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#the best part of that is apparently they usually read to their husband
saerins · 3 months
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⋆୨ chapter three ୧˚ for a while, you were all mine
⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way <> next: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why ୧˚
⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?
ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 6.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, yn and sae finally sharing one bed | notes: eeep this was long i’m sorry !! more of the other girl here heh ^_< also mwah thank you to all of you who’s reading ily !! <3
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In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t right of you to go through your husband’s stuff. Maybe you should’ve just looked at that little black box and left it there and continue to be ignorant.
But no. In this world, you’re nosy and greedy and you wanted to know who exactly it is that Itoshi Sae of all people can’t get over and now you have exactly what you were looking for.
After extensive research—and by research you mean scrolling through your husband’s social media (all of them), you managed to find her tagged in a post buried way below on his Facebook wall. Silver lining is: there’s nothing recent. The bad part? Judging by the date, they’ve known each other for a long time.
Apparently her name is Mirin, and her family’s made up of a whole slew of top lawyers in the whole of Japan. There’s not a lot on her Facebook, but her Instagram is a whole other story. Her posts the last few years put her somewhere in Europe, and judging by the content, she’s been studying there for a while. But before that, back when the posts were all in Japan, you catch a few photos of Sae. Some of them have Oliver and Eita, and a couple of other guys you haven’t met before.
It’s really wrong of you to do this, only because you know you’re just setting yourself up for a world of paranoia, but you can’t stop. You move over to the pictures she’s tagged in, and there’s one from Oliver that catches your attention.
Because it’s dated a few weeks back.
The first of two photos show Oliver, Eita, Sae and the same guy you saw back in Mirin’s feed—the one with jet black spiky hair. They’re in a bar, you presume, sitting around a private booth with a ton of alcohol in the ice bucket on the table. You recognise his attire; it’s from the very first night Sae bothered to sit down at the dining table and eat with you. 
The second makes your heart crash to the floor. In the photo, in Sae’s place is Mirin herself, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a skin-tight red dress that you wouldn’t ever think of wearing. (One, because it’s much too revealing for your own taste, and two, well, just because you’re more of an oversized t-shirt kind of girl.)
All you can take away from what you saw is that Mirin is now back in Japan. Coupled with the fact that Sae had been gone even though he was off from work for those first few days of your marriage, you deduce what you wish isn’t true—was he meeting up with her all this time? Even 
Trying to avoid falling into utter madness, you grab your phone and text your ever-trusty best friend.
Reo, meet you at our usual. ASAP!!!
Just as you’re about to leave the house, Sae gets back from wherever he’s been (which now you can’t help but wonder whether he was meeting Mirin), and you run right into his chest.
“Careful, busy?” Sae asks, which is more than Sae usually does and you realise just how low the bar is set right now.
Still, you answer him like you always do. “Yeah I’m gonna meet Reo for a bit,” you tell him, biting back a snarky comment about Mirin.
Even with those doubts of Sae in your head, you can’t help but stop to appreciate how he hands you your keys from the key hanger before you forget, or how his other hand is gripping onto yours, warm and just slightly calloused. It’s the first time you’ve felt them since that day at your own wedding.
“Take your time, I’ll handle our dinner tonight,” he tells you, and you think that’s already a lot considering that he’s never really bothered with anything the past few weeks, but then you feel a soft sensation against your forehead—very brief, so unfamiliar, way too soft—and then it’s gone in just a second and it’s way too quick that it has you doubting its existence at all.
All you hear is a soft “see you” before the door shuts behind you, and then there’s only the erratic beating of your heart that fills your ears.
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“Yikes.”
“Very helpful, thanks,” you sigh exasperatedly as you plop down onto the cushioned seat across from Reo.
Reo laughs, handing you your phone back, open to Oliver’s Instagram account. “Then ask for a divorce, I’m sure he’d happily oblige if all of that’s true.”
“You know why I can’t, Reo,” you remind him, close to giving up.
Reo nods, remembering about your parents and deciding not to make matters worse. “Did you ask him about it though?”
You frown, glaring up at your best friend who’s now happily sipping on his cold brew. “And let him guess that I was stalking his ex? Sure I did.”
Reo snorts at your sarcasm. He thinks it’s funny how you’re oddly meek in front of Sae, and yet you’re snappish around him. Comes with the many years of being best friends, he supposes. But on that note, “you think there’s something going on between them?”
For the first time, Reo sees you helpless, eyes staring into nothing, index finger idly tracing circles on the polished wooden surface. “I don’t know,” because all you know is that you’re already exhausted from overthinking all the things they could be doing behind your back. “But… he’s always away and he says it’s work when I know it’s not. And she’s back and they were at the same place and urgh, I don’t know what to do.”
By that last line, you’re already burying your head in your hands, slumped against the table, Reo watching on as you grumble in frustration. He chuckles, gently patting your head before you look up at him, “what if they’re just friends right now?”
“It’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean… from the looks of it, they were pretty serious at one point.” Your words are all muffled because you’re pretty sure this is you being jealous now—thanks to Sae considerably warming up to you (be it at his own sluggish pace), it’s hard not to feel anything for him. In a way, you’re learning to like a lot about him, but there’s this unshakeable doubt you can’t brush off in the form of his ex.
Reo leans back against his chair now, pondering out loud. “Hmm I wonder what that reminds me of.”
In a second, you know all too well what he’s referring to, and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye. “That’s… different. We didn’t act on it.”
He rests his elbow on the table, head resting against his fist, “yeah but… we were still each other’s first kiss, right?”
“But we didn’t amount to anything.”
“Except that we’re best friends now,” Reo tells you, and you know he’s trying to get a point across but you’re not sure you want to understand it.
“And that’s all we ever were, Reo.”
Smiling, Reo leans forward a little, cautious at keeping his voice down. It won’t do if people misunderstand and word gets around. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but you were all I wanted at one point. For more than just that one day under the cherry blossoms, more than that one time I stole your first kiss.”
It stuns you a little to hear it, because any romantic emotions between the two of you were never said or shared. Both you and Reo knew back then that your parents wouldn’t ever be in favour of him and his rebelliousness that you both just decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. At that time, when you were both foolish kids, having that something intangible was enough. Maybe it faded for you faster than it had for Reo, but he knew that it once existed. Even if only for a second.
“And?”
You’ve gone soft now, and Reo knows you understand. You’re just in denial.
“Are you sure Sae would feel the same if he knew about it? If he knew I used to love you too?” Reo asks you, genuinely wondering for himself.
You’re about to argue that Sae doesn’t even care, but putting yourself into his shoes, you get where Reo’s coming from. History is history. No matter how long ago it was or how short the relationship (or lack of one) was, the feelings still existed, once upon a time.
Still, you have a feeling that there’s more than meets the eye. Especially if Sae has to hide it all the time. He’s never even said her name to you, if they met at all.
“Anyway look, do you want me to try asking Oliver about it? I’ll be discreet, though I can’t really say the same for that knucklehead,” Reo warns you. It’s not like he knows Oliver much outside of any business dealings, but he can tell that much at least.
You shake your head anyway, knowing it’s a bad idea. For all you know, Sae would just lash out at you for prying into his business when you’re just his on-paper wife.
“Wonder why they broke up though,” you think out loud, watching the liquid in your cup swish around, close to spilling off the edge as you swirl it with your hand, almost completely lost in thought.
Reo answers you without missing a beat. “She went abroad to study and just called it off thinking it wouldn’t work.” His eyes go wide the moment your head shoots up, and he winces after letting it slip.
“You knew?”
“Yeah…”
“What the- how?” Because it’s incredulous how Reo happens to know that much more about the relationship.
He sighs, fessing up. “I was asking around about Sae remember? When I told you he’s just a tough nut to—”
“Yeah yeah,” you wave it off, wanting him to get to the point.
“Well, Oliver’s kinda a blabbermouth so…” Reo sighs, as if he senses there’s no point in keeping it in, not when you’re already halfway into that rabbit hole yourself.
And you’re all ears. Half because you really just want to learn more about it and the other half just wanting confirmation that you’re not crazy for overthinking about this. But then Reo tells you and you’re not sure anymore.
“He said Sae was never over her, loved her to bits.” Reo pauses, hesitating before he opens his mouth again. “He said Sae was waiting for her to get back before starting things up again.”
Oh.
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SEVEN YEARS AGO.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Surely it wasn’t a stretch to be furious that distance would be enough of a reason for a breakup? Surely Sae didn’t have to think himself crazy for refuting such an idea?
Mirin’s hair flowed in the wind, pretty as it always was, and it would be even prettier in his memories. She looked unsure, and he knew it too. He knew her like the back of his hand, down to the injury on his ankle. She was only doing what she thought was right, and that was offering each of their own freedom, though Sae had no single doubt in his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Sae, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she told him, her eyes swimming with tears that she wouldn’t allow to overflow.
Always so stubborn, and forever thinking less of herself. That was how he knew her to be. And as much as he hated that stubbornness at that moment, he loved her just as much.
With a hand reaching out to her, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head in his chest, something that he savoured because it wouldn’t be long until she’ll be gone for who knows how long.
“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to break up with you?” Sae was asking her, genuinely. He didn’t know how to handle this—when life held different paths for two people in love, wasn’t it just common sense that they could still tread it and yet be together? Was long distance really the end of everything they had?
Mirin sniffled just a little before she pulled away and forced herself to smile, something that Sae hated. It was always the fake ones that irked him, even now.
“Is it selfish for me to think that we’re supposed to?”
Maybe he didn’t know the answer. But all he knew was that if she still felt like they should, then he’d concede. He was always weak when it came to her. It was always the same. He couldn’t imagine being weak to anyone else. It was her. Only her.
“Fine, we’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he told her, a tone so gentle that no one but her has ever heard. But he drew close, tipping her chin up so she would look at him, his teal eyes appreciating every inch of her beautiful face, the most beautiful one he had ever seen, and the most beautiful one he thought he would ever see. “But you know something?”
Mirin swallowed the lump in her throat, the amount of love she felt threatening to swallow her whole. “What?”
Sae let out a deep chuckle, a soft one before he pressed his lips against hers, a promise laid between their lips like it was a secret only they both would keep.
“Nothing would stop me from waiting for you to come back. So come back to me, okay? Come back, I’ll wait for you.”
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That night when you get home, you feel just slightly numb. After hearing what you did, it’s no surprise. You’ve always been kind of weak when it comes to feelings. You’re more heart over mind and you’d choose your heart over and over again even if you had no more blood left to bleed.
You think you’re never getting over it until you walk in and realise that Sae’s in the kitchen, setting your dinner down on the table. It’s like your tears automatically dissipate once you look into his eyes.
“Oh, just nice,” is all he mumbles before he sits down at his place on the entirely too-big dining table for the two of you.
Across from him, you sit down as you look at the spread before you. A steak on each of your plates, potato puree at the side. In the middle there’s assorted sides of mushrooms, corn kernels and what you assume to be a tray of sauces for the meat.
“Did you cook all of these?” You ask, almost breathless. You’re about to say he’s a much better cook than you are, until Sae speaks up.
“No.” He seems nearly unwilling to answer you, a delicate frown on his face. “Accidentally burnt the pans when I tried to cook.”
“Huh?” You spin your head around to find the sink filled with all your pans, and from the looks of it, Sae had been trying to scrub the burnt portions off unsuccessfully.
“We need to buy new pans.”
Sae says this all too monotonously, like he’s half-robot and half completely embarrassed, that you can’t help but laugh out loud. Besides, it’s kind of cute that there’s a faint pink on his cheeks. You’ve never seen that before.
He looks at you incredulously, like he wasn’t expecting you to laugh at him like he’s a damn clown. Flinging a mushroom at you with his fork, he rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.
Pouting at him mockingly, you decide to tease him a little more. “You didn’t touch anything else in the house and ruin them, did you?”
And you were joking, until you realise Sae’s averting his gaze, stuffing his mouth full with corn kernels.
“Sae!”
“We might need to get new stuff for the laundry room too,” he confesses, talking with his mouth full. (Spoiler: you find out later that he put the wrong detergents in the washer and accidentally flooded the laundry room.)
Still, you think it’s sort of endearing that he tried to do the chores while you were the one out for a change, so you stop yourself from making fun of him too much. It’s not like whatever you learned earlier isn’t still sitting in the back of your head (because a part of you wonders if he’s doing all this out of guilt), but some part of you wants to be selfish and let yourself feel special, even if it’s delusional, at least for a little bit.
You want to feel like the wife he misses when you’re not around, like the person he would think of when his mind strays. Is this all too much to ask?
Maybe you just can’t help yourself, so you bring yourself to ask: “Sae, why did you agree to this?”
There’s a pregnant pause in the room, the only sounds filling the silence being the stainless steel cutlery hitting the plates as Sae adjusts himself. “Why did you?”
You suppose that maybe it’ll be easier for him to share if you start first, so you bite the bait. “Long story but… if I don’t then it’ll fall to my sister and she’s happy with someone else.” You swallow the meat in your mouth, the fat rendered so well it makes you crave for more. “I don’t want her to have to sacrifice that. Our parents aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.”
Sae listens to you, an understanding settling in his chest. He could laugh from the coincidence of it all. “Same, but for my brother,” he tells you, prodding at his steak. “And he’s happy with soccer, not some girl. Can’t get a girl to save his life.”
Somehow, you can hear the quiet fondness that he has for Rin that makes you believe he’s a good brother.
“Would a marriage affect his career all that much?”
There’s a certain complexity behind Sae’s expression when you ask that question, something that you can’t decipher. But he scoffs, “let’s just say, my parents aren’t the nicest people either. I would know.”
And something tells you that it’s not something you want to ask yet, so you let his answer sit with you.
“Oh, speaking of parents,” Sae brings up his phone, switching the subject and handing it over to you. It’s a string of texts between him and his mother, apparently. You hold it up to your face, reading through and it appears they’d gotten you both tickets. “Mine got us both tickets, so.”
As you scroll, a grin appears on your face as you look at him. “Honeymoon tickets to Korea?” You’re almost squealing. It’s been a long while since you’ve last had a vacation, and ten days of distraction sounds really nice after all the information you’d just learned today.
Sae rolls his eyes, though you don’t miss the slight tug upwards at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, so get packing, we leave in two days.”
And as excited as you are, you feel a vibration and the brief flash of ‘dummy’ messaging him, the only part of the preview that you can see being: no, take me with you :(
You’re pretty sure it vibrates some more but by then, you’re already handing the phone back and Sae just locks his phone without bothering. Shaking your head, you try to stuff that image back to the deepest crevices of your mind, determined to not let it ruin your mood for your getaway.
Ex lover or not, Sae is still your husband and it’s not like he hates this (by the looks of things, it’s only been getting better and better), so you’re still hell bent on making things work.
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Two days fly by way too quickly.
The day after Sae tells you about the trip, you immediately get to work at packing. Ten days is not a short trip and you plan to make full use of it, and for that, you have to be ready.
You had spent the whole day buying anything you would need—travel-friendly items and whatnot—while commuting back home to your parents’ house (at a timing you know they’re at work, of course!) to take anything you might’ve left there that you needed. Just as you left the house, nostalgia took over as you looked around at the place where you grew up.
It’s strange. People say to cherish what time you have with your parents, that one day you’re going to move out and you’re going to miss it.
You don’t feel like that’s necessarily true, because you’re living proof. The only thing you’d miss is your sister and you still talk to her everyday. Meanwhile, the only times your mother or father ever talks to you is to ask you about your marriage and warning you not to annoy Sae too much, as though it was a given and that it shouldn’t be the other way around.
Maybe it doesn’t make much sense; you and Sae (or maybe just you) trying to be a family when you both have no idea what a proper family is like. Even if it is just on paper.
Now you’re on a town car to the airport and you’re fiddling with your passport in your hands, staring out the window like a little child that’s going overseas for the first time. (Next to you, Sae’s thinking the exact same thing—you do look so much like an excited child. Or maybe a puppy.)
Of course, Sae’s parents waste no expenses in gifting you two first-class seats. Not that you’ve never been in first class, but it’s nice to be next to Sae, and you catch yourself, realising just how quickly you’re catching feelings.
“What?” Sae’s just getting ready to turn his phone to flight-safe mode when he catches you staring, a hint of smugness forming inside of him.
Even with a small partition separating your seats, you can see his teal eyes staring at you, long lashes fluttering in all its glory. Instead of offering an answer, you just shake your head and lean back, busying yourself by adjusting the screen in front of you. 
Being in a state of denial is easy; it’s actually fun to sit in first class next to Sae, on a three-hour flight to your honeymoon, annoying him each chance you get, earning yourself a death stare every instant before laughing yourself silly when he flips off at you. It’s been a few weeks, but you think you’ve grown accustomed to what Sae is like that you know his middle fingers to you are never meant to be taken seriously and his silence is just how he is when he isn’t fully opened up. It nearly makes you think you’re crazy for doubting him and yet you don’t have the balls to question him about any of that. Not yet, because you’re not ready for this to end (if it will).
The itinerary had already been planned out by Sae’s mother, but it wasn’t like either of you wanted to follow it. One, Sae likes to do things spontaneously anyway and two, well, you have a feeling that he might want to treat this like a solo trip. It’s not like either of you have properly been husband and wife much to have a proper honeymoon together.
So count you surprised when you suggested that you both try to do solo trips around the city and just meet up for dinner, only to have Sae agree and yet follow you wherever you decide to go that first day.
At first, you were just wondering whether he had the same plans, but after he followed you into a Sephora looking absolutely clueless and then getting all flustered and sticking to you the moment the staff there asked him if he wanted to do a skin test, you allow yourself to think that he’s actually tagging along with you.
“What are you doing?” You decide to ask after exiting another store, carrying no less than five bags thanks to your anxiety of asking Sae what he’s up to.
On his part, he merely shrugs and looks away, hands in his coat pocket, looking absolutely like a model out of a magazine. Sometimes you wonder if he’s really yours. On paper, at least.
“This is our honeymoon, right? Makes sense that we’re together.” That’s all the explanation Sae offers, his gaze hovering over the bags you’re carrying, before he leans closer. “Besides, you’re my wife,” he says, gently grabbing your bags and carrying it for you.
He doesn’t say that it’s just on paper this time. And you can’t help but read into it. It’s perplexing how easily his words can affect you. It has your heart doing somersaults and your lips nervously pursing together.
“So, where next?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.
And maybe you’re a little too excited for this pleasant turn of events that you’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at him. “Wait, really?” 
You can’t even hide the glee in your voice and Sae, for the first time, smiles—even if he’s doing it as he rolls his eyes at you.
“Yes, stupid,” he tells you, chuckling as you hop slightly in excited. “Are we going or are you just gonna stand here like a little puppy?”
With excited nods and a little squeal, you clap your hands together before daring to put your fingers around his wrist, dragging him with you.
Sae follows quietly behind you, staring at you as you happily tread ahead, your hands warm and guarding his against the slightly chilly air, hair flowing in the wind and he suddenly thinks you’re even prettier than he first thought you were. And then he starts thinking that maybe this part of his life that’s planned by his parents isn’t so bad after all.
Though, when you get back to the hotel, you find out that Sae has already specially asked for two separate beds, to the surprise of all the hotel staff, because of course, Mrs Itoshi had booked the honeymoon suite for the both of you. Special requests for that room usually mean flowers on the bed, or breakfast just the way they like it—not for the groom of all people to be asking for a separate bed altogether, especially when he insists there is no additional person.
“I’ll sleep out here,” Sae tells you the moment you get back to the hotel that night, gesturing to the bed set up by the television, much to your bummer. But you suppose you can’t expect too much—hand holding was already a miracle in itself.
“Oh yeah, sure,” you shrug it off, like it doesn’t even matter. Deep down you feel like a rock was dropped from your throat to the bottom of your stomach, forming a gaping hole in your heart along the way that you tried to will into non-existence.
Still, somehow, despite this little obstacle, you find yourself optimistic after being witness to Sae’s change in demeanour.
“Hey, Y/N?”
When you turn around, you see a hint of hesitation flicker across his teal eyes before he shakes his head, brushing it off.
“It’s nothing, goodnight.”
Although you’re curious, you decide not to press him about it. Offering a small smile, you nod.
“Goodnight, Sae.”
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Over the course of your entire honeymoon, you find that you shouldn’t be chiding yourself for being delusional in the first place.
For once in this one-sided love affair, you feel like perhaps it’s not so one-sided at all. Because from what you’ve learned about Sae in your close-to-minimal time together, he isn’t someone that you can force into doing anything he doesn’t want to. At least when it comes to mundane activities which includes trips. (Unless you’re his parents who you have no doubt in your mind probably mirrors your own and have their ways of controlling him, per se.)
But it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to do any of this with you when he’s so compliant. He follows your bucket list of things to do and doesn’t complain once. He lets you drag him to the palace and looks only slightly concerned when you tell him you want to “do the thing where we can dress up like royalty and take pictures” but he only sighs and concedes within seconds.
When he comes out of the room looking like the most handsome prince you’d ever met, you’re too shy to meet his gaze but he tilts your head up to look at him for most of the shots anyway. With his face so close to yours, with these kinds of small gestures which he willingly initiates, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to make him happy in this possibly loveless marriage.
Spending ten days together, surrounded by just each other and doing things that couples do; it nearly makes you feel as if this is real. Like Sae really loves you and that he had asked you to marry him one day out of the blue because of it. Nothing like how you felt that first time you met him, in your dressing room minutes before you were about to become husband and wife, being talked down to and told that this was a facade and could be nothing more.
Now he’s here with you, sticking close and following you around, entertaining your requests for activities, falling asleep on your shoulder when you were on the plane to Jeju, and sometimes he absentmindedly holds your hand like he’s used to it. He helps you with your luggage always, and he makes sure you get food whenever your stomach starts growling, and he’s more observant than you give him credit for because he starts picking the radish off your plate without you asking.
Your album’s suddenly filled with pictures of you and Sae and you were hesitant at first but dragging him to the amusement park when he wasn’t for it at first was a good decision; for a while, you get to see what he’s like when all the downturned lines on his face reverse, when he looks the most like an actual guy in his mid-twenties, enjoying life instead of brooding all the time. Thanks to that, your pictures are more both of you smiling or being goofy together instead of faceless pictures because neither of you feel like showing your faces at all.
By the time your honeymoon is about to come to an end, you find that maybe there’s hope for this after all. That maybe you’d just been overthinking everything prior to this and it shouldn’t be worth worrying over after the trip ends.
But you find that hope can be flimsy sometimes. 
On the seventh night there, you and Sae are both on your bed, in the actual bedroom, fighting (not literally) over a multiplayer game. Just two adults hunched over one phone playing frustrating games meant for kids. (Somehow it makes you feel like perhaps neither of you ever had a normal childhood and this is something to make up for it.) It’s all fun and games until you see a throng of message notifications from dummy mixed in with several from what you presume to be Sae’s group chat with the guys.
And you can keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, except Sae immediately stops after the current round and tells you he has to take a call. And you already know more or less who he’s going to talk to. And just like that, you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.
The subsequent nights (and days) aren’t easy for you either. After just giving up on thinking and forcing yourself to sleep that night, you’d been stuck with paranoia everyday. Especially when you realise that he’s starting to take calls every night outside on the balcony where he’s sure you’re out of earshot. 
You wonder if he’s being lovey dovey with her outside when he talks to her. You wonder if he imagines you as her when you’re out together. You wonder if he wishes you were her. You wonder if all this is just a gimmick; a test run for when he does the actual things with the actual girl he wants to do them with.
Safe to say, by your last night there, you’re a mess. The moment you get back from trying to be happy all day (which was a disaster because you wouldn’t stop trying to minimise contact with Sae), you tell him you’re too tired and that you’ll just go ahead and go to bed.
Which, of course, is code for ‘you just want to lie in bed and cry all night’.
Sae couldn’t even get a word out before you shut the door on him, plopping down onto the bed and crying into your pillow. Maybe holding everything in was a bad idea. Now you’re bursting with emotions and you try to call Reo a few minutes later but you can’t even get him because he’s busy somehow and you’re positive that the gods hate you right now.
There is one thing about being on rock bottom that you like, though; at least you know how you feel. You’re exhausted and upset and envious because you wish you could be that person for your husband. But you keep getting reminded that you’re not. That somehow you’re just a mere stand-in until he marries his real wife next time. The one he promised to love forever. (Technically, he vowed that to you on your wedding day too, but that’s not the same and you know it.)
Deciding to shut off your phone and have this time to yourself to cry your eyes out, you miss the sudden swarm of notifications that come in. And thanks to you stuffing your head into the pillow, you don’t notice Sae opening the door and peeking inside, an unfamiliar feeling settling inside him at the sound of you sobbing.
He gently closes the door behind him as he walks to you, your back turned to him, your hands and feet hanging onto the bolster like a koala to a branch. Slowly, he saunters over to you, almost like he’s afraid to. When his hand rests on your shoulder and he sinks into the mattress beside you, you stiffen up for just a moment before spinning around and sobbing into his chest instead.
You didn’t expect him to even enter your room at all, much less let you stain his shirt or hold you close when you’re being emotional like this, but he stays there, hand gently rubbing your arm, up and down, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. It makes you wonder what kind of games he’s playing. Is this Sae not being able to make up his mind and that’s why he’s still so nice to you even when he has his old flame in the back of his head?
“Do you… want me to leave you alone?” He asks, though you can argue it’s kind of a stupid question but then you realise he probably doesn’t know much about actual relationships so you let it slide.
You shake your head in response, deciding that as stupid as it all sounds, you want to throw your hat in the ring. You’ve fallen for him, and you want him for yourself.
And maybe it’s wrong of you to project this on him, but your absence of a normal family where a home is not just a house and where parents shower their children with actual love and concern makes you yearn for one yourself. And maybe it’s not a great idea to want that from a man you married from being forced to, but thanks to this honeymoon you can see that there’s a flicker of spark there.
That Sae’s not emotionless and he’s definitely not cold to you. Not anymore. That if you guys had been given more time instead of being rushed into things by your parents then maybe the whole wedding could’ve gone without any of the hitches you experienced. That every single radish he picked off your plate, every picture he took with you, every time he held your hand, every time he pulled you close—none of that was manufactured, was it?
So isn’t it possible for you to be happy with him? So is it still foolish or selfish of you to want to be with him?
Is it too much if you ask him about it?
“Hey, Sae?” Your voice is soft and timid and more vulnerable than you’ve ever shown, but he hears you loud and clear, his “hm?” resounding against his chest, right next to your ear. “Can you stay?”
A few seconds of pause, and he replies, “of course.”
You shake your head slightly. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, what we said on our wedding day.” Your voice is entirely muffled, still Sae understands.
There’s an even longer pause this time, and you think that Sae’s just thinking of a way to get out of this until you hear him speak up again.
“Idiot,” he chides, but you can hear the soft affection in his voice. Suddenly, you feel his pinky wrapping around your own, and he holds it near your face. “I promise you,” he whispers, and you wish you could see the expression on his face, “I’ll stay.”
It might be wishful thinking but you think he really means it.
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taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog *bolded: can’t tag you due to your settings >_<
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miracleonice87 · 8 months
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from uncle trav to killa dad
part of the kissing kelce universe
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a/n: apparently she writes NFL fic now. no one is shocked. the first installment in the kissing kelce miniseries / universe! sharing the first 3,400ish words of the 8,100ish I already have written... "alright nah" 😈 hope y'all enjoy! (also, will make a masterlist for this universe specifically -- until then just use the "kissing kelce" tag)
warnings: swearing, sickness / vomiting, alcohol, mentions of menstrual cycles / unprotected sex / pregnancy / babies, allusions to not keeping a pregnancy / not being ready to have kids, basically don't read if pregnancy / having kids is triggering for you
word count: ~3,400+
___
February 2023
It was only the end of its second month, but 2023 was already one of the best years of Travis’s life. 
First off, this was the first calendar year he had ever begun as your husband, not your boyfriend or your fiancé, which still delighted him to no end, hence why he was constantly referring to you as “Mrs. Kelce,” both publicly and, his favorite, privately. Two weeks ago, he’d won his second Super Bowl after competing against his big brother and best friend, Jason – a literal childhood dream come true. And in one week’s time, he’d be hosting Saturday Night Live. Saturday. Night. Live. As in, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.” As in 30 Rockefeller Plaza. As in who in the fuck was about to let him do that?!
Travis Kelce had the world on a string, you by his side, and he could not ask for more. 
Except for you to shake the illness that had been plaguing you for the last several days.
You’d always been an expert napper, but usually for no more than an hour or so; this week you’d been going to bed early, sleeping late, and napping for two or three hours at a time, and Travis was highly concerned. He didn’t like seeing you stub your toe, let alone seeing you struggle with such low energy. He had a growing feeling this was more than just you catching up on your rest after a jam-packed week of team festivities and visitors. 
This especially worried him knowing that the two of you needed to leave for New York City first thing tomorrow morning. For a normal event appearance, he’d be moving flights or changing dates, making any adjustments necessary to tend to you and make you as comfortable as possible, but he didn’t exactly have that flexibility with SNL, and he was beginning to panic a bit. 
After a Zoom call with his agents and the SNL producers walking Travis through the schedule for his upcoming rehearsal week, he flipped his laptop shut and immediately hustled up the steps to the primary bedroom, where he assumed you must still be sleeping, as he hadn’t heard any movement upstairs during his call – not even that of the dogs, who usually found their way downstairs to him when they heard his voice as he was taking calls.
Your husband couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off. 
Travis made quick work of striding down the long hallway and sneaking into your bedroom, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak beneath his large frame as he sidled up to your side of the bed. Sure enough, he found both Rambo and Chauncey snuggled at your feet, popping their heads up when he entered the room, clearly on guard and ready to defend their sleeping mama should the need arise. He ruffled their fur upon his approach and made a mental note to reward them with treats for that later, then focused his attention back on you. 
Usually, you rested serenely on your back or side, with a single pillow beneath your head; today, you obviously couldn’t get comfortable, because you were curled into the fetal position with an arm flung between two pillows messily folded under your head, another pillow shoved between your chest and your knees. Even in your sleep, your brows were drawn together in discomfort. He hated to wake you, but his intuition was nagging at him to ensure that you were okay. As he slowly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and traced your bottom lip tenderly with his thumb, you stirred, blinking bleary eyes. 
“Hey, sweetness,” Travis whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How’s my girl doin’?”
With his lips still resting against your skin, his hand cradling the back of your head, you groaned. You weren’t one to complain, but whatever this sickness was that you’d been dealing with was kicking your ass, and he knew it. 
“Mm, I’ve been better,” you admitted, grasping his forearm with both hands to keep him close, ever comforted by his presence and touch. “It is flu season — must just be some bug going around.” 
Travis hummed contemplatively, then broke away to peer down at you carefully. 
“Maybe, but if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, we’re gettin’ you to a doctor, even if it’s in New York,” he announced, gently palming your stomach which had been uncharacteristically sour all day. The warmth of his touch soothed your whole abdomen like a heating pad. “Capisce?” 
“Yes, captain,” you muttered, hiding your face in his sizable bicep as he snickered. “I’m due for my period soon so that’s probably not helping either,” you added, a throwaway comment on any other day… 
But not today. 
Though you couldn’t see it, Travis’s eyes narrowed at that remark, flickering around the room wildly as his mind began to race. 
Nah, he mused silently. Couldn’t be.
But it seemed you arrived at the same possibility on your own, because seconds later, you gasped, exclaimed “oh, my fucking god!” and sat up straight, leaning your arms against his thigh for strength as the room seemed to spin around you, the dogs hopping off the bed, annoyed at the interruption of their own naps.
“Travis, what’s today’s date?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the 28th, baby,” he said evenly. 
And with that, you flung the covers off and ran for the bathroom once again, dropping to your knees on the marble and leaning over the toilet just in time. 
As Travis followed closely after you, he knew. He couldn’t believe that, in all of the Super Bowl hype and hysteria, he had missed it up until now. It was so obvious. Your monthly visitor always arrived on the 20th of the month – when you’d asked once how he remembered to bring home Diet Cokes and chocolate-covered pretzels, items you purposely didn’t keep in the house and only indulged in when you were PMSing, on the correct day, month in and month out, Travis often teased that you were so regular, he could set his watch to you. 
He hadn’t purchased those items this month, though. Hadn’t even thought of it due to all of the post-win, postseason pandemonium.
And apparently, neither had you. 
He hastily did the math. Today was February 28th, which meant that you were now eight days late. His pulse quickened at the realization, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl on February 12th, and unsurprisingly, the two of you had taken every single available opportunity since then to celebrate his big win behind closed doors – even if they were occasionally car or coat closet doors. And though the chances of getting you pregnant during that window were not exceedingly high, it was certainly far from impossible – plus, he thought immediately of the many times he had teased his brother Jason about his “super sperm,” having gotten his wife Kylie pregnant every other year since they’d been married. And it was a well-known fact that the two brothers shared many genetic characteristics, including their size and their athleticism.
Maybe this particular trait was no different.
Though you were busy actively being sick, you were doing the same calculations in your head. 
Shit. Shit shit shit. You were always so careful, so meticulous, so diligent about timing your intimacy with Travis, taking extra precautions during those prime times and consistently warning him verbally when you were ovulating, as you never wanted him to feel like you were trying to “trap” him, even though you’d now been married for nearly a year. He gently poked fun at you and playfully rolled his eyes in those instances, assuring you that he, first of all, would never question your intentions regarding your relationship and, second, would be absolutely thrilled if and when that time came for the two of you. 
But in other conversations, outside the bedroom and the heat of the moment, the two of you had mutually agreed that since you yourself weren’t 100% ready to start a family just yet, you would wait. You respected Travis endlessly for that, because anyone who knew him knew how desperately he longed to become a father. But if you didn’t want that right now, that was the end of the discussion – Travis was adamant that nothing was happening in that department until you made the call.
But these past couple of weeks… there had been so much emotion, so much energy, and so much alcohol involved that admittedly, neither of the two of you had given timing or protection a second thought. All that each of you wanted was the other, and nothing – not the calendar nor visiting parents nor the prospect of arriving late to the celebratory parade nor being in Travis’s Range Rover when the desire arose – was going to keep you apart physically. You’d thrown caution to the wind as you enjoyed being in your little fantasyland bubble together, and now, reality was sinking in.
As you finally finished coughing and sputtering, Travis broke from holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail in order to pour a small cup of mouthwash and offer it to you. You graciously accepted and swished it around generously before flushing it away. As you leaned back from the bowl, he gathered you into his arms with a quiet but firm “come ‘ere.” You both sat on the tile, backs against the glass wall of the shower beside you, and he rested his cheek atop your head, looping his long arms around your waist.
“Better?” Travis inquired simply. 
You groaned, eyes falling closed as the now-familiar weariness enveloped you again. 
“Yeah…” he answered himself with a sigh, sensing your utter exhaustion. 
The two of you sat in wordless contemplation for what felt like an eternity. 
Finally, you broke the deafening silence. 
“Trav?” you croaked. 
“Yeah?”
“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”
He tipped his head backward against the glass, guilt wracking his every cell. 
“I think so, too,” he echoed. 
After a long debate on the bathroom floor about how to go about obtaining the home tests – with Travis arguing “you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me, so it should really be on me” against your “I’m way less likely to be recognized in the aisle of the drugstore” – you finally reached a compromise, which was to DoorDash a wide variety of tests straight to your door, avoiding the need for either of you to be seen out in public. Kansas City was a larger city with a small town feel, and most of the time, you loved that about your adopted hometown, but today, the prospect of being recognized sent your anxiety into overdrive. Photos of either of you purchasing pregnancy tests being splashed all over social media two weeks after the Super Bowl was truly the last thing you both needed, especially if it turned out to be all for nothing, a false alarm. 
