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thefallennightmare · 6 months

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Rest-Nick Folio

Pairings: Nick Folio x Reader

Warnings: maybe a swear or two? fluff, lots of it.

Summary: Reader plans a little rest and relaxation weekend away with Nick after a five-weeklong tour.

Authors Note: Enjoy this cute ass one-shot filled with so much fluff it'll make your teeth rot.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Nick's knee bounced with agitation or excitement.

I wasn't sure.

With a crooked smile, I shook my head. "I told you it's a surprise."

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the busy airport and while Nick grabbed our bags from the trunk; I double-checked our flight reservations along with our bed-and-breakfast reservation. Our flight was scheduled to leave on time, and we would land an hour before check in.

Perfect.

I pocketed my phone then looked over to Nick, who was walking over to me while carrying both of our bags. I offered to carry my own, but he smacked my hand away.

"Three years later and you still try to carry your own bags," he chuckled.

I sighed playfully. "I'm just trying to lighten your load, Nick. You've been working so hard the last few weeks and you only got back last night from tour."

The sounds of planes taking off over head echoed loudly around us as people maneuvered their way throughout the crowds, trying to make their own flights.

With his bag slung over his shoulder and pulling mine behind him, Nick laced our fingers together and we walked into the airport as I led us towards our gate.

"I was fine staying home with you, sweetheart. But you woke me up at five this morning saying you were taking me somewhere," Nick finished with a yawn.

Guilt pulled at my heart seeing how tired he was. Bad Omens finished their five-week-long tour last night in Los Angeles so thankfully, Nick didn't have a long travel day back home but even with him coming home at 2 this morning, I still had to wake him up early so we could make our 10 am flight.

Yesterday when I showed up to the venue for his show, that was the first time in five weeks that I'd seen him. We'd been together for the last three years so I was there from the beginning when Bad Omens were playing the small stages at Warped Tour to now watching them play in sold out venues for the last two tours. Ever since they blew up on Tik Tok and gained such an immense following, all the guy had been working tirelessly to be the best they could for their fans. Touring, writing music, or trying to get in the studio to record. They hadn't had more than a few days off where they weren't doing some kind of work so to say the deserve all the success is an understatement.

To say that Nick deserves this week away I had planned for us was also an understatement.

I also planned that this trip was a strict 'no work vacation,' and I sent a text in the group chat that I created of Noah, Ruffilo, and Jolly to let them know. While Ruffilo and Jolly wished us fun on our vacation, Noah told us all the cons of where we were vacationing too.

You know it rains like all the time in Washington, right? How is Nick going to ride a motorcycle or fish?

It's October, it's probably cold as hell. Why don't you guys go somewhere warm, I'm sure Nick would love to see you in that red bikini.

You sure you don't want us to come with? We could make it a Bad Omens get away and get some time in to write.

I swore my eyes rolled so far to the back of my head; I was sure they'd get stuck. Noah, always the cheeky one. I replied to him saying it was a strict no work vacation with only Nick and I and I'd left the red bikini back home.

"I'm sorry for waking you up so early but I wanted to make sure we'd make our flight," I defended with a slight pout.

Seeing how long the check in line was, I came to a slow halt and checked my watch. It was only 7:30 in the morning which meant we had plenty of time. Nick could tell I was a tad agitated so his thumb began tracing circles on the back of my hand as he held it.

"Can I at least have a hint where we're going?" He asked while bouncing on the soles of his shoes.

Fuck, he looked so good with his bottom lip pouted out like that. It'd been so long since we had sex that I was nearly crawling out of my skin wanting a taste of him. It was hard enough keeping myself off of him in public so when he took off his hat to shake out his hair then place it back on backwards, I nearly moaned into a puddled mess which Nick simply winked in response too.

"You know," I brushed the imaginary lint away from his shirt, "We're on vacation. You don't need to wear a Bad Omens shirt. This is supposed to be a work free trip."

Nick shrugged. "It's comfy."

The line for check in slowly moved up a few paces and when we came to a standstill again, I wrapped myself around him, not giving a shit about PDA.

"I've missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Nick mused while pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I wish you could have came with this tour."

I pressed my cheek to his chest, breathing him in. "Me too but there was no way my boss would let me take that long off. It was hard enough getting this week off."

We moved up another few steps before coming to another standstill. Since we had plenty of time before takeoff, I wasn't too worried with how long it was taking for check in.

Nick pulled me closer into his chest. "You should quit. I make enough to support the both of us and this way you can come on the Europe leg of the tour in a few weeks."

As tempting as the offer sounded, I was thankful I didn't have to give my answer because the line moved once again. I was about to detach myself from him to walk but Nick held tighter to his grip around my shoulder and walked with me. My hand slipped from his side over to the pocket of his jacket but quickly, Nick shifted which made his arm fall from around me.

I raised a brow. "Jumpy, aren't we?"

He cleared his throat before a smile spread to his lips. "I'm sorry, you scared me that's all."

My eyes narrowed, not believing a word he said, but choosing to ignore his weirdness I turned my attention towards the TSA lady as she began our check-in. Thirty minutes later, Nick and I were sitting in the seats near our gate, me staring out the large window towards the runway and Nick typing feverishly on his phone.

"What's Noah saying?" I didn't bother to ask who he was texting because I already knew it was Noah.

Nick turned off the screen then pocketed his phone. "He wanted to make sure we made it to the airport."

Bullshit.

Something was weird with Nick since the incident with me reaching over the pocket of his jacket. Here I was hiding this secret vacation all the while he was hiding something from me.

"Right," I muttered, leaning far back into my seat.

He let out a long breath and linked our fingers together, his thumb brushing across the skin of my hand, and the gentle touch made me rest my head against his shoulder. I felt every breath in and out he took, head rising and falling, and Nick tilted up my chin towards him so he could capture my lips in a kiss. It wasn't a full-blown make-out session, but deep enough to make my head spin and heart flutter.

"What was that for?" I asked breathlessly.

"I just wanted to kiss you, that's all."

By now, more people arrived at the gate, building a slight crowd, and inevitably, someone would notice Nick; someone always did. It wasn't like we were hiding our relationship but Nick never publicly made it known to everyone on the internet we were dating. Pictures of us filtered all throughout the web and people made their own assumptions, as they always did. I didn't mind if Nick kept our relationship on the down low because that meant we could enjoy the quietness of our relationship for a day longer.

"Someone might notice," I jokingly teased.

Nick hummed before leaving another kiss on my lips. "Let them."

I giggled into his lips and cupped his cheek as we pulled away. "I'm still not telling you where we're going."

Somehow, I kept it hidden what our destination was even at the gate because Nick seemed to be preoccupied with something else.

With a pout on his lips, he let me settle back into him by linking our hands back together.

Six days later and I was exhausted.

Nick was surprised and very ecstatic that I planned a vacation in Washington State. We hiked a few of the national parks; he fished almost every day, and we ended each night with a motorcycle ride, one we rented for the week. The weather was beautiful but not quite warm enough for that red bikini. When we weren't out doing things, Nick and I were laid up in bed at the bed-and-breakfast doing other things. Today was our last day, and I was more than ready to spend it in bed, continuing to do those other things, but Nick had other plans.

"Can you tell me where we're going?" I begged as I held onto his arm.

He lead me from the car up towards the forest trail, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, how the tables have turned."

Rolling my eyes, I watched as the setting sun cast us in an orange glow and marveled at how gorgeous Nick looked tonight. He wore a simple black shirt with jeans to match and his hair was slicked back. A bit dressed up for hiking but nonetheless, he was breathtaking.

"This will work," he said while coming to a stop.

I gasped when I stared down over the mountain ledge. Orange, yellow, and brown leaves atop of the trees and a flowing stream down below; the sound creating the perfect background noise to the atmosphere. Everything about the scene was beautiful that I pulled out my phone to snap a few pictures, oblivious to Nick who was standing right behind me.

"Sweetheart?"

"Hm?" I turned on my heels and this time, instead of gasping at the scene, I let out a high-pitched squeal. Nick was kneeling on one knee with a black velvet box in his hand, unopened. Sweat gathered at his brow as he let out a long, shaky breath.

"The last three years have been the most baffling but amazing years. You've stayed by my side through the lowest times of my life and the highest of highs with the band. When I thought we wouldn't make it big, you were there to cheer all of us on during our first show. You were there when we played our first sold-out show, and I hope you'll continue to be there when we win a Grammy."

Tears pooled at my eyes as I covered a hand over my mouth.

"I know being with me hasn't been the easiest sometimes. I'm almost always on the road or with the guys recording but yet, you still welcome me home with loving arms. You're everything I could ever ask for and then some. I truly don't deserve this but I am so thankful you haven't given up on me. You planned this entire weekend away so I can rest and I'm kind of high jacking the rest of the trip but I've been planning this for a long time. I wanted to ask you before I left for the Europe leg."

Nick let out another shaky breath as he opened the box; a black diamond with a gold band catching the light of the setting sun.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

"I love you so much, Y/N. Will you marry-."

"Fuck yes!" I shouted, not letting him finish.

With his own tears falling over his cheeks, Nick pulled out the ring, and it slid over my finger with ease. I jumped up, wrapping myself around him and crashed my lips onto his. His tongue immediately pushed its way into my mouth, tasting every inch, and my hands scratched and pulled at his hair. I nibbled on his bottom lip as he reluctantly pulled away. Both of us were crying happy tears, me more so than Nick, and he brushed them away with one hand while the other kept me hoisted up in his arms.

"Did the guys know about this?" I asked.

"Yeah, why do you think Noah wanted to tag along?" Nick chuckled.

I gently brushed the hair away from his eyes so I could stare deep into them. "Still want to support me?"

At first, he looked at me with a raised brow but then as he thought back to what he said back in the airport, he eagerly nodded. "Whatever you want, sweetheart, it's yours."

"Well," I kissed his lips tenderly. "Looks like I'm coming to Europe with you."

#nick folio #nick folio x reader #nick folio and reader #bad omens #bad omens x reader #nick folio reader insert #nick folio one shots #nick folio fluff

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starryeyedjanai · 6 months

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nights like this

kinktober prompt: panties & lingerie | 2.5k | explicit kinktober masterlist tags: established relationship, eddie in panties, good boy eddie!!, very light dom/sub undertones, undernegotiated kink (they're still figuring things out and are both very much into it) here is the inspo for the lingerie if you're curious

read on ao3

Eddie's done with work for the day early and gets home to an empty house.

It's not all that unusual for him to get home before Steve on Fridays. Steve hosts "couple's night" on Fridays at his pottery shop, activities ranging from learning how to make plates and bowls to painting them.

It's actually how they met. Eddie and the guy he was kind of dating at the time had gone to one of these Friday night events and his date had left before they had even centered their balls of clay.

It was humiliating and embarrassing to be the only one in the class without a partner all of a sudden, but Steve had swooped over and started doing his demonstration next to Eddie instead of at the front of the room.

They talked in between Steve's lessons to the class and in between Steve walking around the room to help other people. Steve asked Eddie to stay after everyone else had left and he showed him how to make a mug to match his plate and bowl.

It was nice. Eddie left that night with butterflies in his stomach and barely remembered that his date had been a total pissbaby about not getting everything right on the first try and then storming out as if Eddie was supposed to follow him.

And since he paid for two classes, he came back the next Friday to paint his plate and bowl and Steve sat by him again.

There were no lessons this time since it was just painting the things they made last week however they wanted, so they talked the whole night.

He learned so much about him- why he moved to town, why he opened a studio, what got him into pottery. When they were done painting and people were just starting to trickle out, he wanted to stay again, wanted to keep talking to him, but he couldn't find a reason to stay.

Then Steve told everyone that he was going to seal everything with overglaze and fire it in the kiln and they'd be ready in a week and Eddie jumped at the chance, asked Steve if he needed company while he glazed everyone's creations.

Steve laughed and said, "We have to let the paint dry before we glaze them. But I have other things to glaze tonight if you want to stay. I'll put you to work though."

And he did, carefully instructing Eddie on how to apply the glaze, his gaze intent as he watched him try.

"Good," he'd said and Eddie tried so hard not to shiver at that.

He probably failed at that given the way Steve smirked at him like he had his number already.

So they talked and worked and then they put the pottery away to dry and then it was midnight and they'd been talking for hours even though the work was done hours ago.

Steve walked Eddie to the door, pausing before he unlocked it for them to leave and Eddie took his chance, leaning in and pressing his mouth to Steve's.

That night, Steve put him to work and then put him to work, bending him over the table they were painting at earlier and fucking him senseless.

So Steve's Friday nights aren't typically as eventful as that one was, but sometimes Eddie will surprise him at the studio as people are leaving so they can fool around like they did that first night. They've recreated that night a few times in the year that they've been together - sometimes roleplaying as strangers fucking quick and dirty like they weren't sure they'd ever get this chance again, sometimes just taking it nice and slow as themselves, fucking on any available surface.

It's a sporadic thing, sometimes Eddie plans it out meticulously, sometimes he wings it and just shows up still in his coveralls from the mechanic shop he works at to let Steve have his way with him. It's fun and makes them both happy, so they keep doing it every now and then.

And tonight, Eddie wants to do something special.

He went out and bought what he's going to be wearing tonight a few weeks ago. He's been nervous, thinking about it. He's tried on the panties and the matching bra top a dozen times since buying them, each time psyching himself out because he thinks he looks good in them, but also kind of silly. The bra that he doesn't have tits to fill out, the panties that his cock barely fits in.

They only just started dipping their toes into the world of kink, around the time when Eddie moved in a few months ago, so things are still pretty tame most of the time. He doesn't want to turn Steve off by making things too weird, but he's determined to do this. Because he thinks Steve will like it, because he likes the way the lace feels on his skin.

He likes the way the garters look on him and he thinks the baby blue color of the lingerie on his skin is nice, pretty almost. He thinks getting fucked while wearing these will feel good and he wants it, so he sucks up his feelings about maybe looking silly.

He showers and cleans himself up and then puts the panties and the bra and garters on. He thought about going full trench coat with nothing but this on underneath, but he thinks that would be going a little far and he doesn't even have a trench coat.

