#just the run on sentences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

Note

15 with Eddie? :)

i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3

15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader

wc: 2.9k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene.

It’s nice — it’s serene.

You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.

But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.

It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.

You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with.

“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.”

“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.

He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.

“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene.

You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”

He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.

It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates his left dimple.

He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.

“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?”

The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings.

You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.

“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.”

He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours.

You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.

The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him.

“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.”

Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before.

It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck.

The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.

A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park.

Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you.

Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.

“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.

His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually.

Eventually. There’s no rush.

Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”

“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.”

The night before, he would have teased your desperation.

But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting.

He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions.

Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further.

But today? In this moment? The two of you have time.

A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs.

When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls.

You need him closer.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.”

The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.”

You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion.

His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.”

His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis.

You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun.

And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.

“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance.

He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.

Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.

When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.”

Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it.

He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair.

And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process.

You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.

And just as he knows you, you know him.

You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.

“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue.

His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had.

Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.

“I love you more.”

You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.

But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually.

The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air.

Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips.

And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.

“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.”

You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter.

“Look at me when you cum.”

He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his.

It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.

He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other.

You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be.

Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones.

There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you.

“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #smutty party #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #i just really like the idea of waking up to eddie #especially like this #i wrote this half asleep so it might not be the best my brain wasn't really working #i just needed to write it out before work and before i got out of bed #the run on sentences in this one are strong

644 notes · View notes

toytulini · 10 months

Text

listen im ace and im pro kink at pride and whatever, but the way some of yall are wording your posts in response to the backlash against it is uh. really taking me back to the ace shitcourse era.

yall know theres nothing wrong with being a "virgin", right? that its not inherently shameful to have not had sex, to never have sex, even if youre not ace, even if you do want to have sex someday, like, its fine that you haven't had sex?

maybe if your problem is that theyre trying to police your behavior and shame you for expressing your sexuality, you can say that? instead of resorting to "haha stupid virgin gets no bitches" like my god. do you not hear how fucking regressive that attitude is? i know, i know, youre "joking".

get a better joke

#toy txt post #god im going to regret this post im gonna regret it so much i can feel it in my bones #let it flop..........pls #internalize my message let it sink in and understand what i am saying and then let the post flop #i say. knowing the ppl who need to see such a message are the ones who will make me regret this post and regrwt not having #1 million bajillion disclaimers #virgin is in quotes bc its a bullshit made up stupid purity culture concept anyway and quite frankly i hate even seeing the word #disclaimer: the previous sentence is not me saying that it is a slur for asexuals. it is me a single individual saying this specific word #grosses me out to read and see everywhere when its a stupid bullshit binary made up or at least historically largely used #to shame largely women and i dont know why we're still using it in 2023 #and ive just been. seeing such an uptick in this whole like. attitude? lately and like #im ace im minorly sex repulsed. mostly about anything sex at me bad. other adults sex at each other consensually? go wild #i like to think im pretty chill about it. i try to be. i think its fine ig to be like 'my meat is huge i fuck so much so good'#like okay not my thing but good for you. love that for you #but then some of yall have started turning it back around back to. 'haha your meat so small and shriveled you get no bitches'#'haha stupid incel virgin' like okay. didnt realize we all went back to fucking. middle school but okay #god im gonna run out of tine to get ready for my thing writing this stupid post UGH evil #but like idk we've kinda circled back to being like haha being a virgin still is stupid and silly and shameful #and if im quite honest. i do think the acecourse played a part in that bc i felt like we were making good progress in like #hey guys is fine to not have sex ever if you dont want to its fine to not want sex its fine #and then aphobes went fucking rabid on us and splintered and destroyed online communities all over but especially on tumblr #and so many aces went back in the closet we stopped talking about it we stopped spreading awareness and now this stupid goddamn like #and now this stupid bullshit attitude is back where its like funny to call someone a virgin as an insult but like no bro trust me its okay #its okay for me to do it bc im a hot queer person with huge meat instead of a cisstraight frat bro with huge meat #? like you know the issue was the behavior right? not the fact that it was straight dudes saying it? its bc the thing being said was shitty?#you know you can dunk on the puritan bitches trying to police your behavior at pride without getting us as collateral damage right #stop making me read that stupid ugly ass word ur not cool or funny #whatever #if you come on to this post to start shit i will not only block you but as many of your mutuals and followers as i can find. i will scroll #i will block this entire fucking website if i need to do not test me. i am exhausted and the acecourse ate up all my tolerance in 2015.

