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shybunnie20 · 7 months

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Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is catapulted into the world of fame and temptation as he pursues the opportunity of a lifetime. However, he underestimates the cost of stardom and subsequently pays the price, one that takes a toll on more than just his career.

Author's Note: It's time to sprinkle some dark tones with a dash of fluff into the mix. Enjoy!

AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Established relationship. Heavy angst with bittersweet ending. Eddie is 21.

Word count: 15.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, substance abuse/addiction, depictions of depression, analogies relating to death, mentions of sex and suggestive moments, includes swearing.

The Hideout, in all its historic glory. The booth seats are weathered and splintered, each having housed countless conversations for over a decade. Stubbornly sticky floors cling to every shoe sole, and exposed piping makes for a rusted, industrial web. Last but not least, the unmistakable pounding of live music seeps out onto the street.

The stage itself is a basic platform, constructed from wooden planks that’ve seen their fair share of acts. Positioned closest to the brick wall is Gareth’s drum kit, gleaming with a metallic sheen that contrasts the muted tones of the room. Center stage, a microphone stands tall with Eddie’s hand gripped around it. Jeff and Donny play nearby, their amps standing guard on stage left and right. Their amplifiers wear marks of use, covered in peeling stickers and the scars of reckless transportation.

Melodies are skillfully coaxed from the strings of Eddie’s guitar in the sweltering lights. They envelop him, casting a golden glow that glistens in the rivulets of sweat dripping from his temple. His hand-cut muscle shirt, once a light gray, now clings to his torso in dark-soaked patches.

His senses are attuned to every note strummed and the subtleties of his bandmates’ musicianship. From beneath his damp bangs, Eddie steals glances at his friends with a dancing smile. Their expressions mirror his, reflecting the visceral connection that was forged in the crucible of tiresome rehearsals.

The room is relatively empty apart from the bar stools inhabited by regular patrons who are three sheets to the wind. Only one solitary figure occupies a corner table. His face features a thick, meticulously groomed mustache; a throwback to an era where a well-defined stache symbolized nerve and authority. His balding crown and the strap of sparse hair framing the sides of his head pair fittingly with the bags beneath his deep-set, beady eyes. The dark circles act as badges of dedication, a reminder that success comes at a cost.

He stands out like a sore thumb among the hard-up regulars who are clad in their button-up plaids and tattered trucker hats. The man’s style of dress consists of a woven suit jacket, a black polo shirt, and dark slacks. An expensive designer belt completes the ensemble, marking the presence of professionalism.

He’s exuding an aura of casual arrogance as he watches the boys play their hearts out. He possesses an eye for discovering the next big thing, and his gold mine is diamonds in the rough. Eddie has a type of potential that, if adequately nurtured and harnessed, can rake in a lot of dough. Calculating the possibilities that lay ahead, he not only sees an amateur artist on this stage but a malleable asset that he can shape to fit the demands of the industry. It’s no walk in the park to whip a small-town boy into showbiz shape, but he’s capable.

Guys like Eddie are hungry for recognition and starving to make something of themselves. That’s all he requires to work his magic. At this moment, watching Eddie play like it’s the sole purpose of his existence, he can practically smell the crisp wads of cash Eddie will bring in.

As the final chords of Corroded Coffin's instruments dissipate into the dusty air, a lingering hum resonates. The room remains void of applause and the gentleman patiently bides his time in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to make a move.

Gareth is focused on disassembling his drum kit while his bandmates move their equipment into the back alleyway. He’s taken aback when a hairy hand extends toward him and he looks up at the man with a furrowed brow.

“Rodney Bellissimo, Bell Records,” he announces proudly. “But folks call me Mo.”

Gareth’s eyes widen as the words register. “Hi,” He shakes the man’s hand, forgetting to wipe his clammy palms on his jeans first.

Mo conceals his disgust from the soupy contact. "I've been on this scene for a while and I think what you guys have going on here is promising.”

“Holy shit, you think so?"

Mo rests his hands on his hips. "Absolutely. Do you got a way for me to reach you? I'd like to talk over some potential opportunities."

“Yeah, um-” Gareth scrambles, patting himself down. “One sec,” he hurries over to the bar, snags a napkin and ballpoint pen, and scribbles while striding back over to the stage. “Here’s all of our phone numbers.”

Mo accepts the napkin and tucks it in his inner breast pocket. “Thanks, I'll be in touch.”

Just as Mo turns to leave, Gareth shouts, “Wait!” he digs through his army green messenger bag. “We don’t have a demo or anything official like that, but this was a recent rehearsal,” he hands over a cassette tape.

Mo takes the tape and shakes it in the air, the reels rattling noisily. “I’ll be sure to give it a listen.”

As the man turns his back and leaves the bar, Gareth’s pulse spikes. He leaps off of the stage and bolts past the restrooms. His sneakers skid on the smooth floor, causing him to trip, but he recovers and carries onward. He bursts through the heavy metal door with a thud and the stiff hinges scream into the alleyway.

Jeff and Donny’s heads turn in unison. In the back of his van, Eddie is equally as startled and smacks his head on the roof. “Ow, Christ!” he exclaims, stepping onto the pebbled pavement and rubbing the tender spot on his skull. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Guys,” Gareth wheezes, his breath escaping in short bursts. "You’re not gonna believe what just happened.”

Eddie folds his arms across his chest. “Whatever it is, it better be worth the goddamn concussion you just gave me.”

“It is,” Gareth hops off of the steps. “Some record dude in a suit just said he liked our set.”

Among the group, Eddie alone received a call. Now his disbelief bleeding into reality as the plane rolls down the runway. He clutches your hand for dear life, anxious as hell due to the unfamiliar rumbling and vibrations. With your presence reassuring him, Eddie can manage until the turbulence subsides. Gradually, he relaxes.

Unable to resist the allure of the window seat, he pleads with you to switch places. “Holy shit,” he chuckles in amazement, watching the fluffy sky marshmallows pass by. “This is insane.”

The landing goes somewhat smoother for him, though it’s not without nervous moments. The plane becomes stationary and is fairly quiet, but his composure shatters when he startles at your fellow passengers bursting into spontaneous applause. Eddie scowls, embarrassed for being so jumpy over something ridiculous like clapping. In his defense, nobody told him that was a thing.

After being taxied to your destination, the two of you arrive at a sun-soaked building. The receptionist directs you down the hall to the left. Walking hand in hand, you marvel at the framed gold and platinum records that adorn the walls.

Finally reaching the door, Eddie turns to you. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses. “I’m seriously about to meet the Poison Blade,” Eddie blinks rapidly. “Okay, yep! I can’t do this, I absolutely cannot do this.”

You reel him back by the hand when he turns to leave. “You can and you’re about to. If anybody can handle this it’s you.”

He has yet to grasp that he’s here, auditioning to fill in for Nick Karr, who recently left the band. Eddie read about it in various magazines, some speculating about what the lead guitarist’s substance of choice was. After the initial rumors spread, an inside source revealed that Nick was in rehab for using narcotics; happens to the best of ‘em.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and blows with puffed cheeks and pursed lips. After summoning the courage to open the door, he steps into the dimly lit, windowless room. The knots in his stomach get impossibly tighter when the door slams closed.

A cigarette is pinched between the black-painted fingernails of the lead singer. He’s seated at the mixing desk while he chats with the shaggy-haired bassist who’s sitting a few feet away on a loveseat. The heavily tattooed drummer occupies the swivel chair beside the frontman, patting out a rhythm on his thighs. Mo stands nearby, attentively listening to the nicotine-fueled rant.

The bassist’s distant stare is the first to flit in your direction. Eddie squeezes your hand so tensely that your fingertips go numb. As dominoes of awareness fall one after another, a collective acknowledgment of your presence falls upon the room.

The singer spins around and takes a drag from his cigarette. “Which one is this?” he asks, looking you over and then doing the same to Eddie.

“This here is Ed Munson, Indiana’s best,” Mo offers a polite smile and strides across the room. He extends his hand to Eddie exactly as he did to Gareth just weeks ago.

Eddie stares at Mo’s sausage fingers and expensive wristwatch while returning the greeting. “Yeah, yes. I uh- go by Eddie actually,” he babbles. “But you can call me Ed if you want, that’s cool too. Whatever’s clever.”

The bassist shakes his head and snickers. Mo disregards the man’s reaction entirely, not batting an eye. “I’m glad you could make it,” his focus shifts to you. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”

“This is my girl,” Eddie nudges you, sending a small smile along with it. “Had to bring my muse along for the ride.”

“Right,” Mo says without a hint of intrigue and carries on. “As I'm sure you’re well aware, these are the guys,” he strides away and clamps his meaty hand on the drummer’s shoulder. “This here is Tommy,” Mo motions toward the other two members. “And that’s Bobby and Crash.”

With a forgotten breath, Eddie’s words pour out. "W-Wow, I mean I've been following your music for like ever and it's fucking unreal to be here right now. Listen, I don’t wanna be that guy, but can I just say that I’m such a huge fan. ‘Where Dreams Go to Die’ is the song that honestly changed my life. It’s the whole reason why I started playing in the first place. I’ve listened to it like a bajillion times. Seriously, Born 2B Wreckless is one of my top five favorite albums ever. I even have your tour posters on my-”

You turn your head toward him and whisper, “Baby, be cool.”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, withholding any further details that could embarrass the shit out of him. “It’s an honor to be here.”

Crash smirks. “You’ve got good taste, my friend. Wrote most of that album myself.”

The flaking leather sofa creaks as Bobby leans forward. In a carelessly hushed tone, he sighs, “It feels like this is never gonna end. How many more are there?”

“Suck it up, Bobby Boy,” Todd snorts and glances at the list of crossed-out names resting on the mixing board. “Two more after this.”

The bassist groans and sinks back, propping his head up on his fist. Crash’s hands forcefully meet, sending a sharp clap through the room. “Alright, let's get this show on the road then. Do you know the chorus to ‘Too Far Gone’ or do you need sheet music?”

Eddie shakes his head enthusiastically. “No way, I could even play it blindfolded if you wanted me to.”

“Grand,” Crash gestures to the booth’s door. “Hop in and give it a go.” “Totally. Okay, yeah. Shit,” Eddie presses a swift kiss to your interlocked fingers, releases your hand, and steps into the recording booth.

Feeling a bit awkward as you remain standing by the door alone, you’re uncertain of where to park yourself. Ideally, you’d like to be as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing you need is to ruin everything by tripping over a cord or something.

Bobby senses that you’re uneasy judging by the look on your face. He brings his extended leg closer to the other, making room on the couch as a silent invitation for you to sit. You scurry over and take a seat, unable to squeak out a thanks or a mere hello. Your posture is rigid and demure, despite there being ample space for you to sit comfortably.

Under the weight of the headphones, Eddie’s plush curls are flattened. He beams at you through the large pane of glass and flashes a thumbs up. Crash instructs him to use the provided guitar. As the track’s beat floods Eddie’s ears, his anxiety overpowers his dexterity, causing him to fall behind the tempo.

Crash abruptly cuts the music, and Eddie’s eyes bulge as he looks out, terrified that he’s just screwed his only chance at making it big. However, with a whirl of Crash’s tattooed index finger, Eddie’s worry dissipates when the track is rewound and begins once more.

On the edge of your seat, literally and figuratively, you watch Eddie collect himself and keep up this time. The tension wracking your entire being is exacerbated by Mo loudly chewing his gum, but it seems that you’re the only one bothered by it. A smug smile splits his patchy stubble as he boasts to the men that this nobody he discovered is the real deal.

The guys are less than obvious about how impressed they are. Compared to the other chumps who have auditioned ahead of him, Eddie stands out. Sure, he’ll need to clean up his playing a bit and could more than likely use some vocal lessons, but these are doable things. After all, he’s already got the look and an undeniable eagerness to prove himself.

After they’ve heard all they need from him, he steps out of the booth. Mo pats him on the back, “You handled yourself well in there.”

“Oh, thanks,” Eddie grins bashfully, fiddling with his cross-shaped ring.

Todd says, “You’ve got some chops, man. You’re definitely someone I’d be down to jam with.”

A snort comes from the far end of the couch. Bobby crosses his arms, eyeballing Eddie’s flushed face. “Yeah, good job, kid. You’d make a fine addition,” the corner of his mouth quirks up. “If only we wouldn’t have to schedule our rehearsals around your bedtime,” he chuckles to himself. “Seriously, how old are you, anyway? 17?”

“Bobby, shut your yap,” Mo barks. “Ed, we’ve got some things to consider, but be sure to keep an ear on your telephone.”

You scramble to your feet as your boyfriend is ushered to the door. The polite side of you considers turning around to bid everyone farewell, but you decide against it, considering they never even bothered to say hello.

Mo did get in touch with Eddie and since then, he put pen to paper and sold his soul to the music industry. He’s been in LA for about a week now, familiarizing himself with the lay of the land and learning how to work a real crowd. His first show with the band is tonight and the pressure is on. Currently, he’s seated at the brightly lit vanity in his dressing room. Eddie fluffs his mane, admiring the bounce after having gotten a fancy schmancy conditioning treatment. “Baby,” he calls out.

“Hmm?” You finish folding the clothes that he just changed out of.

Eddie stretches a strand and watches it spring back into a coil. “Can you do my eyeliner for me?”

“What, worried you’ll look like a raccoon if you do it?” You approach the vanity, but Eddie slips out of his seat and moves to the armchair instead. Quirking your brow at him brings a devilish look to his face. “Is this necessary?”

Eddie pats his thigh, to which you sit on his lap with your legs off to one side. “Very much so,” he wraps his arms around your waist and smacks a wet kiss on your cheek. “You’ll get optimal lighting right here.”

“I’d confidently argue that it’s worse,” you counter, watching the chocolate puddles in his eyes swirl. Heat blooms across your skin as he rubs your hip with the comforting swipe of his thumb.

“Perhaps, but this view is way better for me so,” He hands over the jet-black pencil.

“Uh huh,” You run the liner across the back of your hand to warm the product. His lashes flutter closed in response to you tipping his chin up.

“Don’t go poking my eye out with that thing,” Eddie teases, peeking one eye open and smiling at your faux scowl.

“I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for committing such an atrocity,” you rest your wrist on his cheekbone and gently swipe the pencil across his lash line. “Not when you’ve got such pretty eyes.”

He forces air out of his nose. “Careful with the flattery, sweetheart. It’ll go straight to my head.”

“Believe me, I know,” You affirm, licking your thumb and smudging the product.

“Are you tryna get me all riled up before I have to go on stage?”

“It’s only fair.”

Eddie’s chest rumbles with curiosity. “How so?”

“Because,” you switch to his other eye, your wrist now resting across the bridge of his nose. “This look is really doing it for me,” your tone is playful, but the interlaced confession is clear as day. You finish by using the same thumb to smudge the liner.

Sensing the loss of your touch, Eddie looks into your eyes. “Oh, yeah?” he squeezes the dough of your hip and licks his lips. “Tell me what it’s doin’ for you, baby,” his right arm stays in place while the other finds its way to the top of your thigh. “Is it makin’ you feel needy?”

“Yeah,” The breath has been stolen from your lungs as you lean into his chest. You can’t help but squirm in his lap when his fingers grope your thigh. “Maybe a little.”

The friction causes a groan to rattle from his throat. “Fuck,” he sighs, sounding just as winded as you do. “You gotta be a good girl and wait,” Eddie presses his nose against yours. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try,” you whine, your nails grazing the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

A smile crawls onto his lips as Eddie slides his hand under your shirt and grasps at your waist.

“No! Your hands are freezing!” you cry out, instinctively trying to fight the shock. With a pained giggle, you pout at him. “You’re so mean.”

“Who, me?” he purrs, tugging you back against him.

“Yeah, you,” You smile shyly. His embrace is overwhelmingly gentle, yet secure all the same. Your lips hover over his, breaths dancing, and he seals the kiss; a promise for the passionate evening he’s going to treat you to as soon as he has the chance.

The way that you return the kiss just as hungrily tells him that you would let him take you right here, right now if he could. Your intensity only spurs him on, the exhale from his nose fanning hotter against your cheek. “Such a needy baby,” he fawns before stealing one more kiss, this one no less fervent than the last.

You nod in agreement and just then, the dressing room door is wrapped on and he’s being called to the stage. “Knock 'em dead,” You encourage while sliding off of his lap.

Eddie gets to his feet and caresses your cheeks with both of his hands. “Thank you for being here,” he brings you to his chest and kisses the top of your head. “It means the world to me.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it,” you snuggle up to him, but when you realize that he’s not budging, you have to pry him off of you. “Go! You’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie walks to the door and turns around, pointing his ringed finger in your direction with a smirk. “Behave yourself, little missy. I mean it.”

The show goes well. Really well, in fact. Eddie commands the audience all while playing exceptionally. His energy encourages his bandmates to kick it up a notch, making for an electrifying performance. After they play their final song and step off of the stage, Eddie is immediately searching for you. When you lock eyes, he sprints over, scoops you up by your middle, and spins you around. The kiss is sticky, salty, and downright unforgettable. He’s so sweaty and sorry about it, but he’s never felt so much exhilaration in his life.

For the celebratory dinner to commemorate the evening, the guys opt for the area’s most expensive seafood restaurant. Eddie tries everything for the first time while wearing a paper bib with a large cartoon lobster on it.

When he sucks back an oyster, his face displays flat-out repulsion and offense. To wash the taste and its consistency from his mind, Eddie indulges in a few too many drinks. By the end of it, you’re more or less carrying him back to the hotel room.

Eddie is in a state of total bliss with his belly full and mind fuzzy. He flops down on the cushy bed and smiles goofily at you. “I could get used to this,” he snorts drunkenly.

The next morning, a chauffeur takes both of you to the airport. You wish you could have more time together, but Eddie is leaving for the next city in a few hours. He’s officially a part of the band now, and they’re embarking on a cross-country tour. You want to be excited for him, you’re trying your best to be. But it’s a bummer that you can’t tag along.

Standing on the cracked pavement, you watch as Eddie lugs your suitcase from the trunk of the shiny black car. The bustle of intercom announcements, car doors slamming, and engines roaring overhead, all sound distant. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you dread the impending separation, readying yourself to convince him that you’ll be okay for as long as he’s gone.

“Here,” Eddie unclasps the ball chain from his neck and steps forward to latch it around yours. “So you’ll have a little piece of me,” It’s a reminder that you’re on this journey together, even if you’re in different places for it.

“I’ll never take it off,” you promise, flipping the tortoiseshell pick between your fingers. “I wish I had something to give you.”

Eddie shakes his head, sending his frizzy hair flying in the breeze. “You’ve given me so much just by believing in me. Without you, I probably never would’ve flown on an airplane, much less joined my favorite fucking band.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, his appreciation effectively drawing you closer to him. “Have fun and be safe,” your last word turns into a squeal when he pulls your body against his. It feels good to have his face buried in your shoulder, so good that it’s riding the line of painful.

“God, I’m gonna miss that laugh,” he mumbles, the material of your shirt effectively dampening his voice. Eddie smothers himself and groans dramatically. “Gonna miss you so much.”

Without being able to understand what he’s saying, you can feel the heat of his breath hitting your skin. “You’ll stay out of trouble?”

Eddie clings to you a bit longer, filling his lungs with your scent. “You know I will,” he mumbles again before pulling back. “I wanna make you proud,” He kisses the tip of your nose and flashes a smile, the deep lines around his mouth emphasizing his sincerity.

“I already am, I’ve always been proud of you.”