So, instead, you had waited the fifteen long minutes until the bag full of tests arrived at your doorstep, peering through the blinds until the driver was completely out of sight before opening the door and retrieving the delivery. You grabbed a Solo cup from the pantry and quickly climbed the steps back up to your bedroom, where you found Travis sitting in a lounge chair, hands folded together, elbows on knees, chin to chest – obviously deep in thought. He didn’t seem to hear you coming until you purposely rustled the plastic bag. As you held it up weakly, his eyes met yours, and he offered a soft smile which seemed forced. 
Travis Kelce forcing a smile. A rarity.
“Secured the bag,” you said quietly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Literally.”
He nodded and slowly stood as you extended a hand, which he grasped in his as you headed into the bathroom together. When you reached the counter, you climbed atop it and shook out the contents of the bag, revealing half a dozen boxes of all shapes, sizes, types, and colors; contained in them were sixteen tests in total. You gazed down at them with pursed lips for a few quiet moments, then Travis cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him.
“Honey, before we do this, I just need to…” he swallowed thickly as his hands found the tops of your thighs, and you could tell that whatever he was about to say was weighing painfully heavy on him. You weren’t used to seeing him so serious, and you reached out a hand to rub his shoulder in support. “Listen… you know I’ve always been excited about the prospect of… well, not just having a baby, but having a baby with you, but… it’s really important to me that you know that we do not have to do this. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to.”
The sincerity in his icy blue eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you hummed appreciatively, cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand. 
“Thank you,” you whispered as he turned your wrist to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of it. “And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that. But… one thing at a time, okay? Let me go take care of this, and we’ll go from there.”
Travis nodded, concern etched on his brow. It wasn’t an expression he commonly wore, and it certainly didn’t suit him. 
“Yeah… yeah, alright,” he said, sniffing. “You, um, you want me to stay in here with you, or…”
You shook your head, a small smile at play on your lips. 
“No, I’ve been peeing on my own since I was about two, so I’ll do that part myself and report back, captain,” you teased, and Travis offered a shy smirk. You rested your forehead against his. “Okay?”
He nodded, head still pressed to yours. 
“Okay,” he said, caressing your jaw before standing up straight to allow you to shimmy down from the counter. He took a few steps toward the door leading into the bedroom, then turned back. 
“Hey, one more thing?” he said solemnly. You stared at him expectantly. “No matter what the test says… doesn’t change how bad I fuckin’ love you.” 
You stood floored, forcing back tears. “I fuckin’ love you so bad,” you softly concurred. 
Then, your normal playful Travis was back at least for a moment as he winked at you, clucked his tongue, and pulled the door closed as he encouraged, “Do your thing, girl.”
You rolled your eyes, then “did your thing” as instructed. You returned to the counter with the plastic cup sufficiently full and opened different tests from four of the boxes that looked the most promising, meticulously following the instructions for each. You turned them all so that the windows were face-down on the counter, washed your hands, then took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door with trembling fingers to find a pacing Travis burning a hole through your bedroom floor. You said his name softly, then tilted your head in the direction of the tests, inviting him back into the bathroom with you while you waited. He met you at the edge of the tub, where he wordlessly pulled you into himself and held you there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, more grateful than ever that you’d chosen this man as your life partner, and that he had chosen you. 
“How long we lookin’ at, sweetness?” Travis asked, resting his chin atop your head, gently swaying the two of you back and forth. 
“Longest one takes three minutes,” you answered. “Figured we’d just wait until then and check them all at once.” 
You felt him nod and check his Apple watch. He grew quiet again for a few moments, then he heaved a sigh.
“I’m sorry for putting you – us – in this position, baby,” he apologized, immediately breaking your heart. “I should’ve been more responsible and mindful in the moment. I just got caught up in you and I… I just, I’m sorry.” 
You stood up straight, holding him at arm’s length, your brow creased ruefully as you realized how badly he was beating himself up over this. 
“Trav, honey, don’t,” you pleaded. “You did nothing wrong,” you assured, reaching your hand up to rest against his neck. “We both got us into this situation, and to be honest, I wouldn’t change how we got here. We could have been more careful, yeah, but… all I was focused on was being as close to you as possible. I mean, these past couple of weeks with you have been some of the best of my life. I feel closer to you than ever.”
He studied you diligently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. 
“Yeah?”
You nodded, sliding your hand to the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to your level to kiss him softly. 
“Yeah,” you whispered in reply. 
He drew in a deep breath and squeezed your waist. 
“‘Bout ready to check?” he asked timidly. 
You nodded, arms falling back to your sides. 
“Do it together?” you requested hopefully. 
He nodded, too. 
“Just like we do everything else,” he replied with conviction, taking your hand in his and pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go.” 
Hand in hand, you approached the counter, four eyes boring into the upside-down test sticks. 
“You take two, I take two?” he suggested. You nodded, biting your lip and grasping the two sticks closest to you as he did the same. 
“Ready? One…”
“Two…”
“Three…” 
Both of you flipped the cheap plastic tests at once, gaping silently down at the counter.
For the past hour since you’d realized you’d missed a period, anxiety, nerves, and even dread had been coursing through your body at the speed of light.
But as soon as you saw those test results, inexplicably, the fear, the worry, the anxiety, the anticipation… it all melted away. The little blue plus sign and the pink double lines and the blinking “YES +” and the word “Pregnant” all laid out in front of you unmistakably brought an unexpected swell of peace and joy to your soul. 
Travis’s hand flew to his mouth as he processed the results himself, and his fingers didn’t leave his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on you in quiet anticipation, refusing to react in the way that came naturally to him until he allowed you to react in your own authentic way. 
So, when you looked up at him with your chin quivering, eyes rimmed red, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, his heart flipped inside his chest, then sank into his stomach…
But then you smiled. 
“Looks like we’re having a Super Bowl baby,” you told him decidedly, starting to giggle. 
His brows shot to the top of his forehead, his hand slowly falling away from his mouth. 
“Really? You want to?” he asked softly, and you could tell by his tone that he was still focusing all his energy on suppressing his pure, unadulterated excitement. You nodded. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed, cocking his head as he surveyed you closely. You nodded again and stepped closer so that your feet were planted between his, leaning your body into him. 
“I’m sure, Trav,” you promised as he tenderly combed some of your hair behind your ear. “I honestly wasn’t sure until we flipped the tests over, but… I’m sure. I’m ready for this with you, Travis. It feels right. Let’s have a baby.”
At that, he allowed the floodgates to open. His broad shoulders began to wrack with quiet sobs as his arms folded you against his chest. You cried along with him, sharing in his relief, his elation, his bliss. 
“I love you so much,” he choked out between shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You always have been, but this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you.” 
You smiled into his pecs, sniffling. “I love you, too,” you replied, pulling away just far enough so that you could meet his eyes. He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you continued. “Thank you for the way you handled this. There’s nobody I’d rather do this with than you.”
Travis beamed and leaned in for a kiss, certain that he’d never received a more meaningful compliment, and certain that he had never been more in love with you.
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starkleila · 11 months
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5 times elijah was jealous
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Materialist
summary: five times in the centuries where elijah was jealous
classified as 18 +!!!!
warnings: fluff, Bit of smut mostly implied/references (nothing explicit). contains s3xual references/explicit talk. Men being sexists (not elijah or klaus), threats, canon level violence. mention of implied bisexual reader and bisexual elijah and poly/threesome relationships, nothing specified.
f-pronoun-no-physical-description!reader
Notes:
Sorry for the grammatical errors. I’m new at writing so feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading. do not translate or appropriate my work
Materialist
Headcanons of you being elijah’s wife and an original Part 2
Headcanons of being Klaus’s best friend (Part 2)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Early 990s A.D. - Mystic Falls
You had just got of age, being a beautiful woman every boy in the village wanted to court you, but you did not give them much attention being in love with elijah since you could recall. Still the noble mikaelson out of fear of rejection and low esteem had not yet spoken his feelings for you. Even if you had been friends your entire life having you being adopted and raised in the mikaelson home.
Right now you were at the market buying some things Esther had asked you to, when the vendor, a boy around your age, was trying to court you, with gifts and soft words, you were smiling back.
Elijah was looking at you in a distance jealousy and pain pervading him. feelings he had never knew before. Klaus came up to him as he needed elijah to practice dueling with him, but then Klaus noted his older brother expression and following his line of sight saw you and the boy. Klaus understood immediately, being the closest to you two he knew about your mutual feelings for each others and had tried to make one of you confess for months now.
Klaus laughs and clamps elijah’s shoulder ’ if you don’t man up and confess soon brother she will find another, any boy of age expect me, and our brothers want her.’ He said as elijah directed his attention to him, rolling his eyes avoiding his accusations
‘Perhaps she already found it’ Klaus adds noticing as the boy kisses your hand and you turn red
‘I don’t know what you are talking about niklaus. y/n can pursue any suitor she fancies, I’m merely contemplating that the boys does nothing inappropriate with our dear friend which is under our family protection’ elijah says calmy is usual unreadable dementor in place, not tearing his eyes away from you
But by seeing you laugh with that boy Elijah’s eyes darken at the sight, and Klaus smirks  ‘sure brother’  
1004 A.D.- Du Martell’s castle
When Elijah became a vampire his jealousy only grew. Though his jealousy must have not been mistaken with mistrust in you or wish to control you. Quite the opposite, he just hated that men – or women- dared to undermine his status as your husband, as the person you choose to give your heart, soul and body to. He perfectly knew that if someone was offending you, you could defend yourself, sometimes too well, when he had to remind you that you could not kill or threaten anyone being unpolite. Still in the years you came to the conclusion that you preferred, actually craved elijah being jealous, because as you soon would discover during your stay at the Du Martell’s castle elijah’s jealousy took a quite exquisite sinful way to express itself that brought you immense pleasure both mentally and physically.
At the court you and Rebekah were the new additions thus most men wanted you, and apparently for their standards being happily married was not a good enough reason to have them back down. You did not know compulsion at the time and could not go on a killing spree as were hiding thus it was in that time that elijah really understood what jealousy was, especially as Lord Tristan was not backing down. Instead finding your repulsion for him and your happiness with elijah a better reason to try steal you away.
Tristan was always waiting for an occasion to find you alone to flirt with you, annoying you greatly as you had to politely always try to escape, bringing elijah and the rest of the mikaelsons to not wanting to leave you for a second. Still Tristan founds way to torment you. Send you flowers, letters, trying to speak with you when alone and all other gestures that made yours and elijah’s blood boil.
Even today you and finn were playing chess under a tree when finn was called by kol, leaving you alone to pack the game, Tristan saw you alone from where he was seating and decided to strike
‘lady mikaelson’ you heard Tristan say behind you as you packed the game
gosh that prick is coming to it again you thought, praying elijah would appear before you finally gave in and ate the Count for lunch
‘Lord Tristan may I help you?’ you faked smiled
‘I hope you received my presents’
‘I’m afraid not’ you said uninterested  ‘if you would excuse me my husband is waiting for me’ you said trying to move out of the way, but Tristan stepped in front of you
‘I have been trying to speak with you my lady. You see is a tradition in my father’s reign called prima nocte. where girls spend their wedding night with the lord of the region instead of their husbands’
‘apart from finding it quite un-noble tradition. I don’t see the point of speaking about it with me as I’m already married, and long before we came here’ you answered trying your best to not kill him on the spot
‘I know but-‘ Tristan tried
Finally elijah arrived, seconds before you would finally kill that prick for that nonsense costume
‘husband!’ you greeted him as elijah arrived, kissing you deeply in front of Tristan to send a message as you moaned in the kiss getting carried away
Tristan cleared his throat to attract your attention
‘lord Tristan, I beg your pardon I had not seen you there’ elijah said lying and keeping his arm around your waist his hand drawing patterns on your back, a silent way of telling you let me handle it my dear, violence is not the answer although he deserves it
‘lord elijah. If you will excuse us I was having an important conversation with lady y/n’ Tristan tried to get rid of elijah
‘I’m sorry lord Tristan but I was coming here as my wife expressively sent my brother to fetch me as she required my services’
‘I could help. what does she need a new dress? a horse perhaps? I’m sure a lord like me can provide her with whatever she needs, for some favors in exchange of course’ Tristan tried to buy you from elijah making both of your blood boil as the noble stag contemplated finally giving his blessing to you to gut the lord as Tristan suggestion that elijah would even consider her ‘selling’ you away
Elijah took as step towards Tristan wearing that smile he wore before tearing someone apart but instead he whispered in Tristan’s ear
‘I’m sorry my lord but my wife has very specific needs that can be fulfilled by just me. behind our bedroom doors. So if you would excuse us is not polite to let a lady wait’ he said before retracting as you smirked
‘I’m sure i-‘
‘Gooday my lord’ elijah said patting Tristan arm before taking your hand in his and going towards the castle, neither of you giving the lord a side glance, as he stood under the tree boiling in rage and jealousy
‘one minute later and I would have decapitated him’ you said to elijah when you were far enough
‘I know my love. Thank you for behaving. I intend to make it up to you, repeatedly ’ he replied kissing your forehead as you giggled as you two went to your shared bedroom
After an entire day spent in bed that night by pure casualty elijah takes you against a column in the corridor next to tristan’s chambers. Your cries of pleasures filling the ancient walls and especially Tristan’s ears that was boiling in anger in his bed, alone.
1914 – New Orleans
For the peace of the quarter a witch, that could not be compelled, had to agree to work with the mikaelsons. The problem was she had refused the mikealson threats, diplomacy and gifts. You had noticed that she fancied you, leaving you to use your charms to make her agree to the family terms. Let’s say that elijah had killed for much less.
So that it was why you now where at the Abbatoir during a party flirting and drinking with that witch. Elijah was standing at the balcony, far enough to give to the witch a sense of security and near enough to intervene in case he needed to.
‘you know most husbands will be intrigued by their wife flirting with a woman, I’m sure both women and men have been in your’s and y/n’s bed before’  Klaus teased his brother appearing behind him on the balcony
Elijah was tense and had murderous eyes as he saw the witch touch your arms and waist.
‘well most men sexualize women, and fluid sexuality especially, too much for my standards. Also mine and y/n’s sexual preferences and orientations are none of your business niklaus’  he replied coldly not tearing his eyes away from you
‘I’m just teasing you brother’ klaus said, before his eyes went wide as the witch kissed you, and instead of pushing her away you kissed her back
Elijah was about to move when Klaus blocked him
‘what you think you are doing niklaus’ elijah growled wanting to go downstairs
‘preventing you to do something reckless. the plan is going to bloody hell if you decapitate the witch before y/n persuades her to let us in the trade’ as the two men bickered, and Klaus kept elijah against the wall you appeared clearing your throat with both men turning towards you
‘mission accomplished’ you told them showing them the signed document
‘I had no doubt sister’ Klaus told you as you smiled at him while elijah remained silent
‘you saw that didn’t you’ you asked him, he staid silent avoiding your eyes ‘I did what I had to do elijah’
‘I know’ he said but the pain behind his logical mind was clear
‘well that is my call to leave’ klaus said vamp speeding away to the party before either of you could reply
‘are you mad?’  you asked getting closer
‘of course not. It was a foreseeable potential consequence of the plan’ he replied sincerely taking your hand and kissing it
‘well I am’
‘why?’ he asked confused
‘because I kissed someone who wasn’t the love of my life’ you replied, cupping his cheek
That made elijah’s heart warm beyond measure, so he kissed you passionately bringing you close as you complied
‘you had to do what you had to do for this family. y/n. I’m not mad and neither should be you.’ He explained gently adjusting your hair ‘Also that was a beautiful and charismatic woman I can’t blame you if you found her attractive’
‘well of course she is a beautiful and smart creature, as many of the people we both indulged in the century. But that kiss meant nothing. the only person I love, and will ever love or want, is the man standing in front of me’ you replied as he smiled at you and kissed you again
‘the feeling is mutual mon ceur’ he said as he broke the kiss for air, keeping you still close ‘let ‘s leave it behind should we? We accomplished what we wanted’ he asked as you nodded
‘just one question still’ he then asked
‘anything ‘Lijah’
‘I just want to know where she touched you’ he asked peppering your neck with kisses as you smirked knowing where this was leading to
You pointed to your arm
‘here?’ he asked kissing the point you had pointed to ‘here?’ he asked again moving to your neck and to all the other places he had seen the witch touch you or the points were you pointed at
You trembled in desire under his touch, mind already lost ‘yes’ you breathed out as he continued his trail of kisses on your skin
‘good. I intend to erase every trace of her from your body with my mouth’ he said cupping your chin to look at you in the eyes with that devilish smile ‘how does that sound my love?’ he whispered your eyes full of lust matching his
‘my only objection is why are we talking here instead of being already tangled in our bed ‘Lijah’ you replied inches from his lips never breaking eye contact
He chuckled before picking you up and vamp-speeding you both to your shared bedroom, Klaus smirking at you two from downstairs in the crowded room as he sipped his drink happy that all was good.
2010 – Mystic Falls
You were standing at the mystic grill entrance waiting for elijah, when damon spotted you. Sensing that you were a vampire he approached you
‘it would be impossible for me to not know the name of such a beauty in our small little town’
Damon said approaching you using his usual tactic to try charm women for information. You recognized him immediately from the description elijah had given you but you decided to have your fun
‘and who would you be?’ you ask him
‘damon Salvatore, let me offer you a drink. What is your name sweetheart?’ he asks signaling matt to pour you some scotch, he was about to touch your hand to give you the glass but before you could reply you heard your favorite voice behind you
 ‘damon I would hate to break my vow to elena and remove your heart from your chest this very second if you touch my wife’ said elijah calmly standing as always impeccable in his suit and coat
Damon looked at the original questioningly ‘elijah?’ he asked not understanding why the original was there
‘my dear husband, damon did not know’ you tell him getting off from the stool and kissing elijah deeply, which although not being a fan of PDA if someone was flirting with you he was more than willing to show the depth of his affection for you
‘wife?’ damon asks again shocked
‘y/n mikaelson, lovely to meet you’ you tell him, as eliajh’s arm stays firm around your hips
‘you have a wife?’ damon asks again wearing his shocked expression with a bit of wanting to vomiting  while elijah is clearly a moment away from gutting the young vampire
‘he does and he is quite jealous about it’ you comment proud kissing elijah’s cheek
‘well if you ever get bored-‘ damon tried, his sassy remarks always ready, little did he know that elijah was not the type to laugh on such matters
‘I see you have a tendency towards taken women damon. go fancy the doppelganger, we are done here’ elijah says bringing you towards the door you turn around and wave jokily to damon
‘that was fun’ you tell elijah, his arm still firm around your hips, as he rolls his eyes playfully ‘I love it when you get all jealous my dear’ you whisper to his ear as he opens the door of the car for you
‘should I trust your word or do you wish to prove it?’ he challenged you, voice low and deep, you shivered in lust
‘get us home in 10 minutes and I might’ you whispered biting playfully his earlobe
Nevertheless to say elijah that day cared not much about driving protocols and rules as he drove the car back home.
2011 – New Orleans
You and elijah had to talk with marcel and some of his new vampires which apparently did not know much about being polite and were very sexist. Also did not know how dangerous it was to make you or elijah irritated.
Elijah had to leave to talk with some witches, meanwhile some vampires that had seen him went for answers to marcel that was talking with you.
‘who was that prick dressed all up?’ a vampire asked marcel entering what once was your family home
‘that was my husband, elijah mikaelson, an original. So I would watch your tongue if you want to keep it boy’ you said unimpressed to the young vampire
‘who the hell are you’ another vampire with the same attitude asked
‘y/n mikaelson. The original witch-vampire hybrid. Everyone calm down’ marcel replies before you can speak, knowing how much you dislike unpolite people, when he was a child you taught him how to talk to women, elderly and anyone and how to talk with respect.
‘that is an original? That pretty girl?’ the vampire asked marcel pointing at you. The situation was starting to bother you
‘this pretty girl has fangs and no problem in tearing you apart’ you said calmly playing with a knife you had picked up from the armory while marcel, knowing you very well, as two centuries before he would call you mother, knew that his vamps were on a thin line, as you as much as Rebekah reacted badly to insults or sexism.
‘you think you can scare us, you and that suited up prick you call husband can go-‘ before he could finished you had your hand around the guy’s neck, as his body collided with the wall
‘do you wish to die?’ you asked
‘y/n let him go right now!’ marcel shouted
‘marcel if you can’t teach your boys how to be polite then I should teach them a lesson on how you treat a lady’ you said unimpressed turning towards marcel that before could answer
‘my love I promised that you would not kill any of marcel’s men’ you let out a frustrated grunt letting the man go as you hear your husband calm voice behind you
‘thank you’ elijah says as you go stand next to him, still annoyed by the young vampires
‘yah do as you are told princess’ another vampire spat, that made your blood boil, so you had your knife between the man’s eyes in an instant (although being a vampire would wake soon) , elijah just smirked
‘everyone watch your tongue. You are making us appear as beasts’ marcel scolded his men before getting nearer elijah ‘elijah make her behave please’ he asked sincerely
‘that man had it coming marcel. no one talks like that to my wife, or should to any woman.’ Elijah replies adjusting his sleeves, ‘Moreover not the devil himself could make my darling love do something she doesn’t want to, and neither can I I’m afraid’ elijah says smiling while looking fondly at you that had went to take back your knife from the vampire’s body
‘maybe she just needs a real man to tame her, a tailored suit dandy like your has no power to a hot head like that, she needs a real man in her bed to satisfy enough to handle her’ one of the vampires said. elijah remained calm but gave that smile he would give before committing murder as you see anger and jealousy in his eyes that are tearing a hole in that young vamp head with his stare.
‘you shouldn’t have said that…’ marcel said as elijah’s eyes darkened as you smirked knowing what was about to happen
Elijah got to the man adjusting the vamp’s jacket before giving him a devilish smile and throwing him to the next wall
He then walked in circle addressing all the young vamps ‘my wife is right you all need a lesson you sexist beasts. And believe me, I would gladly give you one, or even better let my wife do as she pleases with you. But as I gave my word to not harm you further I will leave the talk to marcel. I have more pressing issues with my wife’
They remained silent while elijah moved next you giving you his hand for you to take
‘my love would you follow me in the library please?’ he asked giving you his charming smile that always made something in you steer
‘of course husband’ you said giving him your hand and waving at the young vampires mouthing a ‘thank you’ to them leaving them completely confused. a minute ago you wanted to kill them and now you thanked them? Why?
You and elijah hand in hand vamp sped to the library in the upper floor leaving a very confused vampire army and their leader.
‘good job everyone now we will wish to be able to tear off our own ears’ marcel said annoyed and pissed at his men
‘what?’ the other asked not understanding, before they heard you cries of pleasures as elijah was on a mission to let those baby vamps know that the only man who could satisfy you was him.
let’s say anyone in a three-block radius with supernatural earing could hear who you belonged to as elijah managed to take out of you animalistic sounds of pleasure for all night long
Headcanons of being Klaus’s best friend (Part 2)
Headcanons of you being elijah’s wife and an original Part 2
Materialist
Klaus’s centred Materialist
The Mikaelson family and you materialist
taglist: @just-levyy     @rootbeerfaygo
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yourstrulynix · 11 months
Text
Jackson’s Reveal | lh44
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social media!au | lewis hamilton x actress!reader | social media series
read; part one
PART TWO
2019 {Online} dailymail.co.uk
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MET GALA 2019: Lewis Hamilton steals the show in an eye-catching metallic zig-zag suit as he arrives solo to the biggest fashion event of the year
By ELIZABETH FREEMAN FOR MAIL ONLINE
He is a Formula 1 racing star with a number of driving accolades. 
And Lewis Hamilton proved that he has an eye for fashion when he attended the 2019 Met Gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York on Monday.
The British sportsman, 34, caught the eye in a black suit flaunting a silver zig-zag design and matching trousers. 
He added more drama with a white cravat around his neck that was adorned with two diamond brooches from Alex Soldier Brooches. 
Surprisingly it wasn't his unusual outfit that caught people's attention, it was the woman missing from his arm.
For the last 3 years, the Formula 1 star arrived alongside his actress and model wife, Y/N Y/L/N. It was a shock to all who attended and watched from their couches at home to learn that the Prada Brand Ambassador and Met Gala royalty wouldn't be making an appearance this year.
Y/N hasn't missed a year of the Met since her break from the spotlight back in 2015 and even that was too much for us. Each year she is among the most talked about and anticipated looks of the show.
We can only pray that our style queen returns next year with her hunk of a husband to steal the show yet again!
Share or comment on this article: MET GALA 2019: Lewis Hamilton steals the show in an eye-catching metallic zig-zag suit as he arrives solo to the biggest fashion event of the year
f1paddockupdates
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f1paddockupdates lewis arrives early to the track this morning alongside his physio and best friend. the six time world champion looked focused and ready his home race later in the day. the crowds are still going wild as they cheer on their champion ahead of the british grand prix at silverstone. #britishgp
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hamilton4life why didn't y/n arrive with him?
mercgirl81 apparently she hasn't been spotted all weekend!
hamilton4life no way she would miss his home race!!
y/nfangirl anyone else think it's strange we've seen no y/n and lewis content in weeks?
gossipf1 maybe they broke up considering their usually attached at the hip!
smackmey/n they've only been married a year! if they split up then none of us have a chance at a happy marriage 😭😭
y/nlifeupdates
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y/nlifeupdates y/n was spotted hiding from the cameras during a stroll around the streets of new york on sunday 9/1/19. it was the first photos captured of the actress in months and she seemed desperate to hide her usually smiling features from the cameras. will we see more of y/n?
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y/nwifematerial that's so unlike her to hide away from the cameras! I hope everything is ok 🥺❤️
loveofmylifey/l/n she's looks completely fine! she's probably just sick of everyone constantly at her...!!
peakygirl i hope she doesn't take another break like 2015, i wouldn't be able to handle not seeing her in peaky blinders 🤧💔
hamiltonsallday apparently her and lewis have split up...maybe she's hiding how hard it is on her.
fanaccounty/n or she could be pregnant? big coat in this heat = preggers
heartsfromlewis "gasp"
yourusername
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tagged: lewishamilton
yourusername surprise 10-3-2019
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yourbfname number 1 godmother ✨
lewishamilton the best mama to our boy
yourusername i am pretty great ;)
tomhardy the big reveal! can't wait to see the little guy on set
mssarahcatharinepaulson my love....!! i'm so proud of you! you're going to be the best mother in the world 🌎 😘
pinchmeilovey/n IM SORRY WHAT??!!??
peakyblindergirl1 our girl be dropping baby photos like we were all in the loop
lh44islife anyone else think they'd be divorced by now?
y/nfan4life no because these two are mother and father and no one else exists 😡
florencepugh hope the worlds ready for my photos of a pregnant & cranky y/n on set...some of my best work
yourusername i may be a mom now but i won't hesitate to f*** you up pugh
hpfan23 oh my god what?? they're working together finally!! 😱
y/nmarryme they must have started filming little women!
lewishamilton
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lewishamilton blessed 🖤
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yourusername my baby daddy 💋
lewishamilton my sexy baby mama
hamilton6wc ugh i want what they have 😪
mercedesamgf1 welcome to the world baby hamilton 🥰
serenawilliams congratulations to you & y/n x
f1 can't wait to see him in the paddock
heartsfromlewis someone tag that fan account that called it !!!
peakyblindersofficial
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peakyblindersofficial secrets out...baby number 2 is on the way for tommy and deb.
#peakyblinders
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yourusername the whole pregnancy was planned around the plot of season 5 #insidescoop
yourbestfriend as if we believe you 🙄
lewishamilton i thought it was because i won you another championship
lewis44bb i just choked on my salad.
mercedesamgf1 please correct yourselves - that's the future of f1 in there 😤🏁
peakyblindersofficial no! it's the future gangster of birmingham 🔫
peakyfingblinders ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! i can't freakin wait!!!!
florencepugh
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florencepugh not a cranky one but she be looking chunky in this one.
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yourusername I'm coming for you pugh...
side note; please send requests for any drivers! i particularly love charles, lando, max and carlos but i'll take others into consideration xx
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Text
Oath of Moon ~ W.M
Desc: Karen!Wanda tries her best to get over you, navigating through the aftermath of her own spells
Warnings: Manipulation, I attempt fluff, it's LONG, TW: Glitching GIF
I usually don't prefer impromptu part 2s because they're rarely as good as the first one, but here goes...
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Here's Part 1, if you're not from Poker Face ; technically a part 2, but can be read on its own
[yes, there are taylor swift references]
Tagging:@kyaraderuwez , @romanoffsho , @alicenter, @imflemme @gingerninja1993 , @wandasmarley
[YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST AND/OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ELSEWHERE]
****
Maybe it was validation she craved. Maybe it was a pinch in the arm to assure her that the nights you spent together were real, and not just fabrications of her lonely, longing and loveless soul.
But every time she passed you in the street, she had to glance up at you. She needed you to look. And every time you didn't, her entire day was ruined. Her nights were still brilliant, though.
But every time you did, it was as if you were spending lifetimes together in that moment. There was no secret wink, no sly smirk, just polite acknowledgement, but there was a form of fondness to it that helped break down Wanda's deep gaze and give way to a smile filled with endearment.
Pathetic.
For some reason, she did not feel like she had the right to question why you barely looked at her, and why when you did, she was just your neighbour Wanda. Which was weird, because you never set any such rules together. A month of pure bliss, and you went back to trying to figure out if Natalie was the one, and she went back to her husband who barely looked at her.
She'd orchestrated the whole thing, yes. She'd confessed. She knew where you were, what you were doing, and she truly barely heard any noise. She'd seen you once, and she'd come over, but it was never you who answered. Until it was.
You didn't care. As long as she wasn't actually a witch performing curses on you, it was fine. Little did you know...
But her kids were coming back from their grandma's. Her husband was returning the night after that.
So nothing was ever actually fine.
A neighbourhood gathering at the church was the most recent event where she saw you outside of the heaven you'd created in her bedroom. Being told she's a sinner in every other way than to her face was an incredibly ironic thing, seeing as everyone who tried to insinuate that (apparently people got suspicious about the amount of time you spent 'fixing her plumbing' or 'fixing her television') definitely did not love their neighbours.
Or maybe it was the amount of times she was caught glancing in your general vicinity.
Either way, you were both walking on thin ice.
But maybe that was the dream, to fall as hard as needed, knowing that you were falling together. Now all those kitschy slogans made sense.
'If we go down, then we go down together'. This was the phrase that danced through her mind when you were both lying there, breathlessness now fading away, your eyelids fluttering closed.
"Y/N.", she calls out in the dark. It is a whisper, like a dying poet's last breath. You stir, placing an instinctual kiss on her temple. It wasn't one placed as if you had to do it ; if that was the case, she would have pulled away. It was more like you got to do it, like it was now your normal that you preferred to do. She loved that your first reaction to her voice was to kiss her. It was something, she realises with horror, that was fragile and fleeting.
"Why don't you ever look at me?"
An involuntary smirk creeps its way onto your face.
You widen your eyes, and she laughs as you tilt your head and inch closer and closer to her, peering into her eyes in a comically terrifying way. It ends when you get close enough to kiss her, and you don't pass up the opportunity.
"What I meant was...", she continues, watching your eyes as you tangle your hands in her hair, her mind conjuring up what she thought you fingers were doing with her hair. "In public. Even when it's a normal, neighbourly look. You look right through me."
"Mrs Maximoff.", you sigh, shaking your head as you pull her closer to you, your lips on her neck. "I don't look at you because if I do, I will lose control and kiss you in the middle of the street when everyone's watching, and I don't think that would be the wisest decision."
She stills. You take your eyes (and hands) off her hair and instead focus them on her eyes and then her lips. "What?"
"Really?"
"Yes, why?"
It's as if you know exactly what to say to her to make her fall for you more.
"Nothing."
There is a blissful silence that both thrills and haunts her. You are still kissing her face all over, inciting giggles and gasps alike.
"The boys are coming back tonight."
You smile, glancing over at the date on the calendar on which you'd jokingly drawn a sad face. "Really? I almost didn't notice."
She hums. "Vis is coming back home in two nights."
"Good."
She looks up at you. "For him, not us."
"Y/N, I really don't think I can stand never touching you again.", she confesses, as if she was divulging all her secrets because you were both about to die. You nod. "I guess you have to."
The way you say it is so soft that it kind of aggravates her. It seems that you're walking on eggshells around her, in order to soften the blow, perhaps. But the blow had already been swung at her. She was already bleeding and bruised, reaching out to you.
"We've already taken a huge risk, Mrs Maximoff, and I can't promise that I'll even still be here in a month."
Please be lying.
"What?"
"Nat and I are probably moving in together."
"Who's Nat?"
"Natalie? You met her back when this all started?"
"Oh. Right."
"And besides, the only certainty here is pain.", you say, kissing her on her lips and trailing down her neck, your fingers following suit.
'Well, yes, but also...no.', she thinks.
She remembers the same conversation she'd had a while ago with her husband, and the disparity between your reactions solidified her urge to brainwash you into loving her forever.
"Why do you never look at me?", she sings the same song once more. One last time.
"Wanda, love, not this again."
"Why not? Come on, tell me. What, I'm not interesting enough to look at, what is it?"
"Wanda, I'm very tired, and I don't have time to deal with this. Are the boys in bed?"
"Yes, Vis, yes, the boys are in bed, dinner is made, I've unpacked your things, poured out water for you, done the laundry- EVERYTHING, so now we can talk ."
She has never seethed so much, especially not at him. But something irks her, lights her on fire and keeps throwing kerosene into it, and she doesn't know what it is. Or who. But she has a very good guess.
"Wanda, I am tired.", he says once more, confirming what Wanda was relieved, yet angry to know.
"You don't love me anymore."
"Wanda, honestly, give it a break. You're my wife! We've got two beautiful kids together! I know you miss me when I'm away, but if you want food on the table, I have to!"
He doesn't deny it.
She gets up, washes her plate, and leaves her husband in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Alone.
Just like you leave her in her bedroom in the middle of the night. Alone.
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There's one more social event to go through before you actually had to say goodbye, and this one actually allows her to be close to you.
So, it isn't that bad, but the boys were back. The boys were back.
This event is a picnic for the kids of the neighbourhood, because it's the first day of summer break.
Her eyes wander over to you, as they always seem to be doing these days. You're laughing with your friends. With Nat. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, love wasn't the deal.
Love was not the deal. Maybe it was your eyes, your laugh, the way you drew the line at kids before she convinced you not to, but there was something there, something tangible.
She loved you.
She tries it out in her mouth, as a toddler would try out a new taste. "I love you, Y/N. "
It feels perfect, as if she is born to say that. But... love in a month?
She watches. You look. She smiles. You don't. She convinces herself your gaze softened. Her mind drags your words into the spotlight.
She clings onto the thought that every time you look at her and look away, you're actually fighting the urge to kiss her. She's unsure how much of that was true, but she'll go with it.
"I will lose control and kiss you in the middle of the street when everyone's watching, and I don't think that would be the wisest decision." Damn right, it wouldn't.
"That Y/N is quite the character, eh?", remarks Agnes, nudging her by the elbow. She frowns. "What?"
"Apparently, Y/N accidentally keeps cheating on the redhead over there, Nicky or something.", she whispers. Gossip was Agnes' entire personality, and sometimes it was torturous (like now), but at times, it was a... neighbourly encyclopaedia; very helpful.
"Natalie?", she asks, reluctantly. She may not like the girl, but at least get her name right.
