nice."

Drew grabs his hand under the table, "No, babe, I don't want to fight today. I've missed you."

Steve feels bad; he has missed Drew. Despite their ups and downs (and Robin's grumbles), Steve does care for him. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I did want to have lunch for a reason." Drew smiles brightly. Steve can't help but stare for a minute. It's no surprise what hooked Steve the first moment they met at the club. He is a classic kind of handsome. Wavy brown hair cut to look proper, a shiny white smile, piercing blue eyes. Nothing about him is soft, he is full of sharpness that takes you from across the room.

He's the kind of guy Steve's parents would have loved if they were okay with Drew being a guy—if Steve was even talking to them at all.

"Oh yes, you've got me on the edge of my seat." Steve jokes.

Drew gives him a charming smile, "There's my funny guy."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"So I have a big question for you..."

Steve freezes up; oh no. Here it comes. The talk, the let's move into together speech. One he'll have to turn down. No one ever gets it. How he can't live without Robin. Literally and physically.

"....so Greg says there's an opening and I think you'd be a great fit."

Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts, "What?"

Drew levels him with a look. "A job? For you?"

Oh. "I already have a job."

It's Drew's turn to roll his eyes, "C'mon, Steve. A high school guidance counselor? You could do so much more."

"I like my job, Drew. We've been through this. Besides, you barely want to be seen together, and now you want to work together? I have no interest in working at a law firm."

Drew pinches his nose, "Just...just think about it, okay? I want to see more of you in any way I can."

Steve doesn't want to fight. The fight left him a long time ago. "Okay."

He doesn't mean it.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

aaah im loving where this is going, also I swear it gets better soon and this has a happy ending!! also thanks for the love and support. This will probably be the last part where I will take tag requests for the series so please ask now, cause its getting too long. But parts will always be updated on the previous posts and my page!!

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls

@lingermirth

@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly

@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde

@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking @theheadlessphilosopher

@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

#guys really i swear there is a happy ending #ive gone full blown story now #yal hyped me up its your fault #also im so excited for the next part hehehe #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #ficlet #angst #hurt comfort #i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3

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bambi-slxt · 2 days

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🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐭𝐰𝐨🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

previously titled Talk Dirty

word count: 1.5k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

pt. one: here

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic.

Cassandra's POV:

I smacked my hand over my gaping jaw. Oh my god, I took a patron to the bathroom and practically ripped his shirt off. I’m going to lose my job for sure now.

Christopher reached gently for my arm, shushing the apologies that once again began to flood my lips. “Easy,” He closed my hand between both of his and looked me in my teary eyes. “None of that. Your intentions were pure, I’m certain of it.”

I nodded, ripping my gaze away as the tears slipped down my cheeks. “I really fucked this up. I’m so sorry.” I swiped furiously at my traitorous eyes before noticing the…oh FUCK- “Your shirt!” It was soaked. What the fuck is he supposed to wear now?

Christopher sighed, and then many things happened all at once. He took both of my wrists, gathered them into one hand, pulled my arms above my head, and pressed me up against the cold marble tile in one fluid, lightning-quick motion. “Please remain calm.”

As his nose hovered inches above mine, there’s no way he could have missed my heaving chest, darting eyes, and parted lips. The absurdity of the whole situation struck me like an oncoming semi-truck and I let out a most unlady-like snort. His mouth twitched. It’s contagious.

I couldn’t help it–I broke loose into a laugh. He let go of my arms and joined my witch-like cackling with guffaws of his own. My chest began to ache as I swallowed breath after breath just to giggle them back out, and those soon turned akin to a howl of paradoxical laughter.

Christopher braced himself against the countertop, shaking his head with that smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

“No, I am, I really needed to…yeah.”

He pulled himself onto the counter, long legs whispering over the cold floor even as they hung there. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Christopher gestured to the empty bathroom.

“People will talk,” I replied. Pulling his dripping shirt from the sink, I gave it a once over and hung it over one of the stall doors. In the dim blue light, it looked almost stainless.

“You’re funny, Miss Cassie.”

“Thank you…Mr. Christopher.” I flashed my eyes to him to see his reaction. A small smile. Not bad.

“What were you guys celebrating? With the champagne?”

Christopher leaned against the mirrored wall above the sinks and counter.

Christopher's POV:

I paused and wondered how much information I wanted to reveal to her. “A good week at work,” I settled on, hoping that would satisfy her. It seemed to. Cassandra nodded and hiked a leg up onto the counter, bending at the knee, twisting at the hip, and somehow contorting herself into–“That can’t be comfortable?”

She snickered. “It is. You can’t do this?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what it is I’m looking at.”

“It’s just, like…tucking one leg up under you to sit on, except I’m not sitting on it.”

“Somehow that makes less sense.”

Cassandra giggled again and something moved inside my chest. “Maybe you’re just not as…I don’t know, blessed as me.”