1K notes · View notes

beatsheetromanroy · 2 months

Text

body swap episode let’s go!!! it’s a cursed object or some nasty, powerful spellwork. it zaps rowena, dean, and cas who are all in the same room together. rowena becomes dean, cas becomes rowena, dean becomes cas. jack walks into the room and with the ability to see people’s souls, recognizes everyone immediately. poor sam now has to see the woman he has feelings for in the body of his brother and he’s NOT having a good time!! rowena in dean is all loose, confident, flirty, she charms cas in her own body which drives sam and dean INSANE (for totally different reasons obviously.) it would be so fun to see rowena-cas stiff, serious, and genuine. cas realizes the deep attachment he’s grown to his body. dean’s freaking out about the possibility of needing to pee or take a shower. “I’m not gonna look at some other dude’s junk, that’s not cool!” meanwhile cas informs him that he won’t need to, “there’s enough grace left over in my vessel that will eliminate the need for bodily functions” forcing dean to act disappointed “oh, good” (he says lying) while he tries to actively avoid feeling up cas’ pecs.

#i need to rewrite this so it’s not a horribly confusing run on sentence of a paragraph #HOWEVER #do you see my vision….#spn #this episode is about performance it’s about love it’s about mirrors #i don’t think rowena would be that bothered. i think she’d just stir up chaos #supernatural #dean winchester #cas #rowena macleod #deancas #destiel #samwena #derryth.txt

468 notes · View notes

cardsharksplayingames · 2 months

Text

Thinking about Taylor saying “I’m sure I related to it when I wrote it, but I think I relate to it more now 20 years later” before playing A Place In This World at Houston N2, and how Debut and Fearless seemed to be such a safe and relatable place to land emotionally from like April through June for surprise songs while she was most likely in the trenches of writing for ttpd at the time

#andrea rambles #ttpd prep #this is just one long run on sentence lol I cannot be bothered

290 notes · View notes

baalzebufo · 1 year

Text

more of my awesome bread dough boy

#alloyart #fake peppino #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #my personal hc is fakey CAN talk! he just mimics and creates a lot of imperfect sentences #also he still makes weird noises and occasionally like. Backwards Italian. but he is generally understandable #not much tag rambling this time... read the thing i wrote about fake peppy on my blog instead im proud of it lol #continuing with my running joke that fake peppino wants to make peppino into a pizza . i think he can kneading him like bread dough #peppy is none the wiser. hes just glad hes so good at massages. really gets the stress knots out

2K notes · View notes

piratekane · 1 month

Text

(post-3x05 kacy scene)

Warm fingertips press down against the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, a melody she knows that she knows but can’t quite place in the early grey of the morning, the sun rising, muted, through the low clouds outside the window. She was asleep a minute ago and there’s a dream quickly fading away as her eyes open slowly and the room shifts into focus.

“Morning,” Kate whispers, still sunken in her pillow.

“G’morning.” Lucy pulls the words from the back of her throat like she’s pulling cotton from a cattail. “Time s’it?”

Kate doesn’t roll over to check her phone. “Early,” she guesses. “Too early for our day off.”

A day off. A present for her jungle excursion, courtesy of Tennant. A whole day to let her body come down from the high of being chased through thick vegetation with a life hanging delicately in her hands. Lucy lets her eyes close again and sinks back into her pillow. She goes back to focusing on Kate’s fingers looped carefully around the wrist between them. Tap, tap, taptap. Tap, tap. A song, then. One that she knows but can’t quite place.