So he puts on a pair of jeans and a sweater over his lingerie and heads over to Steve's shop.

He pulls into the lot and sees couples filing out of the shop. Perfect timing.

He walks inside and Steve's face lights up seeing him. He never knows what to expect on nights like this, so he's always excited whenever Eddie shows up unannounced.

The last of the couples leave and it's just the two of them as Steve turns the lock on the door and turns around to face Eddie.

He doesn't say anything yet because he usually lets Eddie set the scene - are they strangers today? Are they reunited lovers? Are they just themselves?

"Hi Stevie," he says in a quiet voice, his nerves still present.

Steve smiles at him. "Hi, baby," he says, walking over and kissing him.

Eddie kisses back, tilting his head and brushing his lips over Steve's.

"I need to put some stuff away," Steve says when he pulls back. "Wanna help?"

Eddie tsks and says, "SMH, Steve. Always putting me to work."

Steve laughs. "You like it," he says.

And Eddie can't even disagree. It's how they got here, it's why they're standing here now, because Steve asked him to stay back and help him even when he didn't really need the help - he just wanted Eddie's company.

The painted plates and bowls are already on the drying rack, so they make quick work of cleaning the tables off, chatting idly about their days.

"Anything interesting happen at the shop today?" Steve asks after telling him about the couple who had a near screaming match about color palettes.

He scrapes dried paint off one of the tables and says, "Not really. Same old, same old. But I do have a surprise for you."

Steve's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

Eddie hums. "Mhm. I hope you like it."

"I'm so curious now," Steve says, looking raking over his body, probably wondering if he's got a plug in him or something.

He does, but that's not the surprise. Well, not the surprise he's nervous about anyway.

"You'll have to wait and find out," he teases, grabbing a hand towel to wipe the table off.

They finish cleaning and wash their hands side by side, Steve hip-checking him gently.

"Love you," he says quickly, still so shy about saying it even though they've been saying it for a while now.

"I love you too," Eddie says, drying his hands off. He leans in and pecks Steve's cheek before walking to his office, a plan forming in his mind.

Steve follows behind, shutting the lights to the main room off as they slip inside his office.

Steve pulls him in and kisses him once the door is shut, licking into his mouth deeply.

Eddie moans into his mouth, grinding his hips forward into him when Steve slides his hands around him, their bodies flush together.

Steve's hand slides up his sweater and he freezes when he touches the lace that's there.

"What's this?" Steve asks, pulling back to tug Eddie's sweater up.

Eddie lets him pull it all the way off, shivering slightly as the fabric drags across his torso, watching Steve's face for any sign that he doesn't like it.

The heat in Steve's eyes is enough to banish all thoughts of looking silly.

"You like it?" Eddie asks, taking a step back.

"Yes," Steve breathes out, a hand coming up to touch at the lace that's on Eddie's chest hugging his pecs. "You look good." His jaw clicks audibly as he swallows and Eddie wonders why he was ever afraid.

"Sit down," Eddie says, nodding at his desk chair.

Steve sits down, and looks up at Eddie reverently. Eddie unbuttons his jeans, drawing Steve's eyes down.

He pushes his jeans down and steps out of them, his entire body on display for him, panties and all.

His cock is half-hard, bulging out of the panties even more than when he was soft and looking at himself in the mirror earlier.

"Fuck," Steve whispers, looking at his panties and the garters around his thighs.

Eddie steps closer and Steve's hands are on him immediately. He tugs him into his lap so he's straddling him and gets his hands on Eddie's cock, touching him through the lace.

Eddie moans - the scratchy material of the lace on his cock is insane.

"Fuck," Steve says again. "You look so fucking good, sweetheart. You did all this for me?"

Eddie nods, pushing his hips into Steve's hand, grinding his cock against it, feeling himself get harder.

Steve's other hand comes up to play with the lace adorning his chest, rubbing his nipple through the lace.

Eddie tilts his head back and groans, his sensitive nipple already pebbled and hard against the fabric.

"I wanna fuck you," Steve says and Eddie's hands are on him, unbuttoning his pants immediately.

He gets Steve's cock out of his underwear and strokes it in his hand, feeling it twitch in his grip as Steve leans forward and licks his nipple through the lace.

Steve's hand that has been idly touching his cock slides around to his ass, fingers delving between his cheeks. He groans when his fingers touch the base of the plug holding Eddie open.

"You're so fucking perfect for me," Steve whispers, placing a kiss to the center of Eddie's chest.

He moves Eddie's panties to the side and tugs the plug out of Eddie's hole, putting it on the desk behind him.

Eddie lifts up in his lap and holds Steve's cock still as he sinks down on it, Steve still holding his panties to the side.

He sinks all the way down and groans as Steve bottoms out in him. His cock was made for Eddie. It fills him up perfectly - it's average in length, but it's thick, stretching his hole so nicely every single time.

He rocks his hips slowly as Steve mouths at one of his nipples through the lace, one hand pinching at the other.

"You feel so fucking good," Eddie says, grinding down on him.

"So do you," Steve says. "You're so fucking good for me."

Eddie moans, bouncing in his lap harder. Eddie has dabbled in kink before dating Steve, on both sides - being dominant for someone looking for direction, following directions. But Steve kind of opened his eyes to what it meant to want to be good for someone.

The way he craves to have Steve to call him a good boy isn't something he ever knew about himself before. He'd bend over backwards for it, but he doesn't have to - Steve is generous about giving compliments, always telling Eddie he's doing good. And it drives Eddie fucking insane.

He fucks himself on Steve's cock, his own dick leaking in his panties, straining against the fabric, the fabric dragging against him deliciously as he moves.

He's not gonna last long.

He rolls his hips and gets a hand in Steve's hair, pulling him up into a kiss. He licks into his mouth as he grinds down on him, feeling his balls draw up.

He moans into Steve's mouth as Steve's fingers play with his rim, feeling where they're connected, where Steve's cock is splitting him open.

He reaches his other hand down to shove Steve's shirt up because his come is definitely going to seep through his panties and onto Steve's black shirt if he leaves it down and- fuck, he hasn't even gotten him out of his clothes at all. He doesn't know why that thought is so hot - Steve still being fully clothed while Eddie bounces in his lap in lingerie.

Steve pulls back from the kiss and spits onto his fingers, returning them to Eddie hole, this time to work the tip of one inside along with his cock - as if his cock isn't already thick enough.

Eddie wails, the sound loud in his ears, as he comes, clenching around Steve's cock and the tip of his finger, shuddering as his cock pulses come onto his panties.

He collapses forward and shakes through it, his head pillowed on Steve's shoulder.

Steve takes his finger out and puts both hands on his hips, keeping him still as he jackhammers his hips up into him, pulling whines from Eddie's mouth as it starts to get a bit overstimulating.

It doesn't take long for Steve to groan in his ear and come inside him, grinding up into him and fucking him full.

Eddie can't help but roll his hips against him, shuddering as Steve's cock drags against his hole, the head catching on his rim.

Steve shivers in his arms as Eddie clenches around him and rocks in his lap as he starts to soften inside him.

Eddie slows his hips to a halt and pulls back, looking at Steve's flushed face.

"You know, I was kind of nervous, wearing this. Wasn't sure you'd like it," he says.

Steve smiles shyly at him and says, "I like you, Ed. I'm pretty sure I'd like anything you did."

"Oh, don't say that. I might have to pull out the bondage gear," Eddie says, his lips pulling up into a smirk.

"Bondage gear?" Steve asks with a grin. "You holdin' out on me?"

Eddie stares at him, his mouth going slack. "God, you're gonna kill me."

"But what a way to go, right?" Steve teases, leaning in for a kiss.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #st fic #st ficlet #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve x eddie #steveddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #janai.doc

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

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—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been taken from right under Wednesday's nose. Finding you is a given, but it's really a question of who is saving whom. Wednesday shouldn't be surprised that she's complete entranced by the sight of a fallen faerie.

Warnings: canon level violence. long villain monologues. Enid & gang doing their best.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: just two killer gfs 🫶 also i can't believe the next chapter is the last one 😳

Check out this fan edit! IG LINK

Part Eight

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Ambedo: Noun. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday touches item after item in your studio. She holds whatever Thing passes her and tosses it when nothing happens. Wednesday knows she can't force a vision, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her hands run along the ground, trees, and furniture.

Something—anything in this forsaken room should give her a clue as to what happened to you or where she could find you.

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even.

Wednesday doesn't need to turn to know who it is. She grabs one of your books, gripping it with force, willing a vision to happen. When it doesn't, Wednesday tosses it aside. "What is it, Enid?" She asks, her voice flat but frustration laced around her tone.

"I've got everyone spread out and looking around," Enid updates. "I texted Ajax, and he's got some of his friends out searching too."

Wednesday merely nods tersely.

"I'm going with Yoko to search, but I just wanted to tell you something before I left," Enid bit her lip.

Wednesday turns, her eyes boring into Enid's with a dark intensity that her roommate is both used to and still finds unsettling. "Go on."

"I—" Enid sighs lightly. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else in case I was wrong, but I'm pretty sure now. I can smell someone else in here. The scent is stale like yours and Fae's, but it's a little stronger, more recent."

"Who else was in here, Enid?" Wednesday demands immediately. While certain people knew you had a studio, no one except Wednesday knew where it was.

"Um," Enid murmurs, her brows furrowing. "That guy—the one who's always around Fae. Yoko said his father is an alumnus here. Harry?"

"Henry," Wednesday seethes, her eyes flashing and jaw clenched.

"Yes, him!" Enid exclaims. "Yoko and I are going to see if we can find him, but if we can't..." The words drag, but Wednesday already knows the truth of it.

If they couldn't find Henry, then they'd found their culprit.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid: can't find him.

Enid: roommate says he hasn't seen him at all today and said he's been barely in his room. He usually apparently only returns around 1 to 2am lately.

Enid: I'm gonna search around in my wolf form with yoko. She'll text u with my phone with any updates.

Enid: also the black fuzzy blanket you had earlier in our room is gone. Did you take it?

Wednesday doesn't reply and clicks her phone to turn off the screen before putting it back into her pocket.

1 to 2AM was when the two of you finished your nightly meet-up.

Wednesday definitely didn't move the blanket. Her eyes look back to the blanket in question. She recalls you telling her that Henry was a psychic who could create things. And based on what she's deduced so far, he could materialize his mindscapes into reality, but it seems that anything taken out of his mindscape couldn't last for prolonged hours if he wasn't focusing on it.

Wednesday has touched everything inside this studio, and nothing has conjured a vision. It leads her to believe that you weren't taken in your studio. She exits and begins to look around.

The first thing she noticed now that she was not blinded with rage and panic when she first searched for you was one of the tree trunks partially rotten. It was hard to tell with it being so dark, but Wednesday could spot the strange shape of the rot. She walks over to it and finds a single black feather resting on the ground directly underneath.

Wednesday bends down to grab the quill of the feather, and the live wire shredding at her skin comes forth.

Wednesday sees you walking out of your studio. The day has rewound, and the sun is only starting to set.

You look happy, with a serene smile and a single feather in your hand. But only after a few steps out do you tilt your head and refuse to take a step further.

Wednesday can hear it from your perspective. The way the wind oddly ruffles the leaves. There's a certain discomfort in her spine.

"Who's out there?" Wednesday watches you call out and place the hand on the tree trunk. "You can't hide from me in the forest and whatever trap you've set, I can sense it."

There's a moment of tense silence, but you refuse to budge.

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree.

Henry steps out, and you relax slightly but keep her hand on the trunk.

"Henry," you look confused. "Why are you following me?"

"Well, this is annoying," Henry sighs. "You didn't notice the mindscape of your studio, but now you won't step into the new one I made? I wonder if it's because Wednesday's energy is so intertwined with the studio one I made. You lower your guard down so much when she's around," he hums.

You look wary. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow me," Henry smiles, but his eyes are hidden, and you can't determine his full expression. "Quietly."

"What are you talking about?" You frown at him.

"Your wings," Henry says in a cavalier tone. "I need your wings. So, I need you to come with me to Crackstone's crypt so I can perform the ritual there. I still have some things to prep, but if you go to meet with Wednesday for your date, I'll miss my chance and the sap wont be potent anymore."

As you step back, you narrow your eyes at him, full-on in defensive mode. You're opening your mouth to say something, but Henry pulls out a small blowgun and shoots a needle that lands right into your neck.

You stagger, hand at your neck to pull out the needle, and you instantly know it's made out of draeconium. You slump to your knees first before falling onto your front completely, groaning.

Henry approaches with a syringe filled with a cobalt teal liquid. He steals you away, and all that's left is your feather and the rot you placed in the trunk.

Wednesday returns to reality, her hand on the trunk and the grip of your feather in her other hand. She pulls out her phone, typing a quick message to Enid before she takes off.

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The room was dimly lit by candles. Where Crackstone's crypt used to be now stood a giant rectangle stone table. There were inscriptions carved into the table, and Wednesday knew immediately that it was a ritual for your wings.

Wednesday's eyes lay upon your limp form lying in the middle of the table. There was a chained collar around your neck bolted to the table. It was only long enough to likely let you sit up, but no further than that. She can see your body rising and falling with each breath, and there's a sense of relief. She's about to walk to you and wake you up when someone steps out of the shadows.

"I didn't think you'd actually find us."

That lanky, stuttering boy. Except he wasn't stuttering now. Wednesday's uncontrollable rage simmers inside her, but she tempers it. She needs to be rational if she wants to save you.

Henry's long fringe normally covers his eyes, but tonight, they're pushed out of his face, combed stylishly over his head. It was no wonder that he covered his eyes, Wednesday thought. They would draw too much attention with their pale silvery glassy look. His eyes lacked pupils, but Wednesday was sure they were why he had such powers.

"Of course, I'd find you," Wednesday sneers at him. "Only a moron would come back to Crackstone's crypt. How unoriginal."

Henry smiles at her, and it's utterly disgusting. "I suppose after your glory stories of last year, I expected you would and that you'd come here stupidly alone."

"I don't need a group to make you wish you were never born," Wednesday's face was stoic. "What exactly can you do? Your little tricks won't work on me now that I know what you can create. It's not real."