“Then I’m gonna make you even more proud,” Eddie doubles down. “I’m gonna send you flowers and chocolates and all that shit, ‘kay? That way you’ll never have the chance to forget how much I love you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you roll your eyes, though you adore that he’s a hopeless romantic beneath his leather and chain exterior. “Just call me whenever you can.”

Eddie chuckles with you, but he’s dead serious about the gifts. “If a chirping telephone is thy heart’s desire, then thou shalt have it, my dearest.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, and I’ll make them the best damn phone calls you’ve ever had,” Eddie reassures, stroking the side of your neck with his thumb.

“I’m holding you to that,” you slowly pull away.

“You better,” Eddie says with reluctance, releasing you and picking up your suitcase. “Because otherwise, I’ll have to write the sappiest ballad you’ve ever heard just to make up for it.”

Looking down, you take your suitcase and fixate on the zipper, unable to acknowledge his playful remark.

Eddie lifts your chin to bring your gaze back to his. “You know I’m gonna miss you like hell, right?”

You nod sheepishly, fighting with all your might for the tears to remain unshed. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

“Give Shadow lots of treats for me.”

“Not a chance! She’s going on a diet as soon as I get home. You know she’s only fat because you give her a treat any time she even looks at you, right?”

“Can you blame me? She’s the cutest fucking cat in the world,” Eddie’s eyes glisten, accompanied by a bittersweet smile. He takes a deep breath, the exhale sounding sadder than he means for it to. “You better get going.”

“I suppose so. Well, goodbye,” Your throat tightens as you hold your breath.

Eddie sucks his teeth. “Not ‘bye,’ sweetheart. See you soon.”

Not soon enough. You try to keep it together as Eddie kisses your knuckles, and your heart sinks when his hand lets go of yours. A gnawing need for one last glance overcomes you while you walk away. Looking back, you find Eddie where you left him. A veil of tears drapes over your vision as you raise your hand, offering a partial wave.

He mirrors your final farewell and waits for you to disappear inside the building. Only when he can no longer see you does he release a heavy-hearted sigh and get back into the car.

Meanwhile, you’re standing in the TSA line with guilt clawing at you. How could you even entertain the thought of wanting him to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity just to stay home? It wasn’t fair for you to even imagine it. As you inch forward, the tears sting your eyes. You understand what your job is, that you must be patient and await his return while he introduces himself to the world. You’re just going to have to learn to share.

This is going to be the best summer of his life thus far, excluding the one where he fell for you. Nothing will ever top that.

He kept his word for a while, calling nightly as often as he could. The gifts arrived on your doorstep just like he said. There were two dozen roses last week, and Swiss chocolates this week. You’d never tasted anything that sweet but it was unbelievably bitter too, because every gift marked another seven days gone by without him.

Whenever Eddie called, you refrained from burdening him with your feelings. The elation was always present in his voice when he told you about what he’d been up to. Regardless if there was thumping music, blaring car horns, or his speech was slurred, it was always evident how great of a time Eddie was having. You were unwilling to take that away from him by giving him a reason to worry. Independence surely hasn’t treated you as kindly as him.

The cicadas' songs are sung on high and the days stretch on too much for your liking. You lie around and wilt alongside the shriveled petals falling from the vase on the dining table. The unraveling doesn’t stop until you’re nothing but a raw, exposed stem.

As Eddie sails the U.S.S. Poison Blade, riding an all-consuming sea of fans and fame, you feel like a woman whose husband may never return home. Sleeping has never felt so lonely. The clean bed, soft against your skin, offers no relief. The cotton sheets no longer bear his scent, having undergone numerous wash cycles without the return of his presence to refresh it.

You’ve been stress cleaning, channeling your woes into tidying up the apartment more than ever before. From floor to ceiling, your place is spick and span. But, you can only rearrange the Tupperware cupboard so many times. You’ve crossed off item after item on your to-do lists. The point has been reached where you’ve run out of tasks to keep yourself occupied.

In the evenings, Shadow perches herself expectantly on the arm of the couch, awaiting Eddie’s return from work. It’s a daily occurrence for him to come home, kick off his boots, and she curls up in his lap. Eddie has been her favorite since the day you brought her home. You can’t blame her, he’s your favorite too.

During one of the calls that have become few and far between, you ask Eddie about a tabloid headline that you saw. He brushes it off, claiming that they come up with absurd shit to make a quick buck. Eddie assures you that he’s behaving himself, despite the paparazzi photo suggesting otherwise.

You’ve been meaning to talk about what’s next, but you’re too afraid to ask. Is he expecting you to move to LA once the tour ends? Will you have to leave your friends and family behind to be there with him?

Eddie’s concerns align with yours. He didn’t take the time to think this through. Joining one of the most successful metal bands in the country isn’t a temporary gig where he does one tour for fun and then returns to his ordinary life. That’s not how it works.

Day after day, Eddie lives without the promise of having you in his arms anytime soon. His responsibilities yank him every which way, and the only thing keeping him from packing up and running home to you is the damn contract he signed.

Eddie knows you’d never leave him, but there’s that cynical little voice in his head that tries to convince him otherwise. There’s a chance that you could find another guy to keep you company while he’s gone, someone who knows how to steal you away from him. Just the thought of it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Great things keep happening and he finds himself with the urge to tell you, but he can’t get to a phone. When he does, he’s going to have to break the news that the tour has been extended. Worse yet, the Indianapolis date was moved another three months out. But Eddie doesn’t care how complicated this gets; he tells you that he’s going to do whatever it takes. “I know it sucks, baby. But if you can just wait a little longer, I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

The moving tour bus sways Eddie with a bumpy rocking motion, an unrelenting reminder that he’s not with you. It’s not even the shaking walls that are keeping him awake, it’s his running mind. He’s lying in his cramped bunk in the pitch darkness. He longs to see you and all he has to look at are his memories. With his eyes wide open, the space is as black as the backs of his eyelids. He tries to envision your sweet face but it’s fading.

Eddie thinks about the time that he swatted your butt with a wet dish towel. You chased him into the bedroom, pinned him down, and threatened to tickle him to death. It was an adequate threat, considering how ticklish he is. Eddie hates the way that it feels, but the sheer delight it brings you makes it worthwhile.

He allowed you to do it just so he could see that sparkle in your eyes. Eddie thought he’d have to flip you on your back to get you to stop, but that wasn’t the case. You showed him mercy by running your nails along his tender sides to soothe his nerves. One kiss led to another.

Eddie chuckles sadly to himself, desperate for the showers you take together after rolling around in the sheets. You bathe each other with wholehearted tenderness, the raw arousal burned away through exertion, leaving behind the silk-soft adoration. Mute with delicate smiles, you put each other back together after a night of clawing and nipping.

Time and time again, exhaustion and bliss weigh heavily on your eyes while his palms cover you with foamy suds. The scent of the body wash is so clean and pure compared to the unholy things you do to each other. The fresh and sweet aroma invades Eddie’s oxytocin-flooded brain, putting him in seventh heaven.

It’s the way you lean into him like you can’t possibly stand on your own while he pampers you, that’s what’s getting him right now. He doesn’t mind when you do that, he never will. Eddie finds every second of that routine intoxicating and he’ll never get sick of it. He’s willing to hold you upright forever if that means he gets to hold you at all.

The throbbing in his chest swells as tears roll, imagining how you rake conditioner through his curls and kiss his newly cleansed back. You handle him with such care, something that he’d never felt until he met you. Eddie could go for a shower like that right now. Actually, scratch that. What he really needs is sleep, but he can’t. He’s struggled with insomnia since his early teen years, and it wasn’t until much later that he finally found a way to fall asleep without fail.

Before you came along, Eddie often stared at his bedroom walls for what felt like hours. He’d swear that they would start to drip the longer he went without blinking. The first night that you spent together was an innocent sleepover, born out of infatuation that had taken hold. Neither of you wanted to part for longer than necessary.

As you prepared for bed with your usual process, he observed every action. You placed a glass of milky tap water on the nightstand and washed your face. It was captivating and Eddie wondered if adopting such habits would help him. But he wasn’t sure if a little bit of self-care would put an end to the tossing and turning.

You looked tired but beautiful with your refreshed complexion. Crawling into bed beside him, you whispered goodnight, and that was all it took. The amount of envy and privilege he felt was overwhelming—jealous that you could fall asleep so easily in a bed that you’ve never slept in and privileged that you trusted him enough to do so.

For what felt like an eternity, his thoughts ran amok. His mind refused to power down.

Around one in the morning, you stirred and found Eddie lying on his side facing you, zoned out. “Baby?” you called to him in your partially conscious state.

His eyes met yours, but the frustration in them was well hidden in the dark. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered and gently stroked the side of your head.

“You need to rest too,” You yawned, being lulled by his soothing touch.

Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “I’ll try.”

“Just can’t?” You perked up with concern brought about by his crystal-clear tone.

“Nope. Nothing helps, either,” he rolled his lips in. “I’ve tried everything. Warm milk, exercise, getting so high that I can’t sit up straight,” Eddie shrugged. “I guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

You chuckled softly. “Have you tried reading?”

“Yup, it didn't work. I’m convinced that I broke my sleep bone or something.”

“Want me to try? I’ll read to you.”

“No, no. You close those gorgeous eyes of yours and go back to sleep,” He kissed your joined hands, praying that you wouldn’t deprive yourself just because he was defective.

You sat up and fisted the sleepiness from your vision. “What page did you leave off on?”

Eddie wanted to rip the book from your grasp and chuck it across the room. But, the selfish part of him wanted to see if it would do the trick. “It’s bookmarked,” He sighed and watched as you propped yourself up and got situated. You held your arm out and Eddie crawled closer, wrapped his arm around your waist, and snuggled up to your tummy.

Your right hand held the book open and your left found the side of his head, gently scratching along his temple. He was instantly under your spell, his bones dense with comfort. Whenever your hand left his hair to turn the page, he involuntarily whined. When his breaths slowed, you knew that he was no longer awake. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes, returning to your slumber with ease.

After that, Eddie no longer dreaded bedtime because you slept over regularly. That was the missing piece and there are no remedies that compare to the effect you have on him. This was something that Eddie overlooked while packing his bags for the tour. Now he’s sleep-deprived and half delirious while the nights flicker and bleed into each other. There’s not much that differentiates them but they’re all lawless.

You know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. It’s true in this case, but it’s a tortuous fondness that he can’t alleviate. Maybe you’ll hear him if he sings loud enough during the show tomorrow.

Eddie is having the time of his life, don’t get it twisted. But he’s in dire need of the love that illuminates him in a way that no spotlight ever will.

It’s still strange to hear his name hollered without being followed by a paint-filled water balloon. In Hawkins, he was the chewing gum on the bottom of the town’s shoe. Eddie’s reputation didn’t align with his character. If people had bothered to get to know him, they’d have realized that he was never as much of a troublemaker as he was made out to be. While there were a few instances of shoplifting, it was merely a manifestation of youthful impulse.

The things that he’s doing now—frequenting strip clubs, drinking bars dry, kicking his feet up in VIP sections, attending mansion parties—are a stark departure from the tame acts of rebellion he’s committed in the past.

At a rowdy bar where the band was causing quite a bit of commotion, an officer was dispatched to address the situation and he gave them a hard time. In a wild turn of events, they managed to convince the cop to take shots with them. It wasn’t long until Crash and Todd yanked the baton from the man’s utility belt and were beating each other with it.

Too far gone to intervene with their antics, the cop could hardly speak. To make matters worse, the two knuckleheads wound up stealing his patrol car and drove it into a light post just yards down the street. That one wound up in the newspapers and magazines, though Eddie wasn’t named as being directly involved.

The people he’s around are the epitome of wild. They break bottles over each other’s heads, heave TV sets out of windows, and they’ve set their fair share of toilet bowls aflame.

Eddie isn’t even given the option to decline the time spent in titty bars. His bandmates usher him into the limo, leaving him no choice in the matter. That being said, resisting would jeopardize how they view him as a newcomer. Now that Eddie is rolling with the big hitters, he can’t take the bench just because his gut instinct is advising against the activities. Thanks to Todd’s signature potion called Diet T—tequila, grenadine, and lemonade with no sugar—Eddie’s inhibitions are fleeting.

Going to strip clubs didn’t sit right with him at first, especially when it came to getting private dances. But Crash offered a different angle that he hadn’t considered. They’re not strippers, they’re dancers whose instruments are their bodies. They’re just performers getting paid for putting on a show, much like the band. After it was painted in that light, Eddie started to feel less guilty about tucking bills into lycra g-strings and getting lap dances. It isn’t personal; it’s strictly business.

The best part of it all? He doesn’t have to be peer pressured anymore, he does it willingly. Todd told Eddie that he has nothing to feel bad about because he’s a rockstar now. He said that the normal relationship rules don’t apply here and there’s no way you’d even find out about any of it.

Eddie’s morals are taking consecutive sick days while he partakes in things he never imagined himself doing. Things he promised you he wouldn’t do and continues to deny having involvement in.

Abruptly awoken from his lifeless state, Eddie is startled by sloppy slaps delivered to his cheeks. He struggles to peel his eyes open, deterred by the pounding in his head. A brittle groan slips past his lips.

Bobby, frustrated by his unresponsive bandmate, vigorously shakes him by the shoulders. “Ed, we’ve gotta hit the road. Get your ass outta bed and put some clothes on.”

“No,” Eddie grunts in protest, yanking the spare pillow over his face. “Go away,” he exhales gravely.

Intervening swiftly, Bobby removes it. “I swear to god,” he implores, the irritation evident due to his hangover. “Quit fuckin’ around. I’m sick of gettin’ chewed out just ‘cause you get too messed up every night.”

“Don’t wanna,” Eddie croaks, clinging to the stale sheets. His movements are sluggish and his vision is bleary.

With the pillow still clutched in his fist, Bobby wails at Eddie’s gut with pitiful force. “Get- the- fuck- up-” He accentuates each word with a resounding smack.

Eddie reacts instinctively by jerking into the fetal position. “Alright, alright!” he flashes Bobby his palm, surrendering. “Lay off, Jesus Christ.”

The bashing ceases, and Bobby tosses the pillow onto the bed. “Mo is gonna lose his shit if we don’t land in Milwaukee on time,“ he scoops up a lone pair of pants and chucks them at Eddie.

“I could give two fucks about Milwaukee,” Eddie grumbles as he sits up at a snail’s pace. On the end table beside him sits a leftover glass of booze, a classic “hair of the dog” remedy. “And I could give a shit about being on schedule,” His words echo in the cup.

“You should give a shit. If we’re not actively flyin’ outta Indiana in 12 minutes-” Bobby gathers the scattered clothes from the floor and haphazardly throws them into the open suitcase. “We’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. “Hold up, we’re in Indiana?”

“Get up to speed, numb nuts,” Bobby huffs, slams the suitcase shut, and turns it right side up. “Put those fuckin’ pants on or so help me God.”

Eddie leans down and retrieves the jeans. He holds them out, struggling to orient them correctly. “Okay, Dad. Take a chill pill, will ya?”

“Hah! Not after seein’ what they do to you,” Bobby turns to leave, satisfied that Eddie is getting a move on.

“Wait,” Eddie forces his leg into his jeans, the material flapping noisily. “What do you remember from last night?”

Bobby snorts. “Dude, you took anythin’ that was offered to you. I lost track after two tabs and a coupla lines,” he mimics the act of snorting by pressing his finger to his nostril. “Your lady must notta been too happy ‘bout it ‘cause she looked like she was gonna lose her shit. And not in the ‘I wanna punch you but I still love you way.’ I mean, she was really cryin’.”

Eddie looks down in thought. He manages to grasp a fleeting image of his hazy recollection, and it’s akin to looking at you through a thick pane of fragmented glass. The jagged shards refract the overhead light, obscuring the heartbroken expression on your features.

Suddenly he feels nauseous. It’s hard to tell whether his queasiness stems from the emotional tidal wave or the combination of substances he consumed a few hours ago. Whichever, he’s doing his damndest to suppress it because he doesn’t want to blow chunks first thing in the morning.

“Ten minutes, fuck face. I’m serious,” Bobby flips the bird on his way out of the room.

Eddie spots a silver chain hanging out of the front pocket of his jeans. His twitching fingers take hold of the brownish-red pick. “Oh no,” his eyes widen and his heart plunges into his stomach. “Oh shit. Fuck!” Eddie blurts as he scrambles to his feet, his joints creaking from the awkward position in which he slept. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The room is in shambles. A lamp lays on its side and the busted bulb is ground into the salmon-colored carpet. Bed sheets are strewn across the floor, the comforter is missing, and the pillow he rested on bears a large bloodstain from his nosebleed. Where the landline used to be attached to the wall is now a gaping hole and the phone itself is nowhere to be seen.

His breathing is labored as he scans his surroundings, desperately searching for his wallet. He’s uncertain if there’s even any change in it, but he’s dead-set on finding out. Eddie drops to his knees, reaching shoulder-deep under the bed. Instead of his wallet, he finds one of his shoes. Potentially helpful, but not right this second. He then proceeds to tear the remaining sheets off of the bed and shakes them out, but nothing thuds against the floor.

Frustrated and still feeling the effects of the previous blackout, Eddie tries to think strategically about where his wallet might have ended up. In his disheveled state, he stumbles into the bathroom and slaps the light switch. The cloudy yellow light flickers to life like the blinking of a neon sign.

Quickly scanning the space, Eddie’s eyes dart over the sink and the toilet. He steps over to the stained clawfoot tub and jerks the patterned curtain aside. The rings scrape against the pole and his wallet is revealed, lying at the bottom of the tub.

With trembling fingers, Eddie digs into the coin pocket. The metal discs feel frigid against his searing skin. He shakes them out into his palm, tapping the coins with his finger to keep track. “Nickel, penny, dime, gum wrapper,” Eddie flicks the ball to the floor. “Dime, quarter, nickel-”

He pivots and rushes out into the hall, taking the long flight of stairs two steps at a time. Emerging in the lobby, Eddie’s bare feet tap as he crosses the polished floor. It’s one thing to be shirtless, but his jeans are unzipped too.

The receiver clatters when he yanks it off of the hook. Coins tumble and clank as he slots them, his breath coming in heavy gasps. Eddie rapidly punches in your phone number with practiced precision. He doesn’t even have to think about the digits, the pattern flows from muscle memory alone.

The line purrs and purrs. Eddie brings his thumbnail to his teeth and winces, having already bitten it bloody. He shakes his hand out and opts to gnaw on his pinky. The relentless ringing ripples through his eardrums and worsens the pounding in his head. A pool of tears gatherers at his lower lash line, making his eyes sting more.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Eddie mutters urgently. “Answer the phone, sweetheart. Please pick up,” The last ring reverberates and he promptly kills the line. Eddie hurriedly slots more coins and punches in your number again.

He calls you twice more, but the ringing remains unanswered. Out of change and out of time, he slams the receiver back on the hook with a growl. “Son of a bitch!”

“Kid,” Mo thunders from the center of the lobby, marching over to him with anger etched into his aged features. “Why aren’t you dressed?” He asks through gritted teeth, on edge after signing a hefty check to cover the cost of Eddie’s previous hotel room demolition. Of which was more than a shattered lightbulb and a stained pillowcase. “You were supposed to be ready 15 minutes ago,” he grabs Eddie and shoves him in the direction of the elevator, nearly causing him to collide with a woman. “And tell the guys that if they don’t get down here, I’m gonna shove my foot so far up their asses they’ll be able to taste the shoe polish.”