"Right, yes. Anyway, Y/N's dangerous. Apparently lots of women here have been captivated by Y/N and were then just... forgotten."
"Lots?"
Well, of course they were forgotten, she made it that way. Now, the thing was, she had no idea that these women were the ones here ; she'd thought they'd be ghosts from your past that were gonna jump out at her. "Sadly, they still flock around Y/N in hopes that they'll get even a slice of attention. Pathetic.", she mutters, shaking her head as she pours orange juice out of one of five jugs reserved for the children.
This, she did not know. You forgot them, but they didn't forget you.
Pathetic. This was the same word she'd used to chastise herself for caring too much about whether you looked at her or not. And just like that, her thoughts stop circling you. So if she was just one of a horde, she would just fade into the crowd.
Good god, if she didn't get over you, she'd lose Westview, too.
"Wanda? Wanda!"
She is pulled out of her trance like pulling a boat in the water towards you using its rope - gently but quickly.
Agnes is by her side, but it's another neighbour, one whose name isn't stored in Wanda's mind, who called out to her. But apparently they were on a first name basis.
"Goodness, what has you stolen away from us?", she asks, brimming with false mirth.
It takes her a moment to realise she is referring to her momentary detachment. Agnes follows what she thought was Wanda's gaze. Their eyes interlock, and about sixteen conversations are held in that one glance.
Conversations Wanda doesn't want to have.
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Wanda doesn't believe it when her kid says there's a faint sound of thudding coming from his bedroom wall. She tells him she'll be there in her room, if he's scared, and she tucks him in. She looks back on all the movies he and his brother were adamant on watching because they were: 'grown ups', now.
'Not scared, my ass.', she thinks, smiling.
Oh, to be young and wild and hopeful again.
She doesn't like going to bed immediately, because one of her boys always requires something. She reads the back of a book, waiting for the sound of terrified squeals. None.
Just a whimper. Her husband stirs next to her.
"Mommy!"
Yes, there's the sound of her grown up kids.
She reaches the room, arms crossed. "Yes?"
"There's... a... stranger. Out there.", whispers Billy, terrified and clutching the end of a curtain. It is far too late for this. "Mhm. Look, Billy, if you want, you can come and sleep in my room for a while, but..."
"No, Mom, I saw it, too!"
She sighs. "I told you you weren't old enough for those movies.", she mutters. "Sit back in bed. Mommy will check it out, alright?"
They nod, meekly.
Drawing the curtains open, she peers out into the darkness, searching, for her sons' sake, for some dark figure lurking in their backyard. "Boys, there's no one-"
You bring a hand up to wave, mouthing a 'sorry', and Wanda scowls.
Did you have to mess with her sons' sanity, too?
She glances over at her children, who are staring straight ahead, at the door, presumably ensuring nothing was going to crawl in from there. She presents a finger to you, and you shrug dramatically.
"Leave.", she whispers to you, and her children begin to gasp.
"NO! You can't talk to the ghost!"
You salute her, disappearing into the bushes.
"Look, it's gone.", she assures them, pretending to dust her hands. They peek in awe. "How did you do that?"
"Because, unlike you, even ghosts listen to Mommy.", she says, returning to the dreary room she was to 'rest' in.
The thudding begins again, but this time, her kids wouldn't hear it. It is at her window.
She storms towards her window, eyes scorching because of bright lights she couldn't exactly place, and she sees (more clearly due to the fact that you were now closer to the dim street light) that your hand's full of pebbles and rocks.
You are throwing rocks at her bedroom window.
The bedroom she shares with her husband.
You gesture at her to come down. "No. Leave!" she mouths.
"What? No! Come down, now!"
"NO!", she hisses, snapping her head back to check that he didn't hear.
"Oh, come on, Mommy ! You don't want me waking up your kids, hm?"
She rolls her eyes, frustrated and knotting her nightrobe around her tightly, storming out (as quiet as a mouse) of the room.
After seeing Vision in the flesh and not just some memory-concocted, phantom version of him, her emotions began to take her onto a previously unprecedented path - regret. She'd expected a twinge of rebelliousness, rage, maybe even a thirst for revenge.
But no.
"Y/N, I am not down here for the rocks, I am here because of the music and lights coming from your house!", she hisses, pointing at your house and the colourful flashes indeed emanating from a projector you'd had. "Are you having a party?!"
"Yes, why?"
"You park in an unruly way on the driveway, you are a public nuisance, you-"
"-Are an amazing lover, yes, I know it, but, Mrs Maximoff, oh my god!", you exclaim, grabbing her by the shoulder, frantically.
"What?"
"I almost cried because I woke up and realized you're not next to me!", you exclaim in the dark of night, pulling her to your chest. Slowly, she brings her hand to the back of your head. Alright. This is innocent. This is fine. This is... not her doing. You were saying all this of your own accord. She almost lets herself hope.
"Let's go."
"What? Where?"
You stare at her, incredulously. "You didn't get my note?"
She shakes her head, melting in the aftermath of your words. You almost cried?
"I told you, meet me behind the mall."
"I didn't get any note."
"It's in your mail slot, how did you not see it?"
The mail slot. You didn't know that he'd come home early. He could have it.
"Did you mention your name? Did you mention... me?"
"No, I just said those five words. What's wrong, Mrs Maximoff?"
"Vis is home."
Your eyes widen. "Oh. Wasn't he meant to return tom-"
"Yes, but he didn't. He's here now."
You hug her. She doesn't expect it. She doesn't want you to pull away, she doesn't want you to leave, but you have to. You have to.
"I know this is too late, but I really... I'll really miss you. Very much."
"Yes, Y/N, this is far too late. But...", she whispers, closing her eyes as she feels your thumb graze her bottom lip, feeling just like it had the first time.
"I love you.", you whisper, as if this confession could make or break the universe, as if it was the very core on which you were made, and uttering it could destroy you. Her eyes open and are grateful that it's you before them.
She almost regrets calling the cops on you a couple times when you first moved in. And tonight. But that was nothing a flick of the wrist couldn't handle. They'll stop in the middle of their tracks.
"Y/N..."
"Look, Wanda, I'm saying this to you under the moonlight, I am confessing my truth in the most genuine way possible - under oath of moon. I love you. I never thought I would, or could , but... what am I doing ?"
The thought of you chastising yourself for loving her makes her want to kill herself. She moves her wrist in the most seamless way. Your eyes glow red, and you shut up and kiss her.
"I'm standing here, telling you this instead of just... sealing the pact by sealing our lips together...", you trail off, peppering her with kisses that she couldn't refuse.
"But you're moving."
"Yeah, so? Now it's me with the limited time to be with you. And from now on, you're giving me cooking classes every day.", you say, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Okay?"
What the fuck did you expect her to say, 'no'? When you'd confessed with your entire moonlit heart, when you'd kissed her with your soul and not your lips, when you made her feel like she was a canvas and you were an artist, why would she say no?
She nods, biting her lip as she watches you go.
"Alright. Goodbye, my love."
You'd called her Wanda, she recalls, looking back at the moment where she knew that her next move was to bewitch a reason for you to stay, on top of a reason for this Natalie to not be The One for you. Hard work, but hey, she managed to make you agree to an affair. And, get this, she managed to make you love her. Albeit, without the help of magic, but that was all the more reason to assume that this would be a piece of cake.
You never called her that. She prefers this to 'Mrs Maximoff'.
'Now', she thinks, huffing at all the work she has cut out for her and looking over at her (unlike you) non-compliant husband, 'To do something about that note.'
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madaboutmunson · 4 months
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Are You Experienced?
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Rating: Mature Words: 26K Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Warnings & Tags:
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AO3 Link Team 117 for @steddiebang 2023 Author: @madaboutmunson Artist: @danadaria Beta: @house-of-chant Cheerleader : @atmilliways (unofficial but I am super grateful for your help so didn't want to miss you out!) Summary:
Everyone knows Steve Harrington, a local rich kid jock, the previous king of Hawkins High School. He's got it all, money, a respectable family, and chicks love him. He's even spending the summer learning what it's like to be a real working man before taking on a role in his Dad's firm because its builds character and empathy. Or is he something else entirely?
Is Steve a down-on-his-luck guy, stuck in a job he dislikes because his dad is teaching him a lesson, repeatedly striking out with the ladies, that his co-worker is fond of reminding him about?
Under all the many layers and masks, he uses to survive the day-to-day, Steve has secrets. The main one is how passionately he loves music. How it moves him in ways nothing else does, and he's sure no one else could possibly feel the same, until his Mom gives him $50 to spend at the new record store. Notes: I sincerely hope you enjoy this story and the artwork for this fic. I really loved writing it, and I really loved the Steddie community I became part of because of this event. It has changed me forever. You're all so awesome. Huge thanks to my artist who not only claimed my fic but also really understood our Steve's perspective in this. I can't believe how lucky I am to have @danadaria as part of my team! Also huge thanks to @house-of-chant for beta-ing my fic you rule! Thank you so much And also big shout out to @atmilliways who when I was getting nervous about my fic (it had been so long since I edited it (I completed my before claims lol)) gave it another read for me and restored my confidence in it! Thank you **********************************************************************
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********************************************************************** It's the beat that got him first, or so his mom is fond of reminding him as she teased him a little over the foam on her cappuccino. A fond nostalgic expression washes over her usual business-like aura that mostly filled these private but public meet-ups.
Away from his Dad, essentially. Away from his judgemental outlook, away from his snide comments and homophobic jabs. Here, his mother was more his mom; they'd been doing this since Steve had been forced to find a job, and honestly, it's been the best thing to come out of this shitty situation so far. 
When he was a kid, they used to spend her days off together without him until he fucked that up for Steve too. The cheating. His wandering eyes, hands and dick meant his mom would leave and take him for everything he had, including Steve, but somehow he slimed his way back, citing addictions. He could change if his wife stood by him through his "sickness". The irony of reminding his mom of her wedding vows to make her stay after she'd found out about only the first of a long list of women he'd been banging was not lost on Steve. So now she had to follow his Dad everywhere, like his goddamn nanny. It was beneath her, she didn't have to do this, but she did. She'd be damned if she looked like she didn't try. 
Steve often wonders if that is because even though he hurt her irreparably, repeatedly, that some small tiny part of her still loved that pathetic excuse for a husband. They both would be happier if they'd just left him, though they never say it out loud, only in silent shared glances over dinner or when he pisses one of them off, and they just have to take it. Because now he's built himself a better legal team, and she knows they're stuck. But Saturday was golf day, and that was no place for a wife, apparently. Steve loathed him.
His Mom always offers to buy him lunch. Steve always declines. Says he's already eaten. He hasn't. He just wants to prove he can do this. He can work. He can survive. Then maybe his Dad would lighten up, stop busting his balls about college, give him a shitty job at his place, and then Steve would be set for life. Come to heel, fitting the mold, nine to five grind and staying on the right side of his trust fund and future inheritance.
Despite his eagerness for an easy life, Steve is the kind of guy that loves a challenge. He loves to prove people wrong about him, but carefully, quietly, because if he fails as he has numerous times, at least the only person who knows he was trying so hard is himself. But he'd be lying out of his ass, if he didn't admit at least to himself that it would be much nicer to live the privileged, pampered life rather than getting his confidence shattered multiple times a day, dressed as a fucking sailor pin-up.
"You were so funny, Stevie. Crawling the wrong way. Not being able to work out how to turn yourself around. Constantly bumping into things. Until, of course, you found your muse," She chuckles, and it warms Steve's heart because this is also something that only happens at these meetings. She genuinely laughs, and her smile reaches her eyes, making them twinkle like a starry, starry night. Not like the laugh at home, not the carefully curated laugh, the one that's calculated to not be too loud or too long, lest it irritates his Dad somehow. Steve had one, too for him. "Such a little dancer," his mom adds, nostalgia swimming in her eyes of happier times.
That was true. His Mom, Dad and Nanny all said the same about him. His Mom and Nanny with joy, his Dad with disgust. It was also true that Steve had lost his footing literally and figuratively many times over his life so far, and some of those times, the only person able to pick him up and dust him off was himself. But he had a secret weapon. He had music.
Lots of people like music. Some love it.Steve believed there was part of him that was almost a direct connection to it. Like he had music in him. Like the right song at the right time could plug into him and change him forever. Like part of him was controlled by it. He wasn't just moved by it physically, but emotionally too. He could put on his headphones alone at night, press play, and be transported elsewhere. Places, feelings, past, present, future and in the skin of someone else. Until he is swept up in it like an inescapable hurricane. Until Steve Harrington didn't exist for those few minutes.
"Glad to know I amused you at one point," he jokes and gives her a charming smile. It's almost natural, but she takes it. Looks around quickly before stretching across the table and squeezing his hand, and he feels the familiar paper push inside as she takes her hand away back to her coffee cup.
"Have you been to the record store here yet?" She takes a sip of her drink and glances up at it, "Looks a lot more modern than the one in town."
Steve pulls his hands into his lap and unfurls his fingers to reveal a fifty-dollar bill. He rolls his eyes, "Come on, Mom. I don't need this," he whispers, "I'm fine. I'm still at home. I'm making my own money. It feels kinda good, you know?"
Her happy expression falls, "You look tired, my little star." Her eyes meet his over the rim of her coffee cup. He knows how tired he looks, he sees it in the mirror every morning, and it's not from work. He is struggling post-high school. Things aren't as easy anymore. "Why don't you try the new place out? It's not far from work, right?" He glances over at Sam Goody's from where they are seated and is tempted, but there are reasons he's been avoiding it. "You know you are never happier than when you get to add to your collection. Tell him you got a big tip or something if he bothers to ask you. Once I'm home, I'll put my rollers in before he gets back, and he'll think I had my hair done. So don't worry." Steve half smiles and guiltily casts his eyes to the table between them. This will be their last lunch for a while.
"Thanks. If everything goes ok, I'll check it out after my shift." And he will. Steve tries to stick to his word as best he can, at least endeavours to be better than his Dad at it anyway, which, honestly, takes little effort. He pushes the money into his jacket pocket as she gets up, and they part ways with a small fond wave.  A hug would be too much out in the open, as if being dressed as a sailor wasn't eye-catching enough.
Steve returns to Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor and tags in so the girl he always seems to be on shift with can take her break. Her name's Robin. She's a little younger than him: Nancy's age. She's bossy, annoying, a complete nerd; she talks too much, she's in band, she takes drama; and she thinks she's some kind of revolutionary because she found a feminist zine one time. He gets the same feeling around her as when he's with the little group of dickheads that he always ends up babysitting. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max, El. He'd never let on, but it's kinda nice. They can rib one another all day, laugh, and mutually complain about work. It's like a weird comradery. 
But what Steve really likes about her isn't the things she gives away with her words. It's what he spots in her Walkman or what she hums when she's working in the back. Sure, Robin will tell you her favourites, Madonna, Bowie, Culture Club, and Cindy Lauper, but that, as with most people, is just the tip of the iceberg. She also likes Patti Smith, The Runaways and Marvin Gaye. Steve managed to sneak a peek at the names through the window of her Walkman. Sometimes, annoyingly, it will be an unlabelled mixtape, preventing Steve from unravelling the mystery of Robin further. 
Steve's Robin assessment: 
Non-traditional values
Likes people who go against the grain 
Hopeless Romantic
"You're back early. You've got another fifteen minutes?" She frowns at him and wrinkles her nose, making her freckles misshapen.
"Oh yeah," Steve plays dumb, follows up with a shrug, and heads into the back to hang up his jacket, wash his hands and pick up his scooper. When he re-emerges, she's still leaning on the counter, frowning at him like he was the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. He gives her a charming smile back, "You can go early if you want?" Her frown turns into disgust as she pushes past him into the back.
"What is with you?!" She mutters as she passes.
"Ah, what is with me, Robin, is that I love the thrill of consumerism! Gonna beat my personal best today. You'll see!" He calls after her with a smile.
"I know you only need one phone number to do that, Steve, but I still think that's one too many out of your reach." She says in a sing-song tone with a laugh, and Steve rolls his eyes in annoyance.
"I'm talking about ice cream sales, birdbrain." He sasses back.
"Ohh, sticking to what we're good at, finally. I'm proud of you, Steve." She says, teasing him, as she walks back out, headphones on, giving him a salute goodbye.
There is a small influx of customers over the next hour, but nothing Steve can't handle, and by the time Robin returns, there isn't much to do except start shutting down.
"Well?" Robin inquires with a smirk.
"Almost," Steve replies with a smile, "but also…" he pulls a slip of paper from his hat with a number on. Robin grabs at it, and Steve pulls it out of her reach. "Ah-ah! Change the tally. I have a number." Steve points at the little whiteboard.
"Ok, fine!" She says with an adorable huff, picking up the marker pen, but as soon as Steve has relaxed, she snatches the slip of paper and reads over it, clasping her hand over her mouth, with a laugh, "Oh, Steve. Were they wearing a uniform or - or maybe carrying a net?"
"A what? No!" He says, frowning in annoyance, "This cute blonde chick with a perm. Linzie! That's it!" Steve says, clicking his fingers and pointing at the whiteboard impatiently.
Robin walks over to the board and puts a mark under the You Suck column. 
"Hey!" Steve protests.
"This is the number for animal control," Robin says smugly, holding the paper between her fingers and handing it back to Steve, who snatches it and races for the phone, punching in the number whilst keeping a locked defiant stare with Robin.
The phone rings a few times. It feels like forever.
"Hawkins Animal Control. No bug too small, no bear too big." Steve rolls his eyes and slams down the handset, tossing the paper in the trash and leans glumly on the counter. He really does feel like he sucks right now.
"Come on, champ. Your frosty mistress still loves you! In scoopfuls," she says, laughing as she pats him on the shoulder and thrusts an ice cream tub at him. As he looks up from his self-pity, quicksand. Her eyes are bright, sparkling with harmless mischief. Even though her teasing could be a little cutting, there was no malice. He can tell by the way she warmly smiles at him. A wordless check-in to see if she'd gone too far.
"For now. Until some grizzly pirate steals her away, no doubt." Steve rolls his eyes as he starts piling up more tubs to take out back to wash.
"Or you." She says with a laugh. Steve shakes his head and contorts his face like she just told him the moon was made of sponge cake and returns out front to collect a few more.
"No chance, not with these reflexes!" He says, spinning his scooper in his hand. She rolls her eyes, but her smile widens as she launches a sauce bottle at him that he effortlessly catches before impact, pumps his eyebrows at her and repeats, "Not with these reflexes." The forced sneer of disgust appears on her face again, making him hide a laugh behind a tower of tubs he's picked up.
He really liked Robin. She was easy to be around.
Closing time comes around, and they nod their goodbyes, at the storefront, after locking up. Like clockwork, her headphones are back on as she walks towards the bike racks. He already knows she's listening to Raspberry Beret.
Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and feels the crinkle of the fifty from his mom against his fingertips, and his eyes move to the record store. They were probably gonna be open for an hour or so longer. He turns to the store's glass front, has a final check over his appearance and ensures his uniform is buried deep in the depths of his backpack before taking a deep breath and walking over there.
It's not like he hated this place or anything. It just felt like a betrayal to the town store that was slowly but surely crumbling into non-existence. The other factor was that all the people who worked here were school kids, apart from the manager. Cheap labour, he guesses, but it means he can never fully relax here. Can never fully let the music ring through his ears so it can guide him to his next pocket-sized plastic box of hidden treasure. Most of them were younger than him, though, so intimidating them was easy enough, though with the weather warming up, they were slowly catching on to how far King Steve had fallen, working just across the way. He tells them it's character-building, an experiment. He only told Robin that it was, in fact, a punishment.
He stands outside for a moment. This place is so bright and garish. Neon lights ran all over it like some fake plastic poison spreading between what he loved most. He can already hear something blaring out of there and voices chattering loudly, contending with it. He puts on his headphones, carefully placing the band so it doesn't crease up his hair, and pushes play on his Walkman. His ears fill with Nina Simone, and he takes a much easier deep breath as he walks inside.
I wish I knew how it would feel to be free.
As the voice smoothly fills his ears like it had just broken through the dam of the day and swirls its way around his brain into what feels like every crease, he finally feels that special feeling. The tingle from under his cheekbone to his temples, and he can finally settle into himself a little more. Swaps tension for ease as his fingers dance over the music sections, flipping cassette cases or the large vinyl album artwork as he moves around the store.
That is until he starts to hear the repetition of something unfortunate, and it pulls him out of his oasis of calm back into his old, reliable, tensed body and mask. His name.
"Harrington!" The voice rings out, and as if to make a show of how annoying this all is, he slowly takes off his headphones and forcibly pushes stop on his walkman.
"Yes?" He says through almost gritted teeth as he turns to the origin of the sound and finds himself met with a set of hopeful brown eyes, a mass of waves and curls, and an awkward smile. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.
Steve's Eddie assessment: 
Loud
Grating
Obnoxious
Non-conformist to the mainstream
Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene
"Good to see ya, man. How're things?" Eddie forces his smile wider, but it is strained.
Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Let's get this over with, Munson. How can I help you?" His hands land on his hips, pushing back his jacket a little to emphasise the inconvenience, but Eddie seems unperturbed, curiously; his smile grows toothy and genuine.
"Well, that's quite an offer, but I was actually thinking about the other way around." Steve's eyes follow Eddie's ringed hand that comes into view and taps the name tag on his chest, "How can I help you, Harrington?" He drops his head to the side a little.
Steve forces out an unimpressed laugh of condescension, "I don't need any help. I'm good!" Eddie's customer service persona falters a little to worry.
"Come on, man.  All these other twerps here are terrified of me or the younger ones, who aren't, get led away by their folks." As he gestures around the store, sets of eyes that Steve didn't realise were on them dart away. Eddie's eyebrows push together, "You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t desperate, dude. We're in the same boat here, you know? Please?" 
Weirdly the endearing look on his face wins him over, but Steve will not advertise himself as an easy sell. He pushes back once more for good measure. "We are not in the same boat, not by a long shot!"
Eddie steps in closer, keeping his voice down, and mumbles out, "I know you're working over at Scoops, one of my band told me."
"Yeah, well, that's just an experiment. If I'm gonna manage people and run a company, I need to know what the average worker feels like. So like I said, it's very different," he scoffs with a laugh.
Then something unexpected happens. Eddie shifts his body and his stance. Straightens his wiry frame to his full height, no longer slouching for the promise of Steve's pity, but eye to eye for a second before he's slightly above him, maybe an inch or so. He squints a little, carefully searches each of Steve's eyes, looks him over, and puffs out his chest. All too familiar with this display of sizing up an opponent, Steve mirrors him. Show no sign of weakness. 
"You know, Harrington. One of my first little tasks here was to take out the trash. I crushed up boxes and collected empty soda cans that my colleagues and customers enjoy leaving around the place, though the signs explicitly say not to. I even shredded the unsuccessful applications for the position I just filled." Eddie's lips are tighter. It's almost a threat. He's obviously seen Steve's resume in the pile. Probably laughed at it too. An ember of anger glows within Steve, but his outside remains cool. He'll wait and see what Eddie wants to do with his leverage. His stare bores intimidatingly down into Steve's eyes, "So, as far as I'm concerned, and anyone that brings it up to me is concerned, we can stay in very different boats, Steeeeve." He lengthens and forces his name through clenched teeth. "That is, as long as you help me out here."
They hold the shared stare for a few seconds. The surprise revelation must have made it to Steve's face because Eddie looks like he knows he's won. He shifts back into sales assistant mode, like shrugging a jacket back on, and his hands animate his words once more. "So, I can help you out in the store. I could even make sure that all my friends with the munchies know where to get the best ice cream in town if you need some help over there too? Some of them are a lot cuter than you'd expect. Whaddya say, buddy? Consider it a symbiotic relationship." His grin, reptilian.
Steve breathes like he knows he's going to regret this. Eddie Munson invading his precious music. "What do you feel you can help me with today?" His exasperation is palpable. Eddie claps his hands together with glee, and his accessories clink about as he, alternating leg, hops on the spot before his sly grin turns radiant, friendly almost. The rapid change is almost a little jarring but intriguing because with a switch that quick, one of these attitudes was pure showmanship, and to his credit, both were believable performances.
"Well, let's start with the basics. Are you looking for anything in particular today?" Eddie asks pleasantly. "Because whatever you're looking for, Goody got it" he laughs out the rehearsed store slogan. It seems like he is actually trying here, and Steve decides this doesn't need to be a totally painful experience. For himself, at least. He taps his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmmm, I guess I'm just looking for something new." Steve ponders, looking around, and he sees a glimmer in Eddie's eyes as they dart from Steve to a section further back in the store. 
"Oh, well, if you want the freshest sounds around, you've come to not only the right store but also the right man. Metal is taking off in a big way right now, splintering off into little tasty genre morsels even someone as…well… straight-laced as yourself might enjoy." He looks him over, his eyes zig-zagging for clues. "Maybe nothing too heavy. A smorgasbord of speeds and sentiment for you to sample. Maybe er…Mötley Crüe? You heard of 'em?" Eddie has linked his arm and is currently parading Steve towards the back of the store. "Now try to overlook the title of the album. It's much less scary than it sounds. I think you're probably a Queen fan, right? Maybe some Bowie, Cheap Trick, or other seventies glam stuff? Well, you'll hear in many Crue melodies and riff structures that they are as much influenced by that as they were by punk rock. So I think you might like it. Besides, they are known for their hair, just like you." Eddie lays his charm on thick, well, what he thinks is charming anyway. Strictly speaking, it is a little hit and miss in Steve's book; although he lets Eddie finish his spiel, which is honestly more impressive than he would like to admit, Steve already had the album Shout At The Devil stashed away at home, and he did like some of it, but it didn't move him. But something about Eddie reeling off some of his favourites like that feels strange. Maybe that's why Eddie got the job here. Perhaps he’s a quick study when it comes to musical taste.
He attempts to assess Eddie for himself. Everything about his outside screams of high-speed punk and metal. But things like Dio, Iron Maiden and Sabbath definitely lean towards fantasy, history and myth. Imaginative, maybe, but that felt too soft. So he labels him creative, at least. The way he could talk at length about topics, and he's good with words. Maybe that's why he likes songs where the lyrics are a real story, tales of dragons and kings. There are the obvious things too. The way he dresses, his haircut, and his rings, but also something else. Being around him feels like when a guitar gets plugged into an amplifier. Eddie is big energy, wild maybe, something animalistic in how he doesn't hold back his expressions. Definitely something predatory in how he loomed over him, but that could have just been for show.
For Steve, there are levels to this. There is music you can’t bear to hear, the music you are indifferent to, the music you enjoy, music that evokes emotion, and then the stuff that sends lightning through your nervous system. It moves you, even if you don't want to be. If he was going to help Eddie out, the least he could get for himself was a tidbit of insider information about the guy at the same time.
So Steve stops them dead in their tracks before they reach the Metal section of the store and lies, "You know, I don't think my girlfriends are gonna enjoy that too much, Eddie. Maybe, yeah, maybe something a little softer. You know what girls like, right?" He sees Eddie jolt to a stop, his head shrinking back into his shoulders with a wince, and he releases his arm.
He turns to Steve, tossing his hair over his shoulder in a vain act of cockiness, that this time Steve sees right through. He waits to see what transpires. "Of course I do! I just thought you were shopping for you. You didn't say otherwise, duh!" Eddie states defensively, struts back into the middle of the store, and stops directly in front of the top 100 chart singles, blinking a few times, pretending to be in thought, but Steve sees the swallow of nerves. "So, uh, what's she into? So I can, you know, make a related recommendation." 
Oh! This was an unexpected turn of events, and Steve can't resist tugging at the strand of Eddie's unravelling. "Oh, you know, typical girl stuff." Eddie nods at the hundreds of cassettes in front of him, his mouth a tight line, avoiding Steve's eyes. He had made an assumption about Eddie long ago, and as it turned out, he might actually be wrong. He’s a nerd, yes. Loud, sure, but he’s also a lead guitarist. They get girls, women even, throwing themselves at them, right? But Eddie seems very nervous about figuring out what girls like. He looks stumped. Steve doesn't know if that is due to inexperience with girls or chart music.
"Huh," Eddie coughs out, hand on his hip as he rounds on Steve, "Never thought you were a misogynist, Harrington."
"What?" Steve blinks in surprise.
"You think girls like a certain type of music. That's pretty sexist." The confident smile returns to his face as he feels he's found a way out of the awkward place Steve had happily placed him in. "Your genitalia or identity can't make you favour one beat over another, Harrington. Music is an even playing field. The industry itself, that's a different story." He sighs like he's some wise old sage and tuts at Steve.
This guy is slippery, but Steve could play this game, "Oh, of course. What I meant was music for romancing? Maybe a slow dance over a candle-lit dinner or a moonlight drive down to get acquainted near Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock. You know all about that, don't you, Eddie? You're a man of the world, right?" Steve leans into Eddie's space and grins happily at him. That's when Steve gets another win. Eddie blushes, not just a little either, a lot. Soft coral-pink patches hit just on and under his cheekbones. So much so that before Steve can comment on it, Eddie is kneeling on the floor, pretending to search through tapes, his hair draped down, hiding his face. If he was a betting man, he'd guess the inexperience was with girls. Now there was a new question. Was that a choice or not?
He stands up eventually and looks Steve directly in the eyes, and smirks, "Alright, then." He says quietly, "Wait here" Steve frowns a little in confusion but observes Eddie darting around the store until he returns with three cassettes. "Contemporary," he hands over a copy of Sade's Diamond Life, "smooth," he places a second cassette on top of Al Green's Let's Stay Together, and the last cassette on the pile, The Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced? He shifts his weight to his other leg, looks down at the tapes and then back into Steve's eyes, speaking hushed and deliberately as if he were telling him a secret, "and some of the sexiest fucking guitar the sixties had to offer."
And in that one sentence, Steve is jolted, like someone just caught him off guard with a hand buzzer. The first two descriptions were statements, observations, but that last one…there was power to it. Not just his words but the delivery. Eddie meant that. An enthusiasm he immediately recognised matching his own when he thought about music or talked about it after a few beers, and he had to remember not to let his mask slip too far, but Eddie wasn't masking how this particular musical gem had impacted him. Steve quickly breaks eye contact and looks down at the tapes in his hand.
"You listened to all these?" Steve asks because Eddie had inadvertently prodded Steve's curiosity gremlin, which is clawing its way out of him. He needed to learn more now. Unknowingly Eddie had baited the water for Steve, he wanted to circle him until he got another tasty chunk, but he couldn't, not here and now.
Eddie brushes the question off, "I know my way around. Just trust me. And in the unlikely event I'm wrong, you can return them at my expense." Eddie waves his hand in front of them both toward the register. "Shall we?"
Steve nods, turning the tapes over in his hands. Maybe he could keep the conversation going differently. "What happened to your other business venture?" It's reasonably well known Eddie is the go-to guy for recreational substances for high schoolers, and Steve would guess that is relatively lucrative, so why on earth was he working here. Was he turning over a new leaf?
"Well, not that it's any of your business, Harrington, but I'm under advisement to press pause on that whilst some things get ironed out." He taps the registry keys with a smirk that indicates to Steve that perhaps it's the golf club and not the clothing crease-removing iron he's talking about. "If I'm not splashing around, other things can bob up to the surface, you know? Things that shouldn't be in Hawkins waters, at any rate." Eddie looks up at Steve and stretches his hand out toward him so he can give him the tapes.
He has occasionally wondered if the cops knew about Eddie, but as long as he kept things quiet and didn't venture into harder substance sales, they let it slide. An unspoken agreement of sorts.
"Found out about this place, and well, here we are," Eddie takes the money, bags the cassettes, and drops in the receipt and a flier. He smiles hugely at Steve. "I sincerely hope you have a great evening, and remember," he hands over his change and raises a finger in the air, "whatever you're looking for," and leans across the counter into Steve's space, "Goody got it!" He says with a bit of extra pout, and something about this outward confidence mixes with his potential inexperience and makes for a tantalizingly tempting cocktail of Steve's thoughts.
Steve pushes him back lightly, but Eddie laughs as he presses against Steve's hand before retreating. Shit. That probably looked weird. Nodding his thanks and goodbye, he leaves, and as he does, Eddie hops up onto the counter, calling after him loudly by cupping his hands around his mouth, "And if I'm right, which I know I am! Don't forget to tell your friends about the fantastic customer service you've received today!" Steve keeps his head down and walks out, awkwardly smiling at anyone who meets his eye. 
Safely on the outside of the store in a dwindling-to-empty mall, Steve stops holding his breath. His insides, especially his brain, feel like they aren't sitting correctly. Like they are just out of place. He unclenches his fists to cool down his palms, which were busily overheating, particularly the one he'd pushed Eddie back with. He tries to shake whatever this is off himself and decides to try out one of the tapes. He looks at the three. He contemplates trying them in the order Eddie supplied them, but he knows in his core what he really wants. He wants to know why that last one made Eddie's eyes sparkle like that, why he chose those words, and why recalling the music on that tape for a few seconds completely changed Eddie's demeanor. He outright used the word sexy, but it wasn't that. Instead, Eddie made Jimi Hendrix, one of the most famous artists to ever have existed, sound like something secret or forbidden.
He rounds to the glass storefront and forces himself to calmly unwrap and change the tape in his Walkman when all he really wants to do is greedily rip open the packaging, tossing the old tape into the never, and be plunged straight into whatever sorcery this album contained. He puts his headphones back on and pushes play. A few seconds of silence as he paces towards the parking lot. He doesn't know why, but he glances back into the shop. The doorway frames a kid, probably around Dustin's age, engaging Eddie in conversation, holding up two tapes like he's trying to decide, and Eddie is talking animatedly, pointing at each in turn. The kid listens attentively. Steve smiles to himself.
Steve's Eddie assessment: 
Loud
Grating
Obnoxious
Non-conformist to the mainstream
Conformist to the Heavy Metal scene
Likes talking about music
Might not be the awful person the town says he is.
Then, like he can sense someone observing him, Eddie looks up and smiles at Steve. Pointing to himself excitedly and then at the kid making her way to the registers and sends him a thumbs up. Steve sends a weak one back and continues his walk to the car. The guitar and beat of Purple Haze time his steps.
Steve adds to his Eddie assessment. 
Nice smile.
****************************
"Wow! Your eyes look more sunken than my shipwrecked spirit when I walked through this door," Robin exclaims, her lip curled in disgust, but he notes, with a hint of concern, when she turns up to start her shift. Steve leaning back against the counter under the hatch, starts to reply but is interrupted by a waiting yawn beating his words to the punch, "Say no more Nosferatu!" She adds, heading into the back to hang up her jacket, helmet and backpack.
Steve lets his eyes lose focus and dissociates a little from the blue and white surrounding him. It's been quiet all morning. He didn't even know why they opened in the morning, it seemed like a waste of utilities, but it usually meant that there was nothing to do except prep and clean for the first few hours on a weekday. Which was nice because it meant Steve had the place to himself and could drown out the sea shanties and chipper hornpipe melodies with whatever music he was immersing himself into at that moment in time. Today that had been the same thing he'd been listening to all night like it was his required sustenance.
He thinks a little about last night, on the car ride home, and whilst he cooked dinner for one, he sampled the Sadé album, this was dripping in that eighties sophistication of romance, and her voice might have been one of the most beautiful things Steve has ever heard. Then whilst taking care of some chores, he listened to the Al Green album, again an excellent recommendation by Eddie, it moved through the phases of love effortlessly, and the voice again was sensational. Not because the music is better, it wasn't even a genre Steve preferred, but simply because of how Eddie changed when he spoke about it. Steve saves Are you experienced? for the end of the night, when there is nothing more to do than sleep.