Wednesday takes a step closer, but Henry pulls out a knife. The blade was a pale pearl white with ridges, and the handle was made from wood. There was no doubt it was made from draeconium.

"Move any closer, and I'll plunge this right into her," Henry threatens. "I only need her alive, she doesn't need to be unharmed."

There's a moment that Wednesday hesitates, thinking about her chances. She has a knife in her own boot that she could use to cut his throat. But Wednesday eventually decides against it as she doesn't know where he might stab you and if it'll accidentally be fatal. He looks like an idiot.

Wednesday's eyes trail to you. Even though you're unconscious, your wings are slowly appearing from your back, unfurling slowly, and you haven't moved one bit. She eyes the chain in detest and wills you to wake up to no avail.

"I know her wings are injured, but I'm pretty cautious," Henry sighs but doesn't relax his form as he turns to point the knife at her. "I can't risk her potentially flying."

"What did you do to her?" Wednesday demands, her stance tense as she keeps a distance from the boy. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She won't," Henry shakes her head. "I know she's told you about how draeconium sap can cut her wings out, but they can do so, so much more."

"Makes me wonder why she didn't tell you. Maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think." Henry smirks at her. "Draeconium petals can be crushed into a powder and mixed into a liquid that will put faeries to deep sleep. It's poisonous and makes their body numb and unable to control their movements."

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

"How did you find out where we were?" Henry narrows his eyes at her. "I hear you're a witch, but I have yet to see you do anything amazing. If anything, you're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"You're always hanging around her, hovering like a goddamn vulture," Henry huffs.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Wednesday raises her brow.

Henry rolls his eyes. "I thought for sure her fae abilities would catch me following her around. At first, I couldn't get too close without her constantly turning around and nearly catching me. Before you started to get closer to her, I was trying to figure out for weeks where she was going every single day and night."

Henry smiles lightly at her. "The night you followed her after the siren's party, she heard both you and I were following her. But for some reason, she dismissed it and kept going. Your presence has always masked mine perfectly."

Then he smiles haughtily at her, his eyes filled with malice. "Thank you, Wednesday. Because of you, I was able to get closer to Fae without her noticing. And since then, the two of you haven't even noticed you've been in and out of my mindscapes for months."

Wednesday thinks back to the night she first followed you to your studio. You had turned around, and Wednesday thought it was her, but it was probably Henry you'd sensed. But her presence distracted you, and you kept going.

She thinks back to Parents' Day and how she couldn't find you anywhere. She had gone to her room first to change before looking. Yet, you told her you'd been in her room waiting for half an hour.

Wednesday recalls the time you came to meet her, saying you just came from seeing Henry, but he couldn't conjure anything. But he had, and you just couldn't tell you were already experiencing it.

Wednesday thinks back to the day before the Poe Cup Race and how the three of you had been standing in the hallway. She had heard footsteps, but when she turned around, it was just Henry sitting at one of the arches. Those footsteps were probably from the outside of the mindscape.

Wednesday grinds her teeth, keeping her mouth shut as she looks around the room for anything she can use. Her phone is in her pocket, and she can tell Enid has likely been sending her messages incessantly by the sporadic vibrations. Wednesday hopes that Enid will call her so she can try to pick it up, keeping it open in her pocket before she starts spouting things that will tell Enid where she is.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"This is weird," Enid mutters. "This is the crypt, isn't it?"

"It should be," Xavier looks around. "Something feels off, though."

Yoko is walking around, her glasses are off, and she looks up to see the moon. "This isn't right. Something feels wrong," Yoko says as she turns to the group. "This moonlight feels synthetic. It's making my eyes hurt."

Bianca looks around. "Henry was a psychic, right? What classes was he taking?"

"Um," Enid thinks of some of the classes they shared, but it was generic. Then she snaps her fingers. "Oh! He was taking psychitech! You know, the class where you can use your psychic powers to build things."

"What if this is one of them?" Bianca suggests as she looks back to the group. "What if this is what he could build? Fake rooms?"

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of this? It looks way too real," Xavier sighs, rubbings his face.

"Let me try calling Wednesday," Enid pulls out her phone and dials. It picks up after the 4th ring, and Enid almost shouts into the phone when voices are already coming through.

"—couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

"Hold on," Enid says quietly, putting the phone on speakerphone. "I think Wednesday picked up, but she's with Henry right now."

The group listens to him speak, gauging the story with tense interest.

"That's weird," Enid whispers. "It's quiet, but I can kind of hear an echo now."

"Hey Enid," Eugene whispers as he looks at her. "You put flowers in the Crypt when we came back to school, didn't you?"

Enid screws her brows in thought but nods when she remembers. "I did in the corner...to remember Rowan."

"What flower did you put?"

"I put a potted tristeria in there because they don't require any care. I didn't want to come back to look after it."

Eugene smiles. "I think I know how we can find our way in." He summons a single bee.

"As long as there's pollen in there, this bee will find it."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow at Henry. "Aren't you going to reveal your grand master plan? What your wish will be?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because cliche villains like you can't help it," Wednesday drawls. "It's why you're all so embarrassing. You think you're so clever and the need to show your cleverness to someone overrides any smart brain cell in your head to be efficient."

Henry looks at her contemptuously, but he looks up through the open sunroof and realizes the full moon isn't in position yet, and he has time.

"I'm an only child," Henry begins to talk.

"Here we go," Wednesday mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"My father was an alumnus here. We come from a long history of psychics and old money, so coming to this school is really the only choice. My father eventually graduated and married another socialite. You know, the type that's well-bred and genetically compatible to produce another strong psychic to pass on the legacy," Henry continues to point the knife at Wednesday but waves his other hand whimsically to emphasize his point.

"Except," Henry sighs, like the next part will be tragic. "The well-bred socialite turned out to be barren in the womb. Oh, whatever will they do? How will they pass down this enriched legacy? They need another psychic to pass it down to!"

Henry smiles like a bright idea comes to his head. It looks unhinged, which Wednesday would normally find charming, but Henry's face disgusts her to her stomach.

"Of course, the only answer is to find a surrogate. Secretly, of course. It's too shameful to let anyone know. And that means our lovely little couple finds an outcast struggling to make ends meet three states over. She's barely got any psychic abilities, but she's better than nothing, right?"

Wednesday's listening, but her eyes are taking in his stance. He doesn't stand like he has extensive combat abilities like she does, and she's confident in her odds there.

"The couple promised riches. They promised a better house and food that wasn't stale and enough money to let her live her days out comfortably. But our soft-spoken, poor outcast says she can't agree. She loves children, and if she were to have a child, she'd want to be able to see her visit that child. The couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

Wednesday stares at the room around her without moving her eyes. This was real, wasn't it? There were limitations to Henry's powers. How many rooms could be kept active, how long he could keep them engaged, and the objects inside the mindscape can't stay outside for prolonged periods.

Henry must've brought you here because he couldn't mimic the magic residue that surrounded this crypt.

That meant the surrounding area of his crypt would be made up of mindscapes so no one could find them.

Wednesday wonders if Enid and the rest of the group were currently lost in one of his mindscapes, and they were closer than she thought.

"Everything seems fine at first," Henry's voice interrupts her thoughts. "The pregnancy goes without a hitch, but on the day of her birth, there were complications, and she passed away soon after. Still, she gives birth to a lovely, healthy son. All should be well, right?" The way Henry says it is filled with sarcasm.

"But what should be filled with fulfilling days is just scorn. The well-bred socialite can't love a son who isn't really hers. His eyes are a constant reminder that he's someone else's child. She doesn't want to hold him, touch him, or even look at him if she doesn't have to. The father has great expectations, but when his son can't achieve them, he's distant. They don't tell him the origins of his birth, so the child is left to believe his parents just can't love a disappointment like him."

Great, Wednesday thinks, another idiot with mommy issues. "That was entirely uninteresting and cliche," Wednesday stifles a yawn, annoying Henry.

"Yes, but I'm not quite done."

"Hurry on then. I'm considering dying might be better than listening to the rest of this."

Henry sneers at her but continues on. "The child thinks he's just unloveable. That it's just the way he is, and that's why his parents cannot love him. Until one day, he's rummaging through his father's study in hopes that there's something there that could help him strengthen his psychic abilities."

"Let me guess," Wednesday drones. "You found a letter from either the doctor or the coroner about the day your birth mother had you but your father had her killed right after."

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs.

"Yes," Henry looks miffed that his plot twist was ruined. "The doctor injected nightshade into her IV, and because she was poor, her death was never looked into after the report the doctor gave."

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow. "What are you going to wish for? Your birth mother to come back so someone might love you as pathetic as you are?"

"I'm going to rewind time," Henry reveals, scowling at her. "I'm going to go back in time and kill Tyler before he can awaken as a hyde."

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "That mongrel is already behind bars and rotting. Even if you rewind back time, he's not going to awaken his hyde for you. He has severe mommy issues just like you do, and you don't seem like the motherly type."

"Not to kill my parents," Henry snaps. "For me, for my life at Nevermore. Everything was perfect before Tyler came along."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What the hell do you—"

"If Tyler didn't come along, Miss Thornhill would still be here and she'd be focusing on me!" Henry shouts, gripping his knife tightly until veins become visible on his arms.

Wednesday's eyes scrunch up in disgust, her head bobbing back with disbelief. "You're doing all this for Thornhill?" Her tone hides none of the contempt she feels. "Are you an absolute imbecile? Thornhill was using Tyler because she hates outcasts. She hates you too, you stupid—"

"That's not true!" Henry thunderously shouts at her. "Tyler and I were different. She cared about us but she chose Tyler because he was stronger! I'm different now! I can help her achieve her goals and we will be happy after."

"No," Wednesday curls her lip at Henry. "You were her puppet until she decided you were useless and Tyler could help her kill everyone. You do realize that was her goal, right? You'd only be kept alive until she decides she doesn't need you in her normie world."

"Shut up!" Henry's red in the face as he roars at her, stomping toward her.

Wednesday hardens her stance, bending her knees slightly to keep her grounded. She blocks Henry's attempt to stab her before using her other elbow to dig into his sternum. It makes Henry stagger back, coughing, and grip his chest, but he hangs onto the knife. He recovers quickly before he moves back towards her, swinging the knife back and forth.

Wednesday dodges, but Henry extends his arm, and it nicks her cheek. The cut stings, and Henry grunts as he tackles her to the ground. He meant to stab her in the neck, but Wednesday moved her arm just in time and stabbed the outside of her bicep. Wednesday grunts in pain when he rips it out.

His height difference gives him the advantage, and they're rolling on the ground. The force of the tackle made the back of Wednesday's head slam into the ground. She can feel a warm liquid dripping down the back of her head, but she doesn't let it stop her.

Wednesday knees him in his groin, which makes him drop the knife, roll onto his back, and hold the tender area with a groan. Wednesday quickly kicks the knife away and gets on top of him, punching him in the face before she wraps her fingers around his neck and squeezes.

Henry is struggling and wheezing, his hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to rip them away, but Wednesday's grip is firm. She can feel his Adam's apple giving, and she squeezes tighter.

Henry flails around, winding the back of his hand, and punches Wednesday in her temple. He wore a ring that dug into Wednesday's skin and ripped it open.

The force and cut of it make Wednesday dizzy, and she's forced to let go as she staggers to the side. Henry is gasping for air but immediately scrambles for the knife. He has a cut on his brow from where Wednesday punched him, and his neck was wrung red.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Henry shouts, enraged as he grabs the knife.

Wednesday is still lying on the floor, holding herself up on her elbow as she is holding her temple while her own blood coats her hand.

The noise is deafening, and it makes you breathe deeply.

You begin to stir, your fingers twitching. The sound of your leg moving grates against the stone table.

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction.

"How did you..." Henry starts to say.

"Don't...touch her..." your voice is raspy and lethargic as you slowly sit up.

"Don't move," Henry threatens, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's shirt and pressing the knife against her throat. "Don't move, or I'll slice her neck open!"

Wednesday is staring at you. It's hard to see your eyes with your head tilted down and your palm pressed against your eye.

"How the hell did you wake up?' Henry seethes. "The draeconium should've kept you unconscious even when I started to cut your wings. You shouldn't have fought against it. This would've made all of it less painful."

The chain rattles as you move your palm away and look up at them. Wednesday could feel Henry tense, and she could understand why.

Your eyes have transformed, and they were completely pitch black—even your sclera. You looked more like a demon than a faerie, and Wednesday felt her heart skip. She's entranced, eyes unable to look away.

"I'm a high lord's daughter," your voice rumbles quietly, your eyes narrowing on them. "I'm a night faerie. You think I wouldn't be trained to have resistance against draeconium poison?"

Henry's jaw clenches, and Wednesday can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure your eyes drop to look at the knife against her neck.

"Let her go," you demand. "Let us both go, and the worst that will happen to you is an expulsion."

Your voice isn't threatening in any way. It's almost calm, and Wednesday almost scoffs that you'd think this psychopath would listen to you.

"Expulsion?" Henry laughs. "The second Weems learns what I did, there's no way I won't be going to jail. My parents might just execute me out of shame."

"You could probably use your last meal to request to see your beloved Thornhill first, if she even agrees to see you," Wednesday mutters. The knife presses further into her neck threateningly. A thin slit of blood drips down from Wednesday's neck.

"There's only one way I'll let her go," Henry looks at you warily, trying to bargain. "Your wings for her life. I'll tie Wednesday up as leverage but the second I have your wings, I'll let her go."

"Only a moron would believe that," Wednesday drones, her face impassive.

"She can't wait that long," you argue back, ignoring Wednesday. "She's losing blood in her arm."

"It's not fatal," Henry shakes his head. "I'll let you seal the wound up, but if I don't have your wings before the moon moves from the highest point in the sky, I will kill her."

"Don't bargain with me," you warn him, but your delicate tone doesn't scare Henry at all.

Henry glares at you. He's losing his patience as he presses the knife further into Wednesday's neck, and she can feel it cut into her skin more. "There's nothing you can do but accept my bargain. You're lucky I'm even offering to let Wednesday go. I could kill her right now and still take your wings—"

Your eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, flash dangerously at him.