It took the entire day for him to sober up enough to realize that it wasn’t merely a bad trip or his imagination running wild. Eddie dwelled on his inability to recall as the hours ticked by. There are drinks and powders that make him forget things, but why can’t there be something for him to pop that’ll magically help him remember what happened? Somebody ought to get on that.

After landing in Milwaukee, the night wears on and his performance is less than stellar. Eddie is emotionally drained yet determined to try once more, but his call remains ignored.

Eddie continues to be unable to recollect what happened because you took it home with you, every single second of it.

The long-awaited midwestern tour dates had finally arrived. You were mailed a VIP pass, presumably by Mo because it didn’t come with a poetic note like the heartfelt gifts usually did. You went to the venue and watched from a reserved balcony suite, away from the hoards of sweaty denim-clad men and braless women who’d thrown their undergarments on the stage.

You knew it was Eddie up there, but he was performing like you’d never seen. The cockiness in his stage presence was unrecognizable. He’d improved immensely over the months spent on the road, and you were genuinely impressed.

After the show, you waited for the crowd to thin out, which gave you time to gather yourself. You hoped to god that he wouldn’t notice you’d put on ten pounds since you saw each other last. But he’s around models all the time, surely he’d notice.

You wandered around trying to find the entrance to the backstage area and finally stumbled upon a sturdy security guard. You explained that you had a pass but you didn’t know where to go. Luckily, he did. He escorted you behind the barricade and down a series of dark corridors.

A fast-paced beat accompanied by laughing and crashing poured from the open door down the hall. It only made you more nervous, realizing that there were quite a few people there. You imagined this moment of reuniting being private, so you tried to prepare yourself on such short notice.

Before you was the sight of a lively party. Red plastic cups and glass bottles littered the various surfaces and groupies lingered around in their tiny black leather skirts and skin-tight tops.

Todd appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere. He was unbelievably inebriated and it took him a second to recognize you. Once he did, his expression shifted from disorientation to elatement. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here,” he said to you and then called out into the room. “Ed, come check this shit out!”

Todd disappeared after Eddie stumbled up behind him. You were taken aback by his ratty, knotted hair and the sleepy purple at the inner corners of his eyes. Straight away, the odors of alcohol, tobacco, and weed made their presence known. Just by the looks of him, there was no telling how long it had been since he slept last. It wasn’t recently, that was plain to see.

In a piss-poor posh accent, Eddie slurred, “Sweetheart! What a positively splendid surprise,” he harshly rubbed the underside of his nose with the back of his hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Surprise?” you assessed his wobbly stance. “Are you trashed right now?”

Eddie giggled like a mischievous child. “Who’s trashed? Not me,” he looked back into the party and watched as Todd jumped on the coffee table, banged his chest like a gorilla, and chugged a bottle of beer. Eddie cheered him on and then turned back to you. His laughter tapered off as he redirected his attention. “What’re we talkin’ about?”

“You forgot,” your voice cracked from the pressure that built in your throat. “You fucking forgot that I was coming.”

“I didn’t forget,” he defensively insisted. “It just slipped my mind,” Eddie blinked slowly and momentarily lost his balance, though he caught himself on the door frame. “Whoopsie daisy,” he snorted.

“What’s gotten into you?” you crossed your arms and gave yourself the hug that he failed to. “It’s like you’re a completely different person.”

“You’re damn right I am. I said sayonara to the old, lame-ass Eddie and I’m living the life I’ve always wanted. I’ve got all these people who actually get me, y’know? I’ve never had that before,” Eddie’s eyes closed entirely while he paused. “It’s awesome.”

“I don’t understand,” Tears trickled down your cheeks. “You’re making it sound like I’ve been holding you back,” It was the way that he was looking right through you and couldn’t see the comatose love in your eyes, that's what hurt the most.

“Eddd,” A woman sang out and appeared beside him. She hung off of his arm and nearly yanked him to the floor.

He steadied himself, his only priority was staying upright. “Ah, speaking of people. Babe, this is my friend…” Eddie looked over at her lazily.

“Cherry,” She grinned, equally as uncoordinated and woozy as he was. “I’m Cherry.”

“Right, yeah,” he sucked in a breath and looked back at you. “She’s cool. You should come in and talk makeup with her or something,” Eddie beamed as if that was the most brilliant idea he’d had all week.

It was then that you noticed the crimson wax smeared across the column of his throat. Identical in color to the one that was all over her lips, chin, and teeth. “It looks like you already have,” your stomach churned and the tears fell faster. “Try to listen closely, okay? Do not call me and don’t bother writing either,” With nimble fingers, you tore Eddie’s chain from around your neck, snapping the clasp, and threw it at his feet. “Fuck you.”

As you turned and made your way back down the dark tunnel, you could hear him calling your name as it echoed off of the walls. Once you rounded the corner, you couldn’t take it anymore. You coughed wetly and had to brace against the wall from your legs giving out. The weight of cinder blocks being stacked on your chest intensified while you sat on the cold concrete ground. It was as though he stomped your heart out like a singed cigarette thrown to pavement.

“What’s her problem?” Cherry squeaked, taking notice of how she was only wearing one heel and her skirt had ridden up to her waist somehow.

“Beats me,” Eddie shrugged.

If he was in his right mind, the sharp pieces of his shattered heart would have punctured his lungs; he wouldn’t have had a fighting chance at taking another breath. But Eddie was far from sober, and his organs were floating around like he was a human lava lamp. As you disappeared into the shadows, his mind was nothing short of blank and he went on with his evening like you’d never even shown.

The mention of Eddie’s name or the band no longer brings a smile to your face. It fills you with the sorrow that has replaced the pride you once felt for him. You long for the sound of pouring rain, hoping that it’ll drown out the repetitive radio hits that loop in your head. Even if your wishes are granted, you know it can’t rain forever and the clouds will disperse.

Just as you suspected, rainfall never sufficed. Thankfully, the much-awaited chill has finally arrived. Winter quietly falls, bringing icy roads and frozen windows with it. This season feels more appropriate, autumn was too vibrant with its spiced aromas and scenic landscapes. It was too full of life and you craved a desolate, bitter, unbearable distraction.

You’ve nearly mastered denying him access to your train of thought, but whether it be a song or otherwise, it all comes rushing back. Tonight is sleepless, and you find yourself wondering where it all went wrong.

The photo in your hands, of the two of you flashing your pair of plane tickets, makes you cry. Your emotion in the snapshot is genuine, but Eddie’s expression imitates enthusiasm. He used to be so camera-shy and he would resist your pleas until you successfully wore him down. These days, he’s doing half-naked photo shoots, sporting leather pants that leave little to the imagination.

Shadow appears to sense that you’re hurting and in contrast to her usual aloofness, she joins you on the bed. You watch her knead the blankets and curl up beside you. It only makes you cry harder and you’re afraid of driving her away with your pathetic wailing.

You had a rather eventful day, to say the least. Gareth came to collect your ex’s belongings. Gareth is the only person that he’s stayed in contact with since ditching Hawkins.

Not having his stuff around has significantly lightened the atmosphere, but the space feels emptier. Regardless, this is a fresh start. You don’t need Eddie, you have people who care about you. Gareth included because while he’s primarily Eddie’s friend, you’ve gotten to know each other over time. He offered a sympathetic hug before leaving with the backseat of his car packed with boxes.

Having some company, even briefly, was a welcome change from your day-to-day. Your social interactions have been limited. At most, it’s occasional small talk about the weather with coworkers and chatting with your elderly neighbor. Honestly, you prefer talking to Shadow because her meows are free of pity.

When you knocked on Mrs. Folley’s door to ask for a spare roll of paper towels, she took notice of your underfed and fatigued appearance. Without prying, she began preparing dinners for you. Every night at 6:10 PM there’s a faint knock on your front door. “375 degrees for 25 minutes,” she reminds you.

The casserole dishes are piling up in your kitchen sink, but you’re too apathetic to do as much as soak them. They’d soak forever. While you appreciate her selflessness, she’s making it awfully difficult for you to cut yourself off from the outside world. Leaving the house has become quite a daunting task because you have to go to great lengths to avoid places that remind you of him. You’ve even started shopping at a different grocery store. He has tainted just about everything, everywhere.

Eddie was only able to gather bits and pieces from his bandmates. None of their accounts were particularly reliable. Some recollections conflict, and some overlap. He’ll never know exactly what happened, but what he does know is that he fucked up severely.

Initially, he put on a mask of stoicism and attempted to channel his grief into the music-making process. The words just wouldn’t come to him. It was like Eddie had been zapped dry of any inspiration, understandably so, since he lost his muse. Plus, it proved to be far more agonizing than he anticipated. Eddie was tearing open a wound that hadn’t had the chance to heal. It was too late, the infection already spread and his sense of pride had long since eroded.

In defiance of how he truly feels, Eddie has been pretending that he’s on top of the world, in complete denial of how it’s engulfed in a blaze. He tries to convince himself that you were nothing but dead weight that would hold him back. But if that’s the case, why is he so willing to let you?

Just like an anchor, he’d beg you to pull him down, down, down. He’s willing to fill his lungs to the brim with salt water as you take him to the deepest depths. Eddie would much rather be in that darkness with you than be alone in this one. He’d rather drown than be freed of such a burden.

He’s been a walking Molotov with his vodka-soaked brain and a cigarette burning between his cracked lips. Salty teardrops saturate each puff of smoke, the haze carrying his remorse a brief distance before dissipating into the air. It’ll never travel far enough to reach you.

One might assume that he considers himself one lucky son of a bitch for the life that he’s leading. But, Eddie would vehemently dismiss such an assumption. The only thing he considers himself lucky for is having had the opportunity to experience what it felt like to be loved by you.

Your bodies moved in harmony, an irreproducible duet that was sung as you stroked one another’s chords. Together, you basked in the amorous afterglow. That glimmer in your eyes is a melody that replays in his mind, undeterred by the other tunes he attempts to distract himself with.

On occasion, there’s a nameless woman at the foot of his bed seductively undressing herself. They put on a show for a brick wall, a shell of a man. The distant wail of police sirens outside acts as a soundtrack for their musicless performances. He remains eerily still, looking past the sun-tanned demons that dance in hopes of earning his affection.

All it takes is hearing “I want you,” and he grants them access to his room. He never even looks at them and his thousand-yard stare is continuous. You were the closest thing to heaven that he’ll ever experience and the nearest he’ll get to those so-called golden gates. Eddie has been deemed unfit and here he lies, condemned to his personalized hell; a bottomless pit of sinful indulgence and temptation.

Haunted. You’re a bedroom ghost no matter where he rests his head. The sheets are icy regardless of how many femme figures are woven beneath them. He kisses strangers when he can’t feel his face, uncertain if his lips are even in motion.

Eddie will continue to feel utterly alone until he hears the familiar jingling of your keys as you get home from work. It’ll take the creak of the door hinges and Shadow leaping from his lap to greet you for Eddie to regain a scrap of sanity.

He used to bleed, but now all that his heart pumps is whatever earthy intoxicant he can find. Most of the time, he’s merely a pile of bones splayed out on a sunken mattress in his hotel room. The low-hanging night sky on the inside of his eyelids is moonless. The rise and fall of his chest are shallow like a lost tide.

Tonight he finds himself in room 918 and this one is just as stale as the last. The window is sealed tight, keeping the humid misery contained within the well-furnished jail cell. The blinds are closed and the damn clock won’t stop taunting him, it’s maddening. Eddie snatches it up, swings the door to his room open, chucks it down the hall, and slams the door shut.

He swallowed his pride four shots ago, toasting both his international success and being a colossal fuck up. Your absence always kills his buzz and it’s as though he can’t get drunk enough. On top of that, the memories burn worse than any liquor money can buy.

Your tender embrace used to keep him snug. Now, he’s chilled to the bone, shivering relentlessly. His only source of warmth stems from the alcohol streaming through his veins. Lying on his back, he stares at the stained ceiling. The faces in the plaster mock him mercilessly with insults and ill wishes. The pooling tears do nothing to quell his smoke-stung eyes.

Some might assume that given the quantity, Eddie is chasing numbness. That’s far from the truth. Numbness doesn’t cut it, because even though he can no longer feel the hollowness, the clouded guilt still looms over him. It’s not about defying gravity, it’s about strengthening it. Eddie wants the draw to be so strong that it sucks him beneath the Earth’s surface where he can rot like he deserves.

Down for the count and despite his best efforts, the memories remain vivid. Eddie remembers the manner in which you said his name early in the morning, well past bedtime, while you lament, and uttering between bouts of laughter. It was always the sweetest sound.

You saw each other as delectable and at times, you were insatiable. One night in particular, the two of you didn’t even make it past the kitchen. Eddie, behaving like a man starved, laid you out on the dining table. He devoured you with his face buried between your legs and you reminded him that it’s impolite to talk with his mouth full.

Eddie wishes he could roll over, nuzzle his face between your shoulder blades, and fall asleep forever. It’s quite the dream, even for a notorious dreamer. He doesn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. What does it matter anyway?

Amid the ever-shifting cityscapes, it’s not like he can keep up. Eddie can’t tell dusk from dawn, even with the glare of the neon lights permeating his vision. The evenings are restless, and he wakes with a bloodied nose and hellish bruises.

He’s throwing back a glass at five to nine in the morning and resorting to the simultaneous ingestion of uppers and downers. A little bit of this, a lot of that. Eddie has become something of a mixologist with his experimental cocktails. You see, he’s on a quest to find a middle ground. One where he appears alive while remaining detached enough to elude the grasp of agony.

On the days when the sun shines just right and hope makes a rare appearance, Eddie attempts to go cold turkey. Shakes and sweats take hold and he can’t endure it for long. Detoxing leaves him high on misery, an unbearable feeling. Hours later, he finds himself at the bar, wetting his desert-dry tongue with the most expensive bottle he can get his greedy hands on.

Under the blazing stage lights, with blistering pyrotechnics threatening to engulf him, he stumbles through the setlist. Two weeks ago, they stopped having him play live. In lieu, a pre-recorded track is pumped through the speakers, creating the illusion of his pick striking the strings.

Throughout every performance, he scans the crowd for your radiant face. It proves fruitless in every city, but he continues to search. Eddie doesn't even have your last words to hold on to, only endless possibilities of what he can imagine you said to him.

During the sound check for the Portland show, Bobby warily approaches Eddie, who is already drunk and it isn’t even three o’clock yet. He means well, but his approach is less than nurturing. “You don’t have to go down this road, Ed,” he cautioned. “I’ve seen where it leads and it’s not pretty.”

Eddie sways slightly as he turns to face him. “Don't lecture me like you're some kind of saint,” he retorts with the scent of booze fiery on his breath. “I'll drink when I want, where I want, and however much I want. Got it?”

With his hand extended in concern, Bobby tries to remain level-headed. “I can get you in touch with somebody if need be, there’s no shame in gettin’ your shit together.”

Eddie throws his head back with a dismissive scoff. “Get my shit together? I lost my girl, okay? She left me. So if you could just mind your own fucking business that’d be great,” he turns away and takes a seat on an equipment case. “Besides, badasses don’t need shrinks.”

Bobby leans in and lowers his voice. "You're messin’ with the same demons that dragged Nick down. Don't think they'll treat you any differently."

“Don’t compare me to him. That dude was messing with heroin and shit. This is entirely different and I can hold my own, thank you very much.” “You gotta get that ego of yours in check, man. That’s what fucked you over in the first place. I know you think that you can handle it, but let me tell you somethin’,” Bobby stares at Eddie intensely. “Nick thought the same thing and look where that got him. Alls I’m tryna say is that you need to watch your step. You’re pissin’ away your potential and it’s startin’ to piss me off.”

“Last I checked, it’s not exactly difficult to push your buttons. Honest to god, you're blowing this way out of proportion. If I need advice, I'll ask for it. Until then, back the fuck off,” Eddie returns Bobby’s stare with a taut posture.

Nick Karr’s destructive coping mechanism landed him in the hospital and eventually in rehab. Eddie knows that some artists resort to heroin because it’s accessible and incredibly potent, which sounds magical to him. But, when it’s offered, he declines. Hearing Nikki Sixx recount his own experience from last year when he was pronounced dead for two minutes was enough to deter Eddie. It sent a shiver down his spine. The firsthand account effectively kept him from venturing that path.

He didn’t have to choose that road to get there, though. Nowadays, he’s so frail that the slightest gust of wind could pick him up and carry him away. His cheeks are sunken, his eyes puffy. Eddie has been taking it on the chin, earning himself a split lip, and the works. He’s been arrested three times and overdosed twice. The only thing he hasn’t done yet is die.

Eddie knows that he’ll never have the chance to see you again in this lifetime, he lost that privilege. However, he entertains the thought that if the drugs were to claim him, perhaps he might find you in another realm. In an alternate place, he’ll vow to wait patiently until he can finally give you his long-awaited apology. It’s always the legends who die young, right? There’s gotta be a sliver of honor in this for him.

Eddie’s flesh is devoid of its usual pinkness, as though he’s just crawled off of an embalming table. His skin is covered with chicken scratch tattoos that he has no recollection of getting and his brittle vertebrae can no longer support the weight of his heavy heart. He finds himself on a cliff and the edge is razor-thin, extending into oblivion in either direction. His legs are dangling over the abyss and there’s no breeze, only profound stillness.

Presently slumped against the wall of this room, his clothes are soaked with sweat. The shaggy carpet feels coarse and chillingly damp, like freshly unearthed sand between his toes. The room’s shadows are disjointed and they dance menacingly as he struggles to make sense of his surroundings. Each heartbeat feels like a sledgehammer striking his ribs, demolishing them one by one. In this moment, Eddie is confronting the harsh reality of the detrimental choices he’s made, the resulting consequences, and the impending end he now faces.

Thrash, shudder, collapse. His internal record player skips and cries out before coming to a halt. His somber soundtrack ceases and the cavern of his chest no longer has a tune to echo.

Prior to his admittance into Pacific Hills Recovery Center, Eddie’s contract was set in stone. Even so, Mo was able to pull some strings which allowed him to be excused from his legal obligations.

His initial impression of the place was far from favorable. Eddie felt like he was stepping into a looney bin, surrounded by people who were nothing like him. His self-esteem took a severe hit, but he still believed that he was above seeking professional help. Eddie was incredibly stubborn at first and fought himself tooth and nail.

It was a struggle to take accountability for his situation. He didn’t want to admit that he was the one responsible. But, Eddie could no longer claim that there was some curse that got him, nor could he blame the industry or the lifestyle. He couldn’t point his finger at Todd for showing him the ropes of the fast life or at Gareth for giving his contact information to Mo.

The first few weeks were unforgiving and the pale blue walls of the facility made him feel uneasy. All of it was off-putting, especially the sunlight pouring through the tall, squeegeed windows. Eddie’s bed was relatively comfortable, and his sheets were always clean. He started to put on weight thanks to a balanced diet, and he was eating the healthiest he ever had in his life.

With time, the dense fog in his head has significantly thinned. However, it’s difficult to resist the itch to stroll down the street and undo all of his progress. He hasn’t caved and he intends on keeping it that way, partly because he doesn’t want to stay here longer than absolutely necessary.

It’s as boring as white bread in a place like this, but he tries to convince himself that it’s good for him, that’s what he’s been sold. The monotony gives him a sense of stability and routine, things he lost the capability to form on his own. If this place were a food, it would be plain oatmeal. Speaking of which, Eddie is tired of eating old-fashioned oats for breakfast. Once he’s finished with treatment, he swears to never going to eat another spoonful again.