“Is that Boot Scootin Boogie?”

Kate exhales a short laugh. “Taylor Swift.”

“Who else would it be?” Lucy feels the bed shift as Kate slides a little closer. She can feel the soft heat coming off Kate’s bare arms and wants to reach for it, pull it back over her, close her eyes and slip back into sleep for just a little bit longer.

It was a long day yesterday, her nerves pulled to their breaking point. When she stepped over the threshold to their apartment, the weight she had been working so hard to push off came crashing down on her. She doesn’t remember tasting the pizza Kate ordered, doesn’t remember picking Love is Blind on the TV or queuing up where they left off. She doesn’t remember brushing her teeth or turning out the light.

She does remember Kate’s body warm behind her on the couch, her own body pressed to Kate’s front as they sat wrapped up in each other. She remembers Kate’s arms and how they wrapped low around her waist in bed and held her tightly. She remembers soft lips to her bare shoulder and I love you against her skin as she let the exhaustion take over.

She remembers the Kate of it all, the steady and warm and loving presence she’s come to need like oxygen in her lungs. She remembers the overwhelming feeling of love—one she thought she’d never find in a million years.

“I could sleep another hundred hours,” she admits, eyes still closed.

She feels Kate’s smile against the back of her hand. “You can. We have nothing planned today.”

The thought is so tempting. She could pull Kate’s arms around her, drape them over her like the light comforter they’re sharing, and let herself sink back into sleep. It’s not too far off; she could reach for it and be asleep in moments.

But Kate is awake and tapping out a Taylor Swift song against her pulse point and that usually means banana pancakes and a Golden Girls marathon and pressing Kate against the counter edge and kissing her until either their lungs start to burn or the pancakes start to smoke. Lucy loves those mornings and the way Kate tastes like the bites of bananas she snuck before mixing them into the batter.

“Did I dream yesterday?”

“Only if we were having the same nightmare.” Kate’s free hand pushes back some of Lucy’s hair. “Otherwise, it was real.”

Lucy slides her foot forward, curling her ankle around Kate’s calf. “I thought so.” She opens one eye, studying Kate’s profile. She’s committed it to memory by now. “I feel like a truck ran me over.”

“It did,” Kate murmurs. “That very much happened.”

Lucy sighs. Yesterday wasn’t a dream. She can see it vividly in her mind and she closes her eyes against it again, trying to fill it with Kate—Kate so close and so warm.

“I’m not ready to talk yet,” she admits. She isn’t. She can’t. She’s still working through her family in her own mind; she can’t possibly put into words what they’re like and what they’ve done to her and to each other.

“We don’t have to talk.” Kate’s voice is soft and genuine and Lucy thinks again—again and again—how lucky she is. “We can just lay here. We don’t have to do anything at all.”

Lucy knows Kate isn’t lying. She knows Kate won’t push and she won’t prod and she’ll let Lucy set the pace for when and where and how. And it sounds perfect—a whole day in bed with Kate and their bodies pressed close together, hidden away from the world.

But someone told her to live her life yesterday. Someone who had the courage to throw theirs to the wind and start over from scratch. Someone who proved that there are still good people in the world who want to do what’s right for the sake of doing the right thing. And even if she can’t talk about it yet, even if she’s not ready to unlock the ugly parts of her past and lay them out on the table, she’s not going to lay in bed all day and let the world just pass her by.

“No.” She opens both eyes, staring deeply into Kate’s brown ones. “Let’s get up. We can make pancakes.”

“Banana or blueberry?”

“Both,” she says, feeling greedy and not caring. “And bacon. And toast. And—“

Kate laughs. “Okay. Remember we can only eat so much.”