Taking advantage of having the place all to himself was different these days. Years ago, he'd maybe throw a party and have people stay over, but recently he hadn't had it in him. Instead, he prepares the area as usual. Turns out all the lights, makes sure everywhere is locked up, rushes to his room, gets a box of randomly assorted candles, sets a few out, and lights them. Last of all, he dons the huge over-ear headphones he's plugged into his parent's hi-fi system as he lays back on the plush rug beside it and pushes play. The beat like his heart gently pounds as Steve Harrington unwittingly falls into Eddie Munson for the first time that evening.
Steve startles at the abruptness of the hatch opening behind him, "Look, I can't not ask. My conscience is wearing me down, even though, just so this is abundantly clear, I do not care to know about your private life, generally speaking," Robin says rapidly, like she's chucking her words at him, before sighing, "Is everything ok with you?" Her voice is more gentle, verging on caring.
"Yeah, everything's fine. Just couldn't sleep, that's all. Probably the change in weather," he answers.
"Oh well, I've cracked the case. That totally seems like the truth," she sarcastically says, shutting the hatch again, finally stepping out front, and standing directly in front of Steve, "I'm not gonna drag it out of you, but equally, I do not wanna work with the shadow of a person all day. So at the very least, if you don't wanna say what's eating you, go get a coffee and come back half-human before I get dragged down into the doldrums with you. It's contagious, you know, just like yawning!" She says and promptly has to cover her mouth to hold back a yawn, which also makes Steve yawn, "Ok, enough! Get out!" She says and points towards the store entrance. Steve obliges, pushing himself off the counter, slowly sloping off to the back to grab his jacket and leaving Robin with their obligatory salute as he heads over to the nearest caffeine purveyor.
As he walks, one side of his jacket weighs heavier than the other. The pocket that usually holds his on-demand solace, but today it contains a key that unlocked the door to impulse. When choosing his music for the day this morning, he reached for a mixtape that he'd made of some of his favorite chart hits, but as he opened the Walkman and saw the tape he'd been listening to all night, The one that he couldn't stop listening to, The one that snapped something free inside him, moments after he thought that maybe he and Eddie might have some common ground, He couldn't bring himself to switch them. He feels the temptation as his fingertips glance over the thin, metal band of the headphones to feel one of those moments all over again. He bites his lip, thinking about recalling one of those less-than-pure thoughts in the full view of all these people. They would have no idea. He looks around quickly like he is about to indulge in class-A contraband while waiting in line. 
No one else knew about last night. How his brain had been scrambled irreversibly. How the goosebumps had sprung up in a sprint up his arms, face and thighs. His imagination had not just run away with him but kidnapped him and held him hostage for hours. An entire psychedelic montage of his own creation. Traveling through kaleidoscopes of color, space, time, scenarios until something unexpected showed up, and as hard as Steve tried to bat it away, it continually returned, splicing his mental music video with clips of someone who had no business being in his brain when he felt open and raw that way. But alone in the darkness, safely in the arms of music, Steve let the thoughts develop, curious to know what would happen if he let go, let it happen, where exactly would they take him. But now, in the harsh light of day, that shame is still branded on his very bones. The heat rises to his cheeks, and though impossible, he's sure that if he doesn't do something about it, people around him will be able to tell. Be able to tell he'd been thinking about someone that way, all alone in the dark.
Steve quickly shoves his hand in his other jacket pocket away from temptation, and his fingertips play with something safe, boring and familiar. Money. Cold hard cash. The easiest mask Steve has in his toolkit. The furthest thing from music he could reach for. Icy, unfeeling, devoid of soul.
He reaches the counter, and the barista smiles broadly at him. "Good morning, Steve. What can I get ya today?" He's taken aback, sure he's never formally introduced himself to this girl before, but he's glad of the smile. A little harmless, friendly flirting couldn't hurt. It might even take his mind off other things.
"Whatever you've got to keep my eyes open." He tilts his head softly, glancing down at the counter and back up to the girl. "Something sweet though, I could do with a little sugar too." 
Her eyebrows flash, and she shifts her weight to lean a little on the counter towards him. "I think I know just the thing," she says with a subtle lick of her bottom lip, "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere sailor." Steve happily shakes his head in a no, and wishes Robin was here to see his success.
"Gina, huh? Thought your type was a lot more chaste, Steve," a gravelly voice to his left sends a slight shiver down his spine, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole right now, but instead, he turns to return a polite greeting.
"Good morning to you too, Eddie." He smiles and nods as standard, but his eyes, the traitorous things, linger a little too long, scanning the eyes of the man that had been the cause of him having to buy this coffee in the first place. Eddie looks him up and down in concern, but his expression changes to something mischievous, and he grins at the floor.
"My recommendations worked out for you and your girl, did they?" He nods in Gina's direction while finally looking at Steve again. 
"Something like that." He replies, leaning heavily on the tattered edges of the truth, but quickly adds in a whisper, "It wasn't Gina, though." 
Eddie's eyes widen, and he chokes a laugh out, and to Steve's pleasant surprise, it's almost a little dorky. That’s endearing. Damn it, he's smiling at him more now. Eddie bites his lip, still grinning, before pressing himself up against Steve's side with an elbow to the ribs, whispering in his ear, "Steve Harrington, you absolute hound!" Eddie laughs again, his usual deep chuckle. Gina snaps a glare at him from the coffee machine. Steve dies a little inside. "Double espresso for me, Genie baby," Eddie charmingly beams back at her whilst Steve does everything he can to keep himself together and not explode into a confetti cannon of embarrassment.
"Eddie! Get in line, like everyone else. How many times do I have to tell you?" She snips.
"Gina! My angel of energy! My friend here was just holding my place in line. Isn't that right, Steve?" Eddie turns to him and smiles, relaxed, his eyelids hooding his deep brown irises that Steve elects to quickly look away from.
"Yeah, that's right." He swallows, and keeps his eyes on Gina now.
"See!" Eddie says, raising his ringed hand to Steve's eyeline to gesture at him. Gina looks between the two of them, but her eyes eventually land on Steve, and her smile returns.
"Well, I have no idea why he's friends with the likes of you, Munson." She puts the two double espressos to go down on the counter, slamming the one nearest Eddie down much harder than the other, which she gently slides over to Steve leaning towards him, "but whatever Steve says…goes," she says, her eyes trailing over him slowly.
"Jesus Christ, Gina! You never heard of the thrill of the chase?" Eddie barks out a laugh, putting his money down on the counter.
"Who says I wanna do any running away?" She smirks, not taking her eyes off Steve.
"That's true. I mean, even walking a few steps ahead of your pursuer would break the habit of a lifetime, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Eddie teases as she glances down at the money on the counter.
"You're short, Eddie," she finally turns and bites back, making Eddie shrink a little. "Ten cents." The fun wipes from Eddie’s face as he frantically searches his pockets. Tiny coral-pink triangles start to bloom in the hollows of his cheeks.
"I got it, don't worry about it," Steve interjects quickly to try and get back to the safety of Scoops as soon as possible. He takes Gina's hand gently and puts the money in her upturned palm, grasping her attention again. She puts the money in the register and scribbles on her pad, ripping off a piece of paper.
"A gentleman too?" She says with an approving nod and fans herself, making Eddie roll his eyes. Then, she pushes the piece of paper into Steve's hand. "Pick me up at eight. Wear something nice," she says with a wink before waving around the customer behind them.
Steve gives them both a smile and a wave goodbye as he heads back to the ice cream parlor quickly, sipping his coffee as he goes, though honestly, he doesn't need it anymore. He is wide awake after all of that. Even though he's come out of it relatively unscathed. Eddie is none the wiser, and he's got a date.
Back in the safety of Scoops Ahoy, Steve spies Robin slouching over the counter, waiting on a queue of zero people. He does his best Travolta strut over.
"Wow, you sure that's just coffee in there?" Robin laughs. "It's like you've returned a new man." 
Steve forcefully leans over the counter at her with gusto with a massive smile on his face. "I not only have a number but a date tonight at eight!!" He looks very smug. 
Robin stretches her hand out towards him, and he hands her the slip of paper. Her eyes scan over it.
"Gina?" Robin says in surprise.
"How did you-" Steve starts to ask before he gets cut off again.
"So she did get fired from the department store! Now she has to serve sad sacks like you and Eddie Munson coffee, I see." Robin nods behind Steve. As he turns, Eddie, holding the small cup to his mouth, initially looking startled, is perfectly framed in one of the windows and gives a little wave back.
"I'll pay you back, dude! Promise!" Eddie shouts before breaking into a speed walk to the record store.
"You bought him a coffee?! Why would you do that?" Robin rolls her eyes like Steve has done the stupidest thing in the world.
"He was a couple of cents short. I don't even want it back, honestly." Steve protests as he takes back the paper from Robin, putting it in his jacket pocket.
"You clearly don't understand what you've done," Robin shouts after him as he goes into the back to reclaim the stupid hat and hang up his stuff.
"Then enlighten me! Please, I'm waiting with bated breath here," he sasses back, secretly smiling to himself, only for it to be wiped from his face quickly as the hatch opens abruptly.
"Ok, first of all, you don't understand the paying back thing because you've never been poor, Steve. So it's ten cents to you. It's shame on us, ok? Secondly, you've fed the neighborhood's stray cat by randomly buying Eddie that coffee! He'll keep coming round here now," Robin whines.
"Ok, first of all," he mimics her, "I didn't buy him anything. He put his own money down. I just gave the extra few cents. Why is it so bad if he comes around here, anyway? He doesn't seem so bad to me, Rob." Steve adjusts his hat in the mirror and shoots a finger gun at himself in acknowledgement that he hadn't been wearing the hat when he got Gina's number, so it must be the thing throwing off his game. He also realizes it's the first time he's shortened her name. He likes it.
"You want a satanic cult leader. In our ice cream shop, normally full of vulnerable kids?" Robin protests, and suddenly something dawns on Steve.
"And, since when do you care about our customers?" Steve asks, joining her out front, one hand on his hip and the other on the tiny coffee cup. He narrows his eyes at her, looking for tells. He finds none but calls her bluff. He feigns surprise and laughs, "Oh my god, is he your ex or something?! Is that why you don't want him hanging around here?"
Robin recoils violently. "Oh my god! No! He's not my type."
"Really?" Steve asks with genuine surprise. Eddie was a non-conformist. He was far from ugly. Both musicians, both took drama and liked accessories. But, maybe he was a bit too rough around the edges and loud for Robin, despite how feisty she could be herself.
"Yes! Really!" She protests again, but there is something else here. Robin doesn't make it a habit to judge anyone that isn't a real piece of work type asshole, and though Eddie could be overwhelming, in their short interaction yesterday, he'd seemed quite nice, and due to their mutual school activities, they must have crossed paths often, so she must have seen that side of him too. Unless, like Steve, Eddie had his own mask to survive high school, which made him generally unpleasant to most people, and only let a select few see his genuine parts.
Steve isn't sure that Robin is precisely lying, but she is definitely hiding something.
****************
Steve pulls up outside Gina's apartment complex at 19:50. He's early, but he absolutely does not want to be late. So he waits exactly where Gina had asked him, and parks up, then sits patiently on his freshly washed car hood. 
As he had no idea where they were going yet, he'd opted for something smart casual. The relaxed fit navy blue blazer and slacks combo, and an oh-so-soft pastel blue sweater underneath, perfect for cuddling into if that opportunity arose. Robin and Eddie obviously had made their opinions known on Gina, but he was way too much of a gentleman to make any such assumptions, and people can change.
At 20:08, Gina totters down the steps from the complex in the shortest, lowest cut, tightest, dark purple leather look dress Steve thinks he's seen outside of a music video. She looks incredible. Her body is banging, her makeup is flawless, her permed hair is tossed over in a voluminous side parting, and Steve cannot believe his goddamn luck. Holy shit. She’s a knockout.
He springs into date mode, jogs over to the other side of the street and offers her the crook of his elbow to escort her to the car, "Hey Gina, You look incredible!" Steve greets her beaming proudly.
She pops a chewing gum between her cherry-red lips and says, "You don't look so bad yourself, handsome." At that morsel of praise, Steve's heart soars. He's got it right tonight.
As she takes his arm, and they walk over to the car, he opens the door for her and takes her hand to help her into her seat before he gets in himself, "So, where to?" He asks with a huge smile.
"Ah, well, I thought we'd go to Patty's house party. It's not too far from here. Unless you wanna go somewhere else?" She asks.
"Are you kidding me?" Steve says with a gentle laugh and juts a thumb to himself. "I got the wheels. We can go wherever you want tonight." He turns and smiles reassuringly at her. "Anywhere at all."
She giggles, and Steve has to do everything he can not to rev the engine at his success so far. 
As Gina directs, they hit a reasonably long stretch of road, and it falls quiet in the car, "So… What kind of music do you like?" Steve tries, it was a comfort area, and it let him get a little insight at the same time.
"Oh, all the hits, as long as I can dance to it, you know?" Steve's eyes almost tear from the road to look at her fondly. She's a dancer just like him. He tries to not let his excitement get the better of him and pepper her with a million follow-up questions.
It falls quiet again.
"Is it, um, Patty's birthday or something?" He asks as she reapplies her lipstick again in the pull-down mirror.
"Nah, nothing like that. She's got the biggest free house. Plus, it's right around the corner from the liquor store. It's just here. Look. Take a right." She replies.
They make their way into the party. Steve grabs the bottle of wine from the back seat and quickly moves around to her door to open it and assist her before locking up and offering his arm again. It earns him another melodic giggle, "Such manners, Steve. Is this how you treat all your dates?" She asks playfully, and he knows she means no harm, but unfortunately, it's the first dent in Steve's confidence tonight. She already knew he’s on a losing streak regarding keeping a girlfriend. He tries to see the positive. At least she seemed to like him, and she didn't know he'd recently had trouble getting any dates. He supposes that could give him some kind of playboy status.
It has been a while since Steve had been to a house party like this. It’s rammed with people, primarily seniors but as with Gina, himself and Patty, a few recent graduates too. The girls squeal with delight, throwing their hands into the air as they greet one another, and Gina pulls him forward to be introduced, "Patty, this is Steve. Steve, this is Patty." Steve gives her a big smile and a nod.
"Looks like it's gonna be a killer party. Here, hope you don't mind," he says, passing Patty the wine bottle. She pulls an impressed face and looks over at Gina, raising her eyebrows. Patty's boyfriend gives him a nod.
The party is much more fun than Steve anticipates. Gina likes to dance. A lot. With a little more physical enthusiasm than Steve was used to, but my god, he is the envy of the room. She likes to show Steve off to her friends and kisses him so many times he loses count. She looked incredible at the start of the evening, but she might be the most beautiful creature to walk the planet with how adored she was makes Steve feel. Steve makes a mental note to introduce her to his Mom when she's back in town.
After a small succession of kisses on the swings in Patty's back garden, Gina excuses herself to use the bathroom, "I'll be right back, handsome. Wait here for me? Don't go running off with any other pretty girls, now." She sends him a dazzling smile and a wink, and the love-whipped puppy, previously known as Steve Harrington, nods obediently as she walks inside. Then flicks his eyes to the night sky with a happy sigh.
"Don't fancy the slide, instead, Harrington?" A voice grins from the darkness.
"Eddie? What are you doing here, man?" Steve says in happy surprise. He's still floating around on cloud nine. Eddie sits on the tree stump opposite Steve and lights up a cigarette. The awkward feelings around Eddie were almost all gone. Or at least buried. It was a one-off, just a mixture of unique circumstances. The shame was still in there somewhere, but Gina had eclipsed it all for tonight.
"Oh, you know, I was at the bar, and heard someone mention that one of my old friends was gonna show here, so I tagged along."  He offers the pack over to Steve, who declines and pops a chewing gum in his mouth. Eddie gives him a knowing smile, and Steve grins back and pushes himself on the swing a little, trying to channel some of that excitable energy somewhere."Going that well, huh?" He asks, raising his eyebrow as he pockets the carton.
Steve is desperately trying to remain cool, calm and collected about everything, but he's elated his losing streak is over, and what a woman to end it with. "Honestly, it's going a lot better than I thought it was going to."
"Yeah?" Eddie asks leadingly.
"Yeah," Steve says simply with a sigh, and that's when Eddie's expression changes, his mouth parts a little, but before he can say anything, someone calls out for him.
Patty rushes over, swaying a little, throws her arms around Eddie's neck, and hugs him. Eddie's face is a picture of panic, and Steve hides his laugh behind his hand.
"What you got on you then?" Patty slurs, looking up at Eddie and batting her eyelashes, and suddenly Eddie looks relieved and pulls out a few small bags of weed from inside his leather jacket. Steve observes him with confusion. Eddie said he was on pause dealing-wise.
"Thirty bucks for this little trio," Eddie offers with a toothy smile.
"Thirty!! Come on, Eddie, seriously. I can get twice as much for less," she complains and tugs at his denim vest.
He leans in and says quietly, "Yes, that is true, but I'm right here, and they're not right?" Then he pulls the same face he did at Steve in the record store. He knows he's won.
"Well," she steps closer to him again, and Steve sees Eddie visibly tense as Patty runs her hand up his chest, "Maybe we can come to a different arrangement, Eddie?"
Eddie clears his throat, and his eyes dart to Steve. "Oh hey, Steve, fancy meeting you here." His words are a desperate plea for help, and mischief swirls in Steve. Of course, he could just excuse himself and leave them to it, but something keeps him there, and as Patty turns, he sends her a little wave.
"Yeah, just out for some fresh air," Steve offers, and Eddie relaxes immediately as Patty creates some distance between them. She looks at Steve wide-eyed.
"Oh, hi again, Steve. Having a good night?" She asks nervously.
"It's a really great party, Patty. I'm having the best time," He answers genuinely.
She relaxes and smiles hugely at him. "It was really nice of you to come. Thanks for the wine and for helping Gina out tonight."
Steve smiles back, but he's a little confused. How was he helping Gina out? But before Steve can frame a question, Patty jumps ahead a few steps and answers.
"You're putting on a real show out there. It looks amazing. Though, if I may suggest, you are actually way too nice for her, so you might want to ease off on that a little." Patty enthusiastically reviews their date as Steve's eyebrows raise, and he blinks slowly.
"Hey Patty, how about twenty, huh?" Eddie puts a hand on her shoulder and tries to turn her towards himself, offering her the baggies again. She shrugs him off but fishes the money out of her pocket, her eyes still on Steve.
"Ohhh no," Patty says, overtly pouting her lips to indicate sadness, "widdle Stevie, didn't know." Steve stands up. His heart is pounding.
"Hey, that's enough!" Eddie says sharply to Patty.
"Oh, shut up, Eddie. Everyone knows she turns up to these things with someone and always leaves with Frankie. They're like Kismet or Kermit or whatever." She waves her hands drunkenly in the air. 
"Everyone?" Steve asks in a whisper, and his eyes move from Patty to Eddie, who is frowning deeply. Steve folds his arms, "No, you're wrong. You'll see," he says and takes off back into the party. He can hear Eddie faintly calling after him until he hits the wall of music and chatter of the house.
He looks around for Gina, moving swiftly between rooms, as the flurry of panic starts to set in deep in his chest. They can't be right. Then finally, he catches the sight of her perfectly coiffed hair and pins himself to the other side of the wall, so he can hear her talking without being spotted.
"Are you kidding me? He's not a patch on you, honey. Not nearly as manly as I like, you know? Just a good little boy. Not my big strong bad boy Frankie." He can hear the purr in her voice, and it's followed by a deep chuckle from someone else.
An invisible force punches Steve straight in the guts, forcing all the air from his lungs. The dents in the carapace of his confidence get a few new deep siblings as he dusts himself off and sets off to leave. He knows he should be mad. He should be angry. He should march in there and give them a piece of his mind, but he feels completely numb. What he does do, however, is stop by the kitchen, take back his wine and a random bottle of mad dog 20/20, and slump off to his car.
As he gets closer, he sees a silhouette of someone sitting on the hood of his car. The jingle of them getting off it abruptly and moving quickly towards him lets him know it's Eddie.
"Steve, man, I'm sorry. That fucking sucks. Are you ok?" Eddie tries to reach out and hold his shoulders, but Steve steps back out of reach. Sure, he's deflated, but he doesn't have the reason or the energy to be mad at Eddie.
"You've got nothing to apologize for. No one does. It's not anyone else's fault that I'm too dumb to know what, apparently, everyone else knows," he says a little glumly but finishes it with a half smile and shrug as he moves around him to get in his car, but Eddie, being the scrawny beanpole he is, slips in between Steve and the door.
"Hey, I get it. She got me too. Except, you know I wasn't as good about it as you are." Eddie is talking to him, but Steve is simply trying to unlock his door and ignores him."And you know I would have warned you explicitly if it wasn't you, you know?" That gets Steve's attention.
"What do you mean if it wasn't me?" He asks, turning to face Eddie, whose face is much closer to his than he'd realized, and it causes a mini jump in his pulse. Had Eddie wanted to see Steve made a fool of?
One corner of Eddie's mouth ticks up. "You're Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins. If Gina was gonna change her spots for anyone, I would have put money on it being you." Eddie says it sincerely, but it makes Steve feel worse.
"Ex-King of Hawkins," Steve says, shaking his head, trying to move around Eddie without pushing him away. He wants to leave, but he isn't mad at Eddie.
"And-and the way she was with you at the coffee place. I mean, I thought she was into you. Anyone would have thought that, man. Besides, she was probably totally into you, I mean, look at you, but this guy, this Frankie, they're, like, weirdly obsessed with one another, and then the next minute not speaking to one another," Eddie desperately explains, and Steve can tell he's trying hard to make him feel better about all this.
That's when Steve makes a new category of mistake. He looks up at Eddie's face. His sad eyes meet Eddie's big compassionate ones, glinting with yellow specks of the street light.
"It's weird, honestly," Eddie finishes gently, and Steve gives him an understanding smile back.
"Thanks, man. I get it. I'll be fine. It's just a big misunderstanding. I'll go home, get wasted, and pass out. Then, wake up, and start over. I've bounced back from worse," Steve assures and gives Eddie a playful thump on the shoulder. "You're alright, you know that?" Steve actually manages a small genuine smile as he allows himself to compliment Eddie.
"Do you want some company? I got treats!" Eddie says, holding up three little bags of weed at Steve.
"How many of those do you have on you?" Steve huffs out a little laugh, and Eddie's smile widens.
"Just these three," Eddie smirks, pocketing them again.
"No, you sold three to Patty," Steve corrects him. Eddie leans back against Steve's car door and makes a show of looking thoughtful for a moment before he clicks his fingers like he remembers something.
"Oh darn it. I must have accidentally given her my bags of oregano. Good job you're so astute, Harrington. Otherwise, dinner times next week would have been very interesting." Eddie smiles mischievously, and Steve erupts with a laugh.
"You didn't!" He says, scandalized.
"I wasn't going to until she poked fun at you. Totally uncalled for. Also might have relieved myself in an empty and dropped it in their vat of punch." Eddie shrugs like it's nothing and then blinks up at Steve. "Is that enough to gain entry to a much better afterparty?"
That thing that snapped free in Steve when he was lying on the rug, immersed in the music and thoughts inspired by Eddie, vibrates within him. 
He shouldn't.
He really shouldn't invite anyone back to his house when he feels like this, especially when his intention is to drink himself into forgetting all about Gina.
He absolutely shouldn't let down his guard to someone he's really only got to know the last few days.
He definitely shouldn't specifically welcome the man that resurrected the most secret, sinful parts of Steve into his home, where they would be alone together.
Steve can't decide, so he lets fate decide. "You got any more recommendations on you?"
"Shit, yeah! A fucking van full!" Eddie says enthusiastically.
And with that, Steve ignores every warning sign his brain throws up at him.
"Alright then. Follow me."
************
Eddie's van tails Steve's BMW along the inky black roads of Hawkins, intermittently interrupted by street lights when venturing through a more built-up area.
He turns up the radio a little to try to quieten the confused knot of feelings in his stomach. There was no question he was still feeling shockwaves from recently being absolutely crushed this evening, but now the excitement of something else tickles at the inside of his stomach. Him, Eddie and Music. Some of his private salacious thoughts rush through his mind again. 
Steve would be more alarmed by them if it weren't for a few things. 
Firstly this is not the first time Steve has had impure thoughts about a man. It just wasn't something he was gonna advertise in small-town Hawkins. Especially as he is one hundred per cent not just into guys. He'd sneakily read about it in the library and vowed as soon as he had the means it was definitely the big city for him, a place where other people like him could live much freer lives.
Secondly, he had heard things about Eddie, and he is sure it was because they labeled him a devil worshiper or monster that the town also whispered about him being into the more, what some of the stuck-up people of Hawkins might consider the debauched side of life. He'd heard that when people threw homophobic slurs at him, he played up to them. Flirted with his persecutors to scare people more, but honestly, he had just added that to the massive pile of slanderous gossip about Eddie. Prior to yesterday, he had always assumed that by being in a band, Eddie got his fair share of women. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe tonight, he'd find out.
Thirdly the only person Steve knew of that had ever assumed him to be anything but straight was his father. So if that rumor started, Steve is confident he could squash it reasonably quickly.
Fourth, and this was probably the cruelest of his thoughts. If he did accidentally say too much or give something away to Eddie tonight, who on earth would believe known degenerate Eddie over golden boy Steve?
Steve had fooled around with just one guy before, Tommy, and always, always, always when they were wasted or high. Tommy said it didn't count, and honestly, Steve didn't mind. He liked Tommy, well, when he wasn't being a complete asshole, but it was more an avenue of mutual exploration than a relationship.
Tommy was handsome, but he was two-dimensional. All their shared interests were superficial. Maybe it was because they had been friends for so long that there wasn't anything to peel back and get his teeth into. He was enough to quicken his pulse, but that had been more to do with the thrill of doing something so forbidden than the man himself. Tommy didn't move Steve. 
But Eddie. 
Eddie might.
With no other cars on the driveway, he waves Eddie forward up to the house once Steve parks up.
He grabs the bottles from his car and sees Eddie emerge with his little lunch box and his arms laden with tapes. Steve unlocks the front door into the dark house and heads inside, Eddie close behind.
"Your folks in bed?" Eddie whispers.
"No, they're out of town. Work, you know?" Steve puts the wine back in the kitchen wine rack and holds up the glass liquor bottle contained within, "Wanna get straight to it, or would you prefer some beers first?" Steve asks with a happy host smile. Eddie is still marveling at the house, his round eyes searching the darkness. Steve wonders what for. 
"Just a beer, thank you," Eddie says slowly, entirely distracted by everything.
"The hi-fi is just through there in the den, or if you wanna smoke, we can sit by the pool?" Steve offers, seeing Eddie's arms still full of tapes.
"What time are your folks back?" Eddie calls back from further away now, as Steve hears the clatter of plastic cassette boxes and the jingle of Eddie's wallet chain as he returns. There must be something special in that, having your own noise, so people know it's you.
"I dunno, not until next week, though, I imagine," Steve says, offering Eddie one of the two beer cans.
Eddie's eyebrows knit. "Next week? Are you for real?"
"Yeah, once I got my license, they stopped getting a nanny in." Steve laughs.
"Was that a joke?" Eddie says, laughing too.
"I mean, I tried. Unfortunately, I'm no Steve Martin." Steve shrugs and smiles happily at Eddie as he stabs and shotguns his beer.
"Who are you, and what happened to sad Steve?" Eddie's eyes narrowly playfully. He wraps his arm around himself as he observes him and takes a sip of his own can.
"You want me to go get him? I'm sure he's around here somewhere…." Steve looks behind one of the drapes.
Eddie's head tilts with pure amusement, and that nice smile spreads across his face again as he observes Steve, "My god, funny too, huh?" There is something in the way his voice softly wraps around the words that sets a slight panic in Steve, almost reaching for the light switch to plunge them into the safety of bright light. Instead, his brain gives him a subject change.
"Shit, what about your friend at the party? Did you get a chance to speak to them?" Steve runs his hand through his hair, realizing he's probably ruined Eddie's night too.
He simply shrugs in reply, then changes the subject himself. "What's with all the candles in there? Did your power go out?" Eddie gestures back to the den. Steve closes his eyes, remembering he hadn't cleaned up in there yet, and then a real fear creeps over him, hoping that he hadn't left anything else incriminating in there. 
Steve half-lies quickly. "Oh, ambience!"
Eddie points back at him. "Yeah, of course, your girl from last night. Setting the scene for seduction," Eddie says, pretending to swoon.
"Well, more for relaxing than romance in particular, but sometimes one can lead to another," Steve says, and he does let that hang in the air for a while to see if there is any reaction from Eddie. Sadly nothing to help him assess him further. Maybe it was too subtle. "Do you maybe wanna head out for a smoke?" Steve asks, turning to get himself another beer.
"Now that is much more my brand of relaxing," Eddie laughs, grabbing his lunchbox.
Steve catches up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Wait, how about you pick out a tape? I'll grab the boom box."
Eddie's eyes move to Steve's hand on his shoulder first, then to his face, with a blink, "Yeah." Steve shakes Eddie's shoulder and gives it a good old sports pat before removing it entirely. He watches Eddie's face for any signs, and he's pretty sure the smile he gives him before he walks towards the treasure trove of tapes is one of disappointed realization. Or maybe Steve had all his hopes resting on that being the case. Hope is such poisoned manna. Maybe physicality wasn't the way to get Eddie to reveal a little more. Maybe Steve could try something else to find the answers to his questions. Something Eddie loves to do. Talk about himself.
Steve sets up the player between two loungers and turns on the pool lights. Ambience, he thinks, though honestly, the waning moon is setting the scene enough for him. He doesn’t wanna make it too obvious. He kicks up his feet on the lounger, sips at his beer, and waits. After a few minutes, he starts to get a little concerned, but as soon as he sits up, Eddie arrives with an entire box of tapes and an excitable smile.
"I, uh, couldn't decide what you might like, so I just brought them all out and found a box in the kitchen; hope you don't mind. Just easier to move 'em around," Eddie excuses and thunks down onto the lounger next to Steve’s. "So take your pick," he says, gesturing at the box and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of his pocket, which he lights up quickly.
This isn't really what Steve wants. He wants Eddie to show him around what Eddie likes. He wants to hear him gush over riffs and lyrics. Tell him how it feels when he plays them, and show him how his dexterous fingers leave no part of the fretboard untouched. But Steve recognises Eddie's apprehension and decides to play the game at least. He reaches into the box with one hand, sorting through the tapes, and with the other, without taking his eyes from the music collection, makes a come hither motion at the joint, which, pleasingly, Eddie acknowledges without protest, and Steve soon finds it slotted between his fingers as he pretends to peruse the album artwork and track listings.
He can feel Eddie's eyes on him, and out of the corner of his eye, he observes Eddie's hands on his thigh and knee and sometimes, when Steve picks up or hovers over a particular tape, his fingers tense, possibly with excitement Steve guesses. He takes a long drag on the shared substance.
To Steve's surprise, the selection of tapes is more varied than he thought. Sure, there is a lot of what he guesses from the names, titles, or artwork are metal, rock, and punk, but there is a chart hits compilation, some new wave electronic stuff, country and classical. Steve hands back the joint and takes a sharp intake of breath as he sits up.
"You know, Eddie. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the choices here." 
"Ah, too many? Sorry. I just didn't know what you'd wanna listen to." Eddie nods apologetically, and something in the way he says it makes Steve wonder if too many or too much is his habit. Maybe he'd been hurt before by people telling him he was too much.
"Well, how about this? How about instead of this being about what I like," Steve looks up to him with a friendly smile, "you show me what you like. Maybe it'll be the same." He gives a little shrug and wonders if Eddie might pick up on any subtext.
"Doubt it," Eddie laughs with a quick glance up at Steve from the tapes.
"Oh, ye of little faith. I really liked the Hendrix one, best out of the three." Steve offers him a guiding thread to assist. He would continue about how he will probably play it to death, but as he looks over, Eddie's face reads excited already.
"Really?" He says, and the innocence of the question makes Steve feel like he's in middle school again. Making friends over sports or movies, but then suspicion rears its ugly little head, and Eddie folds his arms and leans forward. "Oh yeah? Tell me what you liked about it."
Steve doesn't want to give away too much of himself. "Foxey Lady is a fun track, and Fire." Eddie rolls his eyes a little and nods.
"You like Purple Haze too, I bet?" Eddie says a little condescendingly, and he's unsure if it's the beer and weed starting to mix on no food because he didn't know if he was going to dinner with Gina, but Steve feels a little insulted.
"Well, who the fuck doesn't like Purple Haze?" Steve fires back. "It's a great piece of music."
"Whoa-ho-ho, Harrington. Don't get your little panties in a twist. I was just guessing." Eddie chuckles, putting his hands up defensively, offering the olive branch of the joint back to Steve, who takes a pretty deep inhale from it and sends it right back, picking up his beer.
"No, you weren't. I mentioned some popular songs, and you immediately judged me, thinking that's all I listened to when that is not the case at all! Also, that's why they are popular, by the way, because they're great songs. So you could maybe get off your high horse about it." Steve complains and puts Eddie in his place. Or so he thinks.
Eddie's grin widens, and that sparkle in his eye returns, and now Steve can't work out if he's walked right into something or if Eddie is simply amused. His hand extends to him again, and Steve, though a little confused, accepts the smoke and takes another hit.
"I also really liked 'Manic Depression'," Steve adds much more gently, opening the door to his true feelings, a crack, "How it details in the words and melody his relationship with music, the emotion behind in 'The Wind Cries Mary', and that bluesy feel to 'Red House'. Those songs also easily transport you someplace else." Steve says, taking a glug from his can and, realizing it's empty, standing up to get another.
"Wait-wait-wait," Eddie says hurriedly, looking up at him. "Here, I picked this up on the way past too." He holds up the glass bottle that Steve selected from Patty's party. Steve takes it from him and sits back down, knocking back a swig and wincing at the taste and heat, but Eddie ignores it. He has other things to address. "What do you mean someplace else?" He leans forward over the tape box towards Steve, eyeing him like a scientist looks at their specimen.
"In your imagination, you know, the music takes you somewhere else." Steve shrugs, taking another swig as Eddie sips his beer.
"Where'd it take you?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, and though Steve's heart rate quickens at the thought of the truth, he sees an opportunity.
"You sure do ask a lot of questions. What if we trade? I'll answer yours, you answer mine? That seems fairer to me." Steve doesn't have to wait long for a reply, but he’s stalling to craft an answer that doesn't involve revealing more than he wants to.
"Yeah, sure," Eddie says, brushing it off. "So where did they take you, these songs?"
"Ah-ah-ah, Eddie. You gotta answer one first," Steve teases, and Eddie, denied an answer to his question, folds his arms. Steve adds to his assessment.
Adorable sulking face.
"Fine," Eddie pouts.
"So, the three tapes you gave me were great, exactly what I needed, and I thought, how does a guy get so knowledgeable about this kinda stuff, and then I remembered you were in a band, you play, er, bass, right? So I naturally assumed-" Steve lies. He wants to avoid coming across as knowing too much about Eddie.
"Lead guitar, actually. Sing a little too," Eddie interrupts proudly and waves Steve on to continue with his question.
"So I assumed that you must have girls throwing themselves at you? Right?" Steve asks with as innocent curiosity as he can muster. 
"More girls throw themselves at me for drugs than music, but that could change. The stuff I play is becoming more popular," Eddie replies, and Steve tries to see what he can get out of a few quickfire questions.
"Oh, so you're inundated with women then?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrow.