In addition to feeling incredibly out of place and out of sorts, he’s very strategic in keeping his guard up. He can’t risk having his vulnerability tampered with before he can suture himself. Whenever someone tries to talk to him, he doesn’t give them much to work with. Eddie has sworn off eye contact and he tries to escape conversations with whatever convincing excuse he can conjure.

The other patients are okay, all things considered. The worst ones are wealthy snobs who have god complexes and act like entitled pricks. Eddie steers clear of them and he hasn’t made any friends in the three months that he’s been here. Bobby calls sometimes, and Eddie occasionally reaches out to Gareth, but it’s never more than small talk.

Except for that one call where Gareth mentioned having boxes of his belongings, waiting to be claimed by their rightful owner. That was a conversation that brought Eddie to tears. It doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s a good reason why you’ve shut him out. But hearing that you packed up his things and removed those crumbs from your life just about killed him. Eddie skipped dinner that night, curled up in a chair beside the large stone fireplace, and wept silently.

Along with processing how much that hurt him, he realized that it meant he no longer had a home. In-patient care certainly isn’t permanent housing. He stressed himself out at the thought because even though Gareth was likely going to allow him to crash on his couch, Eddie was afraid to live near you again. What would he do if you ran into each other? Would you cuss him out and slap him? He’d take it if you did, he owed you that much.

Eddie surely doesn’t want to stay on the coast. As cool as LA can be, it’s not where his heart is. Sure, he figured out how to run the scene pretty easily, but he doesn’t belong here. Before all of this, Eddie could only dream of how tall the palm trees were, he tried to imagine what the ocean would smell like. Now he’s sick of it, he wants to go back to the forests of evergreen and sugar maple. Eddie misses the murky water of Lover’s Lake where the mosquitoes ate him alive.

Having been bled dry of the things that kept him sedated for so long, his state of mind is feeble. His counselor emphasized that he isn’t confined to a predetermined path and that he’s only destined to be what he makes of himself. Eddie was provided some coping mechanisms and he says that they aren’t helping, but that’s because he isn’t really trying.

As part of getting in touch with his feelings, Eddie is tasked with writing letters to his past, present, and future self. This exercise hasn’t been trouble-free because he finds himself wanting to write to you. One night, he gets so strung out after scribbling a particularly tense letter to himself that he can no longer resist the urge.

His wrist aches from scrapping draft after draft, his bedroom floor littered with crumpled balls of stationary paper. His sober mind cruelly insists that his actions are irreparable and that no words will bring you back. It tells him that he sounds desperate and you’d either burn the letters or return them entirely unopened. Perhaps you’d even find some hilarity in his sorry excuses.

I’ve grown for you, and for me too

I lost all sight of myself when it came to ambition, but I’m striving for realistic things now. I'm trying to right my wrongs

Are you still How have you been? I wish I could see you

I understand if you’re disappointed in me, I am too

Has Shadow caught any spiders lately?

I hope you’re doing well

Eddie misses you senselessly, but he knows that he’s unworthy. He’s homesick for arms that will never hold him again. It would’ve been wise to be careful what he wished for because he got every last bit and then some. He used to believe his name was meant to be in lights, but now he sees how naive that was. Life had to take a bite out of Eddie for him to realize that his true aspiration was to be an honorable man, one that put you above all else.

His sense of purpose is long gone. Eddie hopes that the universe might present him with the opportunity to see your beautiful face once more. It’s wishful thinking, but these days, it’s all he has. It’s okay to be unsure of what’s next, what matters is that he’s taking it one day at a time. He’s finally setting goals for himself and Eddie is committed to not wasting another day. The words he never got the chance to say have soured his tongue and he wants so badly to spit them out.

As It turns out, it’s just as easy to get hooked on making progress. The Westminster chimes play from the wooden clock in the sunroom, signaling the start of a new day. Eddie fills a plain mug with piping renewal, stirring in a dash of sugar.

Your days start similarly, relying on a cup of coffee to get you through. Lately, it feels like the bed was only ever yours and it never knew the weight of someone else. You stopped wondering what he was doing or where he was. It’s a beautiful thing, to be on your own. You chide yourself for being so childish in thinking that things would’ve worked out somehow.

The day he signed that contract, he was no longer yours.

The runaway leaves are toasting in the suspended autumn sunlight, readying to decompose at Mother Nature’s mercy. The trees stand bare, the sidewalks covered with a brittle quilt of orange, red, and brown. The pumpkin festival is a cherished annual event in town, serving as a fundraiser for the local food shelter.

The fair is known for its crop competition where impressive pumpkins are awarded ribbons for being monstrous in size. Hand-built shacks are selling hot cider and freshly fried cinnamon sugar donuts. With a few hundred attendees, the grinding amusement rides struggle to overpower the chatter.

The cozy outfit you’ve chosen is your favorite cotton crew neck sweater paired with jeans and sneakers that provide optimal comfort. Tonight is about savoring the weather and unwinding. You’re looking forward to seeing Gareth and the band play, even though they’ll be missing their former frontman.

Steve is equally as eager to get out and about, especially because he’s babysitting his spirited four-year-old nephew, Daniel, for the weekend. He’s always cranked up to a ten and this was something that Steve was not emotionally prepared to handle. He’s hoping that the lively atmosphere will tire the little one out and give him a chance to breathe.

The knit blanket is unrolled; its chestnut, fern, and sunflower-hued threads contrast the lush grass it’s draped upon. As you settle, the buried leaves crunch beneath your weight.

Steve looks over at you. “I swear I need a leash for this kid. I look away for two seconds and he disappears into thin air. Listen, I like a good magic trick as much as the next guy but this routine is getting real old, real fast,” he exhales exasperatedly.

“Leave him here with me, you go take a walk and cool off,” You chuckle at how frazzled he is over “losing” his nephew for a whole two and a half minutes.

Steve runs his hand through his bangs and sighs. “Okay, yeah, a walk,” He isn’t a rookie when it comes to babysitting, but Daniel isn’t exactly in the age demographic that Steve is used to looking after.

Daniel’s pudgy hand is released and he dramatically plops on the blanket beside you, immediately engrossed with his toy truck. He bumbles his lips, mimicking the sound of an engine.

“Go,” you shoo Steve. “I’ve got it handled.”

Steve nods and turns to leave.

“And get me some cocoa on your way back!” You call out.

Steve acknowledges your request with a quick thumbs-up and weaves out of the clusters of people both seated and standing. To keep the rugrat engaged enough to prevent him from wandering off, you ask him about his toy.

Meanwhile, Eddie is taking deep breaths, trying to ignore his fierce nerves. It’s been a long time since he last performed but he shouldn’t be this nervous. He’s played for hundreds of thousands of people, yet this is just as intimidating. Fireworks are sparking off in his fingertips and a surge of nausea rocks him. Eddie finds himself swatting away insecurity and self-doubt, the bothersome buzzing distracting him from having confidence in his abilities.

Corroded Coffin gathers in a circle behind the white tarp-roofed stage. They exchange words of support and appreciation for finally performing together again. They break from their huddle, scale the steps one by one, and take their positions. Eddie’s eyes are glued to the mic stand, unable to look out into the audience. He fidgets with it, making unnecessary adjustments to keep his hands busy. It doesn’t help that he’s out of his element with the setlist being pop hits that people of all ages can enjoy.

As Gareth begins to loosen up his wrists and Donny does some last-minute tuning, Eddie is transported back to The Hideout. Back when he was humble and small-town, playing his heart out with his closest friends. Recalling how fun those times were eases his nerves a bit, remembering that he’s been forgiven.

His playing and singing are hesitant as he finds his footing but as the song progresses, Eddie rides the rhythm and it vitalizes him. A shared smile with Jeff fills him with gratitude, his voice flowing as smooth as caramel. He still feels vulnerable, because even if the people here don’t give a shit about his reputation, there’s still plenty of room to make an ass of himself.

It takes him three songs to muster the courage to look out. Instead of appreciating the sight of the flowing river, he surrenders to an old habit that’s dying hard. He scours the crowd for that once-familiar face.

It’s as though he’s just landed on concrete, the wind knocked clean out of him. Eddie isn’t entirely sure that his eyes aren’t broken. He could be hallucinating, except even on his most intoxicated nights, he never so much as believed he’d seen you, much less had to convince himself that you weren’t there.

A kind expression graces your face, one that sends him to cloud nine. He can’t be certain from this distance, but it doesn’t appear to be a scowl or a frown. You’re somewhat concealed behind a large family which is making it challenging for him to get a clear view of you. Still, he strains his eyes in an attempt to do so.

His focus is diverted when an elderly couple gracefully strolls up to the gap in front of the stage and begins to dance together. Just a few verses later, a father and his young daughter join in and they jump to the beat.

It’s like he’s on top of the world again and this time it’s not on fire. His sense of purpose is back and stronger than ever. His passion is bringing people together, including the two of you. He can feel the music in his bones. Eddie avoids lingering for too long, not wanting to appear as if he’s staring. Rest assured, wherever his sight falls, you’re the only thing on his mind.

As soon as the set concludes, Eddie hugs each of his friends, though he keeps it brief. His sneakers crush the dry patches of grass as he navigates through the crowd. Most are getting up to stretch or leaving to get refreshments before the next act goes on. Eddie finds you exactly where he saw you, but to his surprise, you’re holding the hand of a small child.

Promptly, a pang immobilizes him, the center of his chest acting as the bullseye of an axe-throwing target. He tries to grapple with his conflicting emotions. Eddie wants so badly to reconnect with you but he’s paralyzed by the fact that you’ve moved on and started a family. Of course you have, you deserve someone who checks in on you and gives you the world. He can’t be mad at you when he failed to provide what little you asked of him back then.

Eddie carefully approaches as you rise to your feet, the child tugging you up from your spot on the ground. In his head, he practices a gentle voice all while morphing his expression into one that’s good-natured and approachable. Beneath his facade, his heart is lodged in his throat. “Hey,” he greets you softly, “Who’s this little guy?”

Steve appears and lifts Daniel into his arms, balancing the toddler on his hip. “I’m glad to see he didn’t rip your beautiful hair out while I was gone,” he smirks at you, but it falters when he feels his nephew driving the toy car along his shoulder and uncomfortably close to his jugular.

“Me too,” you laugh tensely. Clasping your hands together, you rock on your heels to soothe yourself. “He was good the whole time, thankfully. “Anyway, Steve, this is-”

“Ed Munson, right?” he adjusts his wiggling nephew. “From Poison Knife or whatever?” Steve isn’t familiar with their music, but he’s heard about Eddie’s escapades through the media.

“Poison Blade, yeah. That’s me,” he offers a handshake and Steve is quick to return it, a bit too firmly for Eddie’s liking. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Steve assesses Eddie and doesn’t bother to hide his scrutiny.

The air has cooled significantly now that the sun has dipped past the horizon. You stretch your sleeves over your fists and the sudden chattering of your teeth reminds you that you’re missing something. “You didn’t get me cocoa?”

When you pout at Steve, Eddie subconsciously flexes his fingers in frustration. He forgot how unfairly cute you are. He has an impulse to take matters into his own hands by wrapping his arms around you to provide the warmth you so preciously seek.

“Shit,” Steve’s eyes briefly close but they shoot back open when Daniel grabs a fistful of his roots. “Ouch, man. Ease up on the death grip, will ya?” Steve withdraws the sticky fingers from his hair. “My bad, I totally forgot.”

Eddie seizes the opportunity and blurts out a touch too eager, “I’ll get you some, if- if you want,” he offers.

Steve squints at Eddie, his dark brows furrowed at the strange vibe he’s getting; oblivious to your history. He doesn’t get the chance to question it further because Daniel begins to kick and squirm. “I’m gonna take him back over to the animals before he blows a fuse,” Steve leans in and asks under his breath, “You’ll be okay?”

You give him a reassuring look and squeeze his bicep in confirmation. Steve returns your nod, shoots Eddie a protective glance, and walks away with the now-hollering toddler.

With his eyes full of hope, Eddie grins invitingly and extends his offer, “How ‘bout it, hot cocoa on me?” He’s giving it his all to appear trustworthy and pleasant in the hopes of winning you over.

You look down at your shoes and release a visible breath. “Yes, please.”

Together, you walk toward the concession stands. Once you’ve got the foam cup of chocolatey goodness delightfully thawing your palms, the two of you find a bench along the river. It’s quieter here, away from the bustling noise. For a while, neither of you says a word. You just sip your beverage while the splashing current fills the silence.

Eddie looks over at you. “So, uh. You just got the one?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you just have the one kid, or…”

You make an effort not to spill your drink as you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” A thrum passes through him in the presence of your laughter, the sound he’s missed for so long.

You smile as you calm down to clarify, “Daniel isn’t mine. Thank God for that, ‘cause he's a royal pain in the ass.”

“I see,” Eddie chuckles airily, not out of humor but relief. “He does look like a handful.”

“Yeah, more like two,” You blow across the top of your cup, cautious not to burn your tongue while you take a swig.

Eddie looks down as he picks at his hangnails. “That being said, things are uh- good then, I hope?”

You focus on the darkening waters just feet away, contemplating whether you’d describe your life as ‘good.’ “I’d say so, nothing too eventful but it’s been comfortable. You?”

“Same here,” Eddie steals a glance at your fingers tapping against the styrofoam cup. “And I’m very much sober,” he adds pridefully. “11 months next week, actually.”

“Good for you!” you beam and nudge his knee with your own. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Eddie hides his face behind his curls, concealing the blush and wide smile that are overtaking his features. He can’t blame the rosiness of his cheeks on the biting wind. “Thanks,” he returns the knee nudge. “It means a lot to hear that from you.”

“What exactly are you doing here? Don’t you have seats to fill?”

Eddie straightens his posture against the back of the bench. “Not anymore,” he weakly clears his throat, his voice faltering even though he’s talked this out in therapy numerous times. “I felt like it was time to come home, I needed to find myself,” Eddie’s voice wavers and he clears his throat harder this time. “It was really tough, y’know? I lost sight of what kept me sane. You were always this like, unshakeable foundation for me and I let you down.”

“Yeah, you did,” you exhale, “I was disappointed that you turned into everything that you said you wouldn’t. I can’t speak for you, but to me, what we had was real. I was willing to be with you forever, and you just- weren’t on the same page.”

That sour apology is burning a hole through Eddie’s tongue right now. He wants so badly to tell you that you’re wrong. But he chokes it down like he always has and listens to you express the things he’s dreaded yet dreamed of hearing.

“I tried so hard. Way harder than I should’ve, and now you’re here after I tried to forget everything. I wanted to forget you,” you confess and place your empty cup in the dirt at your feet. The loose gravel under your shoes shifts as you sit back.

Hearing those words nearly breaks Eddie’s dam, and he stifles a sob. Eddie faces away, appearing as though he’s watching the final moments of the sunset and not holding back tears. He twists his fingers, his knuckles cracking from the force.

You reach over to Eddie’s lap and take his hand into yours. He watches curiously through glassy vision while his ability to breathe normally has been disrupted. When you interlace your fingers, Eddie releases a shuddering breath that he’s held in for well over a year.

“It wasn’t worth it,” you use your free hand to trace the curves of his. “It was a waste of time trying to forget you.”

Somehow, Eddie finds himself looking into your stunning eyes and he feels like he’s melting for too many reasons to count. You’re softening him like butter to be used in making freshly baked pumpkin bread. When you reach up and wipe a stray tear from his cheek, he simply breaks. You welcome him into your embrace, wrapping your arms around him as he curls up into your shoulder.

The cry that escapes Eddie is rickety and long overdue. “I’m so s-sorry,” he stammers and inhales wetly. “I never meant to hurt you, but I did. I fucked everything up and-”

“Eddie,” you interrupt him, stroking his head and pushing the curtain of curls out of his face. He whimpers in response. “I’ll always be your number one fan, no matter what,” You guide him to meet your gaze.

When you cradle the side of his puffy face with your hand, Eddie leans into your touch. “Always?” He sniffles and his damp eyelashes tickle your thumb as you stroke his freckled cheeks.

Your promise is as rich as the devotion resurfacing in his hazelnut eyes. “Always.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

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sinnaea · 2 months

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Page one draft, Claire/Wesker fic

I have another spicy fic cooking but this time with Clesker. I've never written anything with Claire before and this has been really fun to write so far. Enjoy my first page draft. As always, thank you for reading 💜

The Raccoon City Police Department holding cells was a place one would not want to spend the night. Aside from being detained for whatever crime one would commit, the mountain town’s temperature could drop to freezing in an instant as soon as the sun hid away behind the peaks. The concrete cells were already dark, dingy and dripping with water from old unattended pipes.

However, Claire Redfield was rather unfazed by her current situation. The young woman relaxed flat on her back on a wooden bench with her hands laced behind her head. Her crossed leather biker boots swayed side-to-side as she hummed a tune. Despite the cold night, she was dressed in a pair of frayed denim shorts, a deep red and well worn leather jacket with a black tank-top underneath. The ponytail of her cherry red hair hung off the edge of the bench as she continued to blissfully hum away.

The sound of heavy boots quickly stomping and approaching disrupted Claire’s jaunty tune then a loud BANG!

“What the fuck, Claire?!” a young man’s voice shouted at her and echoed throughout the holding cells. His fist pounded the metal bars.

Claire sighed and nonchalantly rolled to her side to face her older brother, Chris, who stood on the other side of the bars. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned.

“What do you want?” she said contemptuously.

Chris, dressed in his officer uniform, was hardly shocked at his little sister’s lack of concern. But then he caught the faint whiff of something sour and earthy emanating from within the cell.

“You’re high?!” Chris said in disbelief and ran his hands through his dark military cut hair, tempted to pull them out. Instead, he released a frustrated groan and punched at the metal bars again. The loud CLANG reverberated in the concrete box.

Claire was unmoved.

“I barely had any,” she yawned. “All it did was make me sleepy. And who hasn’t driven sleepy before?”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Chris shook his head and stared at his sister through the bars. He was fed up. “I’m not bailing you out this time.”

Finally, Claire began to stir. She held back her boiling detest as she sat up on the bench and stared back at him. “Good,” she said firmly. “Maybe you’ll finally fuck off for once.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “I’ve worked so hard to keep you outta trouble since we were kids. Why are you still like this?”

Claire scoffed and crossed her arms. “You really don’t get it do you?”

“Stop giving me that attitude!” Chris yelled.

“Just leave me alone.” The rebellious sister crossed her legs and shut her eyes, indicating to her brother that she was tired of his presence. “With me in here, you’ll at least have the comfort of knowing your little sister is safe and sound.” Her tone was condescending. She smirked.

A hushed growl vibrated behind Chris’s clenched teeth. His nose and mouth twitched in anger just boiling beneath the surface. But he took in a deep breath and let out a defeated sigh. He couldn’t help but admit that his sister was right. She wouldn’t get in anymore trouble at least for now. He stepped away from the metal bars that separated the siblings.

“Fine,” he said. “You stay there. I’m not covering your ass anymore.”

With her eyes still closed, Claire hummed and brushed him off.

Chris gathered his losses and walked away still frustrated with the entire predicament. No matter how many times his sister got into trouble, he always protected her. And despite what he had just said, he still felt compelled to.

Nearly an hour had passed and Claire was finally feeling sober but also mentally drained. A tiny hint of regret start to flicker within regarding her situation. And it grew into concern on whether or not Chris would actually leave her in jail. She stood up and outstretched her limbs with a loud yawn. She paced back and forth in the small cell for a few minutes and looked down at the cold floor with a tired sigh.

“You must be the lovely Claire Redfield,” a deep and very distinct voice announced.