“I can eat so much. I’m from—“

“Texas, yes.” Kate laughs again and leans in, kissing Lucy softly and pulling away too soon.

Lucy thinks about chasing her, pressing her deep into the mattress and not stopping until she has to come up for air. But she settles on letting Kate pull away and slide out of bed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that exposes the long line of her neck. In her thin tank top and her soft shorts, no one has ever looked more beautiful than Kate does right now.

Lucy may be holding some things back, may be keeping some things close to the vest, but this? This she wants to scream from the rooftops. This she wants everyone to know. This she wants to tell Kate.

“I love you.”

Kate looks back over her shoulder, a smile on her face that threatens to break through the grey clouds outside their window. “I love you too.”

Live your life, Lucy Tara.

Lucy smiles as she gets up and stretches her arms above her head, feeling the tension break in her shoulders. She is going to live her life. She’s going to take every moment and hold it tightly in her hands. She’s going to love Kate with every part of her that’s capable of it and when she’s ready she’ll tell Kate everything she wants to know.

“Lucy?”

Lucy looks up. “Hmm?”

“I said, we can make toast too. If you want.”

She thinks about it for a moment before she smiles. “Life is too short to skip the toast.”

Kate rolls her eyes, pulling the sheet back up on the bed. “Where did you read that?”

“That’s a Lucy Tara quote, free of charge.” She winks when Kate laughs and scrubs her hair back off her neck into a bun. “There’s more where those came from, by the way.”

“Lucky me,” Kate grumbles, still smiling.

“Yeah,” Lucy says softly. “Lucky you.” She holds Kate’s eyes for a moment. “Lucky us.”

Kate’s smile slips into shy before she clears her throat and gives the neatly-made bed one last pat. “Lucky us,” she echoes. She slips out of the bedroom and heads towards the kitchen, humming something under her breath.

Lucy watches her walk away and thinks: this is a good life. This is a life worth living.

She follows Kate.

#ncis: hawai'i #kacy #kate whistler #lucy tara #post-ep shenanigans #a next morning run-on sentence that won't let me go #i wrote this in my notes app during a family easter dinner so excuse me i was in the middle of passing the peas when this idea came to me #actually it was mashed potatoes and my cousin wouldn't shut up about tswift and i was like get me outtttttta here #and since my brain is kacy-mush anyway this just happened #k bye <3

147 notes · View notes

justhauntley · 5 months

Text

Okay okay okay long post but,

I need to say this cause it's nearly midnight and this idea is keeping me awake! Please tell me if you like the sound of the idea or if you think it's a bit of a stretch lol

So I started thinking about this today and cannot stop but y'know those Danny Phantom AU where Danny has a space obsession but everyone assumes it's actually a protection obsession?? I had an idea where, what if they're not assuming and Danny's pretending to have a protection obsession because he doesn't want his rouges to feel guilty about keeping him from his obsession?

Here me out! What if Danny feels like pretending to have a protection obsession is necessary to keeping his rouges happy and content while fulfilling their obsessions? He wants them to be happy because it means they'll be more satisfied and will come around less (he hopes). His rouges are more than happy to attack because they feel like they're helping Danny fulfill HIS obsession!

Eventually Danny starts to think of it like he's performing for those around him, like he's the star of the show he didn't realize he was in- He finds himself watching plays and operas and broadway shows and he enjoys them?? Which he didn't expect! Soon he becomes a bit obsessed with putting on the perfect performance for others, but obviously that has side effects on his mental health.

Maybe we can bring in some Ghost King Phantom? Like he becomes the Ghost King once he's graduated university or something and to his surprise, Frostbite tells him that he has a new Performance Obsession and of course this can give an opportunity for angsty spirals... Also if I'm being completely honest, the design and personality I have in my head for him is reminiscent of Furina from Genshin Impact, which I'm pretty sure was an accident, especially because I finished the newest quest yesterday... But whatever... I'll worry about it later.