"Shit!" Henry suddenly curses, tenses up, and Wednesday sees his eyes cloud over. She knows that he can no longer see the way he's frantically looking around. She moves her head back, so the knife is no longer pressed against her neck.

You suddenly spread your wings to their full span. Your wounds rip open, and blood rapidly rushes down, soaking your fingers and staining the stone table. They fill in the carved inscriptions but pour over onto the ground.

You flap your wings, rising. The chain initially resists, but with another flap, it breaks like a measly string.

You're hovering in the air, held up by your wings. Blood coats your shirt and cheek when your wings flap, splattering blood everywhere.

It's terrifying how much blood you're losing, but Wednesday can't help the hitch of breath in the back of her throat.

You look like a fallen angel. Like you fought tooth and nail before heaven cast you out.

You force your wings to their full wingspan and flap them with a reckoning force. The wind you create is so powerful that it forces Henry to fly back. He collides with a pillar, his body arches from the impact, and he gasps painfully. He drops the knife and falls onto his knees, coughing.

You swoop down towards him, standing in front of him as you grab the collar of his shirt with both your hands, pressing him against the pillar to hold him up as he can't even stand. Henry is sure you've broken his ribs.

"Lucky?" You snarled before seething at him. "Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday looks down at her hand, covered in blood and soaked feathers that fell when you flew over her. The air is hard to breathe after your wings disrupt the air, almost like she's choking.

This was what her vision meant.

How utterly useless to figure it out now.

All Wednesday can smell is blood, all she can hear is your breathing and the sound of your wings. Your voice—raspy and rumbling—is all she can hear. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of you in the air with your bloodied wings is imprinted—burned into the back of her eyes.

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

"Say, Henry," you say, and Wednesday feels a chill down her spine in the calm and light way you say it. "What do you think would happen to you if I dropped you from 1500ft? Do you think you'd die, or do you think you'd survive and just become paralyzed?"

"Please—" Henry whimpers, begging. He screws his eyes shut despite the fact that even if they're open, he can't see anything but pitch black. It's just instinct at this point.

"Let's see who's really lucky," you tell him, pulling him from the pillar, your wings fluttering. "You or me."

You're about to take off when you feel your shirt being tugged at.

You look over to find Wednesday standing, parts of her temple crusted with dry blood while fresh blood pouring down a line.

Wednesday is looking at you sternly, her brows furrowed deeply while hiding something else she is feeling—desperation.

"Don't fly," she demands you, her voice serious. "If you fly, you'll lose too much blood and you won't make it."

You merely stare at her, and Wednesday wonders if you can even hear her.

"I'm okay," Wednesday tells you quietly instead. "We both are." She turns her head to look at Henry, who looks like he has passed out from the pain in his ribs. "He's done. He can't do anything anymore."

The words seem to reach you as you loosen your grip, dropping Henry, and he falls to the floor on his side.

You turn to Wednesday, blood dripping drop after drop from the end of your wings.

"You've ruined your wings again," Wednesday scowls at you, and your lip twitches. "You fool, they will never heal at this rate."

"They will," your voice was raspy. "I just need intensive care for the rest of the year."

Wednesday keeps her scowl at you, and you smile weakly at her.

"Thank you for coming to find me," you tell her, your voice lulls Wednesday.

"Of course, you were late," Wednesday relaxes her face as she looks over your wings. As much as she hated to admit it, this was out of her hands, and they needed the nurse.

You smile sadly, and it looks strange with someone whose eyes are completely black. "I missed our date."

"Stop with the look," Wednesday orders. "It's unnecessary. I can always plan it again."

You look happy, then. But you also look extremely tired. The black from your eyes fades and after a couple long blinks, they become normal again.

"Thank you for saving me," Wednesday eventually says, her features looking soft as they gaze at you. "Even if you were stupid enough to ruin your wings."

You chuckle, but it's weak. You lift your hand, almost hesitating to touch Wednesday's face since your hands are coated in blood. But Wednesday leans into it, letting it smear her cheek.

You're so warm, and it's comforting to Wednesday. It was a sign you were alive.

Making sure you paid for making her feel wretched over you would have to wait because all Wednesday can do right now is be thankful you're alive.

You lean towards her face, your lips hovering over hers.

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands. "Ever. Especially without me."

You smile, and it brushes against Wednesday's lip.

"Are you threatening me with a good time again?" you murmur. "But okay, only because you have such a way with words."

You're about to close the distance, but you slump against her instead, passing out.

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening.

Suddenly, Enid burst through the room. Well, first, it was a bee, and then Enid.

"We're here! I'm going to wolf out and beat that motherfuc—oh, you guys already won."

The group follows quickly behind Enid, taking in the gory scene.

"Jesus Christ, Addams," Bianca scowls at her. "Did you make Fae do all the work? What happened to the Addams that held someone hostage to torture them?"

Wednesday doesn't respond to the comment, merely passing you to Enid and Yoko to carry. "Take her to the nurse quickly."

"It'll be faster if I carry her in my wolf form," Enid says. "Let's take her outside first."

"I can do some first aid to hold her over," Bianca follows. "Let's get her near the river; I can use the river water."

They all take a moment to stare at you.

"I didn't know she had wings," Yoko comments. "They're beautiful."

"If rumors of her wings go around, I will—"

"Obviously, we're not going to talk about them, Addams," Bianca rolls her eyes. "You don't need to threaten our lives."

Wednesday shrugs.

"Let's just get going," Enid starts to move. Everyone begins to follow except Xavier. He stays and lingers around Wednesday.

"You need medical attention too," Xavier glosses over her, specifically the wound in her arm.

"I'm fine," Wednesday brushes him off, turning around to stare at Henry on the ground. "You should go help them."

Xavier follows Wednesday's gaze. "I can help you carry him back."

"I'm not bringing him back," Wednesday monotones.

Xavier sighs. "Wednesday, I know what he did was horrible and he should die for it, but you can't kill him. Weems might—"

"I'm not going to kill him either," Wednesday interrupts. "You should leave."

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

Xavier hesitates for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh and turning to leave the room.

Something scuddles into the room, and Wednesday turns to see Thing.

"There you are, Thing," Wednesday says. "Let's see if your scalpel skills improved."

PART 10

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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buginateacup · 2 months

Text

Thoughts on the new Megamind movie and series

Hello friends it is Bug review time!

I have watched the new movie and show all of one time each. I'm gonna talk about what I liked, what I disliked and some thoughts on the new characters and places where there are cracks in the story to drive a roadtrain worth of fanfic through

A disclaimer before we begin, I am thirty or forty years old and I am not the target audience for this shit. I love Megamind and am a hardcore Megarox shipper and also a world building focused fiend. The original definitely had a broader age bracket appeal but this is a show aimed at something like 6-12 year olds. Therefore for better or worse they had to simplify and audience surrogate the shit out of a lot of this.

Megamind vs the Doom Syndicate

To be honest I think you could skip this and go into the new series cold. It's not a movie its a movie length pilot. It was fine and it definitely smacked of Studio Interference going "But you have to explain and set everything up!" (spoilers you don't). The Doom Syndicate is fun if very kid friendly and I'm looking forward to seeing more of them. Behemoth and Knighty Knight are my pals and Pierre Pressure and Lady Doppler are my catty bitches.

The dialogue was good but the pacing felt lopsided. It really felt like they were retreading things that happened in the original movie, especially Minion's entire arc which he just went through two days ago? They did a good job with it but still!

Stuff I loved

FAKE EVIL DATING - I wish they'd shown them actually having to pretend to evil date. But of all the things I thought I was going to get it certainly wasn't that! (So much fanfic y'all. So Much Fanfic).

All of the Doom Syndicate calling out that Megamind and Roxanne obviously have A Thing and neither of them dealing with it well.

Roxanne just casually hanging out in the Lair and also taking charge. that's my girl! Also she's a complete morosexual and she and Megamind deserve each other.

Mayor Roxanne. I didn't adore HOW they did it, I think you could tease a whole season (or an exceptional fanfic) out of Roxanne finding herself not only bored of her job but dealing with the trauma of "Every time I look at the camera I see Hal beyond it and maybe I have some issues with that" and wanting to make changes.

Megamind's Bedroom! There was a sound like a million fanfic writers crying out in glee.

Minion and Roxanne being bros!

Minion out of his suit! It was creepy yet adorable!

The Mayor being useless. When you are used to having a hero who solves every problem, why wouldn't you have a useless Mayor? (I like that he comes back in the show)

The Doom Syndicate in general. They had a good range of designs and were at their most fun when bickering together.

Mr Cuddly Snuggles.

Stuff I didn't love

It felt like a retread of a lot of things that happened in the original movie. Which it has been 14 years so fair, but also if you're going to set something two days after the events of the movie, why make it a photocopy of the original?

Everything that Keiko was doing in the movie that could or would have been done by Roxanne if we were still going via the original characterisation (Roxanne broke into an entire villain's lair right after Megamind took over the city but Keiko's the one with the bat???).

Megamind just spent a whole movie going on about how he didn't share the spotlight and it caused a rift with his oldest friend (again) but sure, we couldn't do this without you small child we just met an hour ago. Its pure audience surrogate and YoU CAn'T bE mEaN to CHiLdrEn! but it makes the pacing feel even more lopsided that this can be so rushed when the whole Minion thing (and not even touching on the whole Bernard issue) got all the attenion and sure we'll just shove this in as well.

(This is the part where I admit parentification of characters is a MASSIVE squick for me and anytime I read about people wanting to make Megamind and Roxanne Keiko's new parents it makes me want to throw up in my mouth.)

Also Exposition voicing the "I was bad but you showed me I didn't have to be" is sooooo not for me. One thing the original movie was extremely clever about was showing how privilege and wealth played a part in Megamind and Metro Man's eventual roles. Megamind wasn't just a bad guy, he was raised in a prison, totally othered, looked different to everyone else on the planet and sent to the naughty corner even when he tried to do things right. While Metro Man was a white western male fantasy who landed in the lap of luxury and even his bunker is a monument to himself.

This was totally discarded for the new movie and I think its the poorer for it, simply because it was such a SMART and SUBTLE thing that is actually relevant.

Again, for kids. Not aimed at me. But I still think it does a disservice to kids not addressing that whole very important aspect.

End result: It's been 14 years since we got any content and I will take it for what it is, a movie length pilot of Baby's First Megamind for a superior tv show. An opportunity for a thousand gifsets and Roxanne running somebody over with a firetruck. If you're watching to get something out of it you probably will. I will be writing 12394393487 fanfics about Megamind and Roxanne actually having to prove they are dating to the Doom Syndicate.

Megamind Rules

Definitely better quality than the movie (I'm not going to talk about the animation etc because frankly the answer should always be pay your animators better and give them more time).

LOVED Megamind just breaking into Roxanne's office. Nice to seee some things never change. LOVED the Bodyswap episode (again, so much fanfic). LOVE LOVE LOVED Megamind and Roxanne laying on the kitchen floor together. We did not get enough scenes of them alone together.

LOVED Christina Christo, tired adults just trying to get their jobs done is my JAM and CREAM and SCONES and I love her (also why I loved Roxanne in the original). Loved her and Minion hanging out in episode 5. They need to be buddies more.

LOVED Roxanne wanting metal tickets for Megamind, everything about them having a shared history and interests filled my heart with glee.

LOVED the shot of Roxanne aiming the degun, Mucho sexy.

Loved Roxanne and Lady Doppler havign a history. How come we got more about tha than we did Megamind and Roxanne?

LOVED Megamind and Roxanne bonding over old kidnappings.

Ep 3 was heaps of fun. Doctor Doughnut was silly yet joyful. and I appreciate the Go Fish gang appreciation of his evil laugh.

The move from news reporting to streaming is actually a reasonable thing to happen, but I wish they'd delved into it better from Roxanne's side of what the shift away from traditional reporting and media meant for her. Social media and news have changed A LOT since the original movie. Again its one of those rich seams that fanfic exists to delve into.

LOVED the cockroach episode, but a missed opportunity for YOU RAISED A CHILD (TWO CHILDREN!) IN JAIL HOW ABOUT WE EXPLORE THAT A LITTLE MAYBE??

I guess we just...have a giant Minion in the lake now?

LOVED the Doom Syndicate just hanging out. Lady Doppler is me, sitting on a bench drinking tea.

The cliffhanger is a cliffhanger because they wanted a cliffhanger. But so help me if Roxanne isn't working from the inside in the next 8 episodes I will riot.

Characters

Megamind. Learning to be a person is right. Every time he got to be one on one with another character he became more himself. Every time he was one on one with Roxanne I was riveted.

Roxanne. My girl! They sidelined the shit out of her in this series! Sure she went off and got herself top job (Megamind and Minion calling her "Your majesty" was for me specifically) but so much of what made her a fun character in the movie (complete lack of fear in the face of villainy, her banter with Megamind, her willingness to just break into a villain's secret lair to find shit out got pushed onto Keiko and it left Roxanne with nothing to do. I don't know what they're planning for the future but I could see Christina taking over as Mayor eventually and Roxanne joining the crime fighting crew.

I HATED every time they called her Roxie, that was set up as an unwelcome nickname in the movie so I don't know why they backflipped on it here. HOWEVER I am prepared to accept it on the basis it made Megamind saying "Roxanne" in episode 8 that much more impactful (though they still could have used Miss Ritchi).

Keiko. I love Keiko as a character? But I hate her role in the show. She's the audience surrogate and the "Kid Relatable" for the kids to latch onto and they had her Exposition Voice in the DS movie what was actually much more cleverly crafted and characterised in the original movie. As a person she's cool and I like having her in the show I just wish it wasn't at the expense of Roxanne. They could have kept her as streaming socials girl and still left the investigation/danger to Roxanne and it would also have meant more time to explore what the Megarox relationship could be building towards/developing from.

I cringed all the way through Keiko dealing with the Doom Syndicate because it was telegraphed from a mile away such a tropey Kid Approved plot. I LOATHE making the tension about characters who have fucked up needing to admit they fucked up when its way more impactful to have them fess up immediately and put all the tension into how to solve the problem.