Surprised she didn’t hear anyone approaching, Claire quickly turned toward the bars in a bit of fright. Standing on the other side was a tall and well-built man dressed in dark blue and black police attire. But he had a crown of perfect blonde hair and a sharp gaze with the brightest blue eyes that it almost seemed unnatural.

“And you are?” Claire replied with a smug attitude.

The man chuckled with a peculiar charm. “Your brother did say you are quite the wild one.”

Claire scoffed. “Oh, Chris sent you. Great.”

“I wouldn’t use the term sent. I wanted to indulge your brother,” the man said then finally introduced himself. “Captain Albert Wesker.”

Claire crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “So, you’re his boss. I suppose you’re here to set me straight. He sent Barry to talk to me once. And now you?” She rolled her eyes.

Wesker grinned, intrigued by her rebellious nature. The exact opposite of the more disciplined brother. Like a stray and untamed cat versus a working dog controlling the herd. He reached for a set of heavy keys hanging from his belt and used one to unlock the jail cell. He firmly grasped a bar and slid open the cell in one motion while keeping his eyes on the stray cat in her cage.

“Come, dearheart. Let’s go for a ride.”

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #fanfic #albert wesker #claire redfield #clesker #wesker #resident evil wesker #re wesker

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swampstew · 5 months

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KIᒪᒪEᖇᑕOOK - ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 9

Welcome to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and browse our phones, and eat some Girl Scout cookies as we begin tonight’s story. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI

*Phone app notification goes bing bong*

TikTok – KillerCook has uploaded a new video. Check out their page and make sure you turn on notification so you don’t miss any content!

Title: Countless Cupcakes Description: It’s Heat’s birthday! Enjoy this compilation video of us smashing cupcakes in his face. 4 minute, 30 second video. The thumbnail is Heat’s face, covered with a healthy amount of colorful frosting, someone made a smiley face over where his lips would be, his eyes are blazing red.

*Press Play*

“Hello everyone! KillerCook here with some exciting news – one of my best buddies, FlamingHot420, is celebrating his {redacted} years on this planet. So how else can we show him we love him? By smashing cupcakes in his face when he least expects it. Everyone on the crew made a different flavor, some might be boozy, some might have a surprise inside, and some might be edibles. Let’s see how fucked up we can get him! Make sure you wish him a happy birthday in the comments – and only happy birthday – OR ELSE!” Killer’s finger wagged at the camera before he picked up a cupcake. It was wrapped in a metallic blue foil, topped with blue frosting and vertical white chocolate stripes.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY FUCKER!!” the blonde suddenly screamed as he threw his cupcake across the room. The camera panned to follow the baked confection’s trajectory. Flying through the air until it splattered hilariously into the tall, blue haired cutie. His suit and tie t-shirt was immediately covered as frosting dripped from Heat’s face.

With closed eyes, Heat poked his tongue out and licked the ruined treat hanging off his lip. “Hmmm, blueberry with toasted coconut? Damn that’s RICH. What’s the aftertaste I’m getting, white chocolate?”

“You’re not wrong,” Killer mused, pulling a long spoon from the hole in his helmet, licking up frosting from the bowl. “The white chocolate was to mask the weed taste. I forgot how many grams I put in it.”

“Jesus Christ Killer.”

“I’m lying,” Killer whispered to the camera when it panned back to his face. “I know exactly how much I put in it.”

Kid burst into the background wearing several pointed party hats on his head that resembled a spiky bike helmet, bulky stereo perched on his shoulder that was on but not playing anything.

“KID PIRATES – ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!”

Before Heat could move, more of the crew began filtering into the kitchen space, each one holding a different cupcake in hand, all wearing party hats and mischievous smirks on their faces.

“Ah shit,” Heat’s shoulders slumped, “You’re really gonna make me run on my birthday?”

“Only if you don’t want to get {redacted} {redacted} to {redacted} and {redacted} gang-bang style,” Kid roared with laughter as his own comment.

“KID YOU CAN’T SAY THAT ON CAMERA!” Killer whipped a spatula full of blue frosting at the Captain.

The redhead dodged the creamy frosting and pressed play on the stereo, blaring a popular birthday rap song that made the speakers boom.

“ATTACK!” The redhead grabbed the second cupcake Wire held in his hand, smushing it into Heat’s gaping jaw. The piped red frosting smeared over Heat’s lips, the cake itself crumbling and squeezing through Kid’s hand as he crushed it for maximum mess.

Heat jumped back for space, pushing aside Killer and Jaguar as he raced for the door to the yard, half choking and half going mmmmmmm at the flavor.

“Was that real Fireball whiskey?!” Heat hoarsely cried out as he stumbled through the threshold.

“YOU BETCH’Y’RE ASS IT IS!”

“You guys are gonna kill me!”

With the same rap song laid over the rest of video, the remaining minutes were a compilation of short clips of each member of the crew smashing their cupcake wherever they could reach on the tattooed bluette. Heat would eat whatever remains he could gobble up and call out the flavors as the camera chased behind him, the rest of the crew coming in and out view as they creatively tried to dive bomb and trip the birthday boy so they could throw cake in his face.

“Chocolate Peppermint!”

“Matcha and Cinnamon!”

“Purple��velvet? You can make red velvet purple? Is there a blue velvet?!”

“Death by Chocolate!”

“Pistachio Rosebud? Didn’t expect that from you Pomp.”

“Pink Lemonade? Do I look like a bitch?”

“Margarita alright that’s more like it!”

“ICE CREAM IN THE MIDDLE! HOLY FUCK!”

“Plain vanilla? Really? Are you basic?”

“Caramel Latte? I feel fancy.”

“NO THE PRESENTATION EVEN LOOKS LIKE A MOSCOW MULE DON’T—”

“Carrot cake!”

“Boston Crème! That is decadent!”

“Bro I love Cinnamon Toast Crunch!!”

“Mimosa? Is it bottomless? No really is there more?”

��CANNOLI?! Mama Mia…”

“You know I’m a sucker for Kahlua, Wire. Easy win you bastard.”

“Cheesecake center? Well damn!”

“DON’T YOU DARE THROW THAT PICKLE LOOKING CONCOCTION AT ME GIG I’LL FUCKING KILL—” *spews it out. *

“It looks like the Grinch. Is it the Grinch? Is that would the Grinch would taste like? He tastes like weed…ooohhhh.”

“Rumchata? Look at you, fancy as fuck, House.”

“Bro the cookie dough presentation, cookie dough frosting, and cookie dough cake flavor is fucking me up. Was that all cooked – none of it was raw right????”

“Is that real marshmallow fluff? Oh it’s s’mores I love that!”

“Is that supposed to be brains? Jesus Christ I don’t wan— oh! It’s raspberry!”

“CHURRO! BITCH I LOVE CHURROS!”

“…That crème brulee frosting looks sus…”

“Pumpkin Spice, hell yeah.”

“Lemon custard!”

“Caramelized Pear? Oh shit that’s divine!”

“Aw it’s my face!” – SPLAT – “Mmm, yes I do feel like if I was a cupcake flavor, I would be Guiness Chocolate. Exquisite.”

The video ends with a repeat of the chorus fading and a still frame of the Kid Pirates laying down on the floor looking drunk and covered in frosting and cake. Heat is in the center, completely passed out. As the video fades to black, KillerCook’s logo floats to the center before the video ends.

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faulty-writes · 17 hours

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Alright, hello my lovely fans and or followers, here we go. I present to you, Chapter II of this request by the lovely @viburnt, so y'all can thank them for this series. I hope you enjoy it. As a friendly reminder, this story ends in heartbreak. However, I hope you all will still find it a pleasant story.

“Hey, don’t follow me, damn it!” Katsuki growled. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not following you. I just want to get as far away from Shinso as possible,” you replied, ignoring how your footsteps echoed against the metal flooring as you ventured deeper into the metal pipe structure of the training ground.

Shoto frowned, having overheard you. While he didn’t comprehend how deep your feelings toward Hitoshi were, he could sense your hesitance whenever you were in his presence. This made him wonder if he should play defense or at least try to keep Hitoshi away from you during this exercise.

Then again, if something needed to be resolved between you two, his interference wouldn’t help. “Huh? Where are you going!?” you shouted when you noticed him breaking from the formation. “It’s better if I separate myself from the group because of my quirk!” He replied.

“Wait, a minute!” You tried calling out to him, but he already made up his mind and you watched him disappear out of sight. Sighing, you concluded that you didn’t have any choice. If Hitoshi wanted to face you, then so be it.

Katsuki could handle his own, so with that in mind, you rounded the corner and pressed your back against a large metal pillar that extended to the sky. Your head turned upward, and your eyes focused on the metal structure that made up the ceiling.

Pipes of all different sizes and shapes interlocked with each other, only allowing for a faint amount of sunshine to pour through. ‘If I don’t get to the surface, I’m a sitting duck.’ Although you knew some decent combat skills, your quirk wasn’t practical for close-range attacks.

This meant your only solution was to go up, but climbing the sleek metal poles around you wasn’t practical during a training session. ‘Hm...so could I make this work more to my advantage?’ Your contemplation was shattered when a loud metallic bang echoed.

It was like someone had thrown a rock at one of the poles. Your body tensed up, and you immediately turned your head in the direction the noise came from. You slanted your eyebrows, stepping away from the pillar and into the open.

Silence fell over the area, and while your body remained tense, your fingers flexed slightly. You needed to be ready to use your quirk at any moment. You continued looking into the darkness, and your eyebrows raised when you heard footsteps.

They started off slow and quickly picked up the pace. You clenched your jaw, ready to pounce on whoever appeared from the shadows. However, nobody did. Rather you only saw two pairs of feet, no legs or a body attached. Your eyes widened, there was only one person who could do that.

An eerie laugh pierced through the air, and she couldn’t help but feel pride in knowing how easily you fell for her trap. Class B was going to win this for sure. A gasp came when you sensed someone behind you and swirled on your feet only to see no one.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately snapped your head upward to see Setsuna’s smirking face appear from the shadows of the ceiling. You tensed up, clenching your jaw and debating how to counter her.

“Looks like you’re a little stuck, let me help you!” She snapped, extending her arms and promptly letting them detach from her body. You underestimated the speed at which those arms were going but knew that your only logical move was to dodge them.

Your foot scraped against the ground, and you lifted your opposite leg, ready to initiate your plan when a blinding flash of light came followed by a loud explosion that made your ears ring. You could feel the heat from the blast and stumbled back.

“Ah, what the hell?” You muttered, shielding your eyes and unaware that an orange, green, and black hero suit was seen leaping through the air. Of course, even if you had seen him, you should have known that Katsuki would interfere. He was a very vigilant student with a keen sense to boot.

“Just what the hell is going on? Trying a lame tactic like that, you damn extra!” he shouted at Setsuna before landing on the ground in front of you. He wasted no time in glaring at you, but that hatred brewing in his eyes was something you were used to.

“What the hell did you think you were doing dumbass!?” He demanded, stomping his foot against the ground. You frowned, curling your hands at your sides. You wanted to scream back at him but decided against it. “Whatever,” you huffed and ran past him instead.

“Take care of Setsuna!” You shouted, making him growl. “Eh!? What do you mean take care of-” he paused when something grabbed his ankle and looked down to see one of Setsuna’s hands. He looked in your direction again, watching you get further away.

‘Just what the hell are you trying to run from?’ That wasn’t like you, so what was different about this training exercise? He knit his eyebrows and held his hand out toward his leg. As another explosion came, images of Hitoshi’s face came to his mind.

If you were running away from him, he didn’t know what was wrong with you, but he’d find out. “Now that wasn’t very nice, Bakugou,” Setsuna said, materializing in front of him. Her body parts merged back together with ease before she placed her hand on her hip which looked blackened and was seeping smoke.

But she seemed otherwise, unbothered by this. He huffed, “I don’t give a damn, dumbass!” he snapped. “Hero training isn’t about being nice, it’s about tasting victory!” he raised his arm, facing his palm toward her which began to seep smoke as he anticipated to release another explosion.

“Now, where the hell is Shinso?” He demanded, glaring at Setsuna who knitted her eyebrows in response. “Why would I tell you that?” There was no way she’d give away her teammate’s position, even if Hitoshi wasn’t officially a hero student yet, he was still part of her team.

She’d be damned if she ratted out one of her team members. Katsuki smirked in response. “Fine,” he said, allowing his explosions to propel him off the ground and leave behind dark soot marks. “We’ll do this the hard way!” Although that was his favorite way.

But this didn’t change the anger burning in his eyes when he noticed Setsuna smirk as well. “Great!” She replied, parts of her body flying off although she knew that Katsuki wasn’t to be underestimated, she wasn’t willing to lose today’s challenge. Hitoshi crouched down, feeling the sun beating on his back as he looked down below.

Neito was currently engaged with Shoto, although he didn’t find it a fair battle considering Shoto’s quirk advantage. Yet it seemed Neito was foolish or brave enough to keep facing him. Shoto grimaced, taking a step back.

“Oh, is a member of Class A acting cowardice?” Neito questioned, approaching the other boy who stared at him fiercely. Yes, he was aware that Shoto was considered one of the more powerful hero students, given his quirk abilities.

But that was also his downfall, and although he was more than certain that Shoto wouldn’t be afraid to use his quirk no matter how close or far away his opponent was. He had also noticed the other had gained more awareness of his quirk and had refused to use it in certain circumstances, and perhaps this could be one of them.

He smirked, and continued to approach Shoto whose shoulders were tense, and knees bent. “Why don’t you make this easier for Class B and surrender now?” He said, raising his hand with anticipation to use whatever quirk he copied.

Instead, a scream came when he found himself pushed by an invisible force. A loud bang came when he hit the metal pole opposite Shoto who knit his eyebrows together, startled and concerned about the sudden events.

However, all explanations were obvious when he heard you shout “Todoroki!” and saw you frantically running toward him. Hitoshi’s eyes lit up when he saw you running and his heart fluttered. “Y/n?” He questioned, stepping forward and trying to get a better look at you.

“What’s wrong?” Shoto asked, only to see you shaking your head in response. Your heavy breathing fills the air before you sharply inhale. “Give me a boost up Todoroki!” You shouted, making his eyebrows raise. Just what were you trying to accomplish?

He looked at Neito who was struggling to get up and grunting softly as aches soared throughout his body. He looked back at you, hesitating for a few seconds before crouching and placing his hand against the floor. You could see a thin layer of ice forming along the metal tiles and followed it.

Once he saw you step onto it, he gave you a fair warning of “Hold on!” before that thin trail of ice turned into a tower underneath your feet. You could hear it scrape around the metal piping and some pieces chipped off, but luckily you kept your balance thanks to your quirk.

Once you felt the warm rays of the sun, you jumped, and a loud thud came when your shoes impacted the metal pipes that made up the ceiling. The smile on your face and the small feeling of victory only lasted a few seconds before you heard your name.

Your eyes widened, and a frown enveloped your face when you turned to see Hitoshi. His hero costume was nothing more than a long-sleeved version of the standard Yuuei gym uniform. However, what was odd was the strange mask-like device he was wearing over his mouth.

But you assumed it had something to do with his quirk. The second thing you noticed was the capture weapon he had wrapped around his neck; it resembled the same one worn by Mr. Aizawa. He looked at you, eyes wide with wonder before he took a step forward.

The corner of your lip curled up as you took a step back. Of course, you’d run into him, even after trying to avoid him. He noticed your hesitance and narrowed his eyes. ��Why are they backing away?’ He grimaced and took another step, reaching for his capture scarf.

Your eyes widened, and like most good heroes, you activated your quirk without thinking. Holding your arms out in front of you, the capture scarf appeared to bounce off thin air, but there was a clear impact. You hadn’t expected to feel your feet slide along the slick surface of the metal poles you were standing on.

‘Damn,’ you grit your teeth and strengthen your stance. You couldn’t just be a sitting, well standing, target. Hitoshi looked surprised; his eyes filled with curiosity before that same smirk reappeared on his face. ‘Of course, they’re blocking me,’ he thought.

‘They didn’t hesitate to activate their quirk,’ He could feel his heart begin to race, and once again he was reminded how badly he wanted you. He needed to show you that he could be a hero too, someone you could look at and idolize for the rest of your life.

When his scarf was pulled back, you took the opportunity to run but you kept one arm up, using it to continuously surround yourself with that invisible wall of energy. As predicted, he chased after you, and despite your streak of courageous actions, a small hint of fear was evident.

His movements were erratic and the way he continuously thrusted the scarf toward you only to have it snap back in retaliation was something that you found odd. But you couldn’t allow that to preoccupy your thoughts, rather your only option was to continue running and jump back down below.

Yeah, your quirk wasn’t so versatile in tight spaces, but neither was Hitoshi’s scarf. You clenched your jaw after the said scarf, yet again, deflected off your energy shield and quickly moved your hands, allowing the invisible force you controlled to throw Hitoshi off his balance. Taking this moment, you jumped into the darkness below.

You grunted when you hit the floor, your legs taking most of the impact before you looked back up. Faint rays of sun gently grazed across your face, knowing you went through all that effort to reach the ceiling only to use avoidance tactics was disappointing.

Although you knew at any moment that Hitoshi would come after you, and the game of cat and mouse would continue. ‘Right, gotta keep moving,’ you briefly looked around, wondering where Shoto and Neito were but quickly shook your head and took off running.

‘Maybe if I corner him, I’ll have the advantage of using my combat skills,’ you just needed to make sure you kept your mouth shut, lest you fall under the influence of his quirk. As expected, you heard a loud thud a short distance behind you.

Your stomach twisted, causing a feeling of unease and panic, unlike anything you had experienced during your time as a hero student. However, you were distracted when you heard nearby explosions and the faint heat of it tickled your skin.

‘Bakugou?’ For a moment you were tempted to run toward those explosions, but upon second thought that wasn’t ideal. So, you continued running, weaving between the pipes with the sound of Hitoshi’s frantic footsteps following suit.

‘This must be what it feels like to get chased by a villain,’ you thought before feeling something graze your cheek, leaving behind a slight sting. Your eyes widened when it hit the nearest pipe. ‘Damn it!’ You were beginning to hate that stupid capture scarf.

Maybe you should focus your efforts on removing that danger first, but instead, you pushed yourself to run faster. Your feet pounded against the ground as more explosions sounded and the temperature in the air grew hotter.

You suspected Setsuna was still around since you had left Katsuki to face her. ‘Huh, what the?!’ Your feet scraped along the ground as you came to a harsh stop when you found yourself facing a large metal wall. You turned your head, looking to the left and the right.

‘Damn...which way do I go?!’ Now wasn’t the time to panic, but had you really reached one end of the training ground? How was that even possible, this place was huge! Regardless, you needed to choose a direction.

You briefly looked over your shoulder, seeing Hitoshi closing the distance. His eyebrows lowered and an angry look shined in his eye. His mask still covered his face, and his hair moved like wildfire. His hands were jutting toward his capture scarf again and your heart skipped a beat.

‘Screw it, left it is!’ You attempted to run down the selected path only to feel something pull you back. You clenched your jaw, trying to move your arm that was currently restrained by the capture scarf and a very smug-looking Hitoshi.

He had one leg bent forward and the other placed behind him. His hands were wrapped around the end of the capture scarf and trembling slightly. He was still learning the precise techniques that the capture scarf called for, and although he had been training under Shota, he still had a little trouble.

But he wasn’t about to let you get away and so he pulled, but you dug your feet into the ground using your quirk to prevent yourself from going any further. You growled, anger boiling in your stomach as you glared at him.

Another explosion came, causing smoke to fill the area and you hissed as the heat began to toast your skin. ‘Shit...’ you clenched your jaw, lifting your opposite arm to project your energy to the side of you, shielding yourself from said heat.