If enough people like the idea I'll probably put a story and designs together, might even throw some dpxdc into the ring who knows, I sure don't! Anyway, my first time actually putting thought into an AU idea and I'm having a lot of fun with it. Let me know what you think!

216 notes · View notes

palindrome-alt · 1 year

Text

"The way to a person's heart is through their stomach." Arven, frantically jam-packing another sandwich full of loaded hearty ingredients like they're a love language to the point he's become your three-course sandwich meal ticket and worms his way into whatever you're doing to make sure you've eaten: "Hahaha I just like cooking-"

Meanwhile Nemona stands there thinking like "wow they are such good friends" but Penny slaps her forehead

#arven #pokemon #x reader #reader insert #pokemon scarlet and violet #scarlet and violet #arven x reader #fluff #short imagine #Sorry for the run on sentence it just fit the feeling I was going for

2K notes · View notes

evankinard · 1 year

Text

Not to make this 1000 times worse for everyone but actually, 614 and 615 were the episodes for both Buck and Eddie mutually rejecting each other and the other's place in their lives by implying that they are lacking in the area that is the other's love language. Lemme see if I can hold my pieces together long enough to explain.

614 with Eddie rejecting Buck was much more subtle and didn't show a reaction from Buck beyond general jealousy because I fully believe that Buck doesn't know he's in love with Eddie, because he never even allowed himself to consider it as an option. He is too petrified of people leaving and too incapable of accepting that he can be loved to ever put himself in a position to hope for something that has the potential to devastate him so thoroughly. But whether he knows he's in love with Eddie or not, over the past 5 seasons he has thrown himself completely and utterly head-first into being there for Eddie and Christopher, being their best friend and their safe place. He exists as a part of their lives that no one but Shannon has ever even come close to occupying. Buck doesn't do grand declarations like Eddie does, but he shows his love through quality time and acts of service and all of that boils down to making sure the Diaz boys are never, ever alone. And yet, just last episode Eddie decided that he wants to start dating because he doesn't want to be "alone" anymore. Eddie is scared of dying alone when Buck has proven time and time again that there is no mess, battlefield, or locked door that could keep him from Eddie if he's ever in danger. So if Eddie is still feeling alone, still scared of dying alone, then maybe the kind of partnership and presence Buck brings to their lives simply isn't what Eddie is looking for, at least in a romantic sense. Even if he isn't aware of his feelings yet, even subconsciously Buck would take that as a door closing in his face before he even had the chance to knock. And so continues the pattern of Eddie jumping back into the dating game and Buck diving in seconds after him.

Now, of course, Eddie isn't saying that because Buck isn't enough. Buck is everything he wants or needs in a partner, but that scares him because Eddie is aware of his feelings and that makes him so acutely aware of the fact that Buck will find someone else to settle down with and start his own family with any day now, and when that happens Eddie really will be well and truly alone. He can't break his own heart, he needs to start being proactive because he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life alone after Buck has moved on.