Machiavillain. He looks like a cunty Barbie villain and I love that for him. I assume we have to be getting the other 8 episodes at SOME point because otherwise that's a lot of Adam Lambert for not a lot of payoff.

Minion/Chum. ALSO learning to be a person and I have always had a soft spot for him. Showing that he has about as much sense as Megamind is a delight.

Christina Christo. I love her and I love that she and Megamind are constantly arguing for Roxanne's affection. Probably my favourite new addition.

End result: It's very Studio Approved For Kids! Enjoyed the show a lot more than the movie length pilot. Needs more Roxanne. Needs 10000 more game nights with Minion's electroshock orgasm ball.

Megamind was and is a PARODY of the superhero genre, break more rules! Don't just plod through the studio approved plot points! Having the original movie be all adults was actually really refreshing because you could get a lot more out of subtle shit without having to spell it out. One of my biggest peeves and the cause of a lot of fanfic is why is shoving Megamind into the hero role any better than shoving him into the villain role? Let him go be a mad inventor without having to save the city! Let him be a crime fighting villain!

And finally, so help me if Roxanne isn't front and centre beside Megamind where she belongs in the next season I will start biting.

FUTURE FANFIC I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO READING/WRITING

All of the evil fake dating. Make them have to fooool the Doom Syndicate. Make Roxanne need to stay over. make it only one bed. Make kisses with Megamind where they haven't even talked about the Bernard thing yet and they are both so messed up about it. (Fun fact! I wrote a fic with this premise way back before the show was even announced.

We're still fooling the Doom Syndicate and oh no they want to help plan the wedding.

We're still fooling the Doom Syndicate and oh no now we're actually getting married.

Roxanne actually dealing with her issues after the movie and why and how she goes into campaigning for Mayor.

Megamind and Roxanne breaking in the mayoral office (obviously).

Filthy sexy bodyswap shenanigans

How did Roxanne figure out Megamind's ticklish spots?

10 thousand character driven Roxanne hanging in the Lair moments

10 thousand Megamind hanging on the couch in Roxanne's office moments

A highly charged Roxanne and Lady Doppler bitter evil exes interaction (just for you @ejga-ostja)

Doom Syndicate shared public workspace office. Or just some random person going in to use the printer and constantly getting dragged into lackeying for them.

Metro City Meme War

An actual introspection on the move away from traditional news media and how it impacts Roxanne's decision to seek a new career.

Christina and Roxanne eat doughnuts and bitch about municipal planning

A Christina POV watching Megamind and Roxanne flirt/have awkward moments/dance around the Thing via a crack in the office door

A Christina and some other person in city hall epsitolary fic told via emails reporting on Megarox developments to the person running the pool and slowly getting more invested in these morosexuals getting together.

Megamind coming to find Roxanne for game night and finding her sacked out on the couch because being Mayor is HARD and napping on the floor beside her because being a hero is hard too

An absolute fuckton of hypnosis kink

Roxanne using her mayoral powers to address the fact that Megamind and Minion were raised in a prison and NOT ON MY WATCH THERE WILL BE REPERCUSSIONS AND WE ARE GONNA ADDRESS SOME SHIT

#Megamind #Megamind rules #megamind vs the doom syndicate #bug thoughts #someone save my girl she doesn't deserve to be sidelined for a kid character #Keiko is fine she is just IN THE WAY #shoo child the adults need to have nasty sex on the control desk

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thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Yours for the Weekend

Prompt Day 4: Winter-Themed Songs | Word Count: 8340 | Rating: M | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: AU, No Upside Down, Future Fic, Going Home, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Eddie POV

Also available right here on A03.

Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. It's changed. A new building, new paint scheme, a freshly paved parking lot. They've remodeled, and dozed down the memories, good and bad, that clung to this place.

The cafeteria is gone, moved somewhere new, he supposes.

Eddie isn't sentimental for school. He hated school, the three tries he had at his senior year are enough to prove that. But he misses that time, all the same. He misses Hellfire Club. He misses playing music in Gareth's garage. He misses their weekly Tuesday gig at The Hideout.

He misses his unlikely, and tentative friendship with Steve Harrington, that grew into their love that followed.

He doesn't miss his hometown, except for when he does.

"Since when do you miss this goddamn place?" Gareth asks, leaning over towards the driver's side from the passenger seat of the rental car. Stretching, trying to see Eddie's face as he stands outside the car.

He doesn't miss it. Not really.

"It's just changed. That's all," Eddie says, ducking down to look at Gareth. They've all changed.

"Come on, Eddie, it's fucking cold!" Goodie yells from the backseat, and Eddie hears Jeff shushing him.

Jeff's trying to give him a minute, even if the other two don't understand it. Eddie appreciates it. He doesn't really understand it himself. But driving by this place, and seeing it looking so different, did something to him he hadn't expected.

He escaped this place, and everything, everyone, in it.

That's all he ever wanted, and now…

Now, there's a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. He doesn't understand.

They're working in L.A., playing music every night. They aren't big, not really. Eddie sincerely doubts they'll ever be big. But they can afford to make music for a living, and that's not nothing. Not everyone can do that, but they've made it happen.

From living in a one bedroom apartment together, taking turns with who got the bedroom, while the rest of them crashed all over the living room until it was their turn again.

Then being able to afford two apartments. Right across the hall from each other. Jeff and Goodie in one, him and Gareth in the other. Their own separate bedrooms and everything.

To shopping around for single studios in nicer buildings, and just realizing that even though they can afford it, and somehow, they can, that they'd rather just stick together.

"Eddie!" Goodie yells again, and Eddie turns and puts his hands up in surrender, climbing back into the car.

Eddie drops Jeff off at home, then Goodie, and then it's just him and Gareth left in the car. Driving through the snow-packed streets of Hawkins.

"You could just talk to him, you know?" Gareth says, looking at Eddie, knowingly.

Eddie could try to deny it, but yeah, that's where his head has been since their plane touched down in Indiana. Where his head often is, always. But it's easier to push it to the back of his mind when there's some distance between him and his hometown. Between him and Steve.

"Yeah, well, last I heard he was getting married," Eddie says.

"That fell apart," Gareth says, "a long time ago. And you already know that."

Yeah, Eddie knows that. He just doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about, or hear about, what Steve's been up to since he's been gone. If he did, he'd ask. But it's none of his business, and it's not like Steve has been checking up on him, either. He's never flown out to L.A. and he definitely never asked Eddie to stay.

He let Eddie go, let him escape this place, and that was that.

"It's just easier not to," Eddie finally says.

"Sure it is," Gareth says, and Eddie cuts him a look.

"Since when are you on Team Steve?" Eddie asks. Gareth liked Steve just fine, but he was also the first in line to get out of this town, the minute he graduated high school and turned eighteen. He was definitely not at all concerned at the time that their skipping town meant Eddie's relationship with Steve would come to an end.

Gareth looks over at him, "What? I'm not. I'm Team Eddie. Always. But Team Eddie is kind of a sad sack team these days. We've got a losing record going, big time."

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But what do you know about sports? Nothing, last I checked."

"I played as a kid. Baseball. Soccer. You know, the usual suspects. Before I found the drums."

Eddie isn't sure he knew that. This is his best friend, and he's still learning things about him, all these years later.

"Just. Talk to him. Either finish it for good, or…"

"Just pick open some old scabs?" Eddie says, sarcastically.

"Sure, do that. We've got a first aid kit. We can bandage you up again. We did it the last time," Gareth says, and they did. They have. Over and over, for ten years. Without his friends, without his band, he doesn't know where he'd be. Aimless. Shiftless. A wanderer.

Just…lost.

"If I see him, I see him," Eddie finally concedes.

But he has no plans to see Steve Harrington. Not this trip. Not any trip.

He's snuck in and out of town a few times over the years, and hasn't ran into Steve yet. He's pretty sure they're on the same page about making sure they don't cross paths. And that's okay. Easier.

Finally alone, he pulls into Wayne's driveway in front of the comfortable little house. Eddie doesn't have a lot of money. But he worked his ass off while waiting for Gareth to finish high school. And every spare dime he had that wasn't earmarked for the band's move out west, went towards a house for Wayne.

It's not paid off, not by a long shot. But it's theirs. Their home. The trailer was starting to cost more to upkeep than a down payment on a house would be, so Eddie made that his goal. The last thing he'd do before he left town.

He did it. They'd moved Wayne in. Him and Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. Steve. The kids.

And then Steve had watched him go. It wasn't dramatic, their parting. The lore of it, between their friends, is far more interesting than the actual break-up ever was.

It was just quiet recognition that it was over. Eddie was going, and Steve was staying.

And he has stayed, all these years, as far as Eddie knows.

Steve opened an ice cream shop, selling artisan ice cream. Dustin has said Steve took some classes to learn how to make ice cream. Real ice cream. Fancy ice cream. And he took others to figure out how to run the business side. Ice cream, though. That's kind of a hilarious choice, after his stint at Scoops Ahoy when they were teens.

Less hilarious, was that Steve fell in love again, and almost married someone else. A woman Eddie never met, and he's glad. He couldn't have handled it. Not a chance in hell. But, it didn't matter, Eddie heard through the grapevine a year or two ago that the relationship had ended, just as quietly as theirs had.

At least Eddie had nothing to do with it. He would have, if all their mutual friends had gotten their way. Everybody had reached out, making sure he knew. Like it was his place to object. He left. Steve was bound to find someone else, eventually.

Eddie's never bothered with love again. He doesn't have the time or the energy. His heart was broken, by his own doing, a decade ago. And he's just never felt like sweeping up the shattered pieces of his heart, to try to give them to someone else.

It's broken, pretty much beyond repair, and he's used to it by now. He has one-night stands, he fucks around when the itch arises, but his heart? That's not in play. Not anymore. Been there, done that.

He gave that away a long time ago.

Steve never gave it back, and Eddie never asked him to, so, here they are.

Wayne opens the front door, and that's Eddie's cue. He steps out of the car and Wayne smiles.

Eddie jogs up the drive, careful of the ice, but he can't resist rushing into his arms, barreling into his chest, squeezing him tight.

"There's my boy," Wayne says quietly, and Eddie just holds on longer. He might be over thirty years old, but he's still Wayne's boy. Always has been, always will be. "Merry Christmas, Eddie. I'm glad you came home."

"Me too, old man."

Hawkins might be a place he's avoided, but he's missed Uncle Wayne like crazy.

He's thirty-two, but he suddenly feels much older, for some reason.

Wayne cooks them dinner, just like he always did, and Eddie sits down in the recliner next to him, plate in hand, right in front of the television.

The television is new since the last time Eddie was here, and large. Very large. Not at all in Wayne's usual style. Or budget.

"What possessed you to get a TV this big?" Eddie asks.

"Oh, a friend was getting a new one. Asked if I wanted this one. I said okay," Wayne says, not expanding on it. Like that's a full story.

"You finally got some rich friends I don't know about?" Eddie teases.

"You don't know everything about me, kid," Wayne teases back.

That's true. Wayne doesn't know everything about him either. Just most things. The things that matter the most.

"So, what are your plans while you're home?" Wayne asks.

And Eddie shrugs. They're only here for a few days. He just assumed he'd hang out around the house.

"Carolyn Jones called last week. She's expecting us all for dinner the day after Christmas," Wayne says.

And Eddie expected nothing less. Mama Jones will want to gather them all, now that they're home. Gareth didn't warn him, but Gareth probably didn't know about it either. His mom is always gonna do what she wants, anyway.

And she'll want all of her boys under her roof again, around her dining room table, for at least one meal.

So, they'll all go, parents included, and update them all on their lives in California. It'll be loud and a big production.

Not like tonight, just here with Wayne.

Eddie sits around and Wayne comes up behind his chair and hands him a bowl of ice cream. Eddie digs his spoon into it, and this definitely isn't from the cheap, plastic party buckets they used to buy while he was growing up.

This is pistachio. Good pistachio, his favorite flavor.

"Is this from…you know?"

He can't even say his name. He definitely can't eat his ice cream.

"No," Wayne says, and Eddie nods. Of course not. Eddie laughs just trying to picture Uncle Wayne buying fancy containers of Steve's ice cream. It's a ridiculous thought.

The next day, they have a quiet Christmas day at home, just the two of them. And they play the guitar together, and Eddie has fun like he hasn't in a long time. They should have made this trip longer. Only a couple days won't be enough.

They take turns picking songs to play, and it's just like it was when he was growing up. Before he got an attitude. He's missed Uncle Wayne, and this is the best Christmas Eddie's had in a long time.

The next morning, they're hanging around in Gareth's living room, like they don't see each other the other fifty-one weeks of the year.

"I'll make anything you boys want, you just have to go to the store and pick up the ingredients," Mama Jones says, and they start squabbling amongst themselves. All having different ideas.

"She's my mom. I should get to pick," Gareth whines, and the rest of them grumble, but concede. They've never had a bad meal in this house, and they expect tonight will be no different. No matter what Gareth chooses.

They all nod, and look at him, expectantly.

"Lasagna?" Gareth suggests, and that works. That definitely works.

In the store, they've split the list in half, Gareth taking one half, and Eddie taking the other. It's not even on the list, but Eddie stands in the freezer section for a long time, just staring at a small shelf of pints of ice cream. Dairy King Creamery. There's a locally made sticker on the glass, and these are Steve's, for sure.

Eddie reaches for the handle, and stops before he grasps it. That's not what they're here for. Not today. Maybe later, maybe before he goes back to L.A.

He wanders to an aisle he actually needs to be in, and he's squatted down, looking at all the different lasagna noodle choices. He doesn't know what the best option is. The cheapest? His instinct is always to go for the cheapest. But he consults his half of the list again.

Mama Jones has actually specified. That makes this much easier. So, he picks up three of the red boxes, and puts them in his basket, and pushes himself back upright.

"Eddie?"

Eddie hears the soft, familiar voice, and freezes.

Steve.

He turns and looks, and sure enough Steve is standing in the aisle of the Big Buy, right behind him. Pushing a cart full of groceries. Eddie wants to paw through them. Wants to learn something new about him.