Unfortunately, this meant you were now exposed as you couldn’t project your energy in two places simultaneously. Perhaps with more training, but for now, it wasn’t possible, and Hitoshi took advantage of this by pulling you forward again.

“Tsk…” you shifted your weight to your feet. Although your shoes squeaked when the rubber soles scraped against the floor which shook seconds later when another explosion came and knocked you off your balance.

The smoke was beginning to billow around the two of you and your eyes began to water and your lungs burned. ‘Damn it, I can’t-’ Tears began to slide down your cheeks, and you coughed furiously. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried stiffening your body.

‘No, wait...I can’t just give up!’ You slowly opened your eyes and although your vision was blurry and your arm was beginning to feel numb because of the way the capture scarf restricted it, you made the choice to move your opposite hand, so it was facing Hitoshi.

The harsh and intense heat of the lingering explosions began to tear away the fabric of your hero suit, leaving the skin underneath to get burned. But it was a worthy sacrifice if it meant you could use your quirk against Hitoshi and break free of his grasp.

However, you were distracted when you heard someone scream. “That’s it!” Looking up you saw a blurry dark figure through the gray smoke, “I’ve got you, Y/n!” You knit your eyebrows and wipe your watery eyes enough to see Setsuna.

Her eyebrows were slit, and determination shined in her eyes. Her body was covered in scrapes and scratches, and the corner of her mouth dripped with a thin line of blood. You continued to cough, that burning feeling only growing stronger with each passing second and you felt your legs give out.

You grunted when your knees impacted the ground and balanced yourself with your hand which pressed against the cool metal. Your nails furiously pressed into it, although it was unlikely to cause any damage. Your stomach was churning, you never thought you could be angry during a training session.

‘Damn it…’ you thought, ‘Did they plan this?’ Between the smoke, Hitoshi, and Setsuna, you were the one cornered. “Hm?” Hitoshi looked at Setsuna as she descended and quickly pulled his capture scarf back. It recoiled and wrapped itself around his neck.

She grinned, landing on her feet as easily as a young kitten would. You knew she must be taking pride in witnessing your current condition. More than likely, that pride stemmed from the fact that Class B had a chance of winning this round.

She slowly walked over, like an animal approaching its prey. You grit your teeth, although she was smart enough to stay a foot or so away. Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, observing the interaction carefully. He reached for his capture scarf again, holding it loosely but firmly between his fingers.

Yes, he was aware of what kind of match this was, but he would not allow anyone to touch or harm you. Plus, it didn’t matter which team won considering the next round he’d be placed on a team with Class A. That grin remained as she lifted her arms.

You knew you couldn’t move now, and you were exactly what you didn’t want to be. A sitting duck. Even with the smoke beginning to clear, your head felt fuzzy, and your eyes were too irritated to judge your surroundings well enough to move.

A wince came when her arms detached from her body and hurtled toward you. As sad as it was to admit, your initial reaction was to shut your eyes and wait for the impact. “Dumbass!” Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice, and Hitoshi froze momentarily before glancing over his shoulder.

His body stiffened when he saw Katsuki flying toward him, the propulsion from his quirk aiding his speed. It didn’t take a genius to realize where he was heading and the only thing on Hitoshi’s mind at that moment was protecting you.

Katsuki, from what he could gather from past interactions, was unhinged. He didn’t care about hurting others if he achieved his goal and Hitoshi couldn’t stand for that. He needed to protect you, if he saved you then you’d look at him the way he looked at you.

Unfortunately, Katsuki wasn’t as easy to fool as other people, and as soon as he released his capture scarf, the angry blond growled. “Your shitty tactics aren’t a match for me, dumbass!” he snapped, before using his quirk again to angle his body so the capture scarf just barely missed him.

As he passed Hitoshi, he ensured his body was facing him and held his hand up. Hitoshi mistakenly pressed his feet into the ground, prepared to engage in combat with Katsuki. But the heat of the explosion grazed the front of his body, melting away sections of his hero attire.

The force of the blast made him stumble back, and his skin continued to recoil in response to the heated temperature it was exposed to. The ground beneath his feet vanished when his legs gave out, and his body tensed up when he impacted the hard metal surface causing him to grunt.

Seconds later, Katsuki landed on his feet only to take off again. He could see how Setsuna’s hands grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to bend so your back touched the ground. He clenched his jaw and the familiar heat coursed through the palm of his hands, enveloping each finger.

Hitoshi grunted, feeling the cool surface of the metal floor against his slightly smoking, and now burned chest and stomach. However, being the determined individual he was, he pressed his hands against the floor and forced himself to turn so he was lying on his back.

His tender skin continued to burn, and pulse with waves of pain that begged him to stop moving, but he couldn’t. Not knowing that you were in danger. From there, he slowly lifted his knees, attempting to stand up. His breath was stolen from him when he focused his attention forward, seeing Katsuki in front of you and Setsuna.

“No…” he hissed out, “I can’t let him hurt Y/n!” Of course, that would be a problem as he knew he didn’t have enough time to save you. His throat tightened, and his trembling hand grasped his capture weapon.

Yes, it was a risky move, but he had only one option. You weren’t sure what was happening anymore, but you could feel the weight of Setsuna’s hands digging into your shoulders and the cold metal temperature of the floor against your back.

The sound of Katsuki’s yelling mixed into the air didn’t help the panic growing steadily by the second. Your eyes widened when you saw the angry blond above you, soaring through the air. His hands outstretched ready to unleash his quirk.

The temperature around him was beginning to skyrocket and the only conclusion you could come to was that he planned to use his quirk, even knowing you were in the line of fire with Setsuna. A small part of you wished that Shoto was here, at least his ice wall would challenge Katsuki’s quirk.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t possible now, and even when you felt the weight of Setsuna’s hands leave your shoulders, you remained on the floor. Your body felt heavy, frozen like you couldn’t move. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the harsh and brutal impact of Katsuki’s quirk.

Instead, you felt something wrap around your leg and screamed when you were forcibly yanked off the ground. “What the!?” Setsuna snapped before glaring at Hitoshi who was too concentrated on pulling you toward him.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” She screamed as Katsuki released an explosion, but this didn’t stop her from once again sending her hands hurtling toward you. The soft tearing of the fabric of your hero suit echoed through the air.

You grunted at the force of being pulled back by her hands which had yet again clasped onto your shoulders causing your body to jolt back. Hitoshi dug his feet into the ground to steady himself in response but knew it was no use. His mind went blank, and his body reacted before he could register what was happening.

“Huh?” Setsuna’s expression dropped when she saw Hitoshi running toward you and into the line of fire that was Katsuki’s explosion. “Shinso, stop!” She shouted, but her words were ignored. All Hitoshi could see was you, and despite the heat against his already damaged skin, he kicked off the ground.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and his hand fisted into your hair, forcing your head into his chest. He clenched his jaw, and a piercing scream of pain echoed before the two of you fell to the ground and everything went black.

CHAPTER III COMING SOON

Previous Chapter <- | All Chapters | -> Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

#hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi x y/n #shinso x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x male reader #faulty writes: hitoshi shinso: 24 #faulty writes: hitoshi shinso: broken heart series: 24

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themarginalthinker · 6 months

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Saint 'Dimitri'

(also known as DMT. Paul and Michael get high, and go down a list of all the things they can put in their bodies because vampire bodies are only addicted to one thing in the long run. tw: Discussions of drug use, references to drugs. I wrote this very quickly bc the idea bit me.)

"Weed?"

"Obviously."

"Yeah." Michael flicks a finger towards the bong Paul was filling. "Obviously. Uh...coke?"

Paul raises a brow. "Jumping pretty far, there."

"So sue me, my mom was an ex-Hippy and I'm a good suburban boy. I don't know a lot of drugs. Have you done it?"

"Yup. Got some left too, if you wanna try."

"Eugh. No. You see those people on TV?"

Paul shakes his head. "Worst case scenarios filmed for the ratings, and like, you have to be using for years, dude, before you ever start looking like that. Which, even if you stuff a pound of the shit up there every night for the rest of your life, you won't, because you ain't human."

Michael still hakes his head. "I don't think I'd like the feeling anyway."

Paul grins. "Yeah, you're spooksy enough as it is."

"I'm cautious, which has kept my ass out of the fire more than I can say about the rest of you idiots," Michael shoots back.

"...Technically it wasn't fire, it was buckshot-"

"-and the pair of you still have it embedded in your asses. Next. Uh...morphine?"

"David likes it, but I also think the guy could ask Dwayne to conk him over the head with a metal pipe and it would work just as well."

Michael cocks his head.

"Sleep aid for the supernatural, Mikey."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess he is kinda fitful, huh."

"He's got his reasons- oh for fuck's sake, light!"

Paul snarls lowly and bangs the end of the little zippo on his knee, face screwed up in almost childish frustration. Michael snorts but spares him the continued pain. He reaches into his own pocket and pulls out the one he's been carrying for a while.

Paul takes it gratefully, and doesn't say anything about how Michael doesn't carry any smokes (or doesn't have Marko's knack for setting things on fire randomly), and how it's a much older model, well-cared for and refillable. Made to last from a past era. Not his.

If he had, Michael may have just thrown it at him instead.

But he doesn't say anything, and Paul doesn't either, and the two laps into comfortable silence as the bowl is passed back and forth.

Michael hums, fingers toying with the frayed edges of a hole in the knee of his jeans. "Um...okay, uh. Oxycodone?"

Paul, leaning back against the pillows, blinks owlishly at him, clearly trying to connect some dots. "...I got some random pills from that one car we pulled-"

"No, no, like. Have you ever taken it?" Michael corrects, getting back to the subject they'd been talking about.

"Oh! Uh, nah, gave me hives."

"Well. Okay, I wasn't asking if you liked it, just that you tried it, dude. So that's a yes."

"Like, I think I get it, pain relief," Paul says, leaning even further back, to look up at the hanging tapestries and the garlands of shiny knickknacks and rackam strewn above him. "But it's like. Different. Than this."

He shakes the bowl a little. Michael reaches out a hand to stop him before he spilled something. "Feels...I don't know. Flatter. It's not up here."

Paul motions to his head, and the buzz he no doubt has going. Michael is feeling it too. He makes a small noise of acknowledgement, and leaves it.

"...DMT?"

In an instant, barely as the letters of the acronym had time to leave his mouth, Paul was up. His eyes wide enough even in his relaxed state to see the whites all around them, mouth set in a grimace enough he was almost showing his teeth.

"No. Fuck no, Mike. That shit is- damn, like, I don't wanna have to feel all the shit in reality, but like. I still wanna be in reality, you know?"

Michael shrugs a shoulder, and when the action makes his head feel like it won't stop tilting that way, he follows it and lets himself rest back against the pillow nest they'd made of the bedding.

"It's not that bad," he says, and Paul just shakes his head slowly.

And then stops. A look of consternation passing over his features.

He squints at Michael.

"...Did you-?"

"Well-"

"Oh my God, Mike!"

He's suddenly sitting even further up, crawling forward. (Michael having to take the bong from him and finally set it aside so they didn't dump hot ash on the bed sheets or spill water over everything.) Paul gets into his space, face half a smile, half pure disbelief.

"You said you'd never done anything stronger than shots and dope!"

Michael, to his credit, does imagine he looks at least a little sheepish.

"I just didn't remember it when I said that. It was a while ago. I also don't really remember much of it, just that. Things got weird, some...guy one of the people hosting the party knew brought this stuff in a thermos, but I was also tired as shit, so I think I just thought most of it was dreams."

Paul laughs, "Pretty spacey dreams, dude."

"Yeah, no kidding, it was like. Dreams in dreams...I think I thought the couch cushions were cracks in an endless pit and I was gonna fall in or something...you've never had it though?"

The laughter turns a little darker as Paul pulls back a bit, giving Michael some air. He flops against him though, head sinking down to rest on his belly.

"Not on your life. Big damn predator, out of my gourd on the spirit molecule runnin' around the woods at night? With the sensory stuff that we can feel without drugs? Can you fuckin' imagine..."

Michael supposes he could. Granted, the images in his mind were mostly funny, and in the bond, the boundaries of which were deteriorating with every passing moment, he passed those on to Paul. It got him a chuckle, and the sound played like low timpani in his head.

The conversation lapsed on.

#the lost boys #drabble #drugs #drug reference #believe it or not there are places Paul ain't willing to go #and Michael maaaay not be as much of a good boy as Lucy thought

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mysticboombox · 1 year

Note

okay so i has nother request

so raph has this big bad persona right….but when he meets his s/o through saving them or something he kinds drops it…..without realising

Bad Boy Bad Girl

Pairing: Raphael x Tomboy! Reader

Point of View: Third Person

Warning(s): Swearing, absolute fluff and blushy Raph

Word Count: 1213

Summary: Is it possible for a bad boy to drop his persona?

Author’s Note: Ugh, I’ve been waiting to release this since I received the request over a year ago and I was able to write most of this during the holidays. I decided to make the reader a bit goth, however you have the option to have colored highlights if you wanted to color their hair. Also, (f/b) means favorite band, since not everyone likes heavy metal. I hope I got the big guy's language down as well. Enjoy Raphie lovers!!!

Raph and his brothers ran across the rooftops like any other night. Their patrol had been cut short when neither party had a lot of crime activity, so Leo commanded everyone to return to the lair for the night.

Raph was running along his route back to the lair when someone screamed, “Back the fuck away from me!” This grabbed Raphael’s attention, quickly running in the direction of the scream and he found where the source of the voice was coming from. When he looked down, he gritted his teeth. A robber was quickly approaching a petite female who looked defenseless.

“Hey bub!” Raph leaped from the rooftop, landed behind the robber, and smirked when he witnessed the robber's expression. “Why don’t cha pick on somebody yer own si-“

Raphael was cut short when he heard a bang and watched the robber go down. He looked up to the female, who now brandished a metal pipe, with a “try me” look on her face. Now with Raph up close, he could see the female in better detail.

All he could think was how beautiful the woman looked and how he was fairly impressed with her swing. She wore a (f/b) shirt with black skinny jeans and studded boots. Raph could see the huge lashes and the black lipstick she wore, and saw some (f/c) highlights in their hair. One thing Raph liked was the woman didn’t seem phased by his appearance, which was a bonus on his end. Only she looked pissed and raised the pipe higher above her head.

“So, what are you exactly? And if you try anything weird I’ll whoop your ass!” She glared at him, challenging him to approach her. Raph snorted, mainly for how cute she looked and two, knowing he could easily grab the pipe with little to no effort.

He smirked and tilted his head, “Sweetheart, I hate ta burst ya bubble, but I’m a mutant ninja turtle, have been my whole life, and-” he pointed to the pipe the female was holding, “-that pipe ain’t gonna do shit against me. However,-“ he nods in her direction, “-I’ll admit I’m impressed with dat swing of yours. Where’d ya get it from?”

The female snorted in response before leaning back on the pipe she used a few moments ago. “Softball in high school, best hitter on the team, and I’m responsible for giving my team a few first base moments as well.” She smirked and looked Raphael up and down. She’s dated a few muscular men in the past but DAMN, none of them could top this guy.

As she watched him, Raphael grew a little uncomfortable under her gaze, thinking she thought him disgusting. Just like all the other humans he’s rescued. He plastered a frown on his face, slightly glaring at the woman.

“Look shawty, I can walk you home, but imma need ya to keep my existence a secret got it? Got too many enemies that would love to use anyone that knows about me. Understood?” He watched as the female straightened up and threw the pipe behind her without looking back. She crossed her arms before leaning her weight onto one hip.

“Alright big guy, I’ll keep your existence a secret. On one condition though.” She bent forward, looking up at him, eyes squinted and her mouth quirked in a smirk again. Raphael wasn’t sure what to do with the attitude change, so all he could do was ask, “What?”

She smiled, quickly straightened into a sassy pose and pointed at him, “you gotta tell me how you got that bod because god DAMN, you are smokin’, and I mean it too.”

Poor Raph lost his composure and started sputtering, not quite sure how much of the compliment was genuine. After a few minutes he eventually grumbled, causing the female to giggle a little. She enjoyed seeing how quickly she was able to fluster the red banded ninja. Raphael eventually tied up the robber and informed the police of the situation before he turned to the female, who still hasn’t given him a name.

“Well, I guess before I take ya home, I bettah ask, what’s yer name?” He watched as she smiled, holding her hand out for a handshake. “(Y/N), and what’s yours big guy?” He glanced at her face then her hand for a few moments before chuckling, gently taking her hand in his and shook it, “Raphael, and before ya say anythin’, yes, aftah the Renaissance artist.”

She laughed, causing Raphael’s heart to flutter just a little. He opened his arms, earning him a quizzical look from (Y/N).

“It’s fastah if I carry ya, and I can’t exactly walk in the streets ya know.” (Y/N) nodded before walking up to him, Raphael gently picked her up in a bridal pose. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he said, “Hang on.”

He leapt onto a nearby fire escape and landed on the rooftop, (Y/N) looked at him in mild shock. Raphael chuckled before asking where she lived. She gave him her address and he ran in the direction her apartment was located.

When they arrived at the apartment, Raph gently placed her on her balcony, before moving to unlock the sliding door. It only took a few seconds before (Y/N) saw her sliding doors open, Raphael turned in her direction before he motioned her in.

(Y/N) shook her head and walked inside before she turned around to look at him.

“Can we exchange numbers? For emergency purposes?”

“Ughhh…” Raph looked around, not sure what to do. He’d never been asked for his number. He thought about the request a little longer before he finally gave in.

“For emergency purposes only, got it?” A brow raised in her direction.

(Y/N) nodded before they quickly ran into the kitchen to grab a piece of paper and pencil before scribbling their number onto it. They walked up to Raph, tearing the piece of paper with their number on it and handed it to him.

“Emergency purposes only, just like you said.” She smiled, making Raph feel butterflies. He swallowed before quickly scribbling his number and handing it to her.

“I ugh, I better get goin’.” Raph shuffled on his feet, not looking at her. (Y/N) could tell he wasn’t used to socializing, probably not used to being in strangers' apartments either. She kept the goodbye as short as they could manage.

“Well, thank you for rescuing me back there Red. You take care now ok?”

Raphael looked down at her and nodded before turning to walk to the balcony. Before he could jump up the fire escape, he gave her one last look and a wink before he leaped.

He ran back to the lair, and when he returned home, his brothers swarmed him. Teasing him about his “girlfriend” and how they overheard the entire conversation over the radio. Raph was annoyed with himself for not remembering to turn off the radio. Once everyone settled down and went to bed, Raph washed up before heading to his room for the night. When he laid down and thought about the events that had occurred, he couldn’t help but smile as he fell asleep.

Tags: @turtle-babe83 @raphsgrl @raphaelsrightarm @raphsweapondealer @raphsgrl @raphslovemuffin80 @fluffytriceratops @ladyofparchments @kawaiibunga @waterstar2016 @tmntspidergirl @pheradream15 @jaenisamusculargurl @sketch-and-write-lover @digitl-art-monstr @luna-neko-hamato @scholastic-dragon @turtlesmakemehappy @sewerninno @chicchanmooshy @angelicdavinci @fyreball66 and anyone else that's interested!

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #raphael #raph #big bara #big guy #Red #Raphie #mysticboombox

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sumeru-academy · 2 years

Text

Love tag.

synopsis: shinobu takes you out on a date, but things don’t go quite as planned.

character(s): kuki shinobu

warning(s): mentions of the police, running from the police, itto’s horrible singing, itto.

note(s): female reader, mentions of y/n, modern au.

p.s: happy birthday shinobu! alice and i had a full on brain aneurysm trying to figure out what to call this.