Oh I’m plenty blessed, Miss Cassie. I blinked. What the fuck? Calm down. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” I looked around for a moment. “I don’t suppose I meet the dress code anymore, do I?”

She looked at my shirtlessness and smiled sheepishly. “Negatory.”

“Looks like I’m stuck with you here then.”

Cassandra's POV:

I opened my mouth to respond, but at that moment my walkie tinged in my ear. “Cassandra, you have another party in Room 2!”

“Sorry, my–they need me to–shit, um–”

“Cassandra,” Christopher said quietly, interlocking his arms in front of his chest while another smile graced his features. “It’s okay. Go.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“It was good to meet you,” he said.

I grinned in spite of myself, turning and making my way out of the bathroom. “You too, Christopher.”

Christopher's POV:

I watched her leave in the mirror reflection. That has to be the most wholesome interaction I’ve had with a stranger in years.

My phone vibrated and I tugged it out of my pocket, turning the screen towards me.

Matthew: That guy was just another drunk. What do you want security to do with him?

My brow furrowed into lines as I typed my response and pressed Send. I waited a moment for him to read it, and when he did, I considered the job done. Matthew had always been that way–steady, reliable, loyal to a fault. Nicolas carried the hot streak in the family, and probably the most Italian blood of us all. Though the oldest, Nicolas never felt the confidence in leadership that proved necessary to succeed in the line of work we engaged in. Matthew, on the other hand, lacked the social skills. All of us could be prickly, but they knew who took point in the important things.

I hadn’t lied–we did come out tonight to celebrate. The elimination of competing products and markets is always cause for a party, in my opinion.

The door to the bathroom opened and a woman in a sparkly dress made her way inside. “Oh my,” she said at the sight of me.

“Sorry. Wine spill.” I indicated the button down drying on a stall door.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. Her eyes glazed over me, and my pants tightened. “I'm not the one who spilled on you but…” She stepped toward me, her heels clicking in response. “I could make it up to you anyway.”

I glanced at my phone to check the time, and at that moment, her hand traveled up the outside of my thigh.

Matthew can handle himself, I thought, and pulled her body into mine.

Cassandra's POV:

As the days passed, I found myself mulling over the events of my strange first night at the club. Christopher, his brothers and their friends (business associates?), the conversation in the bathroom, the incident where he held me up against the tile–I thought about it all.

A week came and went before I saw Christopher back at the VIP section, though it only took 24 hours for me to hear his name mentioned.

“Do you know what they're gonna do about the door?” my co-worker asked as I waited on the computer to load so I could clock in. “No clue. They said it may have to come out of my check.”

“Um. What?” She scrunched her face. “That’s fucked.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh, tapping my employee number on the screen. “But it is what it is, I guess.”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. Hold on.”

My eyes widened watching her march to the back office. I'm cooked.

The wink she gave me afterward did little to clear things up. The club lit up with energy shortly after, and in my hurry to carry drinks, I didn't get a chance to ask her how her impromptu meeting with our manager went. Although, as it turned out, I didn't have to–he called me into the office himself.

“Do you remember the name of the man you spoke to before the door shattered?”

“Yes sir,” I said, “Christopher.”

“I see.” He leaned toward his computer screen and seemed to scour the contents displayed on it. “Says here, ‘Please accept our donation of twelve thousand dollars to be used toward the repair of one floor-to-ceiling glass door. Should there be overflow, please tip the remainder to Miss Cassandra, who kept us safe and comfortable. Signed, Christopher Sturniolo at Sturniolo LLC’. Whatever you did,” he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of pride, “Did us a lot of good.”

I smiled warily, unsure what this could mean for me. “Thank you..?”

“I appreciate your work, Cassandra. Keep it up. I’ll have your tip tonight after last call.” He went back to his computer, and I took that as my sign that I was dismissed. Pins and needles throttled through my midsection. How much money did I just get? Is this really happening? All the commotion of the club did little to drown out the torrential downpour of my thoughts, falling like rain–quick and formless upon impact.

After the last round of shots splashed into their weary glasses, I took my weary feet back to the office.

“Cash or check?” my manager asked.

“Ch-check please,” I stammered.

After a moment of scribbling, and a half-second to look it over, he handed the pale yellow slip across his desk into my hand. “I’ve got a copy just in case something goes wrong.”

“Thank you sir,” I breathed, holding the enormous sum in hand. “Thank you so much.”

“Don't thank me,” he waved absently, “Thank your Christopher Sturniolo.”

I hurried out of the office without another word, check clutched close to my chest. I couldn’t look at it for hours–ridiculous, I know. But the looking made it real.

Once I arrived home, I locked my door with fumbling hands, strode to my bedroom and tossed my bag on the mattress. Just deposit the damn thing. It’s not gonna bite you for god's sakes.

With an apprehensive sigh, I opened my wallet where I’d stuffed it earlier and out came the yellow slip, equal parts daunting and why am I afraid of a piece of paper?