He doesn't.

"Hi," Eddie says, just as soft.

Steve smiles at him, and Eddie smiles back. There's no bad blood here, not really, just distance. And time.

And then Steve is coming at him, clearly going to hug him, so Eddie just opens his arms. Wraps them around Steve, banging his basket against Steve's back, and holds on. He still smells like Steve, and Eddie leans into it for longer than he should, he's sure of it.

"Eddie, hurry up!" Gareth shouts, rounding the corner of the aisle.

Eddie turns his head, and Gareth has frozen like a deer in headlights. And Eddie steps back from Steve, reluctantly.

"Hey, Gareth," Steve says, crossing the distance, and offering him his hand.

Gareth takes it, and Eddie watches them shake.

"You all home this year?" Steve asks, looking between them, and they both nod.

"Yeah, all of us," Gareth says, once he realizes Eddie's not going to answer. He can't. His mouth is dry.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around town? I'm going to the Christmas parade tomorrow night, if either of you want to grab a hot chocolate and catch up or anything," Steve says, like it's an offer for the both of them.

It's not. It's an offer for Eddie. Eddie knows that. He's sure Gareth knows it, too.

Eddie nods, against his own will, but it makes Steve smile. So he doesn't regret it, too much. He doesn't have to go. Steve will understand if he doesn't show up.

And at that, Steve walks back towards his cart, grasping Eddie's shoulder and squeezing it on the way by.

Eddie watches him go, watches him walk away.

It is his turn to do that, after all.

When he turns the other way, Gareth's eyes are huge. Bugging out. Eddie just points at him, willing him to swallow all that down, at least until they're in the car.

Gareth seems to understand, and keeps quiet. Which is a Christmas miracle, for real.

It's only as he's bagging his groceries that he realizes the Christmas parade is after Christmas? What sense does that make?

"Is the Christmas parade really tomorrow? After Christmas?" Eddie asks the cashier, and she nods.

"They wanted it on Saturday, and well, you know Hawkins," she says.

Yeah, Eddie knows Hawkins.

They load the groceries into the rental car, and Eddie watches as Steve does the same across the parking lot, putting his stuff in the back seat of his pickup. Steve Harrington has a pickup now. Eddie would have never guessed that.

As soon as they're in the car, Gareth is vibrating.

"Okay, just let it out," Eddie says, resigned.

"You were fucking hugging him!" Gareth yells, and Eddie just looks at him, waiting to see if he's finished. Surely, this mouthy little shit has more to say than just that. But he just looks at Eddie.

"Was I supposed to dodge it? He hugged me first, I'll have you know."

"And you hated that, I'm sure," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"I never said that," Eddie answers.

"Well?"

"Well, what? I saw him. It was fine. We both lived."

"Are you going to the parade tomorrow?" Gareth asks.

"Probably not," Eddie says, and Gareth laughs as Eddie's putting the car into reverse. Gareth clearly isn't believing him. That's okay.

He shouldn't believe him.

Of course he's going.

And the next night, Eddie stands on the street, looking like he's waiting for the parade to start. But he's only waiting on Steve. Maybe Steve won't show up? Maybe it wasn't a real offer? Maybe he was just being nice?

But those thoughts, those fears, all melt away when he sees Steve pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk, stopping in front of Eddie, smiling.

"You want that hot chocolate?" Steve asks, and Eddie rubs his hands together. It's cold out here, so yeah, that sounds pretty damn good, right about now. At least it'll give him something to do with his hands.

Steve leads him down the street, and Eddie follows. He's not sure where they're going, but Steve pauses in front of a darkened storefront. Eddie looks up. It's Steve's store, and Eddie watches as Steve pushes the key into the lock, and turns it, pushing the door open.

The little bell on the door, ringing out in the silence.

Once they're inside the warmth of the shop, Steve locks the door behind them again, and nods for Eddie to follow him to the back. Eddie does, looking around as he goes. The wall is decorated with old pictures. The kids. Robin. Lots of Steve and Robin, together. Several of them in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms as teens.

He wonders where Robin is. This ice cream shop is half her baby, too, he's pretty sure. They don't do anything without each other. It's impossible.

There's a larger one of a teenage Steve, armed with an ice cream scoop, his other hand on his hip, looking very serious. He wasn't. Couldn't be, not in that little sailor suit. It makes Eddie smile. He remembers those days, with a hazy fondness. It's been so long now, but he can still picture Steve Harrington behind that brightly lit counter, just glowing.

Eddie keeps looking at the pictures, and there's one of him, too. With the band, when they were young, and still playing The Hideout every week.

Eddie runs his finger over the glass, and feels an ache in his chest. This was so long ago. A lifetime, really. He hasn't felt that young in a very long time. Gareth was a baby. They all were.

"You comin'?" Steve asks, and Eddie follows the sound of his voice. Steve's standing behind the counter, holding up the divider for Eddie, just like he did all those years ago in Scoops Ahoy. He looks even better now, in a warm sweater instead of dumb sailor hat.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Eddie says, and he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack at the front of the store before he follows Steve to the back, where he watches Steve make two mugs of hot chocolate.

"From packets, Harrington? I thought this was an artisan shop?" Eddie teases.

"Artisan ice cream, I said nothing about artisan hot chocolate," Steve banters back.

Eddie had expected a cup of hot chocolate from some sort of street vendor anyway, not one Steve made in the office of his store. His private space, that Eddie's been invited into. To look around, to spend some time with his first love.

His only love, honestly.

Eddie sits down on the couch, and soon enough he's being handed a steaming mug, and Steve is sitting down next to him, knees bumping against each other.

It's nothing. But it's also everything.

He's missed him so goddamn much. They can't go ten years without seeing each other again. No matter how painful it might be to look and not touch. Steve's too important. He's always been too important.

"Your shop is perfect, Steve," Eddie finally says, waiting on his mug to cool.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, "it's been pretty good. Even in the winter, surprisingly."

"That's great, I'm happy for you," Eddie says, smiling at him. "Why ice cream? Didn't you get enough of slinging it during high school?"

Steve smiles, "You know I make a mean scoop."

And he does. Long, steady strokes with precision. Perfect balls.

Eddie laughs, that sounds dirtier in his head than he meant it to. Years ago, he could have shared that thought out loud, but they aren't in that place together, not anymore.

Steve keeps talking, "I just thought, I can do this better. Better quality, better flavors. Just…better."

"It looks like you definitely did," Eddie says, and he means that.

Steve just shrugs, non-committal. But this is great. If he's been able to package it for retail sale, even just locally, that's really something.

"How's the band doing?" Steve asks, changing the subject. Or not, maybe. Maybe this is just pleasantries. All they have to say to each other, after all these years.

"Good. Good, we've got some great long-standing gigs. Guaranteed slots. We play most nights, somewhere or the other, and don't have to travel to do it," Eddie explains.

"That's great," Steve says.

They both just keep saying how great things are. Things aren't great. Not really.

"I'm happy you guys have made it," Steve adds.

Eddie laughs, "Made it might be a bit of a stretch, but we're working. We all do a lot of session work, Gareth especially. Session drummers are always needed, here or there."

"Do you have another job?" Steve asks, and Eddie knows exactly where this is going.

"No," Eddie still answers.

"Then you've made it, I say. You are a professional musician. Maybe not a famous one-"

"Hey!" Eddie interrupts, just ribbing him. He's right. But Steve often is. He was right to encourage them to take a chance on it. To see if they could make it work. And they have. They are professional musicians. Together, and apart.

"Goodie's got a girlfriend he's getting serious with. I think he's gonna move in with her, soon," Eddie says. "Maybe get married."

Eddie regrets saying it, as soon as it leaves his big mouth.

"I heard you were going to get married. I'm sorry that didn't work out," Eddie says, looking at his hands.

"Thanks, it just wasn't meant to be, you know?" Steve asks.

And, yeah, Eddie knows.

"Do you still live with Gareth?" Steve asks, and Eddie watches as his face tightens, like he regrets asking. Eddie gets it. He'd be too scared to ask, too.

So, Eddie answers fast, putting him out of his misery.

"Yep, I'll never be able to shake that kid," Eddie says, and Steve chuckles.

"You wouldn't want to if you could," Steve says, and that's the truth. He wouldn't. He likes living with Gareth. He isn't lonely. And he's with someone he loves. That's a comfort Eddie wouldn't want to give up even if he could.

It might not be a love like he once shared with Steve, but it's still a love. Platonic with a capital P, as Robin would say.

"Where's Robin?" Eddie asks, once she's popped into his head. Seeing Steve once without Robin might be normal, but twice? No way.

"She's on a Christmas cruise," Steve says, with a grin.

"No fucking way. The Robin I knew would never."

"The Robin you knew wasn't ass over teakettle in love," Steve says, smiling. "I'm happy for her. Even if she left me alone for Christmas. She invited me to come, of course, and I thought third-wheeling it on a ship to Mexico might be fun. And warm, at least. So, I considered it, but one of us needed to stay with the shop."

Eddie thinks he was thisclose to missing Steve on this trip, too. If he'd decided to just close up the shop and go with her.

"Well, good for her. Tell her I said hi," Eddie says.

"I definitely will," Steve says with a smile. "I'm sure she'll say hi back."

Eddie isn't so sure about that. Robin was very against Eddie leaving back then, and wasn't scared to let them all know. She was the only one fighting for them to stay, and she lost, all her protests drowned out by Eddie's need to run.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it was quiet. A day off, though, so that was nice," Steve says. "You?"

"Yeah, it was just Wayne and me at the house. But that was good."

"I'm sure he's missed you," Steve says.

"I've definitely missed him," Eddie answers, because he has. More than he realized, maybe.

This is getting too serious, too sad, so Eddie needs to fix that.

"Am I gonna get to try any of this famous ice cream?" Eddie asks, changing the subject to something lighter, and Steve laughs, but jerks his head towards the front of the store.

He picks up one of the little sample spoons, and dips it into a tub, and hands it to Eddie.

"What is it?" Eddie asks.

"Just try it, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie does as he was told.

It's sweet, and chocolate based, but with a depth Eddie can't put his finger on.

"Chocolate Cherry Bourbon," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"It's good. Really good," Eddie says. And it is. It's very smooth on the tongue, like the best ice creams all are.

"It's Wayne's favorite, I think," Steve says, and Eddie looks over at him. He never considered that Wayne would still be in contact with Steve on any sort of regular basis. But they still live in the same town, and Wayne didn't break up with Steve. Eddie did.

"But he also likes this one," Steve adds, getting a new little spoonful and offering it up to Eddie.

Eddie puts that one in his mouth, too.

"Oh, shit, that's good," Eddie says, closing his eyes to savor it.

"Butterscotch-Infused Whiskey and Pecans," Steve says.

"An ocean of flavor," Eddie teases, and Steve hip-checks him.

And then Steve gets him another sample, and this one isn't spiked, Eddie doesn't think, anyway. But it's bright red with black and white swirls.

It's a punch of chocolate, deep and rich. And maybe cream cheese? Eddie isn't a professional taste tester. But it's very good.

"Hellfire," Steve says, with a smirk, "hope you don't mind."

Eddie swallows. Of course he doesn't mind. That Steve would even want to name it after something Eddie loved so deeply, is really something.

"Of course I don't mind," Eddie says, handing the used spoon back to Steve and watching as he tosses it in the trash along with the others. "I'm honored. That you'd, you know, think of me. Of Hellfire."

Steve's whole face softens, "Eddie. I think about you all the time."

And Eddie is moving before he's even decided to do it. Pressing his cold lips against Steve's warm ones. Steve catches him and kisses him back, tangling his hand in Eddie's hair. It's desperate, this kiss. Demanding, and pent up, with years of wanting.

Years of waiting.

Eddie clings to him, desperate to be closer to him. Because he is desperate for Steve, there's no denying that.

He always has been.

When they finally, finally break apart, both breathing hard. Chests heaving with the intensity of it all, Eddie smiles. He's embarrassed. But not that embarrassed.

"Wanna get out of here?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. "You want an ice cream for the road?"

And you know, Eddie does, so he nods again.

So, Steve grabs a waffle cone, and piles it high with a fourth untested flavor, handing it over.

Eddie licks it, and it's pistachio. Eddie's favorite.

"My favorite," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, and that settles right into Eddie's chest.

Steve reaches into the freezer and turns the little sign that's stuck into the ice cream around, so Eddie can read it: Eddie's Pistachio.

He grins at Steve, and takes another lick. This one with a promise behind it.

Steve helps him put on his coat, trying to help him juggle it and the cone. And when they step onto the street, Steve looks at him, "You drive here?"

Eddie shakes his head. Wayne only lives a couple blocks away, and he figured finding parking would be a bigger hassle than just walking.

Steve puts his hand on the small of Eddie's back, and leads him around the block, and then into the alley. His pickup is parked back there. There's a perk, Eddie supposes. Dedicated parking.

Eddie climbs up in it, and settles in, still licking his ice cream cone. And Steve pulls them onto the street, and away from the parade. Since most of the town is there, the streets are dead. And Eddie looks around, taking in the lights.

Steve knows what he's doing, of course he does, so he steers them into Loch Nora, and lets him look at the rich houses, decorated to the nines. At least that's never changed.

They pass Harrington House, and Eddie wonders if Steve lives there. Or, if his parents still do. Steve reads his mind.

"My mom and dad flew south a few years ago," Steve says, "and by that time I had my own house, so they sold it."

Eddie nods. He knows it's hard to leave your childhood home, permanently. He's done it twice. He's an expert, and it hurts in a way you never expect, and you never really get over. That the place you grew up, isn't yours to call home anymore.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"It's okay. I like my house," Steve says. "You want to see it?"

And Eddie swallows. He knows what that offer entails, if he wants it to, and he nods, "Yeah. I do."

"Finish that cone, and we'll do that," Steve says, and it's husky and full of promise.

Eddie licks faster.

They pull up in front of a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but not Loch Nora. And Eddie follows Steve up the path, and onto the porch. Once they're inside, Steve pushes his front door closed behind them, grappling for Eddie's coat, trying to strip it off his shoulders, but they're too close to each other. Too tangled, and Eddie laughs.