"No," Eddie answers.
"Right, you must have a girlfriend…"
"No. Listen, are we here to discuss music or my love life?" Eddie defends, and Steve feels like he must have touched a nerve, so he tries some humor.
He mimics Eddie’s hand gestures and voice from earlier. "Whoa-ho-ho, Munson! Don't get your panties in a knot about it!" And that is enough to make Eddie laugh. "Jesus, I was just getting to know you. After all, you've had a front-row seat to my car crash love life tonight." Steve self-deprecates and laughs, but Eddie doesn't.
"I'm sorry, man. I wish I'd just said something in the coffee line, but I swear what I said earlier was absolutely true. If it had been anyone other than you, I wouldn't have thought they stood a chance and warned them," Eddie says with genuine regret.
Steve takes a swig out of the bottle and reassures him, "Not the first time I got my confidence destroyed at a house party. Maybe it won't be the last, but like I said, I bounce back well enough. Last time was a whole lot worse. Met her parents, told her I loved her and meant it, and thought she did too. Turns out she didn't." Steve glances up at Eddie, who looks sad for him. "Anyway, back to why we're here. Pick a damn tape, Eddie, would ya?" Steve laughs, trying to lift the mood, and holds out the liquor bottle to him, but Eddie declines.
"Can't get too wasted. Otherwise, getting home is gonna be more of a challenge." He smiles down into the tapes.
"You can stay over if you want. There's plenty of room." Steve offers, maybe too quickly. He takes another drink to style it out.
Eddie looks up and acts all shy. "Wow, Harrington! Take a guy to dinner first," he chuckles and grins at Steve, who nearly spits out his drink.
Composing himself a little, he replies, "If I order pizza, does that count as dinner?" Steve smirks.
Eddie flips his hair over his shoulder with a flick of his hand after pushing play on the tape deck, "It's a little less than I was expecting to be wined and dined by Steve Harrington, but, uh, it'll do." He says as he grabs the bottle from Steve and takes a sip, "Holy shit, urgh." He grimaces as the night air fills with chugging guitar riffs, and a voice fills the air that Steve has definitely never heard before.
Eddie happily gestures to the boom box with both hands. "This is the self-titled album by W.A.S.P.”
Steve chuckles, “I know how to spell Wasp!”
Eddie shakes his head, “No you say Wasp but they are actually W.A.S.P.” He beams at Steve and taps the metal pin on his vest, then takes a deep breath, ”anyway It contains such mind-shredding tracks as The Flame, Tormentor, The Torture Never Stops and Show no Mercy, which has one of the finest dick-twitching solos I've ever played." Steve sees Eddie literally shudder, and he's drawn in immediately. This is what he wanted, but before he can push for more information, Eddie is out of his seat pacing around the loungers. "Also the more famous, 'I Wanna Be Somebody', 'Hellion', even a spine chilling cover of 'Paint it Black' by The Stones. For the more romantic souls out there, 'L.O.V.E Machine', 'Sleeping in the fire' and 'Animal' which is more commonly known as," and he leans right down to Steve's ear, "‘I fuck like a beast’. Which is what you're listening to right now." With a laugh, he takes another swing from the bottle, shoving it back into Steve's chest, and walks back around to his lounger, props one foot on it, and starts air guitaring and headbanging along to the song. Steve grips the lounger beneath him for dear life. He swears right there he's gonna get them tickets to every fucking W.A.S.P show he can, and he'll definitely need to buy this album now. Tomorrow, first thing.
"You can play all these?" Steve says, trying not to sound too in awe. Eddie doesn't look up from his fingers on the imaginary fretboard, and honestly, Steve doesn't blame him.
"Pretty much. Better at my favorites or the ones we play in the band." Steve needs to see that, or maybe that would undo him completely. Maybe best not to. Steve imagines how he looks on stage, sweating under the lights, straining as he yells into the microphone. "So where did it take you?"
"What?" Steve asks, wholly lost in his thoughts.
"Maybe you should slow down there, champ. Are you alright? You look a little flushed." Eddie stops what he's doing and goes over to his little lunch box, retrieves a small candy bar, and sits next to Steve on the lounger, placing it in Steve's lap. "Lemme see." Eddie grasps Steve's jaw in one hand and examines him, his eyes comically wide as he analyzes him, making Steve giggle. Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile, and taps his face, snatches up the candy bar and tosses it back in his lunch pail. "You're good." He shrugs off his jackets and leans against the backrest of Steve’s lounger, a long leg on either side of the part where Steve is sitting, making their legs graze one another occasionally as he sparks up a cigarette, which he balances in the corner of his lips. "Hendrix, where did it take you?"
The sudden display of open confidence, the way he just splays his long limbs out like that. Like he owns the place, makes something squirm inside of Steve, and maybe he feels a little shy now, saying, "I dunno, maybe it's lame." Eddie frowns as he plucks the cigarette from his mouth.
"I'll let you know if it's lame." He says, blowing smoke rings in the air.
"Er. It's difficult to explain, but sorta like things I know from that era and sound, psychedelic colors, and then like imagining watching it live," Steve's mind takes him right back to last night, "and 'Hey Joe' was like being pulled into a landscape painting, 'Are you experienced?' and 'Stone Free' was like moving through outer space, you know? Maybe I'm talking shit, but that's where I went anyway," Steve finishes, avoiding Eddie's eyes a little, as when he says it aloud for the first time, it loses all its magic.
"You listen to all music like that? I mean, go places?" Eddie mutters the question softly, and Steve chances to look over, and Eddie's expression almost looks hopeful.
"No, it just kinda happens sometimes. Like a daydream almost, and then I get these like tingles-" Steve starts, but Eddie finishes.
"Along your neck and arms?" And now Steve can hear the excitement in his voice, so he turns to him and indicates along his cheekbones, arms and legs.
"Yeah, kinda," Steve replies, and it doesn't feel bad at all having Eddie's eyes move over him like that.
"Do you play an instrument?" Eddie asks, sitting forward towards Steve now, his eyes eager for answers. Steve doesn't want to get his hopes up too high, but Eddie has not ridiculed him. Hasn't made an awkward face or an excuse to leave. If anything, he wants more, and with that power shift again, Steve tries something else. He leans back on his elbows across the lounger, his arm resting a little on Eddie's leg, and stretches out his torso comfortably.
"Eddie," he smiles, "I gotta get some questions in, too, you know?"
"Oh yeah, shoot, dude," Eddie says matter-of-factly.
"Are you gonna bite my head off again if I ask about your love life?" Steve asks with a laugh.
"Fine, as long as you tell me why you're so interested because I'd much rather be talking about music, honestly." And with a reply like that, it's almost as if Steve already has his answer.
"Look, in the record store, you were selling me that Mötley Crüe album, happy as anything, and I knew you were in a band, so my brain just assumed you were like a chick magnet, just maybe not the ones from school, you know? But then you got all nervous when I asked you about music girls liked, and whilst there isn't anything wrong with that, it wasn't what I expected. So does that explain better?"
Eddie looks a little sheepish but then smiles and shrugs. "Sorry to burst your Eddie Munson bubble there, Harrington."
Steve gestures at himself. "It's overrated. Living proof right before your eyes. Music doesn't let you down like that, though, huh?" And that earns him a sweet smile, "So tell me to fuck off at any point, but I sort of can't believe it, honestly. So is it that you don't have a girlfriend right now, or like never have?"
"Define girlfriend," Eddie says, playing with his rings.
"A girl you've taken on a date," Steve says.
"Yeah, I've had a girlfriend or two then," Eddie says, but Steve doesn't detect any fun glimmers of nostalgia, but that squashed one Hawkins rumor about Eddie, he obviously liked girls.
"But…" Steve leads him a bit further.
"But that was literally it. We just went to the movies or the diner for milkshakes," Eddie says, a little disappointed.
"You ever taken Robin, the girl I work with, on a date?" Steve pries a little further.
"Not a date as such. We just used to hang around one another a lot for a while, and then, erm," Eddie looks thoughtfully into the sky, "then I guess I asked her something, probably too personal, and I'm definitely not telling you what it is, so don't ask, and she's kind of avoided me since." Eddie looks regretful, and Steve decides to give him a break.
"I don't play an instrument. I tried a bunch of different ones but could never get one to stick. Even tried singing, which I'm ok at, but you know, not opera or anything like that."  Steve sighs and looks up to the night sky. "No matter how much I love music, I just don't have the talent to make or mimic it, apparently."
"Maybe you just had a shit, stuck-up teacher," Eddie says quickly, and that does bite of a lived experience. "When I was a kid before I moved here. I had this teacher; all he wanted to teach me was like campfire songs to do with god or nursery rhymes. I learned enough to find my way around the acoustic, but then, well, I couldn't go anymore, but honestly, by that point, I didn't want to. He sucked." Eddie raises his eyes to Steve, "But then I got here. Just my clothes and my guitar slung across my back and moved in with my Uncle. Now that guy taught me how to play. We figured out that I could actually, when not being bullied into some kumbaya shit, play by ear, and when I'd get stuck, Wayne would help me. He showed me all his anti-war favorites and even started off my savings for the guitar I have now. He got me a second-hand electric pretty quickly and amps. He's good like that. Finding the best bits of people and nurturing them. Probably regrets it a little now, though." Eddie laughs with so much fondness in his voice.
"I bet he doesn't. I bet he loves seeing how much you enjoy playing." Steve nods at the sky.
"If you wanted, I could help you learn guitar. Well, what I know anyway," Eddie says kindly, which makes Steve ignore the entire cosmos and focus on him.
"What, like what we're listening to now? Play like you?" Steve blurts out excitedly.
Eddie tries to hide his smile, "Well, anything you like, really, and I can't guarantee you'd be as good as me, but we'd try," he says as the repressed smile breaks out across his face, and Steve gives him a little playful shove, and this time Eddie returns it.
"Alright, you're on. I'll take a look at guitars tomorrow." Steve grins back.
"You can borrow one of mine if you like? It's no problem" Eddie shrugs like it's nothing, and Steve nervously swallows. God, he wants this. Wants Eddie. Wants someone who knows what he means when he explains how a song makes him feel. Who doesn't laugh at him or make a face and knows so much. Eddie feels like a drug that would be the multi gateway to everything he could possibly need. They sit silently for a minute or so, "The girlfriend thing. I, uh, well, I stopped trying because I'd get so nervous. The date would be fine, you know, I can talk the ears off of the corn harvest, but, uh, I'd just bottle it at the goodbye. I just built it up in my head too much, I think. I just wanted to get it right, and when presented with the opportunity, I thought I was gonna fuck it up, so I'd just hug them goodbye. Then they'd think I didn't like them, but I'm too much of a coward to admit I was scared, so I just stopped trying." 
"Well, you're not a coward. Navigating girls can be terrifying, Eddie, and maybe," Steve turns on his side towards Eddie on the lounger, propping his head up on his hand, "maybe you just had a bunch of shit, stuck-up teachers."
"Yeah, well, if kissing lessons were something I could buy, Harrington, believe me, I would have already invested heavily a long time ago." Eddie laughs, playing with his rings again, and Steve's so happy that Eddie isn't looking at him right now because he is literally chewing on his bottom lip, desperately trying to find a way to gently prod the opportunity the universe just chucked into his lap. Come on, Steve. 
"Well, if I'd known there was a market for that sort of thing, maybe I wouldn't have to be working slinging ice cream to attitude-filled kids loaded up on sugar." Steve laughs, looking down at and playing with the material threads of the lounger, and then glances up at Eddie subtly. 
Steve's heart skips when he finds Eddie looking up at him from under his hair, frozen, mid-picking at his nails.
"How many first kisses do you think you've been?" Eddie asks, and Steve can hear the curious caution in every word.
Fighting his every urge, Steve breaks eye contact to look up, like he's pretending to remember them all. He doesn't actually know. "Oh tons, and you know it is exactly what you said. It's all just nerves. Most of them get much better once the first one's over. Probably the same as the first time you played on stage. I'm guessing here, but you probably still get a little nervous now, but not enough to stop you, right?" Eddie makes a thoughtful noise in response, and Steve hopes he's done enough leading, but all he really wants is a red or green light to let him know what to do next, but they're sort of stuck in a kind of limbo, and he can feel the tension in him, stretching, and any minute now it's just going to snap. "I think you'll find it easy once you get past the nerves, sure there are some dos and don'ts, but, it's mostly playing it by ear, reading the other person, and from what you've said, those things come easily to you, right?"
"Right." Eddie agrees, "How did you learn, or did it just happen organically, like when it's supposed to?" Steve almost feels a little sorry for him, and he could tell the truth here, that it had just naturally occurred sitting on the porch with his middle school girlfriend watching the sunset, or he could bend the truth a little, maybe making Eddie feel better and nudge at this situation simultaneously.
Steve readjusts his position. He sits up and straddles the lounger, mirroring Eddie, facing one another. "If I tell you, you are absolutely sworn to secrecy. Ok? Like to the grave!" Steve says as seriously as he can, and Eddie perks up. His eyes revert to an excited look as they scan Steve, hungry for secrets, with a couple of enthusiastic nods. "No, you gotta swear. I mean it! I'd never live it down." Steve lays it on thick as he looks Eddie right in the eyes.
He frowns slightly to show his earnestness, "I swear, man. I would never tell. Also, even if I wanted to, that would involve exposing myself too. Why was I talking about first kisses with Steve Harrington in the first place, right?"
"Yeah," Steve makes a show of relaxing a little, and Eddie shuffles forward a little, leaning into the secret. "So believe it or not, before my first kiss, I was much like yourself, nervous about it, and I was talking to my best friend about it, and they felt the same, so we kinda, uh, practiced with one another?"
Eddie deflates a little. "Oh, I see. Well, that's not so bad. Handy to have a willing girlfriend around to help out." Eddie forces an awkward laugh.
"It wasn't my girlfriend, Eddie. It was my best friend," Steve says, hammering down each word like the heaviest hints of all time.
"You know what I mean, a friend who's a girl," Eddie says, and Steve really doesn't want to have to spell it out, but it looks like he might have to. He adds to his Eddie assessment.
Intelligent but can't read between the lines.
"I've not had a girl best friend since kindergarten, Eddie." Steve tries again.
Eddie looks horrified. "You were kissing in kindergarten? Jesus! Way to make me feel even worse about all of…" and then he stalls, like his brain engine full on cuts out. His eyes move around the lounger in between them like he's solving the meaning of life, and suddenly his head lifts, and his eyes lock with Steve's, "Your first kiss wasn't with a girl? I-I mean…your friend…it was a boy. The one you practiced kissing with was a boy. A boy?" Steve can't hold back his laughter and just nods, putting a hand on either side of his own face like he's mortified.
"Please don't tell anyone, Eddie. I just wanted you to know, as much as it would appear, I'm pretty confident in that department now. I was just as nervous as you once." Steve smiles, and his heart is pounding hard. It was a risk. A big one, but if it meant either squashing this crush or the impossibility that maybe this could happen, he needed to take it. 
"Right, ok," Eddie says, and it makes Steve a little concerned because he sounds a little panicked. Steve's heart sinks.
"Want another beer? I'm gonna go get one," Steve says, using his chipper customer service mask. He makes sure to smile big at Eddie like he isn't getting his heart crushed for the second time this evening, though this time is entirely his fault.
"Yeah, I could go for another beer," Eddie says without looking at Steve. Well, at least he didn't want to leave immediately. That was one good thing, Steve thinks as he walks as casually as possible to the fridge, ducks his head inside it, and curses.
"Shit!" He whispers and takes a deep breath before grabbing two cans. Then he hears a faint jingle.
"Is it much different?" Eddie's voice comes from the dark of the kitchen, and the rate at which Steve's head lifts makes him bang it on the refrigerator.
Steve rubs his head. "Jesus Christ, dude. Don't sneak up on me like that." He hands the can to Eddie and heads out to the pool again, but Eddie stops him, a gentle hand on his arm.
"Is there much difference between the two?" At first, Steve is confused, maybe from the jump scare or the bump to his head, but then he catches on.
"Erm…I dunno. It wasn't really a side-by-side comparison, and we were a lot younger then, but no, I don't remember anything being too different. Other than the person, but then you can kiss two girls, and they can be different too. Not everyone likes the same things, but like I say, you'll read that easy enough, or they'll let you know if they like or don't like something." It's dark in here, but he can still read the confusion on Eddie's face. "It would be kinda like you teaching guitar students to play the same song. They might all have different guitars. Some might have favored acoustic over electric, and some might embellish on parts, but it's still recognisable as the same song. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, that does make sense." Eddie's voice is much more at ease, "And even though you kissed a guy, you still like girls, right?"
"I feel like I don't need to answer that, Eddie." Steve rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip, making Eddie laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. I forgot about earlier." Eddie chuckles.
"That's ok. If it wasn't for you, my night could have ended a lot worse, that's for sure." Steve says thankfully. "Your friend being in town was pretty lucky."
"Hmmm, yeah, that was lucky, wasn't it." Eddie's rings tap the side of his beer can as he sways from side to side a little, and soon, some things are coming together for Steve.
"There was no friend at the party, was there?" Steve says in realization, and Eddie smiles and shakes his head in a no. "You knew what was gonna happen because you found out that guy was gonna be there."
"I suspected. I didn't know. What I said earlier was true about Gina liking you. I also remember how shitty I felt when it happened to me, but when I got there, you looked like you were having a great time, so I went to leave but heard him in one of the other rooms, and I just suspected the worst." Eddie explains, and doesn't Steve's whole heart swell at such a level of sweetness and care. He barely knew him, but he still looked out for him.
"Thanks, man," Steve smiles fondly at him. Maybe other things were impossible dreams, but he feels sure he at least has a new friend, "You know what? I'm gonna take you up on your offer. How much do you charge for a lesson?" 
"Well, I thought maybe," Eddie scratches the back of his head, "Maybe we could…I dunno…er…trade expertise?" He suggests. It's a good job Steve had spent most of his life learning to hide his emotions when he needed to, specifically for moments like this. His heart is thundering in his chest, his brain is scrambled with a million different types of static, and his hand wants to crush the can in his grip with sheer excitement. Two days ago, this wasn't even on his radar. Two days ago, this delectable taboo wasn't even on his menu. It was on a hidden secret menu only he knew about, and yet here it was, being presented on a silver platter, and it's taking every ounce of resolve he has not to grab hold of it and greedily consume it quickly before the invitation is revoked. Oh, and he knows he's been bad tonight, a little trick here and a little lie there, and maybe he does feel like a bit of a creep about it, but it's not enough to say no. He was jonesing for something he'd never even tasted, but every neuron and hormone in his body told him he wanted it. No. He needed it. He'd let future Steve live with the regret and consequences.
"Sure. That sounds good," he says pleasantly. "When shall I book you in?" He says with a friendly laugh.
"Uh, now?" Eddie says.
"Now?" Steve says, a little surprised.
"Yeah, once I get the first one done. I'm good, right? Just beginner's stage fright. Then I can grab the guitars out of the van, and I can return the favor," Eddie says like he's working through the facts in his head, and suddenly Steve's excitement is a little dampened. Eddie wanted it over with, and Steve guesses he expected it, but hearing it out loud from Eddie kinda stung a little, but that was fine, right? Or would a taste of honey be worse than none at all?
"Yeah. Cool. Um, where do you think you'd feel most comfortable? It's your nerves that are the issue, so what do you do to relax?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.
"Well, we've kind of already been doing that, but, uh, maybe not outside somewhere a bit more private. But, uh, this is my first time here, so I don't know where would be best." He looks around for a second. "What about where you set up last night?" Steve gives a one-shoulder shrug like his insides were not currently leapfrogging over one another to see who could get a chug of that sweet adrenaline first.
"Sure. I'll tidy up my crap, and why don't you bring your stuff in, so we can pick a song you can teach me afterwards?" 
"Gotcha! See you in a sec, smoochy-poo," Eddie cackles, and Steve laughs too, out of excitement more than anything, but he's glad Eddie is making light of the situation. It's sneaky and underhanded, but it eases the guilt hearing him joke about it, even if this was going to mean something to Steve but nothing to Eddie.
Steve quickly tidies away his tapes and almost dies when he notices he'd left the bottle of lotion down here and quickly kicks it under a chair to worry about tomorrow. He turns off the light and decides it's too dark, but with the light on, it is too bright. He decides to light one candle, so a bit of light is cast around the room, but the main lights are all off. Then he tries to find the most casual standing pose he can, trying a few, realizes he's being stupid and then fluffs some cushions, just to put the energy somewhere.
The door opens soon enough, and Eddie barrels in, tape deck in one hand, box of tapes in the other, which also now contained his lunchbox, some fresh beers, and the partially emptied bottle of liquor. His silhouette stops dead in the doorway.
"Why's it so dark in here?" Eddie asks a little nervously.
"Well, I thought, if you couldn’t see me, you could maybe pretend I was someone you wanted to kiss, you know. Maybe that would help?" Steve says kindly. "I can put the lights on if you want. It doesn't bother me." 
Eddie dumps the things in his arms, W.A.S.P still pouring out of the portable tape deck's speakers. "No, no. You're right. This is good. I trust you to be the expert here." As he turns and walks towards Steve, the light hits his face, and Steve can at least see and hear he's smiling a tiny bit.
"Ok, so, here is what I think, and if any of it feels like it's gonna make you or is making you feel uncomfortable, just say, ok? You're under no pressure here," Steve reassures him, and despite how much he wants this, he does mean that. "I thought we could do it standing, and I'll keep my hands by my sides, just in case you are worried about anything I told you earlier, and you can just go for it. No judgment, and I'll help you if you want me to, ok? Eddie's rules," Steve says kindly.
"Eddie's rules," he repeats and steps forward toward Steve, who is busy trying to be as still and least intimidating as he can, but he can see as Eddie approaches he's shaking, almost vibrating.
"Are you cold?" Steve asks, concerned.
"No, just nervous," Eddie says, his voice trembling.
Steve lifts his arms slowly from his sides to either side of Eddie's shoulders. "May I?" He says, and Eddie nods. Steve places his hands on Eddie's upper arms.
"Look at me, Eddie." And those big brown doe eyes sweep up to meet Steve's gaze. "You've nothing to worry about. You wanna not do it. That's fine. We can try another time or never speak of it again. If it's awful, you've lost nothing. I'm not someone you need to impress with this, and I'm not gonna tell a soul for obvious reasons. You're safe here." He rubs Eddie's arms gently. "And if you wanna crank the music up, move me somewhere else, change the lights, or anything at all, you can. Eddie's rules, remember?" And Steve knows this image of those sweet candle-lit eyes looking at him for reassurance might be etched into his brain forever. He removes his hands and puts them down by his sides. "Consider me like, I dunno, like a mannequin or something."
"Alright," Eddie says quietly. He's still shaking a little but not as much, and it is adorable, even if it is a million miles from the wild rock star Steve had pictured in his imagination. It is stunning, nonetheless. The candlelight was a mistake. He looks beautiful in it. 
Eddie does turn the music up, and on his way back to Steve appears to be psyching himself up, pacing around and rolling his shoulders, like he'd seen plenty of times in locker rooms before a game, and he desperately wants to laugh, but doesn't want to shake Eddie's confidence. So he waits with the same patient, friendly smile on his face.
Eddie finally takes a few steps towards him. "Ok, I got this. It's just like mwah and done. Easy." Eddie speaks his inner monologue aloud whilst staring intensely at Steve's mouth before his eyes flick up to Steve's, who returns a kind nod. Eddie rubs his hands together. "Right, here goes nothing."
Eddie closes the gap, and just like that, Eddie Munson is kissing Steve Harrington. It is one of the most fantastic and agonizing things Steve has ever experienced. Eddie's mouth is so soft and pillowy. This close, Steve can absorb the full bouquet of his aromas. Alcohol, weed, tobacco, leather, pine, patchouli, musk, engine oil, a hint of gasoline, and it's so heady Steve wants to roll his eyes back into his skull and live here forever. He smells like high-speed rock ‘n’ roll, and Steve wants it bottled. And yet, at the same time, he's restricted. He can't reach out to pull Eddie closer. He can't deepen this kiss. He can't plunge his hands into his wild hair or explore under his shirt. He has to stay perfectly still for Eddie.
Steve unexpectedly adds 'Good Kisser' to his Eddie assessment.
This memory would always have to be Steve's secret album track. One hidden after minutes worth of silence right at the end of side B that wasn't even labeled on the album itself. Hidden away from prying eyes, only there for him when he felt like delving deeply enough, but he knows this is always going to be in his top ten. A mental polaroid, their mouths perfectly fitted together just like this.
Eddie tilts into it a little more, and Steve's every fiber is crying out to match his energy, but he promised he'd stay still, but he could be pliant. There is an extra wave of alcohol between them as Steve feels pressure from Eddie's tongue, teasing his mouth to part slightly. He obliges willingly but knows not to give too much. Eddie's doing the driving here. He tries to relax by forcing his focus on the music.
Magic runs through my fingers-
One touch you'll see
Steve feels Eddie's hand gently touch the side of his face as if instructed by the singer, but then he pulls it away quickly. Steve breaks the rules, puts Eddie's hand back on his face, and pats it. Trying to let him know it's ok, but Eddie pulls away entirely. However, he keeps the distance minimal. The smile on his face is enormous, and Steve mirrors it. 
Steve wants to let out a sigh so full of longing it might launch a million love songs from bridge to chorus. A lonesome howl. Instead, he does what he's supposed to. He keeps the beat and holds that friendly smile like that didn't just happen. Like that kiss wouldn't be embossed onto his lips whenever he hears a singer croon about unrequited love. His hand forever pressed against the window pane of a place he's not on the list for.
"See, easy. You did it, man. First kiss. Check. Done." Steve draws a tick in the air with his hand, but Eddie isn't looking. He might not even be listening. Instead, his eyes are still trained on Steve's mouth.
"Say, could I get a redo on that? I noticed something, and I wanna try something else," Eddie says excitedly, and Steve can hardly believe his luck. Praise whatever powerful being is allowing this to happen right now.
"Sure thing. It's your time. Anything I can help with?" Steve asks, trying not to sound too eager to please.
"Can you, um, how can I put it….can you kiss me back this time, so I know what that feels like?" Eddie asks, the grin on his face unmoving. A Roy Orbison 'Have Mercy' rings through his brain. For Steve, it might as well be Christmas right now, it's not everything he wants, but it's something, and to be honest, the universe has let him get away with a lot this evening. 
L.O…V.E.
Keeping his cool and calm facade up, he replies, "Yeah, sure, I can do that. It's your rules, man. Your hands are fine, too, by the way. Sorry if I scared you. I was trying to let you know it was ok." He smiles more gently, and Eddie nods before turning around quickly to turn the music up even louder.
Steve notices that Eddie isn't shaking anymore, and that sweet innocent look in his eyes appears to have disappeared entirely. It feels ridiculous to even think, but if he was going to label how Eddie looks right now, he'd use the word ravenous. The backdrop of the guitar screaming out of the speakers only makes Steve's pulse race faster. Even Eddie's posture is straighter. He’s standing a little taller. His eyes don't move from Steve's mouth until he's swaggered back to where he was, their noses an inch or so apart; his eyes flick up to Steve's, and he actually winks at him, but before Steve can process what all these changes mean or where they've come from, their mouths connect again, and he is literally manhandled. 
Eddie's hands yank Steve's arms around him, leaning his back against them like he wants Steve to touch him. Meanwhile, Eddie's hands are taking a whistlestop tour of Steve. Pushing and feeling over his torso and arms as they make their way up to his neck and into his hair, Eddie eases Steve's mouth open with his own, tugging gently on his bottom lip.
The message center in Steve's brain is in two distinct factions right now: Team 'What the hell is happening?' and Team 'Hell yeah, let's fucking go!". Only then does he remember he should be doing something other than letting Eddie paw over him and try to engulf him entirely. 
Steve kisses Eddie back, licks into his mouth with all the hunger he'd been restraining, and lets his hand smooth up Eddie's t-shirt. The feeling of his body through the fabric would be unforgettable. Steve's hands are the steady grounding bass groove to Eddie's hurried electrifying lead. He is in the throes of it now, so it's really not his fault that when he feels Eddie tug on his hair slightly, he instinctively roughly pulls Eddie closer, pressing them together. The force of which pushes a grunt from Eddie, making a bolt of lightning shoot straight into the pit of his stomach. 
This is the Eddie he'd been fantasizing about, powerful, rough, brain-frazzling, just like the guitar riffs he'd been listening to that night. Who knew it was lying in wait behind one little kiss? Maybe Steve wasn't such an awful judge of character after all. He isn’t sure what is going to happen after this. Perhaps they'll be so embarrassed they'll never talk to one another again, but the lines have been crossed now. So as far as Steve is concerned, he is going to sprint into this tryst until Eddie close-lines him to the floor by simply telling him 'No' or 'Stop'.
The loud music in his ears, and the sweet melody Eddie is playing with his body, makes Steve flip the bird at the angel complaining on his shoulder as he moves one of his hands to grip Eddie's lithe waist, thumbing into the flesh with the safety barrier of the material between. The other moves all the way north to get lost in that wild mane between his fingers as he grips into it lightly, doesn't pull, just wants to feel around in there, and it is glorious. He feels Eddie's tongue retract from the wrestling match it had been having with his own, his lips smile against him before he tugs hard on Steve's hair, tipping his head backwards with force, making him emit a noise he hadn't ever heard himself produce before, inspired by a place somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Both panting for air, Steve, though in an awkward position, decides to make light of the situation. He doesn't want Eddie to stop and figures humor will let him know everything is still good. "Not bad for a second kiss, Munson."
"Careful, Harrington. You wouldn't want anyone to think you're having a good time here, innocently helping out your new buddy, right?" Eddie's sultry smile descends into a smirk as he licks a fat stripe from the base of Steve's throat all the way up to his chin, along his jawline until he's dragging his teeth over his ear, and now Steve's eyes do roll back into his skull, his eyelids flutter shut, as he feels his blood thunder south. Steve decides that the town is wrong, Eddie doesn't worship the devil. The level of temptation and amount of sinful thoughts surging through Steve right now might mean that he is in the hands of Apollyon himself. Relief sweeps over him as Eddie finally pushes him into a wall, glad for something to help keep him standing.
He worries about the potentially embarrassing firmness rapidly developing below his belt, and a good Steve, a wise Steve, would tell Eddie to ease up, but those Steves are out to lunch. The only Steve remaining is munching on popcorn, yelling more, more, more, and switching every sign to green. "Jesus Christ, Eddie," is all he manages breathlessly.
Eddie's hand is still firmly holding Steve's head back as his other hand caresses his face and starts to move achingly slowly down his neck and chest as Eddie rasps in his ear, "You know, Harrington, you really should learn to ask more open questions." He must see the look of confusion on Steve's face because he laughs deeply, and it vibrates through Steve's body, not helping his current predicament in any way.
Another tug on his hair, and the hand on his chest moves lower still. Eddie's fingers trace gently along the outlines of his muscles through his sweatshirt. It's only then Steve realizes his own hands have turned limp against Eddie. He forces his eyes to look to the side to finally meet Eddie's in the darkness, waiting for answers that aren't emerging. Steve dips the fingers of the hand on Eddie's waist, along the waistband of his jeans, and he runs them around it gently until he finds a belt loop to hook a finger into and pulls Eddie against him again. A gasp and groan swim into Steve's ear. At the same time, he feels Eddie's stiffness against his hip. Steve bites down so hard on his own lip he's sure it might draw blood. "What do you mean?" He manages when the ability to think and speak finally returns.
Eddie deeply chuckles again before slowly, rhythmically thrusting his hips against Steve, causing a harmony of noises from them both. "Mmm, we sound good together, don't we?" Eddie purrs as his eyes trail over his face. The rough denim shifts the fabric of his trousers over his leg. The outside has the firm pressure from Eddie, but it's when the material gently brushes up and down the inside of his thigh that is really causing a cerebral malfunction. Steve should stop him. This is too far, too telling, he's exposed what he is, letting him get away with it, but if he does, this might never happen again, and he wants this so badly. Everything about this guy is musical. His tempo and basal noises are like sinful arias that Steve wants on repeat, his fingertips moving over him, conducting Steve's body to do exactly whatever he wants. Eddie ceases his pelvic onslaught. "I have a confession," he mutters gently as his fingers move to the lines where Steve's abdomen meets his hips, making Steve's usually very comfortable slacks feel like his worst enemy. "You see, I kinda didn't lie, but I didn't tell you the whole truth either." 
On instinct, Steve's fingers have been working away at freeing Eddie from his clothes. This is usually where a girl might bat his hand away, or if he was lucky, they'd help him out by removing it themselves. Eddie doesn't do that. He keeps his eyes on Steve and does nothing to stop or aid him. He simply allows it. With the freedom he's clearly been bestowed, Steve isn't sure why he doesn't immediately relieve Eddie of his clothes. Instead, it makes him untuck Eddie's band tee much more slowly than he actually wants to, like carefully unwrapping a gift. But as Eddie stops talking, he stops untucking. A smile ticks at the corner of Steve's mouth like he's playing a little game. Eddie pushes him lower slightly, so he can look down into his eyes as he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. It's a spinning coin of who has the power here, and Steve didn't realize until right now how soul-stirring that could be.
"We were talking about girls, right?" Eddie continues, a subtle tremble appearing in his voice, and Steve teases some of the fabric free as he speaks, his finger accidentally ghosting over the skin underneath. Eddie's words cease. Steve stills his fingers and watches him crumble slightly. Eddie whines and bites his lip, nodding, before taking a deep breath. "And everything I said about girls was one hundred percent true. I'd never outright lie to you. It was just a simple twisting to just see if…." Steve continues around his waistband until he realizes Eddie is repeating himself, and he starts tucking the t-shirt back in and moves his hand away. "No-no-no," Eddie says much more quickly, dropping out of his deep sultry tone to something Steve is more used to hearing, and he pouts.
"That's cheating," Steve smiles up at him.
"Sorry, sorry," Eddie apologizes and takes Steve's hand, placing it back where it was. "Please."
"Then confess," he says sternly, making Eddie wet his lips with his tongue.
"I hadn't kissed a girl. I tried. I like girls. I dated a bunch." Eddie's storytelling trait leaves the building, as all he is left with are short sentences, his eyes looking for Steve's hand teasing the material until the shirt is entirely free. He swallows thickly before he speaks again, "And I did give up after I chickened out a few times. That was all true." Steve's hand slithers under the soft cotton fabric of Eddie's T-shirt, and as his fingertips touch Eddie's stomach, his head flies back, and Steve can see his Adam's apple bobbing away, as he unleashes a string of whispered curse words into the air; his chest heaves up and down, and his grip almost pulsing in Steve's hair. He stays perfectly still, waiting for Eddie to return from wherever his brain and Steve's touch just sent him. Lets his hand linger, hoping it weaves a white-hot print into his skin forever. Hopes the place is accidentally brushed over one day, and this moment swamps his brain like the sweetest refrain.
'Cos bad boys they do
After a few seconds, his head lowers again, looking intensely into Steve's eyes, and he can feel the smooth abdomen and rise and fall against his palm. Other than the subtle movements of their bodies, they are caught in a stalemate. Without breaking their shared lustful stare save for an occasional blink, Steve flexes his trembling fingers lightly so the tips of them brush featherlight against Eddie’s softer-than-expected skin, and Eddie’s eyelids flicker for a moment. “So if that was all true, what was the lie?” Steve asks softly as his fingers graze over small patches of his torso, making minute circles that he is unsure about dealing out. Steve had felt a sizable number of bodies before, but this one is hot as a volcano and potentially just as volatile with one incorrect shifting of the fault-riddled ground they’d made together tonight. He has no idea what is too far here. Steve feels he is walking a high wire of intimacy. One wrong move and it could all be over. It all comes flooding into his mind at once how very little he knows about Eddie. How potentially dangerous this could be. What if Steve crosses a line, and it sets him off? Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, unsure of how to proceed.