And in 615, when Buck says that Natalia really sees him, he's discounting the way Eddie has always unspokenly expressed his love for him. Because maybe Eddie hasn't ever used those exact words before, but every one of his major declarations, including "there's no one in this world I trust with my son more than you" (THE TO BE SEEN, TO BE FOUND SCENE?? HELLO???), "I love him enough to never stop trying and I know you do too", "I forgive you", "I know", "It's in my will if I die you become Christopher's legal guardian", and especially "you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong", have been just another way of Eddie telling him I see you for all that you are and I love you for it. The expandability line is a particularly unsubtle standout because it's absolutely paralleled with both Taylor and Margaret telling Buck "you think you're invincible but you're wrong," and there Eddie was again, paired against Buck's mom and his girlfriend, two of the people who should know him and love him the best and yet just don't. And oh shit I'm realizing this just as I'm typing this but Eddie is yet again being paralleled against Buck's mom and his girlfriend (the girlfriend now being Natalia). In 6x10 when Margaret calls him a "miracle baby" and the way Natalia gushes about his death - Buck's death and his birth, two of the most traumatic things that have ever happened to him and Buck is someone who so desperately wants everything to be okay, wants the trauma to have some grand meaning, so he takes the out and takes the win and he lets them let him hide behind the superficial positive bullshit. But Eddie, Eddie sees Buck and Eddie knows him and loves him enough that he can tell just how not okay all of this is, not just for Buck but for all the rest of the people who love him as well, and he doesn't want him to hide away from it because Buck shouldn't have to pretend to be unchanged but he should acknowledge the way he's changed. Eddie is seeing Buck more than Buck can handle being seen right now and Buck is unconsciously rejecting it by placing preference over the way Natalia sees him. Except to an Eddie who is already convinced Buck doesn't feel the same, who is so scared of being alone after Buck has moved on, this feels like just another way he won't be enough for Buck and the time when he'll really well and truly be alone is more and more drawing near. There's even something to be said about the fact that we see Eddie visibly realize just how much Buck has been affected as he's talking - the fact that he's realizing this so late may be making him even more sure of his inadequacy.

#this has so many run on sentences but i just had to word vomit or id explode after last night #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fox #weewoo brainrot

404 notes · View notes

vacantgodling · 11 months

Text

✨preferences should not be standards for writing advice✨

#whenever i see writing advice i just get annoyed #honestly one of my biggest gripes about writing communities in general is this #constant need to regurgitate certain pieces of writing advice like they’re ambrosia of the gods #my biggest writing advice is to just stop fucking listening to all writing advice that has to do with #prose and style #just stop doing it #read books and find things you like and craft your own style of things #i know this is not simple for everyone but i’m tired of constantly seeing #i think flowery prose bogs things down too much #and i think that direct prose isn’t good enough at putting people in the world #like mate—everyone has preferences and preferences do not make good advice #so like #i wish people would stop acting like their opinion is the next best piece of writing advice #it doesn’t help anyone it just causes fucking insecurities #i am also having sensory overload so perhaps ren doth bitch too much #but you can pry flowery prose and run on sentences and incomprehensible blocks of text from my cold dead hands #bc it makes me happy to write like this and fuck off #ren hot cakes #i’ll delete this later im just cold and annoyed #and unfortunately you can thank my mother bc im extremely passive aggressive

278 notes · View notes

flicker-away · 10 months

Text

im sure tons of other people have had this idea before but: zote nosk, the entire boss fight is just dodging while the nosk damages itself and then eventually just dies

#hollow knight #hollow knight nosk #nosks are cool #is there a character limit on these tags or can you just keep typing even though it's gonna immediately become a run-on sentence and #the limit is 140 characters.

231 notes · View notes

bitteraristocrat · 9 months

Text

I think it's really funny when antis try to take a holier than thou approach to discrediting SebaCiel by saying something like "it does a disservice to who they truly are as characters" as if these two aren't constantly oozing sexual/romantic tension and making bedroom eyes at each other.

#sebaciel #rant post #I can't wait for Weston to be animated so they all squirm #this is the biggest run on sentence I've ever written #I swear I have an English degree it's just 4am and I'm upset

267 notes · View notes

strangersteddierthings · 10 months

Text

What's Eight Plus Seven?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I just- I made you something."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes Steve's eyes water.

"Is it that bad?" Eddie asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? Why?" Steve had asked.

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

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

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

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

Although.

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

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

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

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

"Rob, you awake?"

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

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

"I want to date Eddie."

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

"It's barely midnight, but yeah."

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"... Tommy H in freshman year."

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

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

"Disgusting."

"Yeah. I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is he... scared to ask?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie pulls back, although reluctantly. "Hmm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven?#platonic stobin #they're inseparable your honor #sorry if theres typos i dont have the impluse control to reread once I write the last sentence #i just hit post and run #theres gonna be a few more parts i think #i keep adding more

297 notes · View notes