He helps the process along, shedding it, finally.

And then he's attached to Steve, again. It's desperate, and he should probably be embarrassed, but he's not. He needs this. He needs Steve. He's always needed Steve.

And he lets Steve lead him to his bedroom.

Steve's walking him backwards, kissing him, hands roaming all over Eddie's body.

"Where have you been all my life?" Eddie asks, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"Right here where you left me," Steve answers, but there's no heat behind it, only the truth.

And Eddie presses his lips to Steve's neck, and smiles when Steve moans under his touch. Eddie loves to know that he can still play him like a goddamn fiddle, it makes him endlessly happy.

Steve kicks open his bedroom door, and pulls his shirt over his head. Eddie follows his lead, and watches as Steve digs in his nightstand, producing a bottle of lube and a row of condoms.

He throws them on the bed, and starts pulling his jeans down.

Fuck, yes.

After, Steve is stroking the back of his hand, legs tangled together, the sheet pooled around their waists. Eddie hasn't been this warm in years. This comfortable. Not since Steve, the first time.

"I know you have a whole life there, and I have a whole life here," Steve says, "but if you want to pretend things are the same, just for a while. Just while you're here. We could. We can, you know. I've missed you."

And Eddie wants.

Wants that more than anything, but he's scared that blundering down the road not taken is just going to hurt more than ever before once they reach that fork at the end, again. That dead end that separates them off, again.

But he's already in this. The damage has been done. So, he turns and smiles. Nodding.

"I've missed you, too."

And the grin Steve gives him is blinding.

"I could be your sweetheart, again, just for the weekend. While you're home," Steve says, like that isn't something that's going to break Eddie's fucking heart.

Eddie gathers up Steve's hand, and pulls it to his chest, his heart.

Steve's been his sweetheart for a long time, together or not.

"You've always been my sweetheart," Eddie says, and it might sound like bullshit, but it's the truth. It's always been the truth.

Steve burrows closer, resting his head on Eddie's chest. Over his heart. He runs his fingers over Eddie's bare stomach, touching the tattoos there. He's gotten a lot more ink since he's seen Steve last, and Steve is touching them all, getting acquainted.

Eddie runs his hand down Steve's arm, pausing at a raised scar under his elbow.

"Oven rack. Decided right then and there that cookies in the shop were a no go," Steve says, laughing a little into Eddie's skin.

"Sounds wise," Eddie says, and he'd kiss the scar if he could reach it. Later. He'll do it later.

The door that was cracked open, pushes open wider, and Eddie just about jumps out of his skin.

"That's just Pudding," Steve says, as a big, fluffy cream colored cat jumps up onto the bed. Then stopping at the foot, looking at Eddie.

Steve laughs, "It's fine, Puddy. C'mere, boy. It's just Eddie."

Like the cat is going to understand that, Eddie thinks, but the cat stomps up Steve's legs, and then steps a tentative paw onto Eddie's bare chest. Eddie reaches out and pets him on head, and the big cat leans into Eddie's touch.

"See? You're already friends," Steve says, and he isn't sure if Steve is talking to him or the cat.

The cat meows, and then hops down, before walking back out the door he'd opened.

Steve curls back up against Eddie, wrapping his arm over his chest.

"You'll still be here in the morning, right?" Steve asks.

"I'll still be here," Eddie promises, and closes his eyes.

And he is, and they sleep in, just lazing in bed all morning. Trading kisses, and blow jobs, and just touching each other all over before Steve has to get up and open the shop. He drops Eddie back off at Wayne's with a goodbye kiss, and Wayne steps out on the porch, and waves. Steve waves back, and Eddie trudges through the snow towards the house. It snowed more overnight, leaving a fresh layer of white all over town.

It looks brand new.

It feels brand new.

Eddie slips past Wayne at the door, "Don't say a word, old man."

"I wouldn't dare," Wayne answers, holding the door open for him.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie's hopeful, for just a second, that it's Steve. But Steve's at work, and Robin's out of the country.

So, it's not Steve, it's just Gareth.

"I tried to call you this morning. Wayne said you didn't come home last night," Gareth says, slightly snippy.

He pushes past Eddie, already hanging up his coat. Eddie guesses he's staying.

"So, I take it you two talked," Gareth says, finally looking at Eddie.

"Yeah, we talked," Eddie says.

"And fucked?" Gareth asks, and Eddie isn't going to be shamed by this kid.

"And fucked. What of it?"

"Was just trying to gauge how bad the cleanup from this was gonna be. So, bad, right?"

Eddie shrugs. He doesn't think so. It doesn't feel bad right now, but maybe it will when the weekend ends, and he's back in L.A., without Steve, again.

"We were just two old friends, having some casual sex," Eddie says, knowing it's a lie even as it rolls off his tongue.

Gareth laughs, "You and I are old friends. And we don't have casual sex with each other."

"Did you want to? You never said," Eddie teases, and Gareth shoves his shoulder.

Eddie smiles at him, then decides to be honest, "You know what I mean. It's comfortable, with Steve. With someone you know that well, even if a lot of time has passed. It was just like riding a bike."

"Eddie…"

"Gareth…" Eddie mocks, then softens, "I'm a big boy. I know what I've done."

"I hope so," Gareth says, digging around in Wayne's fridge, then moving to the freezer.

"And you're already buying his fancy-ass ice cream, you're just asking to suffer," Gareth says, plucking a tub out of the freezer.

"Those aren't mine, and Wayne's a dirty liar," Eddie laughs. "He gave me some the other night, and I asked if it was Steve's, and he said no."

"Well, it is from the Dairy King himself," Gareth says, popping off the lid of a bright purple container, peeling back the foil seal, and getting a spoon. "You want?"

Eddie lets Gareth feed him a spoonful, and it's good. They've all been good so far, but Eddie's not really surprised.

He turns the container in Gareth's hand so he can read the label: Lavender Berry.

"Are you gonna give me shit about this?" Eddie asks, and Gareth just looks at him. Shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

Then, Gareth looks away, and that's not the reaction Eddie was expecting.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You are coming home with us, right? Back to L.A.?" Gareth asks, not looking at him.

Eddie reaches forward and squeezes both of his shoulders, "Yes, I'm going home with you. I promise."

Gareth nods, but doesn't really look like he believes him, and Eddie understands why.

Wayne comes in later and nods at them.

"I owe you some ice cream," Gareth says, and Wayne just nods again.

Wayne just doesn't get too worked up about things like that. He knew Eddie was home. Anything in house would be fair game to eat, as far as Wayne would remember.

"So, I thought that ice cream the other night wasn't Steve's?" Eddie asks, eyeing Wayne as he stands by his edge of the couch.

"Steve's? You never asked if it was Steve's, you asked if it was you know's and it sure wasn't," Wayne says, with just a hint of a smirk.

"You're an asshole, old man."

"Learned it from you," Wayne says back, and pops Eddie on the head with the newspaper he has in his hand.

Eddie grins up at him

Steve turns up again, after his shop has closed for the evening, and while they didn't have plans, Eddie was waiting on him. Steve has a brown paper sack, and opens the freezer and starts refilling it.

"Gareth stopped by earlier, said he owed Wayne some ice cream," Steve says, replacing a purple pint container just like the one Gareth had eaten, and then several others.

Eddie picks up a green one: Eddie's Pistacho.

It's a love letter, and one Steve probably assumed Eddie would never read.

"He didn't owe him that much ice cream," Eddie teases, and Steve laughs.

"Some are from me. I try to keep him stocked up," Steve says, and Eddie loves him for that. He loves him for lots of things, but especially that he's still stayed in contact with Wayne while Eddie was gone.

Wayne's out at his usual bar with his friends, and Steve settles onto the couch with Eddie, draping arm over Eddie's shoulders. It looks casual, but it's not. Eddie knows better, but he doesn't care, and he leans into Steve's side.

They hadn't made plans, but Eddie had still expected him. He thinks they're gonna just gonna act like nothing has changed, for these couple days. He's okay with that, okay with anything he can get.

Steve is scratching his blunt nails against Eddie's jeans, and it's driving Eddie a little crazy.

"Want to go out and eat, or…" Steve trails off.

"Anything is good with me," Eddie answers, and that's true.

Steve gets up and starts going through Wayne's cabinets, and watching him, Eddie is certain it's not the first time he's been in this house, in that kitchen. Wayne has never mentioned that, but Eddie understands why he didn't.

"We could make pancakes?" Steve offers, and Eddie nods.

It's just a box mix, but they stand together, and watch each pancake brown and bubble in the old cast iron pan. Steve's putting butter down to melt before spooning each one into the hot skillet. They're thick and fluffy, and when they sit down at the bar to eat them, they are pretty damn good for being from a box.

Eddie doesn't cook all that much with their weird, late hours, and Gareth doesn't either, so they rely on delivery and take-out a lot more than they should. They could make pancakes from a box. Maybe they should, more often. Get his own cast iron pan, and grow up, maybe.

After they've eaten, they do the dishes, side-by-side, and one thing leads to another, and they push and pull each other into Eddie's bedroom, not stopping until they're sprawled out on the bed, Steve on top of him.

Eddie cups Steve's face, and Steve leans into his touch, turning his face until he can press a kiss into Eddie's palm.

And that's…everything. The dam between has not only sprung a leak, it's now rushing out full speed, wide open.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve closes his eyes, just leaning into Eddie's touch.

"I still love you, Eddie," Steve says, eyes still closed.

And Eddie grips his hip with his other hand, "I still love you, too."

Then Steve presses down, grinding their bodies together, and it's like no time has passed. Like he's still twenty-two, and madly in love with his boy.

No, now he's thirty-two, and madly in love with this man.

They're cuddled up on the couch, watching television, when Wayne comes home.

"Night, boys," Wayne says as he passes through, heading on to bed.

"Well, I should go," Steve says, standing.

Eddie stands with him.

"You can stay, you know," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They fly out tomorrow. He wants Steve to stay. Or he'll go home with Steve. Whatever Steve wants. He wants one more night with him, however he can get it.

And Steve walks to the guest room, so Eddie follows. The sheets are still a tangled mess from earlier, and he's sure Wayne noticed as he walked by. Eddie doesn't care, and he knows that Wayne doesn't either.

Eddie didn't pack a lot of clothes, but he rummages through what he has, and throws Steve a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

Steve holds them, and smiles back at him.

They get ready for bed, and then curl up together under the quilt. Hands and mouths wandering, as they whisper promises to each other in the dark that Eddie hopes they can keep.

When the sun peeks through the curtains, Eddie groans. He's not ready. He wasn't ready the first time, and he's definitely not ready now. They eat breakfast with Wayne, sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, just talking. After Wayne goes to work, hugging Eddie goodbye until next time, they take a shower together, and Eddie memorizes every inch of Steve's body. Every new mole, every new scar. The fact that he has even thicker chest hair than he had, before.

Eddie wants to remember it all.

There's a horn honking out front, and it's the band, ready to go. Eddie's not ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He hugs Steve a little longer, before the honking becomes too much to ignore. Wayne's neighbors are gonna get pissed.

Eddie opens the front door to acknowledge them, and none of them seem surprised to see Steve following him out of the house. He supposes Gareth told them, or Steve's truck in the drive gave it away.

Steve leans in, hugging Eddie again, pressing their lips together, before breaking apart. Steve leans his face close to Eddie's, "It was nice to be your sweetheart again."

And Eddie wants to cry, might just do it.

He cups Steve's cheek, "You're always gonna be my sweetheart."

"Can we-"

"Eddie, c'mon! We're gonna miss our flight!" Goodie screams from the backseat, interrupting Steve. A broken record, that one.

Steve has him pressed against the side of the car, but Eddie manages to get his hand behind him, flipping Goodie off through the window. He feels the window coming down, and he snatches his hand back before Goodie crushes his hand, or bites his fingers. Something unpleasant, for sure.

Eddie pushes off the car, still kissing Steve, still pressed close together.

When they finally break apart, Eddie rests his forehead on Steve's.

"We're gonna make this work, right?" Eddie asks. "For longer than the weekend?"

And Steve nods.

"I gotta go now," Eddie says, even if he doesn't want to. Not at all. "But I'd rather stay with you. You know that, right? I'm not running from you. Not again."

"I know. Call me when you get home," Steve says.

"I will," Eddie promises.

"I'll come see you next month," Steve promises, and Eddie squeezes him harder.

"Eddie!" Jeff yells, and Eddie knows that's his actual cue. If Jeff's getting involved, they actually are running late.

"I love you, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I've always loved you."

"I've always loved you, too," Steve echoes, and Eddie kisses him one more time.

And then they're driving away, Steve in the rearview mirror, just like he was a decade ago.

Only, this time, he's smiling and waving.

Eddie leans out of the passenger window, and winter air is freezing, but he looks back, waves, and blows Steve a kiss.

He can't see the details of Steve's face, not from this far, but he sees his hands in his pockets, and how he rocks backwards on his heels. And Eddie can read that body language, perfectly, even all these years later.

He's laughing.

Eddie slides back into his seat, and he smiles, pulling his hair over his mouth.

"Jesus Christ," Goodie mumbles, and Eddie tosses his head back and laughs. Gareth reaches over and pats him on the thigh, and Eddie turns and smiles at him, and Gareth is smiling back.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie says, wedging the phone against his ear as he's unpacking his suitcase.

"Hey, honey," Steve says, and Eddie can hear the smile on his face. "Your flight okay?"

"Uneventful. Except Goodie acting like a big ol' baby. He's thirty years old and still scared to fly. He's ridiculous. We haven't crashed yet," Eddie teases and Steve laughs.

"Be nice," Steve tells him, and Eddie laughs. Impossible. If they weren't making fun of each other, something would really be wrong. "Robin's home. She's mad she missed the big reunion."

"Well, she should haven't decided to go on a Christmas cruise," Eddie says.

"That's what I said!" Steve hollers, and Eddie can hear Robin in the background scrabbling for the phone.

"Hey, dingus número dos" she says.

"Hey, Buckley," Eddie says, "sorry I missed you."