With his head still tilted back in Eddie's hand, he looks down his nose and gingerly reaches out for Eddie's hand, wraps his fingers cautiously around his wrist, and to his relief, he lets him take it. He places it on his wrist, partially obscured by the T-shirt it hides under. Steve meets his eyes again, and Eddie’s hand chases after Steve’s under his shirt. He looks down at Eddie’s chest, can make out the bumps of his knuckles through the cotton, and spreads his fingers slightly so they disappear, and Eddie’s digits fall into the spaces between his own. A slight glint of a smile twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth as he tightens his grip and moves Steve’s hand over his body with a gulp, watching Steve like a hawk, and for a moment, he thinks maybe Eddie is just as scared of him. He moves their hands slowly to his chest, and his eyes close as he licks his lips. His chest is rising and falling much more profoundly and hurriedly now. He smooths their loosely joined hands slowly down him to his side, over the ripple of his ribs under Steve's fingertips. Eddie observes Steve the whole time, and the tension is eating away at him, so he pushes. “You didn’t answer. What was the lie?” Steve asks again.
Eddie's hand leaves him, and his skin misses the red-hot heat of his palm already. It shoots out to the side of Steve's head against the wall, and Eddie slowly bends his elbow to lean his face back into Steve’s space. Steve tries his absolute best to stay calm, but his heart thunders in his chest, and his eyes flicker back down to Eddie’s mouth. He feels a deep ache—one more kiss. One more, and then he’ll stop.
Eddie’s smile grows to a wicked thing above him as he studies Steve’s face. "The lie? No, Steve. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. I’ve never kissed a girl, and I do like them. But I also like guys.” Steve’s eyes must betray him entirely with surprise because Eddie’s grin widens, ”And I kissed a whole bunch of them a whole lotta times," he manages before adding to that total by kissing Steve ferociously, clashing them together almost painfully and pulling away roughly, "and you can't really blame me when the hottest guy in the universe offered me a kiss for nothing. Out of the goodness of his precious, kind heart." Eddie’s eyes drop lower, and soon he’s gone from where Steve can see. The next thing he feels is his soft wet lips mouthing over Steve's throat. The quick switch to gentleness has him finally releasing his hair and cupping the back of his neck. "You forgive me, right, sweetheart?" He speaks it into his skin, and he’s right. He does, but he can’t currently articulate the words to do so. Steve is pleasantly surprised that Eddie duped him. That means that Eddie wanted him, too, right? Maybe not in the same way, but in some way. A smile breaks on Steve's face as he lets the wave of pleasure crash over him as frequently and as heavily as they like. 
Make the grade.
He adds ‘Phenomenal Actor’ to his Eddie assessment list.
Steve laughs, making Eddie stop, but Steve doesn't have time to reassure him. The danger is gone, but it is no less exhilarating. He finally uses his strength to push off the wall and trade places. Eddie looks confused, maybe even a little scared, until he scans over Steve’s face centimeters from his own, smiling broadly, laughing in between pants for breath. As Steve pushes off him and removes his blazer and sweatshirt, Eddie no longer seems so worried.
"What did I do to deserve all this?" His eyes rake over every newly exposed inch of Steve, which feels like the most glorious thing in the world. Eddie wants him. It is looping over in his brain like a scratched record.
They're gonna drive me crazy yet.
"Well, let's see, you told the truth." Steve pushes his hardness into Eddie's thigh, and the relief from that tiny bit of contact is almost enough to make Steve collapse onto Eddie, but now he knows they had both been misleading one another a little, and he wants to play up to it.
"I did, I really did. I was so good for that, wasn't I?" Eddie agrees enthusiastically, his eyebrows pushing together as he looks from Steve's face to the friction between them as Eddie slides against him again, and Steve almost short circuits.
Prior to right now, Steve's general part in this kind of dynamic was mostly being grateful. Grateful for a girl, to let him touch her in any way. Even with Tommy, it was almost like a mutual science experiment, but Steve has found two new things he was into in the few short minutes of whatever this was developing between him and Eddie, so he pokes at one. 
"But you also made me aware that someone as good at acting as you cannot be trusted." Steve rolls his hips away from Eddie, leaving him shaking his head quickly in a sort of panic, and watching Eddie crave him like this was sending undulating shockwaves throughout himself. Sure, he's been the subject of coy glances, big eyes full of affection, maybe something close to love, but to be desired so desperately is not something he is accustomed to. It prickles at his nerve endings until his whole body feels so sensitive, like the merest hint of a breeze against it could send him crashing back into Eddie for more.
"It wasn't all acting, I swear. I was nervous about kissing you, but for different reasons than I said," Eddie babbles. His fingers dig into Steve's forearms as he grasps for them. Make that three. Usually, when he was gripped this way, it was by the soft pads at the ends of dainty fingers, maybe even the light scratches of perfectly manicured fingernails. Eddie's fingers aren’t like that. The tips are covered mostly in calluses from playing the guitar, and the roughness of his palms is probably from working with his hands. Steve suspects it's perhaps his van. Immediately jealous that it might be from all the rough surfaces Eddie has pushed other guys up against. He shuts his eyes momentarily as the textures graze across his arms, and his brain takes him to a sweltering hot day, Eddie leaning into the engine of his van, sweat dripping from him, covered in streaks of engine oil or grease, and it is doing Steve no favors in his attempt to calm down. He listens to the music around them for a reprieve, but it doesn't come. The singer only urges him on. He wonders if Eddie selected this album intentionally. If it was part of his plan all along, to bewitch Steve with a wicked potion of himself and the suggestive lyrics in the air.
That smokin' powder keg you're riding on is hell-bound
Steve rushes him, throwing a forearm over his head and leaning his whole weight against it on the wall so he looms over Eddie, breathing hard but keeping a distance between their bodies, hoping to create a chasm between them that they’d fill with the desire behind their eyes. He carefully leans in and speaks his words into Eddie's slightly parted mouth. "Would you have forgiven me if our roles had been reversed? If I had tricked you tonight?" His eyes rise sleepily from Eddie's lips to his hooded eyes, and a shuddering breath escapes the man under him, and Steve's stomach flips.
"Yeah. Yes. A million times, yes. I'd forgive you." Eddie looks like he's in pain as his words drip with yearning. Steve smiles down at him, and he can see the wave of realization move gradually across Eddie's face, "You tricked me?" He says slowly in an unbelieving whisper. His big eyes look up at Steve so innocently for a moment that it makes him positively growl into Eddie's neck because this is fucking sensational. He knows at any point he could throw up his hands, and Eddie would take the reins, or he could continue to overpower him, dominate him like this. He honestly can’t read what Eddie prefers, but he also had no idea what he liked better, either. It all feels good, maybe a little too good.
At the altar of rock 'n' roll you'll kneel.
"It wasn't a trick, exactly. It was more a bending of the truth and then a little pushing my luck," Steve says quietly as he mouths down his neck, his tongue tasting the sharpness of cheap cologne that Steve wouldn't have replaced by anything more expensive. It is perfection. He latches on when he reaches the base of his throat, hoping to leave Eddie with a memory of this evening, a warning to anyone else that sees it, at least for a few days, making Eddie hiss a breath between his teeth. Increasing the pressure as the guitar desperately wails in the sweet syrupy air around them. At first, he thinks he might have been too rough and hurt him until Eddie's hands guide his head back for more. "You like that?" Steve asks for the first time.
"I'd like it better if the rest of you wasn't so far away," Eddie half-complains.
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure you deserve it after being so deceptive." Steve laughs, taking his throat between his teeth again and sucking down. He dares to glance up at Eddie's expression and regrets it immediately because he looks like absolute sin, his head thrown back against the wall, sweat sticking his hair to his face, his kiss-swollen mouth hanging open like it's desperately waiting for something obscene to fill it. Though he can't see them in the dim light, he bets those coral pink triangles of blush are adorning his face right now.
Hellion! The devil's Hellion child
"You're not really selling the whole telling you the truth thing, you know?" Eddie catches him staring up at him and grins until he's cut off by Steve bursting another bunch of his blood vessels to decorate his pretty neck. Then he's catching his breath, gasping, and sighing into the air above them as his eyes slide closed. 
"Yeah, but imagine how much more you could have right now if you'd been good," Steve says as he releases and towers over him again, and Eddie lets him, despite them being roughly the same height. A mischievous grin spreads across Eddie’s face as his hips rut forward and grind against him again, almost taunting him. It feels so sinfully good. Steve almost whimpers but presses his lips together just in time. He looks at Eddie, who is already watching him, with a slightly arched eyebrow. As their eyes lock, he does it once more. His brow knits, and his mouth drops open a little. Steve recognises it as almost too much. A moan rolls out of him in the silence between songs, and Steve can't resist that open invitation to capture it. But the next song seeps into his ears, slower, gentler, and Steve lets the music puppet him. He reaches out to cup Eddie's jaw, thumbing at his cheek where he can feel those little patches of heat hiding in the darkness. The music slows his touch and breathing. He lets his eyes search Eddie's for the keys to unlock what he's holding back. Eddie releases a sigh.
Click.
Look, look in the candlelight.
Completely lost in the moment, he finally lets his mind take him and Eddie somewhere else entirely. Suspended in a dark nothingness, only one another's highlights revealed by the faintest light until flames burst from the floor to lick at their bodies. He claims Eddie's mouth with his own and tastes him again, consuming his sounds of pleasure like it was the ambrosia of the gods. He mentally adds to his Eddie assessment.
Exceedingly good at reading me.
As Steve draws back again, just to escape how good Eddie feels, before this ends too soon for his liking, Eddie says, "Come on, Steve. If I'd been really good and told no lies, neither of us would have much of anything right now." His hands move over Steve's body as smoothly as his voice fills his ears until they find their way around his waist, splay out against his back and pull him in closer again. "So maybe, don't think about it too much. Maybe call it even and don't think about anything at all." Eddie's hands move lower, grazing the small of his back, gliding into and over the dimples there, until his fingertips are playing with the back of his waistband, and he slightly dips them inside of it. He raises his eyes to Steve's and holds his gaze through his eyelashes, and Steve realizes he's silently asking for permission. 
And cry out the name of which I yearn.
Eddie doesn't know, but this is the furthest he's ever gone with a guy. He and Tommy had a few make-out sessions. There had been some moments where other parts of their bodies had brushed against one another, but primarily accidental, not purposeful like this. Not urgent wanting like this. It was the hands above the belt rule that kept it safe, that kept it in a forgivable friendly experiment zone. Even if they'd ended up visibly aroused by anything, they'd laugh it off, slap one another on the back, and find a bathroom each, as far apart as possible. This is not like that. He desperately wants to cross that line, specifically with Eddie, but the icy fear is steadily creeping its way past Eddie's flaming hot hands and up his spine. If he stepped over that line, there were no excuses then. It's only when Eddie speaks again he realizes he's frozen. "Steve? Hey, you ok?" Eddie's fingertips immediately retreat to the outside of the waistband of Steve's slacks.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, I'm good," Steve says confidently, even laughing for good measure, but inside, he is terrified. He surges forward to kiss Eddie again, who accepts, but Steve notices it's much more like their first one. Soft, slow, gentle. He feels the firm pressure of Eddie's arms surrounding him, and it's a sorely needed comfort to slow down the insanity that is going on within him right now. Eddie's eyes scan his face. "Is that as far as you got?" He asks, and there is that kindness in his voice again. He's changed back to the guy that cared enough to be there tonight for Steve, with absolutely no idea there was anything in it for him at all. Steve swallows nervously and nods, looking down to the floor, a little embarrassed that his fear had suddenly surpassed his enthusiasm. He doesn't understand why Eddie isn't upset right now, why he isn't pushing him away, calling him a cocktease, or something worse. Sure Steve had never in his life treated anyone like that, no matter where they paused or stopped proceedings, but from what the girls revealed to him as he'd hold them in his arms, reassuring them it didn't matter, it wasn't a big deal, most guys got pissed about it. He was an exception.
"Steve. It's ok." His arms tighten around him, and one hand starts rubbing a soothing circle on his back as he stands to his full height again. 'Look at me. Please"
Steve quickly glances at him and looks away just as rapidly. "Can you try to look at me for a bit longer, please? I know it's difficult on account of how hideous you find me." The smile in his tone is evident, and Steve dares to look again. "There you are," Eddie says with a huge smile, and Steve offers him a weak one back. "Remember earlier, we were talking about Eddie's rules?" He brings a hand to touch the side of Steve's face, carefully moving a few strands of hair away from his eyes. Steve can't bring himself to say anything. He looks down again and feels stupid. Eddie catches his chin on the crook of his index finger and tilts his head back up. "Well, number one on the list of Eddie's Rules is all parties have to be into what's happening at all times. Understand? Because if you're not into it, I'm not into it, ok? That's how it works for me. I'm not being a martyr here," he smiles and looks down where they are still pressed together. "When I know someone's having a good time with me because of me, that's my thing. That's what gets me off." Eddie pretends to be deep in thought as he looks back up. "Well, that and a hundred other things probably, but that's definitely my favorite and most important." He lets out a soft laugh that makes the tension boiling in Steve rest to a simmer.
Steve casts his eyes down to the collar of Eddie's t-shirt, rolls it between his fingers and sighs, "Sorry. I know it must seem like a weird line to have, considering everything else we’ve been doing. You must be disappointed," Steve says regretfully, and Eddie laughs so loudly, making Steve’s eyes snap to him in alarm.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea where I've been for the past I don't fucking know minutes? I'm day-slash-night walking in fantasy, Steve. You have no idea how many times I thought about this. How many different ways. I never. Hand on heart. Never thought it would happen. And believe me when I say I thought I had a fantastic imagination, being a storyteller, a musician, and a dreamer, but nothing I came up with was anywhere close to how amazing this is. Seriously." His hand cups Steve's jaw, and his thumb runs across his cheekbone. "So no, sweetheart, I'm not disappointed. I am a man, light years away from the town of disappointment, ok?"
Steve smiles but rolls his eyes with his patented half-smile. Eddie looks and sounds genuine, but he can't help but feel maybe he'd wanted or expected more.
"I know what you're thinking, Steve. I think I rammed my tongue so far down your throat I tasted your innermost thoughts, so I'll be one hundred percent honest with you. I would be lying if I said I didn't want more. But I always want more. It's who I am. I'm greedy for attention, affection and, right now, you. I am. I'll hold my hands up to that. But I am not disappointed. So you've got nothing to apologize for except being so damn delectable. And maybe don't even be sorry for that because-" Steve cuts him off with a kiss that sets off a box of exhibition-sized fireworks inside of Steve, an orchestral crescendo that runs in ripples over his skin. Fuck, he likes this guy so much more than he thought he did or could.
"You know, I can talk more if that's how you'll keep me quiet the rest of the night?" Eddie smiles as he blinks back into the present. 
"You know I'm in one too?" Steve says quietly, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from Eddie's face.
"Huh? In one? One what?" Eddie looks completely bamboozled.
Steve chuckles, making Eddie's face light up. "I mean, I'm in a fantasy too."
"Fuck off!" Eddie exclaims so loudly in shock it makes Steve lean back. "You are not!" Steve nods, and Eddie's mouth is wide open in excited surprise as he gestures to himself. "Me? Really?" 
"Yeah," Steve says softly, draping his arms around Eddie's neck.
"You have no idea the inner turmoil I'm in right now. Like, I know, I can't tell anyone about this, and I won't, but if I could, shit, the fucking urge to rub this in all their stupid faces is strong. Steve Harrington was fantasizing about lil' ol' me." He flutters his eyelashes. "Feed my ego, Steve. Tell me everything, please."
"Ah, no. That's private," Steve says, frowning a little.
"Ok, ok. At least tell me for how long?" Eddie asks, his arms around Steve, shaking him left to right with excitement, and Steve sighs.
"Since yesterday." And almost immediately, Eddie pouts his downturned lips as his shoulders sink.
"Damn, you don't mess around, do ya?" Eddie replies with a lot less excitement.
"Ok, so you definitely seem disappointed now," Steve remarks.
"Yeah, that's because I am." Eddie pouts again, and Steve is amusedly taken aback by his honesty. At least this reaction confirmed he was telling the truth moments ago.
"Why? Like, why be disappointed about this and not me ruining everything," Steve asks curiously.
"Ok, stop. You ruined nothing. This is different. I just learned you'd been thinking about me, and I guess I imagined it would have been for longer than a day, Steve. What? No pining? No finding out when I'm on shift so you can watch my fine ass walk by? No, Eddie daydreams out of the window. Just one day? How? How is that possible? What did I do yesterday that I didn't do any other of the days we've known one another? I look the same. I act the same. Is it? Is it because you think I'm turning over a new leaf with a legitimate job? Because you should know I'm not." Eddie lets the words leave him like rapid fire as he puzzles through the situation, "Is it name tags? ‘Cus I can get my hands on as many name tags as you want. Oh, wait, is it because I asked for your help? Like a good Samaritan kink or something because, again, my teachers will tell ya I need all the help I can get."
"It's because yesterday I knew, well, I hoped you were like me," Steve answers.
"Oh, the liking guys thing?" Eddie guesses, and Steve shakes his head in a no, and Eddie wrinkles up his nose adorably.
"Music. You talk out loud about music, the way I feel inside about music. In the record store, the way you described the Hendrix album felt different from when you were assessing the others, and earlier tonight, the way you talked about this one," Steve gestures to the air to indicate the music still playing, "and then you knew what I was talking about when I talked about those sensations. And I thought maybe you'd get me. And then I remembered you were in a band, and I thought how amazing that must feel, to play these things and feel like I feel when I only listen to them. Then I couldn't stop thinking about how you might look, getting totally lost in it." Steve takes a breath, realizing how amped up he is talking about this, staring intensely into Eddie's eyes. He's suddenly aware he's talking louder, excitedly, his hands around the back of Eddie's neck, twisting his fingers into Eddie's hair. "Sorry." He says with an awkward laugh and dials it down a few notches back to normal Steve levels.
Eddie says nothing, only gazes back at him, a soft, thoughtful look on his face, blinking a few times before he says, "Don't stop on my account." And right there in a dimly lit room, W.A.S.P still playing loudly in the background, half-dressed, his hair wildly disheveled, Steve Harrington falls for Eddie Munson. 
Shit. This is bad. Fooling around, secret crushes and fantasies were one thing, but this? This is something else entirely. Dangerous even. But Steve knows. He emphatically knows the difference between something purely physical, something lustfully wanton, and this. This spins his head like a record, his stomach turns cartwheels, and his heart isn't pounding quickly like the hooves of galloping wild horses anymore. It's thudding. A resounding, steady thud. A bluesy John Lee Hooker boom, boom, boom, boom.
"Really?" Steve asks carefully.
"Do you know the level of nerd you have in your arms right now? I mean, I'm a pretty, foxy one at least, but yeah, really, Music was the first thing I remember being completely obsessed with." Eddie smiles. "I had no idea until we were by your pool that music wasn't anything but background noise to you or something to dance with girls to. All I knew about you was you liked sports, were rich, a little bit of a bitch, and so goddamn pretty. I would happily talk about and listen to you talk about music for hours." 
Steve wants to ask, but he just stares. He doesn't want to scare Eddie away, but he wants to know if this is just tonight, some fun between friends, or if…if there could be a tomorrow, or next week, or month, or year, or fucking forever.
"Wanna share with the class?" Eddie says, with a sweet encouraging smile.
"Well, two things, one for you and one for me," Steve says. "Which first?"
"Oh, definitely you first, sweetheart," Eddie drawls, and Steve desperately tries to focus on his words and not any hidden meanings that his body is trying to convince him of right now.
"So, I was wondering, and it's absolutely fine if not, but do you maybe wanna hang out again tomorrow or another night this week?" Steve asks, using his confident mask.
"Like we have tonight?" Eddie asks slowly.
"Yeah, or just-" Steve tries to answer.
"Stop right there." Eddie presses a finger to Steve's still-speaking lips. " Yes! Absolutely yes, Steve. Yes. It's a yes. Big fat, yes. Thank you very much," Eddie answers firmly without hesitation, before a colossal grin breaks across his face, and then he suddenly looks puzzled. "Wait, that was for you? What in the world do you have for me?" But Steve has stalled now. He's still processing how eagerly Eddie agreed, and he's very aware of his own breathing and the pulse in his ears until he's snapped out of it by a ringed hand waving in his face.
"Earth to Steve. Helloooo?" Eddie tries, and Steve tries to remember what he was talking about before he started plotting out their future together.
"So, for you, yes, erm, ok, so kinda embarrassing, but I thought you might like to know that whilst I only fantasized about you for one day, it was…." Steve licks his lips and blinks like he can't believe he's going to say this out loud, but he wants Eddie not to be disappointed. He looks into Eddie's expectant eyes in the darkness. "It was, um…intense and um…vigorous." Steve sees his eyes go a new level of wide before he looks impressed with himself.
"Oh-ho-ho, really? Now that does make me feel a little better." Even in the low light, his huge toothy grin is beaming at Steve. "You know I can run out to the van any time you like, grab that guitar and happily give you your own private concert."
"You would?" Steve asks dreamily as he thinks about that image momentarily and slides closer to Eddie until their silhouettes merge into one against the wall.
"Oh yeah, with fucking bells on." Eddie grins, his eyes dropping to Steve's mouth again, then looking him up and down. "Is this you indicating you might wanna rewind and within the lines have a little more fun now?"
"Yeah," Steve breathes against his lips. "That ok?"
"That ok?" Eddie playfully mimics and laughs. "Yes, of course, gorgeous. Absolutely ok! Maybe, as I'm staying over anyway, we can do the same tomorrow too?" Eddie says, walking Steve backwards to the couch, his eyes lazily looking over Steve's face as he guides him to sit and lowers him down, cradling the back of his head gently to lie back. "Ok, like this?" He asks as he shuffles into his lap. Steve nods happily and wraps his arms around Eddie's waist.
"Who knows, maybe tomorrow won't be the same? Maybe a sweet, handsome, nerdy guy can help me get a little further tomorrow? Because with him, I'd really like to eventually. You know, do more," Steve says positively; though he can feel the heat rise up his face, he is smiling up at Eddie as he leans in close and presses a kiss to his lips before sitting back and taking off his t-shirt. Eddie pauses like he's allowing him the time to look over him. Steve makes a mental note of all the places he's going to explore later, all the ink buried in Eddie's skin he's going to get intimately acquainted with every minuscule detail of, maybe even leave his signature next to them, so Steve can be buried under Eddie's skin there right along with them.
"From what I know of that guy, he will be more than eager to assist, but he's also not in any kind of rush. He'll be beside himself that he got so fucking lucky to get his lips on the second hottest music nerd in town." And before Steve can laugh and reach up to playfully push him off, Eddie leans down against his hand to kiss him longingly, his untamed hair draping around them both like the softest black-out curtains against the outside world, their sounds intertwine harmoniously once more as they breathe one another in and out. 
Symbiotic. Just like Eddie said.
Whilst their song sends Steve's imagination into the serenity of outer space, his fingertips of the hand wedged between them moves over Eddie's skin, across to the center of his chest, until they find what Steve's been after for so long. 
A beat that wholeheartedly moves him.
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bonefall · 6 months
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OHHH OK now im curious. bc of this ask: https://www.tumblr.com/bonefall/729548700508160000/could-be-like-my-cousin-shes-100-percent-deaf-in?source=share about dovewing being deaf. do cats in the BB AU have a signed form of clanmew? or is it basic gestures/just the written form of clanmew for deaf/HOH cats?
signed,
someone who really loves languages (hoping to god i spelled everything right/actually used the right words. ive been rewatching 3 hour psych lectures sine 6am...)
They have a rudimentary writing system! Clan glyphs be upon ye
It's not phonetic Clanmew, it's glyphs. Snowkit, before his tragic death saving Tawnykit, was actually OBSESSED with these. If he'd survived, he would have built these out into something he could use to communicate with. He was actually a really interesting kid.
But, unfortunately... that passion went with him. Whitewing is the next cat born with a hearing problem, and she's really uninterested in them. She isn't the same creative person that he was, and struggled with the fact that her family seemed to imply she had to "live the life he couldn't."
(note: in BB, dovewing is lionblaze's adopted daughter and bio-niece.)
I think there's going to be a big of a tragedy at play, here. Whitewing has figured out her own methods of communication. It's not a full language, but she's able to communicate basic intent with "rudimentary signs" she's created on her own.
She was only ONE degree of separation away from Dovewing (as Birchfall's, Dove's mentor, mate), but...everyone was forcing Dovewing into what THEY felt she needed. More hunting practice, more glyph practice, more lip-reading. Dovewing wasn't allowed to set her own pace or learn in her own way.
And her response was to bolt, taking all the possibility with her.
IT was the right choice for Dovewing, I think. She thinks that too. But, it wasn't the ONLY choice, you know? There's always things left unsaid and things you'll never be able to try when you make such a big decision. Who knows what could have been?
Maybe Dove and White would have ended up creating the start of a brand new dialect of Clanmew Sign Language, or changed the glyph system in a way that fit them better. Maybe that's not what matters; maybe they would have just been able to make each other feel less alone.
But as it is...
Every deaf, HOH, and mute cat in BB is currently disconnected from each other. They can't pool their skills except at Gatherings.
So Fallowfern, Dovewing, Whitewing, and Stoneclaw all have their own unique way of communicating.
There are tail signs which are used for battle, and glyphs which are used for writing.
Info: Those who go deaf later in life are still usually able to speak. Those who were born deaf often have a harder time. (Clarifying because this is apparently not common knowledge?)
OH! Bonus! Here's how each of those four tend to communicate!
Dovewing
She's REALLY frustrated by everyone forcing solutions on her. I think part of her actually really likes that she can say whatever and then not hear the response. It's like, "Deal with it. Show me you care with your actions if it's so important."
ZERO patience for people who just try to talk over her. She will immediately respect you if you listen to her carefully; only then will she give you the time of day to try and talk back. She kinda treats it like a privilege to talk to her, and she WILL revoke it without remorse.
People who have earned this privilege;
Heartstar. Naturally. And all of their children.
All of the Guardian cats, especially Antfur who is her best friend.
Violetshine, weirdly enough. She visits ShadowClan now and then and Dovewing is very fond of her and her wife and husband.
Strikestone and her new family
Squirrelflight
Briarlight
Alderheart and Sparkpelt
Twigbranch
Fernsong (BUT HE IS ON THIN. ICE. As Ivypool's husband.)
Her preferred method of being talked to is glyph writing. Heartstar is really creative with them, and it's super endearing. She improvises signs a lot and draws full pictures, making whole "doodle pages", even writing little "love letters" in the dirt before Dove wakes up. Literally peak romance, Dovewing loves her wife so muchhh
Whitewing
Also has low patience, but in a more "quick" way. She doesn't like people who take a lot of her time trying to phrase something simple and act awkwardly around her. Time is prey to Whitewing-- cut to the chase and communicate what you need her to do.
Interestingly, this leads to her really disliking Bramblestar as a leader. He's very inattentive to her needs when he organizes patrols on his own. She has very strong opinions and bad synergy with some of her Clanmates, and if she's forced on a patrol with them it ruins her day.
(She's really relieved when Squilf is reinstated post-BOTTE, Squilf knows about this quirk and accounts for it.)
Her love with Birchfall was actually a long time in the making. He really sees her, and something about the way they communicate just clicks. It's easy. They were friends, then partners, and then eventually mates and have been close their whole lives. Their body language just makes sense to each other.
She's been deaf her whole life and only knows a few very important words, but won't "speak" words if she doesn't have to. She does have a habit of making noises when she's happy though, beeping, meowing, and meeping when she's surprised and "not in work mode."
Whitewing is the kind of deaf cat in those videos who sees their human is home and goes "MEEEEEEEEEA." She would walk into a bathroom and wail so she could feel the vibrations on her paws. Vocalizing feels good. She is NOT a quiet person unless she's hunting.
Her preferred method of communication is mostly modified tail signs, but ThunderClan broadly uses glyphs, but she doesn't want to correct them on it. She feels bad telling them it's frustrating that they take so long to draw.
Stoneclaw
She has selective mutism. Her vigil was the night of the WindClan Massacre, and while sitting outside the camp with her temporary silence, ShadowClan attacked and killed her sister Thrushwing in front of her.
At first, WindClan thought it was nobility, that she'd "carried out her vigil to the bitter end." But it never healed. It's not a choice, it's trauma. She can speak when she's extremely relaxed but it's a really rare circumstance.
But, the legacy is to her benefit. She's the granddaughter of Tallstar (through Flylight, his adopted son), has an honorable story, and is a strong and confident warrior... in the daytime. She never hunts at night, when the sun sets, so does she.
(Clan cats are crepuscular, working in the morning and in the evening, but Stoneclaw only takes daylight shifts.)
Glyphs serve her fine, but she really dislikes using tail signs to communicate... brings up really bad memories.
She would REALLY benefit from someone making an effort to "legitimize" some sort of CSL, it would be like a support club to her. SO if it ever happened, Stoneclaw would jump at the chance to join. She's probably friends with Fallowfern though, once SkyClan arrives. Stoneclaw lives to become a very old girl.
Fallowfern
Mom of the Road Safety Man, guy who knows a million words for vehicles, Rabbitleap, and best friend and co-parent with Hawkwing, Plumwillow, Fallowfern is an old cat who ends up losing her hearing later in life like Dovewing!
I'm actually not entirely decided on her personality, but I'm feeling that she'd make a really good "glue" to hold everyone together. Like some kind of organizer-type person, someone who's very good at networking. She's really upset to be losing her hearing, it signifies a lot of really negative things to her.
She suddenly can't talk with a lot of people... even the ones who are reaching out to her are doing exactly that. Reaching out to her.
She likes being the reacher-outerer. It feels like being old and washed up.
SkyClan is a very good, connected Clan, with bonds notoriously VERY strong in comparison to the other Forest Four because of shared persecution... but
She's got this awful feeling that everyone's just coddling her, being nice to her, sending her to the elder's den like a trinket on a shelf.
"Does this mean... does this mean I'm going to lose music? Will anyone dance with me ever again? Do my babies want me to join them, or... or are they just tolerating stinky old mama <:( ?"
They're NOT, btw. Of course not. She's Fallowfern and she means a lot to them.
So I think at the VERY least, she finds a fondness for Stoneclaw at Gatherings. Elder friends, girlies who bond over making little grandma bracelets, but I'm not sure if it's HIT them yet that they can do something very cool together.
In fact it would be kind of funny if they weren't even aware of each other's disabilities at first, like they just started hanging out quietly. Fallowfern assumed that Stoneclaw just doesn't have anything to say and Stoneclaw figured Fallowfern was respecting her silence.
Like something just gravitated them to each other in the most natural, orbital way.
And then Snapstorm, Stoneclaw's wife, bumbles up like "Hey babe who's your friend :) ?" And Stoneclaw smiles, nods at Fallowfern to introduce herself, and then Fallow's like... "Oh I can't hear you, honey."
Stone: !!! (Taps self and makes a crossing motion over her throat)
Fallow: O_O "Ohhhh"
BUT, anyway,
Her preferred form of communication is unequivocally glyphs. I imagine SkyClan might have more written characters than other Clans, simply because they used them a LOT during their time apart under Spiderstar's Plan. Plus, they used to see a lot of road signs which they may have just adopted as glyphs.
Hmm... yeah, seems very cute that The Road Family's traffic theme continues, lmao
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worseforwords · 1 year
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Barcelona Beginnings (Ona Batlle x Reader)
So, I decided to write a sequel to the Manchester Meet-cute/ Memories story after all. However, it takes place 4 years after the initial encounter. I recommend you read the other parts first. You can find them here: part 1, part 2
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“Y/N/N!” A familiar voice called from behind you. You quickly turned around “Ames!” You screamed as your best friend practically jumped into your arms, almost making you fall over. “I am loving the  Barcelona weather already!” She exclaimed as she pulled away. “Better than Paris?” You asked. “Yeah it’s been cloudy for weeks. That’s not what they told us when we decided to move there you know. City of light my ass.” She scoffed as you chuckled at her. “Still the city of love though I hope. How’s Lewis?” “Great, I have some news actually.” She looked at you excitedly. “We’re going to try to make a baby!”
How did this happen? How was Amy suddenly becoming the adult between the two of you? Somehow, the random fling your friend ditched you for 4 years ago, was now her husband, and they were ever so happy, living together in Paris. You actually liked Lewis a lot, and you were happy for them, but damn, how did this happen? 
“Oh my god, Ames, that’s amazing! I’m sure you’ll be great parents.” “And think about how hot our children will be!” She said, referring to the fact that they were both absolute 10s, which you could not disagree with. “Okay so enough about me. How’ve you been? I’ve received significantly less midnight anxiety calls, so I assume you’re doing slightly better?” “Yeah, I am. I’ve made some friends, work has been better. I feel like I’m finally starting to fit in.”
Contrary to Amy, you hadn’t particularly been thriving, but you were certain it was for the best. You had moved to Barcelona about 2 months ago, completely leaving behind the life you had built, for a career opportunity. You left your job, your house, your family, but the worst part was ending your relationship of 3 years. Your first two weeks in Barcelona you had been miserable. You were heartbroken and all on your own in a new city where you barely spoke the language. The only thing getting you through your sorrow, were your daily FaceTime calls with Amy. You had slowly built yourself back up, forcing yourself to go out and enjoy the Catalan sun, and all the city had to offer. So you were truly doing better, day by day.
“That’s good to hear Y/N/N. Now, where can we get some of that delicious Spanish wine around here?” “Jesus Ames, it’s 10 in the morning, how about a coffee first?” You giggled, happy she was still the Amy you knew and loved.
After dropping Amy’s stuff off at your place, you walked into a nearby coffeeshop where you had become a regular these past months. “Hola Martí” “Y/N! Bon dia, the usual?” The barista asked. “Sí, and a cappuccino for my friend, please.” You answered. These past months, Martí had been a ray of sunshine in your life, even when your head was too cloudy to enjoy the actual Barcelona sunshine. “Here you go, princesa.” He said as he handed you your coffees. “Merci” 
Amy had already claimed the loungeset in the corner. You started walking over there, when you realised you forgot to grab a cookie. As you turned around, you saw some people coming through the door from the corner of your eye, one of whom was approaching the bar at a dangerous pace. Time stood still for a moment as you couldn’t help but flash back to a very similar moment 4 years ago in a coffeeshop in Manchester. You knew better this time, so you swiftly moved your arms out of the way, spilling only a little coffee on yourself. The speedy individual could only just dodge you, causing a quick breeze in your face, lightly fluttering your hair. You stood there for a second, catching your breath, looking at the fresh coffee stain on your white shoe. You thought everything was supposed to be tranquilo in Spain, but apparently not for everyone. “You should watch where y-” “Y/N!?” There was no way, it couldn’t be her. You immediately looked up, to be met with the same gorgeous pair of hazel eyes you just saw in your flashback, 4 years and they hadn’t changed one bit. “No way, Ona!?” You both stood there for a minute, looking at each other in total awe, before falling into a tight embrace. “We have to stop meeting like this.” You joked, to which Ona giggled. “Are you stalking me now, Y/N?” She chuckled, to which your face instantaneously turned red, as you knew exactly what she was referring to. 