⎯⎯ mod angel 🎐

“Shinobu, I love you, but—“ you anxiously looked behind you as the flashing of police cars grew closer, “Why the hell are we here?!”

It was already late enough into the night when Shinobu called you over for a little midnight rendezvous. Recently she hadn’t been around much as the Arataki gang she ran had been taking up too much of her time, so much so, that when she called you over at almost one in the morning to go on a date, you said yes in a heartbeat. Never mind the fact that you were still half asleep and on your way to get a midnight snack.

However, you hadn’t expected that running from the cops would be your date with the punk-esque woman. And you certainly hadn’t expected for Shinobu to drag you to your date spot in the middle of an abandoned building.

“Well, if I tell you why then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Shinobu chuckled, quickly making a low duck and dragging you with her as you both narrowly avoided a low falling pipe, “Watch your head babe, that’s the place where I kiss the most.”

Heart still pumping from almost banging your head against a pipe, you tried to calm yourself down but failed due to the overwhelming noises of police sirens and running feet. “Shinobu…! Are you sure this is safe?” You winced as you both passed by some police tape, “Are we breaking and entering?!”

Your girlfriend only pulled down her mask and grinned at you in response.

This did not help your blood pressure one bit.

“SHINOBU—!”

“Shhhh they’ll hear you!”

She carefully shoved you off into a small crevice in the building and stood in front of you, covering your mouth with her hand and making sure not a peep was uttered from your lips.

“Not a word until they pass,” Shinobu whispered, waiting a few moments for the sirens to cease before taking her hand off you slowly. “There…”

Shoulders now slouching in relaxation, you sighed and bonked your girlfriend on the head, making her wince and recoil back into the opposite wall. “Ow—!”

“Not a word you said,” you scoffed, grabbing your girlfriend’s cheeks and pulling her closer, “Now do you care to explain to me why we had to hide from the cops?! It’s almost 2am Shinobu! And my heart feels like it’s about to burst!”

She winced at your stressful tone and saw the frenzied panic in your eyes. This was not how she wanted this date to go, and she felt extremely bad for doing so as she wanted this date to be a surprise.

“…I’m sorry Y/N,” Shinobu pulled you closer for a hug and rested her head into the crook of your shoulder, “This date was supposed to be a relaxing and decompressing evening, I hadn’t meant for you to get so spooked…”

You sarcastically rolled your eyes and hugged back. “Yeah, because running from the cops is totally how I’d like to spend my evening. Mhm.”

Your girlfriend chuckled at your sarcasm and pulled you back, brushing a stray misshapen lock from your hair and planting a small kiss on your forehead for reassurance, “I promise that that wasn’t my intention, I’d never make my girl run a mile as a date,” her eyes suddenly darted to your legs and a smirk formed its way upon her face, “Although, I was impressed with how fast you could keep up. My girl’s got pretty tall stamina to be able to match my pace. And pretty legs too.”

She teasingly smacked the side of your calves and you made a move to almost kick her. The cheeky smile paired with an even cheekier laugh as she quickly moved out of the way and dragged you with her.

“You can kick me later, right now we need to get to the rooftop before it starts!”

“It? Rooftop?” You let out a squeal when Shinobu suddenly hurried you over to a small metal staircase leading up to the top. “Just trust me babe, when have I ever steered you wrong?”

“The time we broke into a graveyard and ripped my shorts hopping over the fence, the time we got locked in a shopping mall and had to hide in the fountain, the time we fell into—”

“Okay okay enough! But I’ve always bailed you out on all those occasions, right?” Shinobu shot you a coy smile as you swiftly climbed over the last set of stairs, “You know I’ll always get us out. I even studied law!”

“Which makes all these situations even more ironic,” you giggled, finally reaching the rooftop door and using your legs to swiftly kick the door down with strength alone. “Now, why are we up here?”

Meanwhile, Shinobu practically ignored your question as she only stared at the fallen door in awe. Mentally screaming to herself like the schoolgirl spirit she never lost and repeating over and over in her head ‘I’m so glad I’m dating such a woman…I’m so glad I’m dating such a woman…’

“Well…?” You put your hands on your hips as you cut her off from her little daydream. “Is this the part where fireworks shoot out or something?” You joked.

“Hm? Oh, right!” Shinobu quickly grabbed your waist and dragged you towards the center of the rooftop. “Wait here, you are going to love this!”

You smiled at how absolutely goofy your girlfriend looked while excitedly running around the roof in search of what she was looking for. Her punk looking aesthetic not matching the giddiness in her voice as she ran around the roof in a lovestruck manner. ‘What a dork…’ you sighed as imaginary hearts floated all around you, ‘Thinking she’s so cool but being so cute…’

“Found it!” Shinobu called out as she walked towards you holding two chords. “Prepare to be amazed!”

Building up anticipation, Shinobu proceeded to jam the plug into the socket and made…

Absolutely nothing.

Seconds later of reaction time, Shinobu grinned weakly and flashed you a nervous smile. “Just uh, just give me a second.”

She unplugged it and plugged it in again.

Nothing.

“Shino—”

“I got it!”

Third time’s a try, right?

Nope.

“Shinobu, baby, I think—”

“Y/N I got it—”

A few grunts of displeasure followed by the constant clicking and unclicking of the cords only made Shinobu madder. Sweat now beading down her face as she tried her best to make the stupid thing work.

“Just give me oneee second Y/N I think I got it this time—”

“Shinobu, is this the one you were looking for?”

Your girlfriend looked up to see you holding up another cord almost identical to the one she held in her hand. “Uh…yes?” she bashfully took the cord from your hands and kissed your wrist in acknowledgment. “Thank you Y/N.”

“That’s what girlfriends are for,” you chuckled, saving this memory of clueless Shinobu in your archives. This was one of the few times Shinobu would show this dorky side of her, and you intended to keep it in your mind forever.

Oh how you loved her so.

“Alright, here’s the actual big finish! Prepare to be amazed, Y/N!” Clutching the two cords in anticipation, you watched as she snapped the two of them together as sparks flew out from the outlet itself. A flicker of light causing you to look up at the sky, as lights strung up around the rooftop lit up in bulbs of one by one.

“Sh-Shinobu..!” You gasped with surprise, taken aback with how absolutely beautiful the gritty rooftop looked, “This is—!”

“I’m not finished yet,” Shinobu grabbed your hands and slowly turned you around to face a silhouetted billboard on the building across from yours. “A few lights aren’t possibly enough to satisfy my girl, so…”

As more and more lights slowly illuminated its way towards the other building, you watched as the billboard in front of you suddenly flashed with colors of life. Dozens and dozens of strung up lights surrounding a beautiful mural of art that had been spray painted in a style only you could recognize so well.

“Shinobu…” you felt your eyes water as you stared at the mural in front of you. “The art…it’s…”

“It’s you.” Shinobu smiled as she kissed the tops of your hands in affection. “Do you like it? I spent all of last night perfecting it for you.”

“Like it? Of course I do…!” You gave her an ‘are you serious?’ look and hugged her, “Gods Shinobu, it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me! The details, the colors…” you spared a glance at the artwork beside you and felt your heart throb at all the attention to detail she’s put in your face. You had no idea she was this observant…

“It’s beautiful…thank you.”

You kissed her cheek out of affection and continued to fangirl over the beautiful mural. Shinobu carefully slipping out of your grasp and tapping your cheek. “Hey, that’s not all…!” She teased coyly, only further making your jaw drop as you thought that this date was already skyrocketing to success. “There’s more for you.”

“I— excuse me?!” You watched as Shinobu went over to a covered table and pulled out a gift basket of sweets, a sweet pink bow tied to the handle as your girlfriend sheepishly gave it to you. “I…I know you’ve always wanted to try this bakery but couldn’t due to how far it was…so I drove there myself today and tried my best to get what you liked.” She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, “Is this good…?”

“Sh-Shinobu!” You could barely contain your love for this woman in words, “Good? GOOD?!” You grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and pulled her down towards you to glare. “I swear, you’re going to be the end of me one day Kuki Shinobu…”

“Hah…is that a bad thing?” Her eyes darted down to your lips as you slowly leaned forward with intent.

“No…” you breathed out airily.

Lips just barely brushing one another, you were about to kiss your girlfriend when an obnoxious, almighty loud shout interrupted you two and startled Shinobu to the heavens.

‘Oh…’

‘Oh no…’

“Well if it isn’t my favorite girlboss gangster!” Came a voice that sent shivers down your girlfriend’s spine. “I see the date is going well!”

You both broke off your close embrace and turned to see not only Itto, but the whole Arataki gang present as well. A small yet obnoxiously loud cluster that would definitely send noise complaints all throughout the city.

“B-BOSS?!” Shinobu gasped out of her stunned silence.

“In the flesh!” He grinned wickedly, “Hi Y/N, how’s the date goin’? Shinobu treatin’ you right?”

You awkwardly waved at your girlfriend’s gang leader and giggled. “Hi Itto, yes, the date has been going fine…” you wished you still got to kiss Shinobu though… “And yes, Shinobu has been nothing but kind to me, she’s just the absolute best girlfriend a girl could ask for…”

You sent her a soft smile and Shinobu swears that she could hear lyres coming from angels.

“Really? Whew, that’s a relief,” Itto made a sweat wipe motion with his hands, “Cuz Shinobu earlier was absolutely freaking the hell out over this date. Seriously, you should’ve seen her.”

“Huh?”

“BOSS—!”

“Oh yeah, she was sweatin’ bullets, absolute missiles actually if I do say so myself. Gods, she was such a mess, that she started pacing a hole into our living room floor. Seriously, you’ve got this girl absolutely whipped for you Y/N, congrats! I’ve never seen Shinobu lose her shit like this in all my time having her in the gang.”

Aaand that was it. Shinobu’s pride absolutely destroyed in one single paragraph. Crushed. Absolutely demolished. Blown away to smithereens.

It didn’t help that you were amused by this revelation as well.

“Awww really Shinobu?” You teased, watching as the tips of your girlfriend’s ears went bright red. “That’s so cute of you! I knew that suave cool side of you was just a facade!”

“U-Uhmm, why are you here again boss?” You watched as your girlfriend furiously tried to change the subject. “I did inform you that our date will be taking place here. Alone. With just the two of us…”

Emphasizing on the alone part of the sentence, Shinobu could only watch in disbelief as her boss barked out a laugh and held his abdomen in amusement. “Hahaha, of course! I could never forget such an important detail,” he wiped a tear from his eye, “I came here to quickly apologize to Y/N for stealing you away all this time and busying you with all the gang’s duties. The goons and I feel really, really bad about it, so we decided to make it up to our dearest Shinobu and Y/N.”

“That’s okay boss there really is no need—”

“Quiet Shinobu! The concert’s starting.”

“C-Concert?!”

You gripped Shinobu’s arm in reassurance and flashed her a calming smile. “Don’t worry, if things start going south we could always ditch them before they even notice!”

Your girlfriend could only scoff in amusement. “I’ve been a bad influence on you,” she rasps as she ruffles your hair. “At least you take responsibility for it,” you grinned.

“AHEMHEMHEM testing testing!” The loud throat clear of Itto’s voice started you out of your stupor and forced the two of you to look forward at the Arataki gang. Now positioned with microphones and instruments they pulled from god knows where, and looking absolutely ridiculous as they mimicked the starting moves of some 80s rock band on a poster.

“Oh my gods…” Shinobu soured, an unnerving feeling of despair crawling up her back as she anticipated for the worst. “I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

“This performance is dedicated to our bestest, most beautiful-est member Kuki Shinobu, and her girlfriend! They’ve been together for almost two years and we’ve decided to honor that love by compiling an album of their relationship from start to finish.”

‘Oh no…’

“This song is called ‘The day I fell so hard for you I literally tripped into wet cement because I wasn’t looking where I was going’ as told from the perspective of Shinobu!”

‘OH NO…’

With a ridiculously loud strum of an electric guitar, Shinobu could only wince in absolute dismay as her fellow gang members started pouring their hearts out into song about the start of your relationship. A sweet yet absolutely embarrassing gift for Shinobu’s part as you had no idea any of these things actually happened.

“You fell into wet cement?” You laughed over the loud music.

“You were really pretty, okay?!” Shinobu winced out of embarrassment, just praying for the song to end so that Itto and the gang could leave you two in peace.

Unfortunately that was…not an option.

The song seemed to last for ages —at least for Shinobu’s sake— and it took forever for the ending to conclude with a finish. Which, in standard Arataki gang fashion, ended with an explosive finish as one of the goons literally kicked over a chair to demonstrate the “rock and roll” aspect of the performance.

“WOOOOO!” Itto cheered, landing on his knees with a sliding finish. “Did ya like it? Y/N, what’re your thoughts? Wasn’t it super cool how I belted that high note in the chorus?”

You gave him the benefit of the doubt and lightly clapped at the gang’s performance out of pity. “It was amazing, Itto. I’m so glad Shinobu has so many wonderful friends.”

She flashed you a sheepish smile and made a quick move to start shoving Itto towards the direction of the exit. “Yes, wonderful friends, thanks so much for the performance boss, but Y/N and I would like some alone time and—”

“Ohohoho no can do little lady! There’s still eighteen more tracks to this album and I really want to sing ‘That time I accidentally ruined your favorite bag and almost robbed a store to get you a new one!’ It’s my absolute favorite from the album!”

“What?!” Shinobu’s eyes widened at your surprise as she went to cover Itto’s mouth. You weren’t supposed to know that!

“Boss please, I just want some alone time with Y/N—”

Aaand that was ruined because the wails of police sirens suddenly came back and it was there that you remembered that you all were trespassing.

“Sh-Shinobu!” You panicked, your girlfriend quickly grabbing your arm in reassurance. “Calm down babe, everything will be fine, we just need to stay calm—”

“EVERYONE SCATTER!”

Itto suddenly smashed one of the lightbulbs and caused pitch dark blackness to swallow you whole. Effectively cloaking you all from the cops’ gaze but also severely impairing your guys’ vision.

“Shinobu!”

“This way! Just hold on tight, Y/N!”

Suddenly grabbing onto your waist, Shinobu quickly and quietly led you two out and away from the building with the speed and silence of a ninja. Itto and his goons all running the opposite way and successfully causing a diversion away from you guys as the cops trailed them instead.

“What about the gang?!” You called out as you and Shinobu ducked under some police tape.

“Eh, I’ll bail them out eventually. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened.”

She shot you a nonchalant look and it felt like you were falling in love all over again. The thrill of dating such a high-risking bad girl never ceasing to bore you as everyday with her was an adventure.

“Up here.”

And what an adventure with her it was.

Following the direction of where she was pointing to, the two of you carefully made your way up a metal ladder and found yourselves standing over twenty feet high on a billboard that overlooked the city’s street lamps. Smaller than compared to the building you were on earlier, but nonetheless, still very pretty in terms of scenery.

“It’s…not the view of the city, but I still wanted us to enjoy our date,” Shinobu murmured bashfully as she sat down on the platform. “I’m sorry we had to do so much running.”

“Hmpf, don’t be,” you sat down beside her and jokingly nudged her shoulder, “You could take me anywhere and I’d still enjoy every moment of it.”

“Even the city dump?” Shinobu joked.

“I…suppose,” though you scrunched up your nose at the thought. Your girlfriend laughing at the face you made before pulling you closer with her arm.

“Pfft, don’t worry, I’m way more gentlewomanly than that,” Your girlfriend smiled, “After all, every date we’ve been on has been perfect in my eyes if I do say so myself. Well— except for this one…” Shinobu gritted her teeth.

“You’re right, this date hasn’t exactly been perfect per se…” you smiled cheekily as you leaned in closer to her embrace. “It’d be much better if we had those baked goods you had earlier to eat. I’m still upset we left them there when we ran, what a waste…”

Shinobu smiled at the small huff you let out and reached into her pocket. “You mean, these sweets?” She teased as she pulled out two pastries.

“Wha— Shinobu!” You accepted the pastry given to you with surprise. “How on earth did you get these?”

“I may have snagged them while we were on the run,” Shinobu chuckled bashfully, “Seemed like a waste to just leave em’ there so I made quick work just to grab them.”

“Gods Shinobu…” you took a quick bite of your pastry and sighed in content with how good it was, “You really are the best girlfriend a girl could ever have. You’re amazing.”

“Hah…thanks babe…” Shinobu blushed at your compliment and stared down at your lips while you chewed. “Do you think I could get a kiss now? I mean, we were just interrupted…”

“Hmmm? I think I’d rather kiss this pastry,” you teased as you leaned in to take another bite.

“Oh please,” Shinobu saw right through your fake facade and tilted your chin up to face her instead of the pastry, “We both know how much you’d rather kiss me.”

“Cocky aren’t you?” You giggled, before quickly pecking her on the lips and savoring the soft feeling of her skin on yours. “Is that better?”

“A bit too fast, but I suppose,” Shinobu grumbled, causing you to giggle at her frowning expression.

“Fine, would this be better?”

You grabbed the sides of her face and pressed her lips more tighter against yours, the close proximity of your bodies and velvet touch of your lips causing both of your eyes to flutter closed with delight

“Yes, it is…” Shinobu whispered airily, loving the way how your lips seemed to fit with hers.

“I’m glad,” you smiled, going back to your pastry and staring out into the night below. “Because after this is over, you and I will be having a talk about my favorite bag being destroyed and me not knowing.”

“Oh.”

#mod angel 🎐#kuki shinobu x reader #shinobu x reader #kuki x reader #genshin x reader #kuki shinobu #genshin imagines #shinobu x you #genshin shinobu #genshin kuki #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin

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spiderh0rse · 2 days

Text

stark's mind notes part 7, e31-33, -1, and stark's mind 2 chapter 1. those last two aren't crucial to the plot and sm2e1 is noncanon, I believe, but they're fascinating regardless. the series is functionally in a hiatus at the moment, so this is all there is.

e31

sounds far more calm now. off to the lambda labs!

his tram has locked into the fastest setting! He has to jump off of it! Inertia! Fuck!

honestly I do think he ends up the most hurt from his own accidents than being attacked

tries to gripe for a second and gets shot at

admits that though he's not the paragon of virtue, morality, so on, the military is Still Worse. Score one point for self esteem??

confused about how the tram broke open a blast door, then shakes it off claiming he's wasting time

he says he can't shoot at shoddy and decrepit infrastructure and that makes it more dangerous than the things actively trying to kill him. OSHA inspector Stark when

having a rough time staying afloat

underwater mumbling

glad he didn't fall into the water from too high up. Surface tension and all that

a physics puzzle! Yippee!

confused about how a marine can die to a headcrab zombie

continues to be mad at poor construction and poorly maintained infrastructure

gets water in his mouth on accident

very thankful that none of the aliens are aquatic...

sprinklers! But yeah that and the water in the silo probably washed the blood off!

spots. The ICTHYOSAUR

thinks grenades will have killed the icthyosaur. Confusing that they don't tbh considering what being underwater near an explosion does to you

e32

deep breath. sigh.

so confused about the room layout of the icthyosaur encounter

claims he's been conditioned to kill every dangerous alien in his path. Relieved he doesn't have to kill this one

almost slips into the water! This shakes him badly

collapsed hallway > the fucking pool

"if there is a god, this door will lead to the lambda labs! I hear beeping and booping!"

a week. Stark doesn't comment on the timeline here.

stark does NOT want to talk to this pushy guy who's trying to get him to kill the icthyosaur

so so so beleaguered by this asshole scientist. Very quiet to him.

ignores the shark cage in favour of shooting into the water. Admits it isn't working

finds this while detour stupid

visibly struggling for air while turning the valve

seems to be shaking a bit for a while there! The water drains out of his suit when he stands up

wants seafood now! Get him some shrimp

likes the scope on the crossbow

likes that being able to see things at a distance with the scope affords him some safety

when you can teleport, everything's an ambush!

enjoys peeking around with the scope

climbs a grate! Poorly!