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privatehousesanatomy · 1 day

Text

HOUSE MD 2024 ONE SHOT BASED ON THIS SCREENSHOT - in collaboration with @zethd

"hey wilson, i need to borrow some money," house announced as he swung the door open to his best friend's office. the brunette oncologist rolled his eyes and let out a groan, though he was more than used to the request of money.

"what do you need it for?"

"does it matter?"

"yes," wilson huffed. "i'm not funding any of your stupid schemes anymore."

"i'm getting a service animal. i figure it's about time i finally accept that in my old age, my leg can't keep up with me anymore," house replied, the sarcasm dripping in his tone. wilson was slightly surprised, and he took a minute to consider.

"how much money do you need?"

"about $10k," house answered. wilson blinked, almost as if he couldn't believe he'd heard that correctly.

"why so much?"

"i'm high maintenence," house shrugged. "the dog needs to be able to keep up. dogs aren't cheap and the training isn't cheap either."

"don't those dogs come trained?"

"well, yeah, but i still have to compensate the trainers for working with the dog," house scoffed, as if it was obvious. wilson sighed, pulling out his cheque-book and opening it, but he paused for a moment.

"you swear this is going towards a service animal?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. house rolled his eyes, nodding his head.

"when have i ever lied to you?"

ONE WEEK LATER

"house, what the hell is that?" wilson groaned, watching as house limped into his office with a robotic dog trailing behind him.

"this is rover," house replied, pointing at the dog.

"rover? and where exactly did rover come from?"

"he's my new service animal," house scoffed. "god wilson, keep up."

"you got a robotic dog as a service animal? that's why you needed $10k?" wilson groaned, leaning his head in his hands and shaking it. he should have known better than to trust house.

"what else would i have gotten?"

"a real dog."

"yeah, like i want something that sheds all over the place. the hookers leave enough of their hair behind for me to find later," house said.

"house, this isn't funny. how is a robotic dog supposed to help you?"

"he's a robot, moron. he's programmed to be smarter than humans. besides, he knows some cool tricks."

"tricks? like what?" wilson raised an eyebrow. what the hell kind of tricks could a robotic dog do?

"we have to go outside. i don't think cuddy will be too happy if rover did his tricks inside. she's such a buzzkill," house rolled his eyes. wilson sighed, knowing he shouldn't be putting this much trust into house, but he followed him outside regardless. they made it outside to the parking lot, coincidentally right near cuddy's car. well, wilson thought it was coincidentally, anyway.

"i have a bad feeling about this," wilson admitted, seeing the look on house's face.

"oh shut up and watch. it'll be cool. come on rover, do your thing," house instructed, pushing a little button on a remote control he'd pulled from his jacket pocket, and within seconds, rover was shooting a flame out of a piece of metal attached to his back. wilson stepped back immediately, though cuddy's poor car took the brunt of it.

"house!" wilson gasped, and house simply made a face.

"whoops. he wasn't supposed to do that...i think i pushed the wrong button."

"what the hell was he supposed to do then?"

"oh, he was supposed to shoot flames but not like that. i didn't even know he could do that. cool."

"no, not cool! you just torched cuddy's car!"

"honestly, i was doing her a favour," house shrugged. but speak of the devil, because out came cuddy when she realized that it had been her car that had been torched.

"what the hell did you do to my car?!" she exclaimed as she stormed over.

"rover had an accident," house replied, pointing at the robotic dog at his feet.

"rover? this is what you meant by a service animal?" she huffed, realizing that she too had been fooled into thinking that he had pure intentions when he came to her to put in the paperwork for a service animal.

"isn't he cute?" house asked, obviously trying to distract from the car that was currently in flames in front of them.

"you're really going to play dumb right now?"

"like i told wilson, i was doing you a favour. no wonder you can't get laid, driving that thing around," house scoffed.

"that's it. rover is gone," cuddy said.

"you're really going to separate a boy and his dog?" house pretended to pout, looking down at his "pet".

"oh, i'm going to do more than separate a boy and his dog. i'm going to kill the boy and his dog," she said, and even house took a step back.

"uh oh. i think she's mad."

"you think?" wilson scoffed. it was obvious he was mad too, and house could tell.

"oh come, not you too," he groaned.

"i funded this! you told me you were getting a dog, not a flame-throwing robot!"

"this was cooler, and a lot less maintenance than an actual dog."

"he destroyed my car!" cuddy argued.

"look on the brightside - now you can upgrade."

"and you can pay for it."

"what? how? i had to borrow the money for rover from wilson. you think i can afford to get you a new car?" house scoffed.

"you're going return rover and get a refund, and you're going to give me that money so i can get a new car."

"you can't make me give up rover," house protested.

"i have a baseball bat in my office. you can watch me smash rover to bits if you'd prefer," cuddy shrugged, and house cringed.

"fine. i'll return rover. just know how heartbroken he is though."

"i'm sure he'll be just fine."

#house md #hatecrimes md #gregory house #hugh laurie #greg house #fanfic #james wilson #rsl #robert sean leonard #lisa cuddy #lisa edelstein

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