When you first got to Barcelona, you spend a lot of time on social media, in search of some kind of distraction. One day, whilst mindlessly scrolling through instagram, you came across photo of Ona holding some kind of trophy with some of her FC Barcelona teammates. She had transferred to Barcelona not long after you left Manchester, which you knew, but you never made an effort to meet up with her since you had moved. You slightly frowned when you recognised the girl to her right: her girlfriend, hence your decision not to contact her. A mixture of curiosity and boredom caused you to go to her profile and scroll down to 4 years ago, around the time the two of you met. Oh how you cursed at instagram for still not having changed the double tap feature, when your thumb accidentally slipped and you unintentionally liked a photo from 4 years ago. You immediately undid your action and contemplated just deleting your account all together. But then you realised she had half a million followers, so you prayed your blunder would just go unnoticed. But it didn’t, apparently. 
“I live right around the corner actually.” You said quickly, hoping to avoid having to explain your instagram antics. “Wait, you live here?In Barcelona?” She asked, her face expressing both excitement and confusion. “Yeah, I do. Just moved here two months ago.” An awkward silence ensued as you started feeling guilty for not contacting her. “Y/N/N, who’s this?” Amy, who apparently left the loungeset, interrupted the somewhat painful stares between the two of you. “Hi, I’m Ona” Ona smiled. Amy seemed to recognise that name, because she waited a while before responding, looking at the both of you with narrowed eyes as if investigating. “Hold up,” she finally spoke “are you THE Ona, from the magical Manchester lovestory!?” The both of you turned red at her loud outcry, immediately looking at anything but each other. “I’m Amy, by the way.” She said, slightly smirking. “Nice to meet you Amy.” Ona said as a slight smile reappeared on her face. “Oh wait.” The smile quickly turned in to a look of pure shame. “Yes, I’m that Amy, creditcard Amy.” Amy laughed out loud at the furious glances you sent her way. “Yeah, sorry about that” Ona giggled awkwardly. “Alright, I’ll just be over there.” Amy walked back to the loungeset, still audibly giggling about the whole situation.
“Sorry about her.” You said when she was far enough away. “That’s okay,” Ona smiled “after all, I did convince you to steal her money.” Both of you chuckled at the memory. “I’m actually kind of in a hurry though, so I have to run now.” She said, apologetically. “But let’s hang out sometime, to properly catch up.” She quickly hugged you again before grabbing a coffee to go and heading out again. You highly suspected that she just said that last part as a courtesy, so you chose not to contact her and instead wait for her to reach out.
You spend the rest of the day showing Amy around your new neighbourhood. It felt great to have your best friend by your side again, and the two of you truly had a blast, even though she repeatedly teased you about the uncomfortable interaction from earlier that day. You hardly touched your phone all day, so when you got home at the end of the day, you had a few notifications. 
Mom❤️: How are you dear? Remember to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also tell Amy I said hi. Call soon?
x
Martí☕: Tomorrow we have your favourite carrot cake again!
Loser bro💩: Hey sis, mom told me to tell you to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also you stink, I can smell you from here. Kinda miss u tho lil bit, BUT U STINK🤢
You chuckled at your screen. When you scrolled down you saw an instagram notification from Ona. You opened it right away, thinking she might want to meet up after all, but it wasn’t a message. 
[ona.batlle has liked your photo]
You were a little confused, because you hadn’t posted anything recently, but when you clicked on it you saw that it was a photo from 4 years ago. You quietly chuckled to yourself at her teasing. You saw she was online, so you decided to message her about it, to which she immediately replied.
You: Who’s stalking who exactly? 😏
Ona: Guess were even now 🙃
Ona: Although you did move to my city..
You: Fair enough
Even though the conversation was very short, it still made up for some of the awkwardness from earlier, and it brought a wide smile to your face. The latter dit not go unnoticed by Amy, who discreetly approached you from behind to then snatch your phone out of your hand and see what made you grin like that. “AMES! Give that back!”  “Oooo, sliding into her DMs now are we?” You chased her trough your apartment until she finally had to catch a breath and you took the opportunity to grab your phone out of her hands. You both sat back down on the couch as Amy looked at you expectantly. “Sooooo-” “Shut up.” You cut her off. “What? The stars have finally aligned for you two! You live in the same city with neither of you planning to move and you both clearly like each other. Like come on, Y/N/N, let romance win for once!” “Except they haven’t.” you mumbled. “Sorry?” “The stars, they haven’t aligned. She has a girlfriend.” You said sharply, your voice cracking. “Oh. I’m sorry Y/N/N.” She said softly, pulling you into a tight hug.
The next day Amy cooled it significantly with the Ona teasing. She had clearly already moved on as she tried to set you up with every random person you met during the day. It led to some rather humiliating interactions, but you had fun nonetheless, and you had to admit it was nice to take your mind of things. Towards the end of the day however, you received a message that brought your mind right back to were it had been most of yesterday. It was from Ona. She forwarded you a post, with a smirk face next to it. You clicked on it to find a promo for a Lion King musical revival. You felt your heart rate accelerate slightly. You didn’t know how to respond, so you chose to go with a safe option and just replied with the same smirk emoji. 
Ona: Sooo is that a yes?
You: Was there a question?
Ona: You are impossible.
Ona: Do you want to go?
You: Sorry :)
You: It sounds amazing, I would love to go.
Ona: Are you free tonight?
“Ames?” You called out. “What’s up?” She came running from the kitchen. “Would it be okay if I left you alone for a bit tonight?” She audibly gasped. “Depends, why?” She asked, a smirk started to grow on her face as she had a hunch what this could be about. “Ona may have asked me to go see the Lion King revival.” You mumbled. “Yes, YES, a thousand times YES! Romance is in the air! I’ll book a hotel so you can have this place all to yourself and you know, bring her home afterwards.” The smirk on her face grew even wider. “She still has a girlfriend Ames. This is just a friend thing.” “Are you sure about that? Maybe you should actually ask her. I mean it’s the Lion King for fucks sake, the LION KING Y/N/N. Can you feel the love tonight, because I can!” As she kept on rambling for a while, your focus went back to your phone.
You: Tonight it is :)
Ona: Great, it’s a date ;)
“Y/N? What’s up?” Amy said, noticing your flustered expression and the blush spreading across your face. “She said, and I quote: it’s a date.” “IT’S A DATE!” Amy exclaimed, as she pulled you off the couch to dance around the room, sending kissy faces your way and you couldn’t help but giggle at her antics. “Wait. We have to get you ready! What to wear, what to wear!?” She started running around frantically, like the true drama queen she is.
You met up with Ona at the theater about an hour later. “Hi.” she said, with a shy smile on her face. “Hi.” You replied. “Sorry again about yesterday. It was all just a little weird.” “So you felt that too huh?” She said, looking slightly relieved. “I guess it had just been a while.” “Yeah, I guess.” The conversation fell quiet as you stood in line waiting to get your tickets scanned. “It’s still a little awkward isn’t it?” She finally asked. “Yes it is.” You admitted, and you both chuckled quietly. The truth was, you weren’t quite sure how to act around her. You had only ever been flirty with her, but now she had a girlfriend, so you tried your very best to just be friendly. The fact that she (presumably jokingly) called it a date however, did not make acting platonic any easier. 
“Do you want to get a drink first?” She asked once you were both inside. “Yes please.” You answered, hoping it might take the edge off things. Ona ordered two glasses of wine and then sat down on a bench, waiting for you to join her. You sat down next to her, and immediately noticed her eying the obvious gap you left between the two of you. Everything you seemed to do in an attempt to not make her uncomfortable, seemed to make things so much more awkward and therefore make her even more uncomfortable. Maybe going out with her was a mistake. Even though it had been 4 years, there was just something about her that made you want to jump her bones right then and there. That could never happen though, so here you were, repressing everything you felt for her. Ona seemed to have noticed your mind had started to spiral, as she carefully put her hand on your shoulder to make you look at her instead of your feet. “Hey, Y/N, remember: Hakuna Matata.” Butterflies crept up your stomach as you let her words sink in. Thankfully the theater bell went, signalling that the show was about to start, because you must have been staring at her with obvious heart eyes for way too long.
The musical was incredible. The music, the costumes, the decor, everything was executed to perfection. At one point Ona put her hand on the armrest in between you, ever so slightly caressing your hand that had already been on there. You had been tempted to move your hand closer to hers, but instead you pulled it away. Apart from that moment the musical had been a welcome distraction. When the curtain closed, you both remained in your seat for a bit, recovering from the spectacle you had just witnessed. “Want to take a walk so we can properly catch up?” She finally asked.
As you walked the beautiful streets of Barcelona by night together, you successfully made small talk, catching up on each others lives. You were proud of the comfortable platonic atmosphere you finally seemed to have created, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. “I need to show you something.” She said. You turned around to look at her and she pulled out something from under the collar of her shirt. It was the golden necklace with the little lion on it you had left her back in Manchester. She still had it. You just looked at her, too stunned to speak. All your efforts to keep things friendly and suppress your feelings and here you were, heart beating like a maniac. “You still have that?” You asked quietly, taking a step forward to take the little lion in your hand and have a closer look at it. You looked back up and there was a moment when your noses almost touched. You looked into her eyes and you were sure you caught her looking at your lips for a second. You immediately realised you were standing way to close, and quickly backed away heart still racing uncontrollably. “Ona, I erm- I think I should go home.” You said. “Oh, okay.” She said, suddenly staring at the pavement, disappointment clear in her voice. You went in to give her a quick hug when she looked at you and asked softly: “Did I do something wrong?” “No, no, of course not. I’m just not feeling very well, sorry.” You hastily hugged her goodbye and turned around to walk away, not wanting her to spot your eyes tearing up.
“Oh no, you’re back way too soon.” Amy said from the couch when she heard you enter your apartment. “Y/N/N, you okay?” She asked when you didn’t respond. You still didn’t answer, instead you just plopped down next to her as she opened up her arms for you to cuddle up against her. “That bad huh?” You nodded. You enjoyed the comfort of your best friends arms for a while before she sat you up straight. “Want to tell me what happened?” 
You recounted all the events of the night as you sniffled softly in between sentences. “Y/N/N,” Amy said when you were done “she was very clearly coming on to you. This is in no way platonic.” “Well I don’t know what to tell you Ames, she has a girlfr-” “Does she? Doesn’t sound like it. And if she does I’m not sure they are in a good place right now.” 
A couple of days went by without any form of contact between you and Ona. Luckily you had Amy by your side the whole time to distract you from spiralling about the whole situation you brought onto yourself. Unfortunately, she eventually had to go back to her life in Paris, to make a family or whatever, so you dropped her off at the airport and hour before her flight. “Damn it.” She said as you walked into the airport together. “3 hour delay.” “That means I get to spend 3 more hours with you!” You cheered. “What do you want to do first? People-watching? Eat a whole Toblerone? Go plane spotting?” You suggested. “You don’t have to stay you know.” She giggled. “No I want to. It’ll be fun!” “Alright then, I’m going to find a toilet. You find us a nice people-watching spot.” You sat down at the bench with the best view of the airport hallway and pulled out your phone to scroll through instagram. You came across a picture of Ona at a restaurant with her teammates. Without thinking too much about it you liked the post. Hardly ten seconds past before you got a notification. A message from Ona.
Ona: Hey
You: Hi
Ona: Can we maybe talk?
You: Sure
Ona: Like in person
You: When?
Ona: Now?
You were too busy staring at your phone when Amy suddenly hit your shoulders from behind, making you jump in your seat. “Your doing people-watching all wrong.” She joked. You hastily put your phone away. “What was that?” Amy asked, upon noticing your secretive behaviour. “Nothing.” “Y/N/N, don’t do this again. What’s going on?” “She asked if we can talk, like now.” You admitted. “Just go.” Amy said. “No, no, I can’t just leave you alone here, I-” “Y/N. Y/M/N. Y/L/N. I refuse to stand in the way of true love. Please go talk to her.” She said dramatically. “You sure?” “Yes! Now go!” You pulled Amy into a tight embrace and thanked her for everything. After a while she pulled away and pushed you towards the exit. “Stop wasting time, go get your girl!”
You sat at the edge of your couch, fidgeting with your bracelet when the ringing of the doorbell had you suddenly shoot straight up. Upon opening your front door you saw Ona, but you weren’t met with the usual cute smile. Instead her face portrayed a both nervous and somber expression.
“Hi”
Part 4 out now!
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accio-victuuri · 9 months
Text
yuguyao sweets part 6 🫶🏼 🍬🍭 and other things..
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( a very cute / good boi shuo shuo invites you in. )
this is his most recent one released by tencent video. i just love these because we are free to study it and the seeing how he explains things — no one can confirm that it has nothing to do with some of his life experiences.
what cpfs are mostly pointing out is this part, where he talks about when zhu yan stabs shi ying. and oh, apparently zz improvised the line : “if i die, will you be sad?”
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He comforted her, he said don't be sad. I will not blame you. If there’s a kind of comfort, I think,, this is not the state of people who are truly in love for a long time. The state of people who are truly in love should be, I want you to feel sad for me. So when I am dying, I can hear your heartfelt words. I'll be happy if you’re sad because I feel like I've never been a perfect person in the setting of Shi Ying. I don't want him to be the perfect one. The director, writer, screenwriter and producer we all participated in heated discussion. That is, “what would happen if lovers really fell in love with each other?” I believe it will not be like this. Everyone is very twisted. The relationship must not be very smooth.
So let’s just analyze this…
1. People who are truly in love for a long time? Sir. What do you know about that? Maybe it has something to do with your husband. You can say that he got this understanding from somewhere and not necessarily from personal experience, but i feel like, when it comes to love and this kind of explanation, it has to be from XZ himself. When you talk about “love” in this kind of drama setting, it usually does not reflect what happens in real life. I’m glad he fought for that and has that kind of experience so he can give some input.
2. The part where he says, “I want you to feel sad for me.” — brings turtles back to the Japan Trip. When they were both “sad” because they were apart and both were not sure what will happen to them. We know they both gravitate towards “bittersweet love songs” and probably towards stories with that tone, but hearing XZ openly saying that love isn’t just sunshine and rainbows but also sadness is comforting. What matters is you stay together and are with each other in the happy & sad moments. When you think about how long they have been together and all the storms they had to go through — it makes sense that XZ will mention this. I wanna say WYB is attuned with XZ’s emotions, even if you don’t SZD, in the interviews back in 2019, it was so obvious that WYB can sense when XZ was already uncomfortable and will do his best to divert the attention.
3. The way he explains falling in love as twisted & not very smooth which i think means the “reality” of a relationship. Turtles were then quick to point out the “jealousy” examples we’ve seen before.
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While I don’t think every evidence we’ve seen was jealousy ( tho happy camp gg was scary ), it makes sense in this context. The two of them didn’t have a very smooth relationship journey and even now, there are challenges but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. add the fact that it’s to be expected because of who they are. No matter what relationship timeline you believe in, theirs is not exactly the conventional story, so it’s telling that XZ describes falling in love this way.
I also read this comment and it’s so true!!!! XZ will not settle for anything less when it comes to love and maybe some people will find it too demanding.
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If there is one person who can meet that standard and has a one track mind when it comes to the things he loves, someone who will pursue it no matter what — it’s wang yibo. 💚
I also love the part where he says one his favorite shoot was when the temple was being fixed and they had to be “outside”. they shot it in the studio and the light was very warm, like the sunshine. Oh. Okay. 👀
you mean like WYB’s song…. they really gravitate towards the same things, and to think this interview was way before the song was released.
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AND OH this behind the scenes clip reminds us of this xz and wyb interaction. Their brains really connect like no other and they have the same humor! 😂😂😂
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This one is not YGY related, but apparently the new trailer for One and Only was posted 10:05 then was deleted and reposted again. I’m sure there must be a reason, but turtles can’t help but clown and think they didn’t want to give candy with the 10:05 😂😂 or they did, but took it back. LOL.
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There are figures sold for Chen Shuo & Shi Ying from the same company! I guess this fulfills people’s AU pairing of Shiying x Modern Yibo. of SDC 5 Yibo will work too 🥹🥹🥹
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-END.
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cosmic-waves7 · 2 years
Note
PLS- I read your yandere househusband Dazai headcannons and my heart is 💓. So I'd like to request for the same concept but with Akutagawa and maybe Kunikida, if that's alright? Thank you for the food ahhhhhh
Notes: this request is lonnnng overdue I'm sorry, but in back on track (≧▽≦)
Doppo Kunikida
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Very organised.
I mean...very very organised.
He's very strict.
Cute frilly aprons are his staple apparently and you always tease him for it.
He'll cut up cute star shaped fruits for your lunches. Don't expect little notes from him though, he's only a sap within the safety of your home.
A home he's so diligently crafted to be picture perfect for the both of you.
He's got you on a schedule just like him. A set of rules you both follow even if he's your wonderful stay at home husband.
You'll always come in from work, toeing off your shoes for a quick peck to the lips.
But tonight there's a deep loving kiss with your noses brushing lightly and a rushed mutter of dinner will be a bit later then usual.
It took forever to clean up all the blood from earlier so it's only fair he wouldn't have time for cooking just yet.
Who knew a shot to the head execution style would cause so much trouble for the rest of his day.
It was a bloody mess to clean up and his Doppo poet ability was of no help unfortunately.
But he promises he's got your clothes folded all pretty - just like they do in hotels - and your outfit picked out for tomorrow.
Kunikida never lets you have takeout, it's always delicious home cooked meals. He's had to work hard to sharpen his skills just for you after all.
But tonight he's made an exception, he's been in an awfully giddy mood lately.
It's not every day you get to kill your wife's overly friendly colleague.
The rest of the evening is spent in bruising kisses and well...other activities.
Akutagawa Ryūnosuke
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Honestly.
You really didn't expect it from him.
A househusband? Didn't know he had it in him.
He's the type to spend hours deciding on a specific brand of orange juice in the middle of the grocery store.
Only the best for you.
That's why he's hired professional hitmen from the port mafia itself to watch over you while your out.
They're very confused to say the least on why they need to watch over your mundane life but he's the boss so there's no questioning him.
He's very particular about the order everything, not a schedule per say like kunikida. More like: my house my rules.
You joked about having him wear an apron, even bought him one as a gag gift.
At first he hated them, then one day you walk into the house and boom.
Frilly aprons part.2
They've really grown on him, he prefers the plain black ones though since you've called him hot when he wears them
He only wears them for special occasions though lol.
Which concluded to right now, you've walked into the penthouse and your sweet grumbling husband has a black apron on with his sleeves rolled up.
Carefully turning the stove off he lovingly helps your coat off your holders to quickly press down on the sore tendons and hear a hum escape you.
He's ushered you into your shared home with a kiss and his hand engulfing your own with the promise of your favourite on the stove.
So maybe you'll ignore the odd brownish splatter on his collar and the strong stench of bleach from the corridor.
513 notes · View notes
yourghostwrotethis · 7 months
Text
Fic Recs #1
It's two A.M.. I'm not quite sure what to do because I'm not sleepy. Why not do a small recommendation list?
Actual recs under the cut. Read until the end!
All of these are pre-season 2, and take place in the show universe.
Talk About It (T)
by hope_in_the_dark (on Tumblr as @hope-inthedark)
Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.
Word count: 20806 (Complete)
I love fake dating AUs SO MUCH. And this is for sure one of the best ones out there. It's the perfect length, and there are snapshots through time that are simply lovely. I'm usually not a fan of the "long-time friends" trope, but this fic does it wonderfully. I don't want to say much more because I don't want to spoil anything but - it's great. Read it.
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The Curve of Old Bones (E)
by Jenanigans1207 (@jenanigans1207)
Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.
Words: 201271 (Complete)
Fair warning before you start: this one is LONG. I read really fast and even for me, this took a while. Every word is beautiful, but this is (well. Partly.) a slooooooww burn. If you don't like pining, or the two main ones being idiots: don't read this. But if you decide to give it a go, this story is absolutely worth your while.
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Married at First Sight (T)
by Aracloptia (@aracloptia)
“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over.
——— In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.
Words: 92583 (Ongoing)
Ha. Yet another fake relationship AU... This time it's a fake marriage! But it's so so so cute and lovely and if it were corporeal I would want to squish its cheeks. There's a bit of miscommunication, so people who don't like that can be cautious, but it gets resolved and they become the better for having gone through it.
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The Next Time We Wed (T)
by seashadows (@godihatethisfreakingcat)
“Guys, I’ve looked at the marriage license,” Anathema said, “and I’ve gotten copies of our notices and everything. The names on the documents aren’t Newt’s and mine anymore. Apparently they never were. They’re yours.” When a drunken attempt to help a friend gets Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally married, their decision to fake it instead of fix it changes their relationship in a way neither of them realizes the other wants. Over the course of a few short months, two supernatural beings discover that there are plenty of things they don’t know about each other, two humans finally get married (again), and everyone learns how to be a little braver.
Words: 21131 (Complete)
The footnotes. The FOOTNOTES. I love a good footnote, and this fic is riddled with them. It's one of the very first Good Omens fics I read and loved, so it has a special place in my heart. The humour drew me in immediately, and the plot and emotional moments kept me in. READ IT. READ IT NOW, I SAY.
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Everything That's Meant (T)
by journeytogallifrey (@journeytogallifrey)
When two unconventional lead actors are cast in the series adaptation of Agnes Nutter's Prophecies, sparks fly and new ground is broken. Aziraphale Fell, classically trained and known for powerful biopics, yearns for a popular lead but is hindered by his brother's insistence that he stay in the closet. Anthony J. Crowley has perfected flashy, charismatic villains, but wonders if a hero will ever be on the cards for him. With Aziraphale as the angel Raphael and Crowley as the demon Asmodeus, something feels... off. But a breakthrough during a late-night rehearsal sets into motion something greater than they ever dreamed. Now all they have to do is overcome nefarious producers, bigotry, and a set that seems to be haunted by all manner of spirits and curses - all while falling for each other in a way Crowley finds exhilarating and Aziraphale finds terrifying. If they can survive it all, they'll come out the other side with the series of their career... and maybe even a chance at their own happily ever after. ~~~ Pre-written; updates daily until complete!
Words: 105043 (Complete)
I was lucky enough to witness this as it was updating, and it's wonderful! I'm very fond of actor AUs, and this was a great one. Journeytogallifrey made good choices, and there are plenty of moments where I audibly laughed, gasped, or cried. Special mention to Crowley's relationship with gender.
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wasteland, baby (M)
by john1513 (@alwayscomewhenyoucall)
“Listen. Fell. I...I might, uh, have an idea.” “You do?” Aziraphale said, and hated the hopeful way he said it. “I’ll do it.” “You...won’t like it.” “Will it keep me out of prison?” “Maybe. Maybe the both of us. For now. Ideally.” “Then yes.” Crowley’s expression tightened, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley wanted to cry, or laugh. “You really, really won’t like it.” “I’ll like prison less.” He responded plainly. Crowley’s face twisted into something soft at first, just for a second, before searing into a careful little smirk, and Aziraphale knew that smile, that Cheshire cat smile, much too well to not be cautious. “Crowley, dear. What are you doing on the floor?” He cleared his throat. “Angel. Remember when I said you wouldn’t like it? Well, uh, here we are.” His smile grew awkwardly, apologetically, and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling about it. “Angel. Will you marry me?” ----- Crowley and Aziraphale plan a fake marriage to avoid having to testify against each other in court...they get much more than they bargained for.
Words: 45748 (Complete)
I found this while looking for fake relationships, but I'm not quite sure the term applies. It's just so sweet and kind and GOOD and fluffy. If you like both being nice, go here. And even if you don't. It's technically a mafia AU even though I forgot about that part so there's a little bit of grittiness nonetheless. Overall a very nice read.
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And finally, for the last one...
Fifty-Two Blue (M)
by bendycello (@bendycello )
It would be a gross understatement to say that Crowley simply didn't like Aziraphale. He was posh and stuffy and arrogant, and Crowley couldn't figure out why everyone else in the program liked him so much. It hardly mattered; they were competitors, and Crowley didn't need to make friends to become a surgeon. It takes several unleasant encounters, the excessive use of house plants as a coping mechanism, and getting stuck in an elevator for Crowley to start reconsidering his priorities. Or... Crowley and Aziraphale are surgical interns with competitive streaks a mile wide each, and they really do not like each other at all. Until they do. (This whole fic is pre-written and completed, and updates will usually be weekly on Saturdays!)
Words: 37976 (Ongoing)
So. Anyone who knows me well knows that this is on my mind 24/7. I post about it fairly regularly. I go insane when a new chapter is up. It's *The* Fic. When I started this I knew this was going to be there. I can't even describe it it's just SO GOOD ARGH. (it's also long) I've read it so much Chrome automatically sorted it into one of my most visited websites. (I'm not even kidding.) The humour is perfect, the plot is too, the CHARACTERISATION. OH MY GOD. IT'S SO GOOD AND SO COMPLEX. I'm trying to stop myself from going on a rant about it because it could last for a while.
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I also love receiving recs, so if anyone wants to boost their fic or wants to share a great one, please do!
I really like fake dating (if you couldn't guess), human AUs, all that sort of thing. But please feel free to share anything that doesn't deal with those themes!
I'm OwlWolf22091 on Ao3, in case you want to check out other bookmarks :P
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ewanmitchelll · 3 months
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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (II): Bad Blood.
Imagine you were Aemond's good friend when politics turned you in enemies. What then?
Warnings: drama, angst, smut--fluff endings as always tho.
***
• Before the War
The beginnings are usually sweet, colored with a degree of naivety. These can be also the high of peace, but many forget that to keep it at all costs, should every single being be prepared for wars, regardless of positions. For wars and death walk hand in hand, seizing every life without considering rank nor gold.
As previously said, the start is always embellished with hopes, but shades of grey are already painting the walls of the Red Keep. Aemond Targaryen knows best than all that his presence is not desired by his melancholic mother or his phantom father.
He’s heading to the dragon’s cave, prompted for another ride at Vhagar when he tumbles onto you.
“Lady Y/N”, he whispers your name with a hint of surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Shouldn’t you be at court?”
“No one would notice if I left for a moment”, you say with a sigh. “I went to the gardens to write some poems.”
Aemond is quickly distracted by your presence. You were once playmates as children, but even now as young adults the interests remain the same. For now, Vhagar occupies the second place.
“I remember how well you used to write”, he offers you a smile, pleased to see a faint shade of pink in your cheeks. “May I read a few? Perhaps we could go back to the tree?”
In reference to the spot you used to spend time as children, you agree at once. And there you two go.
“I don’t think I write well, my prince.”
“Aemond”, he cuts you gently. “You can call me by my name.”
Another exchange of smiles.
“Aemond, you flatter me more than I deserve.”
Once reaching the said tree, the prince takes hold of the parchment you hoped to keep to yourself, ignoring your protests. Eventually, though, you go silent, watching his reactions in agony. For he was always able to hold his emotions back, so you constantly found difficult to read him.
But alas! If only you could dive into his intimate thoughts! Then you’d find a rising delight in his chest because the rebel prince feels the same thing for you.
However you’d never know how he truly feels…. Because at this very moment you are discovered by Ser Criston Cole and your father.
You don’t know, but this is the last time you ought to see your cherished prince.
***
• Enmity.
So take a look at what you’ve done… ‘Cause baby now we got bad blood.
You are soon married to Lord H/N of the House Tully. Obliged to move to the Riverlands, you are unhappily tied to a very old man who’s been living with his mistress for decades. The marriage, apparently, is to force an alliance that—you are to discover soon—is meant to support Rhaenyra Targaryen. Therefore, by chance and by marriage, you are now associated to the Black party.
There are, however, some good advantages as you are left on your own. If you do your duties straight as mother to your stepchildren—who are older than you—, look well after your household and not meddle in your husband’s business, you can practice your archery, ride freely and even sharp your mind through accessing the library.
It’s not that bad in practice—your marriage hasn’t been consummated, mostly because Lord H/N is not very, eh, powerful in bed, a secret you vowed to keep—, but you feel lonely. Your friends are now a memory of your life at court and people at Riverlands could be very… strict somewhat.
What’s worse: where is Aemond? Why hasn’t he written to you?
Melancholy starts to crawl over your heart and mind despite the peaceful, almost boring life you lead. Until you perceive a dark shadow creeping over the clouds.
You’d think Lord Aemond came to rescue you, but your heart breaks when you see a dark haired lady on his back, waiting as he helps her leaving Vhagar carefully.
Your heart parts before the view. Why’d you assume he corresponded your feelings, stupid girl? You wish to vanish, a natural response in these circumstances, but you are discovering a little too late that these are trying times.
The gates of the castle are now open and you are forced to act on your husband’s behalf next to his son and heir. After all, duty is one of the mottos of your new house and you never failed to fulfill it so far.
When Aemond finds you, however, he freezes. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting to see you there.
My lady, you look horribly sad. Where has your freedom gone?
A thought he doesn’t bother to voice.
“Lord”, he greets your stepson cooly, and you in the same tone. “Lady.”
“Prince Aemond”, your husband’s elder child, H/N, doesn’t let you act as a bridge between the two parties. “We do not welcome you here.”
A shadow of displeasure crosses the prince’s face.
“By denying me thus you are proceeding with treason, Lord Tully. Is this how we ought to be?”, the silver haired Targaryen prince acts as if you are not there. Unlike him, though, you have never been good in disguising your sentiments. “You are not in position to support the Usurper. Harrenhal is mine.”
And he indicates Lady Alys Rivers as proof. You don’t like her arrogance, her looks nor the influence she exercises over him. Or perhaps all of your judgement comes from jealousy.
Regardless, you feel brutally betrayed.
“Bend your knee, otherwise you shall burn.”
You pale before the prince’s threat. It’s when a sudden courage—or perhaps a moment of recklessness—rises in your spirit. For your stepson might hesitate before Aemond’s treason, but you would not.
Therefore, you take a sword from the young man—who is older than you—and step towards the prince, himself taken aback by your behavior.
You were never the one to act so imprudently, my dear Y/N.
“What is this?”
“Where is duty?”, you yell at him, eyes puddled with tears as you raise the sword to him. “Where is sacrifice? For years you’ve been nothing but a spoilt man who followed freely what your own heart commanded you to! No burden to carry, you play with whores and take what’s not yours so carelessly?”
“Lady Y/N, I strongly recommend you to be reasonable”, says Aemond, cooly, but in his eyes there is shock. You are the last person he’d expect to find resistance.
“Reasonable? To whom? You threat my stability, my family, for what purpose, lord?!”
You press your sword against him, but he makes no move, skeptical about your intentions. Surely, you’d not harm him, not when he read your soul not so many moons ago.
But something eclipses the goodness in your heart. And though the world seems to spin slower, Aemond doesn’t let guards to interfere.
These beats of a dark heart, use basslines to replace you. Take time and erase you, love don't hear no more, no, I don't fear no more. Better yet, respect ain't quite sincere no more.
“Is this your choice?”, he frowns at you, a hand resting on his waist, ready to unsheathe the sword. “Do you opt for enmity?”
Is this what you’ve become? His eyes yell silently at yours, but you are blind to such accusation. And Aemond knows he’s the cause of it.
“Madame!”, lord H/N thinks wise to interfere. “It is unwise to opt for enmity!”
“He is our enemy now!”, you turn at the stupid boy. “He’s been waging wars, burning castles and fucking whores!”
Aemond doesn’t excuse himself from such offenses, but the same cannot be said of lady Alys.
“My lady, these are not manners of a woman who is expected to rule Riverrun”, she smirks. “But since you are putting your family at risk, perhaps a cage would do you good.”
“She doesn’t mean to”, the redhead male insists anxiously, taking from you the opportunity to defend yourself. “We’ll bend the knee, lord, if you spare us. I’m sure you’ll understand the advantages that comes from our loyalty.”
By now you feel double betrayed. Aemond, the man you loved, shows off his power over you and chooses a whore to accompany him everywhere. Lord H/N, the one son you judged reasonable, does anything he can in his father’s absence to retain some influence.
You are useless. And yet you are too proud to let tears show the path for defeat. Nonetheless, even that is better than to burn in flames. After all, you live to honor this family with the duty you’ve been taught.
Therefore you are silent. Aemond reads all that has not been said. Part of him chooses to amend what he judges to be misunderstandings, but his conscience knows precisely why you behaved the way you did.
A lioness’s pride when broken is worse than hearing a ghost’s haunting. So he thinks, taking in consideration your ties with the Lannisters, in spite of you belonging to a minor house.
***
• War
Now we got problems. And I don't think we can solve 'em. You made a really deep cut…
A cage is a cage even if it doesn’t look like one. To consider weaving revenge is useless. Despite the early disagreements with your husband in light of recent events, with now war openly declared between Aegon and his sister Rhaenyra, all you do now is focus in your womanly doings, which is looking after your new home, trying to amend relations with your stepson and so it goes.
Time begins to fly, albeit slowly. You haven’t produced any heir, but to your stepchildren your allegedly infertility is welcoming news. Ironically, this is when they start to improving relations with you.
Forgotten by your family, though, you seem forcibly content with yourself when news arrive that Lord Aemond desires to have a feast with the Tully’s. His unwanted arrival, especially regarding his royal status, means that you should dress beautifully and play the role to perfection.
“And if you point the sword once more, I’ll gladly remove your privileges”, so your husband warns you.
You agree. What else could you do? Like a creature in jail, you’ll be exhibited to enemies as if you are some sort of war prize.
Before the feast begins, though, Aemond needs a conversation with you first. He would not admit, naturally, that he’s been dreaming about you—and such dreams might reflect well his remorse in his behaving towards you. Yet, something should be done.
When you meet him in a private quarter destined to important guests, you are dressed in your best clothes. Your y/c hair is tied in a fashion braid, but your gown is red and reinforces your curves. Aemond’s eyes discreetly undress you, and the idea leaves the man to an almost bone he quickly controls.
“Lady Tully”, he begins the conversation softly, greeting you regally from his seat. He wears something to keep his lack of an eye in secret, dressing dark shade of green robes. His silver hair falls loose behind his back, giving the prince a royal look.
“Prince Aemond”, you echo his coldness, taking a seat once he indicates with a nod of his head. “I pray your journey has been safe and well.”
Aemond sees you well and part of him wishes to take you in his arms and tell you all that he never could. But this isn’t the time yet.
“Indeed I did, thank you.”
You ask the servants to fetch yourselves some wine and fruits.
“What’s the need to talk to me alone like this?”
Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes. You say sorry just for show. If you live like that, you live with ghosts.
Aemond studies you, not responding you immediately. He strokes his chin, playing with his fingers on table.
“I needed to see you.”
You scoff.
“Did you, now?”
“Yes.”
You don’t say a word. Atmosphere is heavy with tension. Aemond, sitting on the edge side of the table, watches you with his intent eyes.
“So much has happened since that day”, he begins to say. And it’s when he shows his sapphire eye. “I lost an eye, Y/N.”
For the very first time, you show some reaction.
“And because of it you sought war?”
It’s when he closes his fist and hits on the table. But you are not frightened by his temper, familiar with it.
“I did what I had to do! I was humiliated!”, and now staring into your eyes, he adds: “I thought you would understand that!”
“That is the difference between us, Aemond. Content never makes amends of broken things. It only worsens it”, you speak softly.
He shakes his head, skeptically.
“You speak like a fool.”
“You underestimate me”, you retort. “Like most men do.”
“I am not like most men”, he stares at you and now you are able to read his emotions.
“You should not, but by looking for battles you presented me with wars.”
Aemond sighs heavily, impatiently so. But he is not ready to give you up yet. This bad blood would have to cede.
***
• Winds of Spring.