Colleague.

it's 2:34! PM? AM? Hell if i know

e33

spaced out for a minute there! My word he's exhausted

you know I think he'd have pieced together this puzzle easily a day or two ago. Hasn't eaten has barely slept...

yeah! Right there! Admits he missed something earlier! He's slowing down!

wonders if he'll be able to catch up to the man he saw

ignores the puzzle and stacks boxes

bangs his head on some metal

"the electricity won't kill me, it just hurts" man this'll give you brain damage, pal

agrees heartily to being called Gordon Freeman

cooooooold

shivering terribly. Has never been this cold in his life

goes and huddles by some warm pipes until everything clears up

still pissy about the icthyosaur

Stark's compliment of choice for the aliens is "sneaky"

alas that guard there is probably not Arlen

20 FOOT VERTICAL JUMP

handles the black ops pretty well!

considers the skintight bodysuits very impractical for combat

it's morning. It was 2:34 not too long ago. Wanna bet that little space out was him being asleep on his feet for a bit?

pretty sure he's doing very well right now. Nothing has stopped him so far. Nothing will! He's in complete control of his situation!

came back to the facility because of a promise

surface access is not his ideal direction right now

makes a dark joke, considers it may be too far, then figures he's allowed

hears the ambush, kind of gasps, shoots around, gets hit over the head, and hits the ground with a whimper

the voices of the HECU dragging him are much harder to make out than in Half Life. Stark is silent.

e-1

new titlecard! Neater hair. shorter.

on a coffee break! Likes the taste.

was manually delivering paperwork to Management

on his way, was mistaken for Freeman five times

and now a sixth. Politely corrects the man.

works with Freeman! Seems to think he doesn't like Stark

waits around watching the monitors for a tram schedule for a while

Kleiner has lectured him on tardiness before

makes a little ditty about walking around

so happy some random guy didn't call him Freeman!

responds to What's Up with The Ceiling

has been working at the company since he was 19, before Freeman was hired on

pretty sure the Freeman thing rn is a prank

picks Felix and Ramirez as a good example of someone who'd prank him

wonders how Ramirez would convince people to join in on the prank

he and Ramirez have had some manner of prank war going on for a while now

Stark managed to convince maintenance to swap the orange soda in the vending machines for lemon lime, which many were unhappy about

the racquetball incident saved Stark from being fired over the Soda Swap

hasn't heard from Ramirez in weeks due to some... Research project he's on...

Ramirez doesnt have to witness his prank to be happy about it

sees an exploded printer and compliments maintenance nearby for their work

knows a janitor! Marty! Considers helping him clean up a puddle if he weren't so late.

leaps a spilled puddle. Proud of his jump. Most physical activity he's done in a while

hazard course training next week!

considers shaving his goatee

sm2e1

fancy slow title screen. No card.

however ending up in the train worked, it is unpleasant.

oh yeah man's just whispering the whole time

does get a bit louder to protect someone

tells some combine (Barney) "You don't know who you're dealing with."

prepares to attack the combine

doesnt object at all to Barney calling him Freeman

only slightly objects to Kleiner

just. Deeply confused.

knows who Alyx is

exasperated at the combine, at Barney urging him along and offering no explanations

claims it's good to be back.

claims this is Black Mesa all over again, in the map department

throws away the can

figures out they're being watched pretty quickly

knows what Xen is called!

finds the Citadel imposing

talks about the man in the suit

a bit shocked at the sight of a strider but pushes past it

thinks Gman may have brought him back to Earth to mock him

realizes he hasn't seen any kids.

insults someone who doesn't fight his impending doom

a lot better at keeping calm under pressure than we're used to seeing him

#stark's mind #vincent stark #mindverse #rmanotes #ramirez stark's mind #uh #ramirez's mind #???#he does not have a series but i hear this is how individuals in mind series are tagged regardless #at any rate i love ramirez.

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mebiselfandi · 1 year

Text

Title: Just My Luck

Summary: Vini and Gavi have the misfortune of continuously bumping into each other

Pairings: Vini Jr & Gavi

Tags: idk ‘you suck’ ‘no you suck more’ dynamics, one upping, Vini being an instigator for half of this😔, it’s not romantic it’s not even platonic

A/N: I feel like my writing style changed…not sure how to feel about that. Is it better or is it different? Different in a good way or a bad way idk

The venue was packed to the brim with guests. Footballers and friends. Musicians and plus ones. The multitude of crowds all chattered and mingled with each other over the loud music being played. Anyone and everyone was invited to Raphinha’s birthday party. He’d decided to make a big event of it this year. Something about you only turn 27 once. Gavi couldn’t remember. Him and Pedri made their way over to the birthday boy, wishing him a happy day and so forth before he directed them to the present pile where they could drop off their gifts. Pedri handed his to Gavi before disappearing off into the crowds to talk to someone. Gavi pushed his way over to the present pile and just his luck he should bump into the one person he didn’t want to see.

“Vinicius.”

“Pablo.”

The both greeted each other curtly, the memories of all their interactions and scuffles being brought to the surface at the sight of the other. They both left their presents before disappearing into the night, both hoping they wouldn’t have the misfortune of bumping into each other again.

——————————————————

Vini couldn’t remember whether Neymar had said the bathroom was the 3rd door on his left or on his right. No he definitely said left, right…right? Leftright? Left, yes. He opened the door and entered.

“Wait! No don’t let it,” the door shut behind Vini, “close.”

Whoever else was in the room sighed dejectedly then fell back onto the wall he’d been leaning on. Vini let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room before coming face to face with Gavi.

“Oh absolutely not,” Vini groaned out upon realizing who he’d managed to get himself stuck with in what appeared to not be the bathroom but rather a small dark supply closet.

He turned back to the door and pulled and turned at the knob to no avail. The door was locked tight. There was no escaping. The other man simply watched as he clawed at the metal piece. He changed tactics, opting to bang on the door and yell loudly. Maybe if he was loud enough, someone would hear him and come and unlock the door.

“It won’t work,” Gavi finally piped up. Vini turned a poisonous gaze towards him. “The closet is soundproof. And even if it wasn’t the music is certainly loud enough.”

Vini now realized how quiet the closet was. Just his luck that he’d be locked in a soundproof supply closet with one of the few people in the world he didn’t like. He took out his phone and began to dial Rodrygo.

“That won’t work either. There’s no reception.”

“Aren’t you the bearer of bad news,” Vini scoffed out, “what are you even doing in here?”

“Someone said this was where the bathroom was.”

If he wasn’t so dismayed at his predicament, Vini might have laughed at the irony. But considering the joke was at his expense, the humour was lost on him. Instead he just went and sat down next to where Gavi stood. He could feel him burning holes into his head from above so he turned up to face him.

“What? Are you gonna stand there all night?”

“No,” Gavi said in an annoyed tone as he slid down the wall to sit next to him.

Vini stared at him annoyedly at how close he’d decided to place himself to him; being able to feel his body heat next to his.

“Move over.”

“Why?”

“You’re too close to me.”

Gavi rolled his eyes and instead shifted even closer until his entire side was pressed flush into Vini’s.

“You’re so childish!” Vini burst out as he shoved Gavi rather roughly away from him.

“At least I’m actually one, what’s your excuse!?”

He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he’d not only insulted Vini but also himself in the same breath.

“Man what’s your problem with me!?” Vini shouted.

“Me? Me!? You’re the one with the problem with me!”

Vini scoffed once more.

“Okay look just stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. It’s already bad enough I’m stuck in here with you.”

Gavi held back any retorts he had and simply scooted angrily to the other side of the closet, putting a good arms length of distance between them. At least he could find solitude in the fact that it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed at least one of them had gone missing. Then he’d try his absolute best to forget this whole cursed meeting.

——————————————

Four hours. It had been four hours since they’d gotten here and both Vini and Gavi were nearing their wits end. Four hours of absolute silence. Both of them sticking to their guns and completely ignoring the other. Like a Mexican stand-off of cold shoulders. Sure they could distract themselves with whatever music or games they had on their phones but neither one was willing to give the other the satisfaction of ‘winning’. But as competitive as they both were, they were both getting sick of being in the other’s presence. Eventually they turned to look at each other; a silent truce for the sake of both their sanity’s.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Vini said as he stood and turned towards Gavi, “maybe if we try breaking the door down?”

Gavi rolled his eyes but stood up and walked the 7 short steps over to Vini anyways. They took a few steps back and huddled closer to each other.

“On three. One, two, three.”

They surged forwards barreling full force into the door. The door stood firm however as they were knocked down to the ground. Gavi groaned lightly feeling every ache in his muscles from the impact. He sat up rubbing at his shoulder but quickly forgot about it when he took note of Vini’s still form. The other man had seemingly hit his head somehow, perhaps on the floor, and now lay unmoving next to Gavi.

“Hey! Now really isn’t the time to be messing with me!”

He slapped Vini’s cheeks lightly in an effort to wake him up. The last thing he needed right now was for someone to finally walk in and accuse him of supposed murder. But considering their luck so far, he considered it was only a matter of time before one of them had a brush with death. Thankfully the other man began to blink blearily at him as he came to. He reached a hand up to touch the tender back of his head which had smacked straight into the floor and whimpered softly when he made contact with the blazing area. Vini could already feel the beginnings of a headache brewing, maybe even a concussion.

“Come on.”

Gavi grabbed Vini by the arms and heaved him back towards the wall opposite the door, propping him up against it. He crouched in front of him and waved a hand in his face to get his attention. He held up two fingers in front of Vini’s face.

“I need you to focus. How many fingers am I holding up?”

However Vini just groaned, burying his face in his hands in the process. Gosh everything was so loud. His own breathing seemed to roar in his ears and Gavi’s question jumbled in a mess of floating letters in his head. He looked up as he felt Gavi place a hand on his cheek but sorely regretted it when the light filtering in through the small window seared itself into his eyes. They watered as the throbbing in his head amplified tenfold. He closed them again as he tried not to worsen the pain however this only served to increase Gavi’s panic for the seemingly unresponsive man.

“Vinicius!?”

“Don’t call me that,” he finally managed to grunt quietly.

“What?”

“It’s just Vini.”

Now was really not the time to be exchanging names.

“Look I need you to open your eyes so I can check if you’ve got a concussion.”

Slowly Vini opened his eyes. Wincing slightly before letting his eyes adjust to the soft light.

“Good. Now how many fingers am I holding up?”

Vini tried to focus on the fingers in front of him. Two. No four. Three. Ugh his head was spinning, he could barely even see.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to assume you have a concussion. Try not to fall asleep.”

“Pretty sure that’s just a myth.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

Gavi sat down beside Vini and let the other man lie his head on his shoulder. If he wasn’t so worried(not that he’d ever admit it), he probably would have had some jab ready to throw at the other man. But right now he just prayed someone would find them soon. And for the first time that night, his prayers were answered. The door jiggled slightly before a cleaning man poked his head in, scanning the small closet before finally taking notice of the two boys sitting disheveled on the floor.

“What are you two doing in here?” The man asked accusingly.

“We got locked in,” Gavi replied defensively.

He stood up then helped Vini to his feet.

“Not again,” the man grumbled as he stepped aside to let them out.

They walked out of the closet and back into the now empty venue, both of them looking at the messages that were pinging on their phones now that they’d managed to leave that suffocating supply closet.

“Did they just leave us behind?” Gavi scoffed disbelievingly as finally they reached the grand entrance.

“Speak for yourself. I drove here myself,” Vini muttered as he rubbed lightly at his eyes. His head hurt significantly less but he still felt the occasional phantom pin pricks of pain.

Gavi took out his phone and quickly dialed a number, pacing impatiently as it rang. Vini listened in on Gavi’s one sided conversation.

“Hey, where’d you go…you didn’t think of looking for me first?…no I got locked in a supply closet…can’t you just come back…yeah Vini’s still here…yes that Vini…absolutely not, just-,” Gavi looked at his phone in shock, “he just hung up on me,” he laughed mirthlessly. Gavi swore he’d kill Pedri when he saw him next for leaving him behind.

He turned to look at Vini. The older man leaned against the wall, face turned to the sky. He took in deep breaths seemingly trying to will away the light pulsing in his head. Giving up whatever stubbornness he had left in the name of not wanting to be stranded here indefinitely, he sighed and walked up to Vini.

“Can you give me a ride?” He grumbled out lowly.

“I think the fuck not,” the other man muttered nonchalantly as he turned his face to stare down Gavi.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why didn’t you drive here yourself?” Vini asked in a belittling tone.

It took every bit of willpower to not quip back. Gavi sighed and closed his eyes momentarily as he tried to calm himself down. Seeing as he was the one who was stranded, fighting with the only person who could seemingly help him was a rather poor decision.

“You can’t drive with a concussion,” he pointed out.

Whatever smugness Vini had felt over him slowly dissipated as he realized Gavi was right. Unless he planned on driving straight to heaven, there was no way he could possibly even back out of the parking lot, much less drive home.

“So what?”

“I can drive instead.”

“Like hell you will,” who did this kid think he was, “you’re not touching my car. Besides, aren’t you like 12, can you even drive?”

Gavi rolled his eyes at the other man’s poking.

“Yes, I can drive.”

“Let me see your license then,” Vini demanded as he reached his hand out expectantly.

“No.”

“Just show me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have one…”

“I thought you said you could drive!?”

“Yeah I can…but my test is only next week!”

Vini rubbed at his temples. He was sure this was some kind of elaborate prank. His only hope of getting home was the most annoying person he’d ever met and they didn’t even have a license. Was this some kind of sick joke? Maybe he hadn’t been praying hard enough and this was God’s retribution. Maybe this was because he’d pulled one too many pranks on Rodrygo and now the universe was seeking balance for his actions. Whatever had landed him in this fever dream of events, he simply prayed the night would end sooner rather than later.

“If you even so much as scratch my car, I will kill you.”

“Oh somebody save me I’m so scared,” Gavi said mockingly as he rubbed his arms in faux fear.

Vini just let out a loud groan in response as he walked away and out of the venue. They reached the parking lot which was now deserted except for Vini’s car. A sleek black sports car that gleamed in the moonlight. Shiny and expensive.

“Compensating?” Gavi smirked.

“I’ll leave you behind if you’re not careful.”

“I’d love to see how far you’d get when you can’t even tell up from down.”

“Oh just get in,” Vini bit out as he unlocked the car.

He settled himself in the passenger seat and watched as Gavi got into the drivers seat. They stared at each other in silence momentarily, unsure what to do. Until Vini grabbed Gavi’s hand, pressing the car keys into his palm.

“You better not crash my car.”

Vini squeezed his hand tight, digging the keys slightly into his palm, before letting it go. Gavi rolled his eyes then started up the car listening to the engine as it revved up. He pulled out of the parking lot and set out onto the road.

It seemed the other man had made it his task to drive as painstakingly slow as possible. Whatever few cars found themselves still out at this hour overtook them in a flurry of hoots and loud honking. Even a small bus that looked unfit for travel rolled by them. Its red rear lights flashed derisively as it wheeled away from them. Vini was sure even a child learning to ride a bicycle for the first time could surpass them. At this rate, if he got out now and started walking back, he was certain he would get home before Gavi did.

“When I said don’t crash my car I didn’t mean drive slower than my grandmother.”

“Then why don’t you drive instead?” Gavi tapped his chin lightly as he pretended to think about it, “oh yeah, you can’t.”

Vini ignored the other man’s sarcasm.

“We aren’t even moving,” Vini groaned as he closed his eyes once more.

“You know I could just kick you out,” Gavi bit back in a venomous tone.

“It’s my car!” Vini shouted incredulously.

He took a few more deep breaths to prevent himself from letting the other man get to him. They settled once again into an electric silence. Charged with the need to see who could piss off the other more. Vini let out a loud sigh then reached out and turned on the radio. He turned to look at Gavi who cringed at the loud Brazilian rap music that blasted out of the stereo. The loud tremors of the music made the remnants of Vini’s concussion pound softly like a dull reminder of why he was stuck with Gavi in the first place.

“Turn it down!” Gavi shouted, barely able to hear his own voice over the loud continuous beat.

Vini had already planned to turn it down but now that Gavi had asked, he surely couldn’t just give in. So instead, he ignored the throbbing in his head and grinned, pretending to be unable to understand what he was saying.

“What?” He shouted mockingly over the booming bass.

The look of absolute irritation on Gavi’s face spurred him on as he bobbed his head side to side in silent victory. It didn’t last long seeing as Gavi took it in his own hands to turn off the radio and plunge them into an unnatural silence.

“Hey! Don’t touch my radio,” Vini warned as he switched on the offending music again. Gavi quickly turned it off again.

“Or else what?” He challenged as he rolled the car to a complete stop.

“Or else I’ll-,” Vini didn’t get to finish as a knock interrupted whatever threat he’d cooked up.

The knock sounded again and both Vini and Gavi turned in shock to look at the police man who’d interrupted Vini. He gestured for them to roll the window down.

“Good evening officer,” Gavi greeted.

His previously boiling blood had been chilled significantly. He prayed the officer wouldn’t ask for his license seeing as he didn’t have one.

“Do you realize how slow you were going?” The man asked, skipping the niceties.

“I…” Gavi stammered.

“License please?”

Shit shit shit. Gavi’s hands felt clammy and cold as he cursed whatever spirits or deities had decided to actively work against him. Lucky for him, Vini decided to intervene.

“He’s still a learner but here’s mine,” he said as he handed his license over to the officer with a smile.

The officer huffed as he looked at the small piece of plastic. He handed the license back to Vini after a few moments of careful inspection. They both waited in shared nervousness as the officer looked back and forth between the two of them. Finally the man seemed to settle on a decision. He whipped out a small yellow notepad and began to scribble quickly in it. He tore out the ticket and handed it over to Gavi.

“I’m giving you a ticket. Drive faster,” the officer warned gruffly before stalking back to his car and driving away.

Both of them stared in shock at the small piece of paper in Gavi’s hand. The only sound the soft purr of the still running engine. Until Vini broke the relative silence.

“Yellow ticket? Sound familiar?”

Gavi turned to face the older man who looked back at him neutrally. But instead of the usual accompanying jab, he burst into laughter. As did Vini. They laughed almost deliriously at everything that had lead them to this point. Neither was sure whether they’d reached a new understanding between them but for a few seconds they could both appreciate the absurdity of the night. Eventually, their laughs subsided to heaving chests and beaming smiles. The cold night air blew into the car through the still open window; raising goosebumps on their skin. It was a pleasant night, all things considered.

“It’s Gavi…by the way.” Vini turned to look at him confused. “Nobody calls me Pablo…except maybe my mum.”

“I know. I just wanted to piss you off.” Vini smiled cheekily.

The other man let out a short laugh.

“I still don’t like you,” Gavi grinned.

“Yeah yeah just drive,” Vini grinned back.

For @swaggypsyduck is for you bestie🫣

#yes I missed Ney so much I just had to mention him lma😔#vinicius jr #vini jr #pablo gavi #gavi #gavi x vini #raphinha #neymar jr #neymar #nothing like proofreading to make you doubt every word😃#but anyways I thought it was good when I rote it so y’know #meb writes

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