You are riding by yourself early this morning. Dressed in red, you take this time to enjoy yourself. To have some peace. It’s when you spot him.
“Aemond”, you freeze before seeing him. Your heart races and your first instinct is to turn your horse and ride away.
But you dismount instead.
“Y/N”, he walks to you, distressed. “Run with me.”
“What?”, you pale before his suggestion. “What are you saying?”
“Fuck this war. Fuck them all”, he takes your hand with one all the whilst delivering you the old parchment. “I remember this.”
As you take it and open it, you read the poem about your prince of spring. Tears rise to your eyes and you stare at him in disbelief.
“You’ve kept this.” It’s not a question.
“I have, yes. I’ve never had the chance to say I love you too, my princess. But your father swept you away from my sight. I had no idea where you were… I was forced to follow my duty to my family”, he explains in a whisper.
You lean to cup his face with both hands.
“Oh my dear Aemond. But what about lady Alys?”
“She was just a trophy of my conquests”, he murmurs. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”
And without waiting further for your response, the silver haired prince takes you in his arms and presses his lips against yours. You don’t resist him, finally letting love blossom from hatred and frustration.
“I love you, my prince of spring.”
“I love you, my summer princess”, he smiles at you with the purest devotion. “Let us leave this life behind. This world is not for us.”
As much as you want to, you hesitate.
“I am still a married woman, Aemond”, you smile weakly, sadness evident in your eyes.
“Fuck them”, he pulls you against him. “They won’t dare to reclaim you anyway. My brother’s on the throne, therefore, we can rely there shall be no uprising against his authority. Less so against his brother’s.”
When you look into his eyes, you know you see someone so similar like you, a mirror of your soul.
“I came to release my lady from this golden cage”, the prince says, taking your hands and there kissing each. “Be my wife, lady. It’s all I ask for.”
You smile down at him.
“When have I ever refused you anything, my lord?”
And this is how it ends. A princess freed by her prince. You are finally able to be yourself.
***
• Epilogue
You cling onto your husband’s arms, ignoring the scandal you left behind, which had your name erased from the Tully’s records, but added to the Targaryen’s.
Politics aside, you are now Lady Targaryen by marriage, but what does it matter when he loves you so dearly, so intently every day?
Harrenhal is yours, but mostly important is his. As you watch him sleep, you prepare to wake him up with naughty intentions. As you begin to kiss his shoulder, you use one hand to caress his face, his neck, not stopping until you reach his manhood. Praising the Gods for his nude state, you do not need to slow down before you start to stimulating him, all the whilst your kisses go to his neck and more.
“Mm…” the prince groans, not entirely awake nor fast asleep. “My lady…”
You feel your own body react in response, but this is about him, you want him to come undone in the first moment of the day.
As your delicate fingers play with his now erected member, your lips move slowly downwards and now Aemond’s eyes are starting to open. And his eyes go wide when seeing what you are about to do.
“My lady, what have I turned you into?”
You give him a mischievous look.
“Good morrow, husband.”
And just like that you take him with your mouth. You still have in mind when, right after taking you as his wife, he enjoyed being your first man. How he touched you, making you discover every bit of a sensual pleasure you’ve only dared to know in books. You took such a linking in these domestic activities that the fire of dragon has you burning alive.
“Y/N!”, he groans louder, properly awake this time. “You are such a good lass. You learned so quickly. Oh!”
But as good as this is, Aemond does not intend to release his seed on your mouth, so hence why he throws blankets away and gently rises you, turning you under his strong body.
“No, lady. I have a better place to seed you”, he smirks at you, pleased to make you blush as he lifts your hands above your head and starts to kiss you fervently.
Aemond is well aware you like to submit to him easily, and he dominates you promptly. He finds his equal, and it shows in every part of this marriage. But in truth, as his body now tangles with yours, he knows that he’s been tamed by such a damsel.
Little wonder why is that in two weeks you are about to discover you have conceived. And a long list of children will be written by a surprised chronicler of King Aegon II’s reign.
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wessexroyalfamily · 3 months
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{Location: Fogmorre Castle, County Avon, Kingdom of Wessex}
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Prince Christian, The Earl of Gloucester: I just can't realize how anyone can be so blinded. She never realized what was obvious to us all?
Queen Anne II of Wessex: The fact that Charlotte's husband was cheating is scarcely a fault on her part.
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Christian: Not fault. But how could she not have known about the affair? And to only realize your marriage is a sham by reading about it in the Sunday paper.
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Anne II: Charlotte wouldn’t be the first women to turn a blind eye.
Christian: Thank the Watcher we have all boys.
Anne II: Yes well, get this topic out of your system and don't bring it up once everyone is here.
Christian: Why?
Anne II: I'm sure it's still a swore subject for Alexandra and Alex. And best not to jinx ourselves with the topic of divorce around you know who.
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Christian: Speaking of swore, have you seen my back brace? The valet didn’t pack it with my usually things.
Anne II: I'm checking in with the moving team later on, I can ask after breakfast.
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Butler: Breakfast ma'am.
Christian: And what time will the family arrive, again dear?
Anne II: …It seems everyone will join us for dinner tonight, and then leave at the end of the holiday weekend.
Christian: The kids aren’t staying longer?
Anne II: I think only cousin Arthur is expecting to stay the following week with us.
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Anne II: I do hope everyone is on their best behavior, the last thing we need is a story for the press.
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Christian: (chuckles) and by everyone, you mean William?
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Anne II: (deep sigh) He's just been so distant lately, and apparently he and Margaret have been arguing again.
Christian: I have never seen two young people perfectly content with making themselves miserable.
Anne II: Yes, well better stay out of it.
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Christian: I just hope they realize they need to put the inconsequential garbage behind and focus on what really matter. If not for their sakes, then for poor Richie's.
Anne II: It doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your nose out of it.
Christian: I’m only saying how idiotic it is for him to mope around at that club of his when he has a beautiful wife and a healthy child waiting a home, both begging for attention, but he’d rather spend his days at that social club with David.
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Anne II: He does leave Margaret out in the cold. She all alone taking care of poor Richie.
Christian: It isn’t right, a father’s place is with his family. Not out galavanting in the night with the Watcher knows who.
Anne II: Well leave it alone. It’s not our place to meddle.
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Christian: My dear, it is precisely our place to meddle.
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Beginning | Start of Current Chapter | Previous | Next
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muffinman1900 · 8 months
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Soukoku (Dazai X Chuuya)
“Your married?!”
I apologise for any spelling or grammatical errors! I am dyslexic and proof reading isn’t my best skill.
(This is 638 words!)
Dazai ran into the office, quite obviously short of breath. He had been running.
“You’re two minutes late Dazai.” Kunikida stated.
“I tried to be on timeeee” Dazai wines in his usual sing song fashion.
“What do you have going on in the morning that’s so important you're late for work.” Kunikida states. It was said as more of a rhetorical question, as he didn’t think Dazai had anything going on, ever.
“Well it’s none of your business.” Dazai was serious this time- and walked away after his statement, leaving Kunikida stunned. He’s never serious about his whereabouts? Actually, come to think of it, the agency didn’t even know where he lived.
The agency didn’t keep a record of postcodes, but the team usually went to each other's houses if they didn’t live in the dorms.
Dazai had a dorm, but if anything he used it for storage, and he went home every evening.
Whatever happened next is unexplained, but it ended with Dazai literally pinned in a corner with no escape, and the entire agency surrounding him. He couldn’t resist now, he had to answer all their questions, and he was feeling quite truthful today. It was too tiresome to keep up the mask all the time.
Kunikida started the questions, “Why are you never free after hours on a Wednesday?”
And Dazai answered truthfully, “It’s my turn to make dinner on Wednesday.”
Silence.
The room was engulfed in silence.
“You have a girlfriend?” Atsushi asked in utter shock.
“Nope, but I do have a husband.”
Even more silence, followed by a single giggle from Ranpo.
“You figured as much I’m guessing, Ranpo?”
“Yes, I never believed your double suicide with a woman thing. I mean yes I bet you want to commit double suicide and all that- but I can’t see a single heterosexual bone in your body.”
“Well done Ranpo! I am in fact married to a man!” Dazai announced to the room as he pulled out a necklace chain from under his shirt collar, at one end there sat a black ring with a single small diamond in the middle.
“Ok then, who are you married to? It’s the only part of the puzzle I can’t figure out.” Ranpo stated, shocking the people around the room, he always figured things out. But there was just too much about Dazai he didn’t know.
“Hehe.. you're not going to like this, especially Kunikida… has anyone ever heard of Double Black?”
Kunikida’s interest was absolutely peaked by the fact that he ‘wouldn’t like it’; he didn’t like a lot of things about Dazai but if he was so sure he wouldn’t be happy with it, it definitely made him question who it was.
“Double black? The duo from the Port Mafia, famed for bringing down an entire ability using organisation over night? People speculate one of the members was Nakahara Chuuya, but had no idea of the other’s possible identity.” Kunikida listed off.
“Didn’t people think that the duo were also lovers? Or was that just me? And they haven’t been spotted recently, although apparently they still do some missions that don’t have any meaning to any organisations in the area?” Ranpo also interjected.
“Yes, that one. Well, it is Nakahara Chuuya, and I’m the other member, surprise!” Dazai said losing confidence half way through his sentence.
Silence filled the room once again.
“We are married. We live together and everything- and to answer your previous question, yes I make dinner on a Wednesday, AND I’m in charge of breakfast every day.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yes I know no one expects me to know how to cook!” Dazai jokes.
“You're married to one of the strongest Port Mafia executives.”
“And yet he’s only strongest when in a duo with me?~” Dazai’s iconic voice comes back slowly with each word.
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cordria · 1 year
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Need some help
I've found myself in a little pickle, and I need some thoughts from people who are not involved. If you'd like to read and answer the ending poll, please read more. Poll at the end.
Necessary backstory part 1: When I first met my brother in law (BIL), my husband referred to him as an 'asshole'. BIL was raised in a family with very 1950's thoughts of how women are supposed to be, drank all that kool-aide, and got a huge dose of 'I get everything I ask for' on top of it.
In the years I've known BIL, I've found my husband's initial description to be apt. Always needs the best stuff, saves no money at all, bounces between jobs, gets everything he wants but never seems to be happy. Took up drinking about ten years ago and never looked back. Haven't had a sober interaction with him in years.
Necessary backstory part 2: Every year, my in-laws do a big family reunion at the end of December. Plan it a year in advance. Put down a deposit on a large party room. This year, in early-ish December, BIL texts and says he got the greatest tickets ever to go to Mexico - super cheap flight and resort stay. Only the plane leaves the day before the big family get-together... so can we move it?? Everyone reorganize their schedules instead of him just not come?
And... yes. Apparently my mother in law bent over backwards to move this family reunion for him. Everybody lost our non-refundable deposits. Had to do the reunion at my mother in law's tiny little house. Had to listen to my husband complain for a week about the whole thing.
Necessary backstory part 3: BIL was married and had two kids (currently 18 and 21), then divorced and found this new girlfriend and had two more kids (4 and 6) with her. When he got these tickets, he had framed it as a 'family vacation' and said 'the kids were going to have a blast'. Apparently when he said 'family' he meant him, his girlfriend, and his two newer kids. Not his older kids, who had thought they'd be invited as well, only to find out they don't apparently count as family anymore.
So we're walking into this reunion with feels, right? And lots of people are walking into this reunion with FEELS. Tense would be a good word for it. Ready to punch BIL into oblivion if he says the wrong thing would be another way to describe it.
SO. Story time.
Holiday gifts are being exchanged. We get BIL and family a gift card for a dinner out, and get nothing in return (as usual). Towards the end, BIL pulls out his wallet and grabs a bunch of money. Calls his two older kids over and hands them each a hundred dollars. That's it. That's their entire holiday present. Then he calls over (most) of the rest of his nieces and nephews and hands them each fifty dollars. My son gets skipped.
Normally, I'd call him out on it, because he's drunk and probably forgot my son (who was quietly playing with his new Lego set in the corner) even existed. But the atmosphere was tense and I was definitely on the side of just let it go. It'd take more than $50 to stick my hand in that hornet's nest.
Nobody really noticed. My daughter did, even offered to split hers with him, but I shook that idea off and just gave her a hug for being awesome. Repeat the phrase I've said plenty: gifts are given, not demanded to be received. BIL is under no obligation to give everyone a gift - even if he's an asshole for skipping just one kid, it's his choice.
Party goes without too much of a hitch, but everyone is definitely happier when BIL leaves early to go to a different party. (although the amount of bitching about how we had to move the whole thing and he left early?? was just insane to listen to)
Afterward the party is over and we head home, daughter goes shopping with part of her money (donated some to the food shelf near our house, saved the rest) and gets some doll thing she's been wanting. Son picks out a dinosaur that roars when you squeeze it. (They ended up with a significant sum of money from several relatives.)
We go home, write thank you cards. (yes, I'm old fashioned. If you get money or a gift in the mail, you send a thank you card.) Daughter writes out her cards (she had five to send), son does his four (same four, then not one to BIL). Thank you cards are getting too expensive to send for not getting a gift. Mail them off, think nothing of it, move on.
About a week later, I get a text from mother in law asking when my son's thank you card to BIL would arrive. I reply back that he's not getting one. If one does not give a gift, one does not get a thank-you card.
CUE DRAMA. OMG levels of drama. BIL was too drunk to remember what happened, and thinks he gave my son some money, and refuses to be talked out of it. Thinks that if he really missed someone, he would've been told at the time. He's dug himself a deeeeeep hole and nobody's going to be able to get him out of it.
Current situation, which is now almost six weeks of this insanity: My daughter's birthday is coming up, and BIL is threatening not to come and bring a gift if we don't send him a thank you card from my son. My instinct was to respond 'you were not invited; I don't want your drunk ass in my house ever again', but thought better of that before I clicked 'send'.
MIL is on BIL's side, thinks I should just send the thank you card and keep the peace, that it's just a silly little card and it doesn't mean anything. Husband is on my side, thinking BIL is throwing a man-child sized fit my three-year-old is old enough to know not to do.
Nobody's arguing that I'm in the wrong here, btw (other than BIL). I'm not the asshole in this situation. Nobody thinks I am.
HOWEVER. Sometimes you can stand on the moral high-ground of one battlefield and watch the war fall apart around you. Makes you wonder what's the bigger goal? I'm not 'fixing' my BIL with this. I'm not making a dent in the toxic hell-hole of a FOX-riddled black hole he calls a brain.
So now I have to make a choice - a bigger choice than just the stupid $2 thank you card. And here's where I need your thoughts.
Option 1: send the stupid thank you card. I'll likely hear about this later when he tries to lord his 'win' over me, but it'll stop the family rift. My children will not have to be in the middle of an almost-50-year-old throwing a tantrum any two-year-old would watch in amazement. Even though I and my husband would be willing (and happy) to never see BIL again, it's harder to unilaterally cut that tie from my children's lives. They deserve to get to know their family, and understand their family - the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Option 2: send an essentially blank thank you card. He'll get his card, but I am not sinking down to actually thanking him for anything. 50/50 on whether this would solve anything or make it worse, though. Would simply depend on his mental state when he gets it.
Option 3: hold onto my moral high ground, disinvite him from a party he wasn't invited to anyways, and wait for the chaos or for BIL to forget about it. This could possibly be the stake that drives BIL away (not sad at that thought). My worry is that where BIL goes, my children's nana will go as well. And the ultimate worry would be that we (me, my husband, and our kids) stop getting invited to family functions, since MIL coordinates most of them and she has zero backbone when it comes to BIL. It's a not-unreal possibility that this could cut a good portion of my husband's family out of my children's lives for some time (and most of the rest are wonderful people). And even if the worst was not to happen, this'll be a constant source of stress and strain on everyone.
So I'm... not sure really what to do. My family thinks I should hold my ground because morals are more important than having a relationship with a drunk asshole - and that there are more relatives to fill the hole. (all true) My in laws think I should just send the card because I'm not 'winning' anything here and I should look at the bigger picture. (also true) One even offered to purchase, fill out, and mail the damned thing for me.
I just... I dunno. This is just stupid. So, so, very, very stupid. Stupid enough it makes me want to cut BIL out of my life just because I don't want the anxiety surrounding this any more.
I'm trapped in a stupid, bizarre situation and I'm to the point where the thoughts of random internet people I do not know apparently mean something to me.
tl/dr: My asshole of a brother in law forgot to give one of my kids a gift, and is now causing major family drama by demanding a thank you card.
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theshelbyclan · 2 years
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Miss Shelby
Summary: While Tommy’s working on legal business and politics, Teddy’s taken over the old business in Small Heath. But when she gets personally involved, she puts herself in danger
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A/N: This one’s pure self-indulgence. I had a dream about Teddy being about 20 and realised that would be set in season 5. So, here’s me imagining what Teddy would be like at that point in the series, at that age. She the last of the Shelby’s to have remained in Birmingham and she’s taken over the illegal business, while trying to keep the peace back home. She’s in charge of the betting, the racketeering and the protection now, and everyone in Small Heath knows they can rely on her, while also fearing her to some degree. In a way, she’s become what Tommy once was. Anyways, this is for me mainly, but if you like this one, let me know!
Words: 3902
*****
“Mind the shop, I’ll be back in half an hour,” Teddy threw the keys at Scudboat, put on her peaky cap and walked out the door of the old family home in Watery Lane.
A young woman in men’s clothing walking around Small Heath would’ve attracted some attention, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Teddy Shelby. Smoking silently, she made her way to the Garrison and as she did, people greeted her left and right, politely and with respect, “Good morning, Miss Shelby.”
Teddy nodded in reply and kicked at a football that was send her way by some kids playing in the lane. After Tommy had made them rich, after they’d worked their way up in politics, they’d agreed that the Shelby’s needed to keep heir homefront safe and theirs. This was Teddy’s job: at only 20 years old, she now ruled Small Heath with an iron fist, taking care of their own people first.
“Whiskey,” she told the barmaid, before entering the snug. Tommy looked up, and as soon as he saw it was his sister, he let some of the pretence drop. He slouched down in his chair and lit a cigarette, visibly relaxing. He’d spend all morning listening to people and their complaints. The things he had to endure as their MP...
“Tommy,” Teddy greeted him fondly. Every week, they’d meet up like this. Together, they would make sure they were on the same page and they discussed strategies like the olden days.
“Teddy,” Tommy nodded, a hint of a smile flashing across his features. He’d never say it out loud, but meeting with his youngest sister was usually the best part of his week. Sometimes, he thought about when she’d been little and he’d tried to keep her out of the family business. He’d always known that he was just putting off the inevitable.
“How’s the head?” Teddy asked in a sarcastic manner she shared with Ada.
“There’s nothing wrong with my head.”
“Hmm, could’ve fooled me...” Teddy shrugged, “In that case, how’s politics?”
Tommy fixed her with one of his stares and eventually said, “Family first. I heard you were seen with the son of the duke. Is my information correct?”
“Just for one night, Thomas,” Teddy rolled her eyes, because even though she was twenty now, Tommy still felt the need to treat her like a kid to be kept under observation, “Just a bit of fun.”
Tommy didn’t approve, but knew it wasn’t his place to speak. Also, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. That was the one thing that had never changed about Teddy: if she wanted to do something, no one was going to stop her from doing it. A duke’s son, in this case apparently.
Instead he asked, “Careful there. Don’t want to get involved with the aristocracy. They’re all mad.”
“Tommy, sweetheart, I am the aristocracy. I’ll be queen of the Boswell Romani’s one day. And this boy? He’s not good enough.”
“No man’s good enough,” Tommy nodded. And he meant it.
Teddy downed her drink, “Business?”
He cleared his throat and put on his glasses to read his notes, “Do you know a Mrs Connors? Lives near the washing house.”
“I do,” Teddy made a point of knowing everyone is Small Heath. And everyone knew her.
“Her husband beats her. I said we’d speak with him.”
She nodded slowly, “I’ll speak with him. Again.”
Tommy looked at his sister for a second. Something cold had made its way into her eyes and he knew, if there was one thing Teddy couldn’t stand, it was people who beat their wives or kids. She’d put a stop to it, today.
“Did you get the horse I told you about?” he continued.
“Yeah, but she won’t race, Tommy. She won’t take the saddle, I’ve tried. She not built for it. But I like her, so she’s mine now.” And when Tommy frowned she continued, “Let me and Curly find you a proper horse to race, alright? You’ve forgotten, Tommy, you need to see the horse first. Going off on the proper paperwork and breeding... it won’t work. You need to actually go out and see the horse.”
“If you have some something to say, Teddy, spit it out,” her brother sensed some type of judgement in her voice, “Saying I don’t know horses anymore? Saying I need to go and live in some fucking gypsy camp as well, just to gain your respect, eh?”
“Calm down,” she soothed, “I just think you need to get out more. Sitting all cooped up in parliament isn’t good for anyone. I’ll find us another horse, alright? I’ll take the horse up to that filthy gypsy camp where your younger sister now lives and have her washed for your inspection. And then you come with me and see about the horse and then you can decide.” She added sweetly, “Would that make you feel better, Thomas?”
For a second, she feared she’d gone too far and he’d explode in anger. But a small smirk appeared on his face and underneath his breath, she heard him mumble, “Cheeky devil...” She always could get away with murder when it came to Tommy.
Teddy smiled and said, “We had some trouble with a new gang. Some kids, coming up from Digbeth. Nothing to worry about, but they kept on robbing the widows.”
“Did you put a stop to it?”
“I put my men on it,” Teddy had a small army of men at her disposal, and with them, she kept control and she kept the peace, “They’re with us now.”
“Good.”
But Teddy wasn’t finished, “The problem’s the housing, Tommy. These kids grow up mean in these fucking slums. Can’t you and your posh cronies do something about it?”
Tommy could never shake the feeling that even though he had all this power and influence now, his youngest sister didn’t quite take him seriously. She looked up to him, obviously she did, but more in spite of his good standing than because of his good standing.
For a few minutes more, they talked of particular people in trouble, as well as national politics. Names were mentioned and money was exchanged, but before the end of their meeting, they were interrupted.
“Miss Shelby!” a little boy came barging into the room.
“You want to try that again?” Teddy told him in a strict tone, “Outside. Knock on the door and wait for me to call you in.”
Tommy shot her an amused glance, but the boy obeyed and waited outside this time, until Teddy told him he could come in. Breathless, he tried again, “They’ve done the cafe again! Bricks through the windows and they’ve taken their money. The woman, she’s crying and mentioned your name.”
“For fuck’s sake...” Teddy stubbed out her cigarette angrily. Then she produced her revolver from her pocket and started checking the bullets. To the boy she said, “Tell her I’ll take care of it personally.” After that, the boy left.
Tommy blew some smoke in her general direction and casually asked, “Personally?”
“These are good people, Tom. I won’t have them paying us for protection only to get the last of their savings stolen by some fucking factory scum.”
“So, send your men to do them,” he waved a hand, “No need to get your hands dirty.”
Teddy coughed a laugh, “We agreed, Tommy, I’d take care of business at home. Let me handle this the way I see fit.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” and as much as her brother tried to keep his voice emotionless, some worry did slip through. 
Tucking away her gun again, Teddy smiled lazily at him, “And if I do, that too, Tommy, won’t be any of your concern.” She stood up, grabbed his glass and downed his whiskey as well. Then she assured, “Until next week, brother.” 
Tommy sighed, shook his head and shouted after his unruly little sister, “No more fucking MP’s sons, you hear me?” But he knew she wouldn’t listen. She did a great job at keeping Small Heath under their control, he never had to worry about that, but she never, ever, fucking listened. 
*****
Back at the house in Watery Lane,Teddy opened the cabinet in the front room with one of the keys hanging from her trousers, and she took out a rifle. The big guns always did leave more of an impression on people. Carefully, she flipped it over and checked it, just like John had taught her once. Then she shouted out to Scudboat, who quickly joined her, “Take this one. Fill the one chamber with rock salt, alright? And the other with a normal bullet. We have a man to see about a cafe...” 
His eyebrows rose, but he did as she asked without protest. Scudboat was one of the most loyal employees the Shelby’s had ever had. He’d been with them in France and ever since, he’d been a trustworthy presence at the betting den. Without speaking, he’d watched Teddy grow up. From a cheeky mischievous little kid, he’d seen her grow into a young woman with a head for business. And he remembered telling Tommy, the day they’d come back from France: you watch that one. She’s either going to fuck up everything or take over one day. Obviously, he’d been right about the latter. 
As Teddy summoned some more of her men, she also send for some kids to gather information for her. With her small army of four, she sat at the table that was once used for family meetings. But when Billy came out with the whiskey, she told him, “No whiskey. Beer only. Save that for after, we have a job to do.”  “Right,” she announced, “Today we’re putting a stop to these fucking nuisances. These people think they can fuck with us? I’m making them an example. Danny, you’re coming with me and we’ll talk to the woman. Make sure she knows she’s alright. Scudboat and Ian, I want you down at the docks. Don’t let them get away before I can speak to them.” And so Teddy laid out her plans, while the others sat and listened. 
About half an hour later, she waltzed into the cafe. In there, the woman was still crying. When she looked up and saw Teddy, she immediately offered up all of her savings for even more protection. But Teddy refused to take the money; she told her they’d been the ones who fucked up and let this happen. She refused to take a penny. “Thank you, Miss Shelby...” the woman kept muttering, but Teddy waved a hand. She didn’t want her gratefulness; she wanted the bastards who did this.
When they made her way back onto the streets again, she heard some kids whisper, “Look, it’s Miss Shelby! They say she used to be one of us...”
“I am,” Teddy turned to them, which made them all practically jump in fear, “Don’t be afraid. If you fuck me over, then be afraid. But if you have any trouble, you come to me.” And that was exactly how she’d gained her control over Small Heath. 
Information had come to her that the robbers could be found near the Cut. “Tell them to clear the houses, just in case,” Teddy told her associate, not wanting to have any innocent bystanders shot in the process. Then she held her head up high, felt for the reassuring comfort of her gun and walked over to the men sitting by the docks. 
Confidently, she announced her presence, “Gentlemen.” 
One of them laughed at her, “It’s that Shelby bitch!” He wasn’t from around here; he clearly had no idea who he was dealing with. 
Teddy smiled back politely, “Indeed it is. I’m here to talk business, regarding the cafe down the road.” 
Again, one of them chuckled and he got up menacingly now, “Yeah, so we took it. What did you plan on doing about it, little girl?”
Taking her rifle, Teddy warned him casually in advance, “This is going to hurt.” And before he could laugh at her again, she shot the rock salt bullet into his leg. Writhing in agony on the ground, she then turned to the others. Like nothing had happened, she continued, “You’re in Small Heath, gentleman, and nothing happens here without my consent. Now, you may have gotten used to some freedom back in where ever the fuck it is you came from, but not here. Here, the Peaky Blinders are in control.” 
But one of them decided to be an idiot after all and made a grab for his own gun. Scudboat shot him before he could even aim it. Teddy took her rifle and shot the second one. Then she aimed her trusted revolver and number three and asked, “What is it going to be?” He took one look at his friend, still squirming in pain in the mud, and put down his gun. Teddy whispered a, “good boy”, and walked away, letting her boys deal with the clean-up. 
As she walked away, she heard one of them shoot the man she’d shot in the leg. There was no point in keeping him in agony; it’d served its purpose. Teddy lit a cigarette and tucked away her revolver. She never even heard the shot being fired at her, but when it hit her shoulder, she fell to the ground and the world became blurry at once.
*****
When she opened her eyes again, she was laying down on the table at the Garrison. Finn was hunched over her. As soon as she woke up, he called out, “Get her a bottle!”
“Bastard fucking shot me,” Teddy ground out, “in the fucking back!”
“Don’t move,” her brother ordered her, “The bullet’s still in. I’ve called for Jeremiah.”
Internally, Teddy tried to prepare herself for what was about to come. The pain was setting in now and it was making it hard to think. Gratefully, she took the bottle that was handed to her. “Make it quick,” she stumbled as she drank.
Finn and another one of her men helped her onto her side. “You do it,” she told Finn, not trusting anyone else to hold her down as Jeremiah got to work.
And to work, he got. As he was digging into her shoulder, Teddy’s primal shrieks filled the Garrison. For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Instead she clung onto consciousness, telling herself this was only temporary. She’d been shot before, but never like this. And just as her vision was starting to go dark again, she saw Jeremiah holding up a bullet triumphantly.
“It’s done...” she whispered to herself.
“Uhm,” Finn tried carefully, “Not really.” And before she could question him, he spilled the whiskey into the open wound on her back. Teddy screamed out in pain, the worst yet, and tears leaked from her eyes. But Finn held her and pressed his forehead into hers, while comforting her, “Now it’s done. Breathe, Teddy, breathe... you’re alright, baby. It’s done...”
And Teddy breathed.
Carefully, she hoisted herself up from the table, so that she could be bandaged. One of her men told her about what had happened to the robbers. None of them were kept alive, which was as it should be.
After they’d done, Teddy looked at Finn and noticed he had a certain nervousness about him. Then she concluded, “You’ve told Tommy.”
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, Teddy.”
“Fucking hell...” she sighed, “He’s coming down here, isn’t he?”
Slowly, her brother nodded, “Couldn’t stop him.”
“Give me the bottle,” Teddy demanded, because if she had to face her older brother, she was really going to need it. And just as she had, said brother marched into the Garrison like he was on a mission.
Ignoring Teddy, he asked Finn, “Will she be alright?”
“Jeremiah took the bullet out. No internal bleeding. She’ll be fine.”
“Good!” Tommy faked cheerfulness. And then he slapped Teddy once on the back of her head.
“Ow!” she called out, wincing as she moved her shoulder, “I just fucking got shot!”
“I know you fucking did,” he said in a low voice and then bellowed, “Why the fuck do you think I’ve had to drag myself back into Small Heath!”
Teddy sighed deeply, realising a Thomas Shelby patented lecture was incoming, and she told her men, “Get back onto the streets and clean up the mess from this afternoon. Make sure the people know we’ve handled things.”
Tommy sank down in a chair and lit a cigarette, with an exasperated sigh, “ ‘We’ve handled things’... eh? You’ve fucking handled things? I fucking told you, Teddy, let other people do your dirty work for you!”
Finn, at once, tried to protect his sister, “Tommy, she usually doesn’t...”
But Tommy cut him off, “You fucking wait outside and let me talk to your sister, alright? Now, piss off, Finn.”
“Why are you here, Tom?” Teddy asked in earnest, after Finn had left. None of his preaching was going to change things.
“Wasting my fucking time on you!” he spat in reply, “I need you to manage the business, here, in Small Heath, but stop getting involved. Alright? This is no place for a little girl.”
“Oh fuck you!”
“Yeah? Well, fuck you too!” he shouted in reply, “I have better things to do than after twenty years still having to look out for my baby sister who, has, after twenty. fucking. years. YET TO LEARN TO BEHAVE!”
Teddy stared at him and felt at her shoulder for a moment. Then she said calmly, “Go and do you ‘better things’ then, Tommy. Thank you for coming and good bye. Fuck off.”
He pointed a menacing finger at her and whispered, very much like he’d done when she was little, “You talk to me like that again and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. You hear me, eh? I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re all grown-up now; I will spank you right here and now and I will make you fucking listen to me.”
Teddy tried to compose herself, but she couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing, “How are you even going to that when they literally just dug a bullet out of me.”
His irritation didn’t cease much, “I’ll find a way.”
“Tommy,” Teddy said bravely, “If you’re worried about me, just say you’re worried about me. You won’t die, you know, if you express some love. Go on, try it.”
He sighed again, “You’re actually going to drive me fucking insane one of these days, Theodora Shelby.”
“That’s ‘Miss Shelby’ to you,” she corrected him with half a smirk on her face, “Yeah, but you love me.”
He pointed at her again, but didn’t deny it either. Instead he said, “I need you to not get shot again.”
“I’ll try.”
“And you’re coming with me,” Tommy decided, “Back to Arrow House. Until you have recovered. I’ll have one of my maids take proper care of you.”
Teddy’s eyes lit up, but her brother quickly said, “I was talking about breakfast.”
Her face fell a little, “I’m needed here, Tommy.”
He scoffed, “I heard you shot a man with rock salt. Fucking brutal. Bravo. I don’t think you have to worry about anyone stepping out of line for a while.”
Teddy contemplated his offer for a moment. It would be good to get out of the smoke for a few days, “Alright I’ll come, but only because you’ve clearly missed me so much.”
Tommy rolled her eyes again, “I’ll have a car send for you.”
“On two conditions, though, Tommy.”
“What?” he snapped, taking the bottle from Teddy’s hands and bringing it up to his own lips.
“One: I need you to let me handle business down here. People respect me and the Blinders, but not just because I’m your little sister, but because of me. Do you understand? I need to be able to deal with things the way I feel is needed.”
“Fine,” he took another swig, “What’s next?” 
“Two,” Teddy continued without mercy, “I need you to take a holiday. With me.”
“I already tried fucking... golfing...” Tommy gestured around vaguely.
“Golfing will drive you mad.”
“It really fucking did.”
“Fuck golfing,” his sister said pointedly, “Come with me out on the road, just for a few days. We don’t have to talk. We’ll just take the vardo. Take your fucking kids, I don’t care, but you need to sleep under the stars again and eat a proper meal.”
Tommy looked at his sister and thought she looked like something... ancient. Like she remembered something from the olden days, even though she was too young to know. She told him, “Remember when you took me out on the January?” It was one of her most favourite memories of the two of them together, “Like that. You need it, Tommy. You’ve forgotten.”
“Forgotten what, eh?” But he didn’t expect an answer. He knew she was right. She never did listen, but she was usually fucking right.
“Do you agree to the terms as presented?” Teddy inquired in a business-like manner.
“Yes,” Tommy handed her back the bottle, “Now give me the bullet.”
Teddy furrowed her brows, “The one Jeremiah took from my shoulder? Why?”
“I’m going to have it framed,” Tommy said casually, “Fucking.. art. And I’ll name it: Teddy’s first and last bullet.”
“Tommy, this is hardly my first...”
He shot her a dangerous look.
“Fine. Frame the bitch.”
For a few more precious moments, they sat in silence. And then Tommy asked Teddy, “What’s happened to us, eh?” In his mind, he was thinking about everything that had changed in the last decade. From a cutthroat razor gang, they were now a political influence to reckon with. The Shelby’s, they were no longer just feared, but respected too. Not one of them had to grow up barefoot and mean: they had money now, houses, horses. Nothing seemed the same, and still, still, they always came back to Small Heath. His sister couldn’t be kept away, for one.
“The world’s changed, Tommy,” Teddy said softly, “but we haven’t.”
He looked at her and laughed, really laughed, like he hadn’t done in years.
And Teddy Shelby grinned back at him, “You and me? We’ll never change. We’ll always be...”
He leaned forwards a lit her cigarette for her, when he finished her sentence, “We’ll always be this.”
“Whatever the fuck ‘this’ is,” Teddy joked, taking a drag.
“It’s you being a pest and me cleaning it up,” he laughed again. Teddy liked the sound of it: she’d missed it.
For a moment, she looked at her brother and saw the boy in the fields again, the optimistic soldier going off to war, the broken man coming back, the ambitious Blinder in Small Heath, the robber, the fighting man and the gangster, and the calculating politician, all in one. To her it was all the same: her favourite brother. And she told him, teasingly, “Nah, it’s you falling apart and me picking you up.”
Suddenly, he was serious, and he blurted out, “So, pick me up.”
“Always,” Teddy promised.
And the two of them smoked and drank their whiskey in silence. The Shelby’s didn’t know much about love, but what they did know, this was it.
Peace.
*****
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