"Yeah, yeah, I bet you are," she says, like she's threatening. She's not threatening. Well, not too threatening. "You better listen to me, Munson. If you hurt him-"

"I know, I know," Eddie says, "I'm in to win it, Buckley."

"You better be," she says, and then she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I've missed you, too, you know."

"Back at you, Robbie," he says.

"Do I get to come visit with Steve?" she asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Any time you want to," he promises.

"I'll hold you to that," she assures, "I'll just want until you've got all the fucking out of your system."

"That's never gonna happen," Eddie says, and she laughs.

"I'm happy for him, and for you, too. Took you long enough," she says.

He laughs.

They've been in this thing, alone and apart. Now, they're gonna be in it, together and apart. Hopefully not forever, but this is an improvement, that's for goddamn sure.

"How was your cruise with your lady love?" Eddie asks, and Robin laughs.

"It was great," she says, and tells him all about it, and then she pauses for a long few seconds, and Eddie wonders if the call has dropped, but then she's speaking again, softly, "We should all go together, next year."

"Count me in," Eddie says easily, "now, put my sweetheart back on."

And Robin says bye and does just that.

"Hi, it's me again," Steve says, and Eddie couldn't be happier.

Him again is the dream.

And Eddie listens as Steve talks about his newest flavor idea, and Eddie can't wait to try it the next time he's back home. He doesn't know what their long-term plan looks like, just that they're gonna do this life thing together for a while. See what happens.

They didn't do so hot flying solo, so he's definitely ready to try it as partners again. Now that they're both older. Now that they both know what they want, and who they love.

It's gonna work out this time, Eddie can feel it.

And he smiles, Steve's voice in his ear.

Notes: I know this song has been done roughly a million times in every fandom. But it was on the song list for a reason. Because it's a damn good fic prompt. So, more cake? I hope.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🍨

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my Steddiemas tag right here!

#steddiemas #winter-themed songs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas #gareth (stranger things)#jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak)#corroded coffin boys #gareth & eddie #steddie fic #christmas fic #'tis the damn season

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steampunkforever · 1 month

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Dune Part 2 is once more proof that Denis Villeneuve is an incredibly calculating director. And it should be good. He's been storyboarding Dune since the 80s. Of course Zack Snyder also released a film recently that'd been his passion project since before he was making movies, and Rebel Moon sucked, so that's clearly not a metric for success, but you get my point.

Right on the heels of releasing the phenomenal Sicario, Villeneuve got the keys to Dune. This is a moonshot take the money and run opportunity. I love this type of film. One of those "They may never let me do this again" movies like Magnolia or (to a lesser extent) Apocalypse Now! that build on previous success to sucker studio funding for something you really want to do. Usually this involves jumping to it and spending as much money as possible before accounting changes its mind about sending all those blank checks, but Denis was just as calculating as ever with it.

Adapting two more scifi properties at differing scales was the right idea for this, both allowing for more time to develop Dune and for Villeneuve to find his footing with less ambiguous science fiction (considering that my friends who watched Enemy barely understood it to be about aliens). Villeneuve is calculating. His steps are measured, and I've yet to see a film of his that feels outright rushed.

I think that this is in part due to Villeneuve's understanding that he is (at least up until the release of Dune) not part of a generation of directors who get whatever they want. This generation of director has been waning for a long time, but Nolan and Tarantino really mark the last generation of directors allowed to experiment on blank checks no matter if their last film flopped. Zack Snyder is also technically ranked among them but his decade-long slump is clearly an outlier. Villeneuve has to put out solid movies to earn the right to take creative risks, and Dune has clearly been another measured step in his film career. Which is to say that Dune Part 2 is fantastic.

I have a deeply nuanced relationship with Dune screen adaptations, so do note that there is some bias here, but regardless, this is a wonderful film. Did I wish they'd stuck to their guns and shown Alia for real? Did I kind of hope they kept it to just two films instead of the projected 3+ that are sure to come? Am I still outraged that they didn't recast Sting? Of course. But when it all boils down, this film is a science fiction accomplishment that you SHOULD go see.

The set design, sound design, acting, and cinematography were all top notch. There was rarely anything in this film I did not love (read: Timothee, my archnemesis). Of particular note were Pugh, Ferguson, and Bardem's performances. Bardem's Stilgar was an absolute delight, and I found myself losing the fact that he was acting in his performance. The plot, spectacle, and inclusion of Christopher Walken all sold me on the film.

Another detail that was clear evidence of Villeneuve's extremely calculated process was Zendaya's role as Chani in Part 2. Chani (largely sidelined in the books after showing up partway) is positioned as sort of the soapbox character to remind you that colonialism is bad at predetermined intervals. And while this is certainly not a choice I would've made for the character (I prefer to do my soapboxing in different parts of the text) I can't help but find that I didn't hate Chani's direction in the film. This is in spite of the fact that I detest Soapbox characters (except for in Spike Lee films. Love you Spike Lee) and find their usage lazy. Somehow it works for me here, even if it could've been more subtly rolled into the narrative. Man I'm really reaching for nitpicks, I should go back to demanding they show me a creepy toddler Alia.

Anyway if Sting was the one fighting Timothee's Paul that twink would get stabbed to death so hard you have no idea.

#sting metal diaper zone #dune part two #dune 2 #filmposting #dune

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cursedcupcakemaster · 12 days

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This is a small series I made for nothing but enjoyment

Notes:I don't own twisted wonderland or it's characters

this is just my interpretation of how they'd be they belong to Yana Toboso and Disney

Reader is gender neutral, some of these are kind of short, this one is with a reader who's an adult reader has different jobs because why not? Mozus trein won't be in this edition but I might make one for him eventually

Warnings:depression implication

How the staff comforts you after a bad day

Divus Crewel

Divus felt quite lucky to be the partner to one of the worlds best designers at least in his opinion

Divus went to go see you after work but to his surprise you weren't in your studio

He tried to call you but you weren't picking up and he knew something wasn't right

There was one other place you could be so he drove to your home

He got in using the key under the mat and looked for you until he heard sobbing upstairs

Divus walked upstairs knocking calling for you until he heard "go away" and went inside

He found you under the blankets sobbing and the room was a mess with many sketches torn up or crumpled and right away Divus knew what was wrong

He gently pried the blanket away asking if you were experiencing a bit of a block

Looking up at him with red tear stained eyes you nodded before he embraced you telling you it was alright to not know what to do next sometimes it happens to every great artist

And in his eyes you were nothing but the best, he dried your eyes making you some tea

Divus knows sometimes you need a break from trying to create

He makes sure after this incident to check on you more often just in case

Sam

You happened to work for another school so your meeting times were limited

In any case he was ready to see you after a long day of work

He passed through the gates seeing many of your coworkers and students but there was no sign of you

He looked everywhere but he couldn't find you until he saw your pet rabbit

The rabbit looked at him as it asking him to follow

soon enough Sam was lead to where you stay and it was pretty dark and from what he could make out it was a mess

He saw you crying on your desk before he placed a hand on your shoulder

Sam asked what you what happened and understood once he heard your woes

You had to teach a bunch of kids who clearly were a bunch of deliquents and didn't know how to handle it much longer

They trashed your classroom, didn't pay attention to lessons and clearly your boss wasn't doing anything to help

It honestly ticked Sam off if he were to be honest

Sam took you in his arms promising you things would be fine before your rabbit jumped up snuggling you both

He may or may not have pulled some strings to get you transferred to Night Raven to work with him so that stress wouldn't be as heavy on you

Sam just cares a lot about you

Dire Crowley

Believe it or not he isn't always useless at least not when it involves his partner, who so happened to be a gardener

Dire becomes concerned after you don't come to visit him for a few days

After this he went looking for you and he was horrified at what he saw

Your once beautiful garden that you were so proud of and loved was wilted and dying

Dire knew this wasn't normal, not for you he went to your home looking for you until he found you on the couch miserable

Dire asked you, why you looked like that and why your garden was dying when you were so proud of it

You told him how your just felt too much at once and even gardening didn't help when he wasn't there

Dire felt bad, of course he was in charge of a school but in the process he had forgotten to check on you when you were like this

He wiped your tears gently with his thumbs before taking your hands in his own and told you he'd help you get things back in order

This was enough to help you get out of bed and with that you got to work

By the end your garden was healthy again and in its center was a large beautiful apple tree

Dire enjoys gardening with his beloved among the flowers he finds them the fairest of them all

Ashton Vargas

Ashton might be Vain but there is room in his heart for you and you so happened to be a Model was a bit of a bonus

Unfortunately you had been ignoring him as of late

He didn't get it, he was always in tip top shape so why were you ignoring him

Ashton went to see you and managed to intimidate your manager into letting him through only to find your dressing room trashed

Make up and perfume bottles smashed to pieces, clothes torn to shreds and your face was a mess from mascara and hot tears

He asked you what was wrong and what happened in there

You told him ,you couldn't take it anymore your job was very demanding and it was just too much for you

You barely had a sense of privacy thanks to your schedule

He felt awful he barely paid attention to you and this is what happened

Ashton hugged you tight and told you maybe you needed some time off away from the hustle of modeling clothes at least for a few days

He had a campsite set up with some things he thought you'd like including some stew he made

The best part would be when the stars come out and he keeps you close

Ashton knows he has to try better for you and he isn't a quitter

#Divus Crewel #Sam #dire crowley #ashton vargas #twisted wonderland #disney #Teacher edition #Problems #Yeah crowley is a dumbass but he cares about his dove #I feel kinda not so great

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innytoes · 2 months

Note

let's throw a curve ball (is that the right metaphor? I know nothing) 21 and/or 16 for the Caleb/WD* au

*Willie's Dad ;P

How do I even explain this AU? Well, Yeo wrote in some fic or tags something about Caleb being Willie's stepdad and it spiraled from there.

Today had been awesome. He had spent the morning skating around town, landing some sick tricks, and then he and Alex had a date. They'd gone to a cute little cafe and a music store and gotten ice cream together and talked and talked and kissed for hours.

So yeah, Willie had an excellent day.

Until he came home and found his dad making out with his dance teacher in the kitchen. Like, full on making out, with tongues and teeth and rucked up shirts and in the kitchen where Willie made his sandwiches.

"What the fuck?" he blurted out, because seriously, what the fuck?

"Willie!" Dad said, and gross, his lips are all shiny and his face is all flushed. "Okay, so, I can explain..."

"IN THE KITCHEN?" Willie shouted instead, because well. He knew his dad wasn't straight. And had recently started dating again. Though could he have found anyone else to date besides his dance teacher? "With my dance teacher? Really dad? You couldn't just go on the apps like a normal person?"

"Well actually," Caleb started, and Willie decided he really didn't want to hear the rest of that story. And Caleb wasn't his teacher here, so Willie didn't have to listen to him. So he covered his ears and shouted 'ew ew ew' all the way to his room.

He hid under the covers, trying to wrap his head around this. He pulled Lancelot close, burying his face in the plush dragon's soft stomach.

He'd told dad he was fine with him dating. And he was. But why did it have to be his teacher? What if they broke up and Willie had to switch dance schools? Or worse, what if they stayed together and Willie still had to switch because of bias or something? Those classes were cut-throat sometimes, and he could see the dance moms out for blood if Willie got a part they wanted their kid to have and they found out Caleb was dating Willie's dad.

Because it wasn't like he disliked Caleb, or anything. Sure, he was a little extra sometimes, but that's part of what made class fun. And he never got weird about gender stuff, all parts were cast based only on talent. The dress code was lax, and the rules weren't so stifling they made dancing un-fun, unlike some of the other studios Willie had tried.

Also Caleb was just really cool and accepting. And funny, in a snarky way. And he never let anyone get away with any kind of bullying. And when Willie was having trouble with a certain part of the routine, he let Willie stay after class and worked with him on it.

So okay, maybe Willie understood those were all things that could be nice for a boyfriend to have. Alex was also cool, and funny, and kind, and principled. But still... the kitchen. Where they ate.

There was a knock on the door, and Willie grumbled out a 'whaaat'. Because he wasn't actually mad at his dad or anything.

"I brought you Oreos as a peace offering," his dad said, sticking his head through the door.

Willie sat up, pouting. "You may enter," he allowed, making grabby hands. He had no idea where Dad had hid those from him, because usually Oreos didn't last in this house.

Dad sat on the bed with him, forking over the goods. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Caleb sooner," he said, as soon as Willie's face was stuffed with cookies so he couldn't talk back. His dad was a wily one. "We really wanted to make sure we had something before we told you."

"Do you?" Willie asked.

The way his dad's face turned shy and happy at the same time said everything Willie needed to know. "I think so. I really like him, Willie."

"Uh yeah, I could tell," Willie said, because while he was happy for his dad, he did Not Want To See That. The shy smile turned into an embarrassed grimace. "Two rules. One: no matter what happens, you won't make me switch dance classes, and Caleb won't be weird about it."

"I promise," Dad said, holding out his pinkie. Willie hooked his pinkie around it, and they shook on it. "What about the second rule?"

"No sex in the kitchen!" Willie said. "Or any of the shared living spaces! No sex on the couch, or in the garden, or on the stair case, or wherever else you two want to get nasty."

His dad sighed, but held his pinkie out again. Only when he promised that did Willie deign to share his Oreos.

#julie and the phantoms #willie throckmorton #fanfic #willie's dadxcaleb #I wrote a thing #listen they already knew each other and probably flirted a bit #and then they saw each other on grindr and welllll #caleb 100% does not change a single thing about how he treats Willie in dance class #so much so that everyone thinks Willie's stepdad is just some other dude named Caleb #not their dance teacher #Caleb thinks this is absolutely hilarious and will 100% talk about WD's OTHER MAN #queue Willie being like: SORRY I'M LATE CALEB MY STEP DAD WAS SUPPOSED TO DRIVE ME BUT HE LEFT WITHOUT ME #Caleb's like: what a horrible man just leaving you like that (you were 15 minutes late you little shit)

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theresawritesstuff · 1 year

Note

grabbing hold of your lover's collar, begging them to kiss you

(Mild season 5 spoilers/ fix it fic.)

Midge skittered her way down to the studio floor, looking desperately around for the guys from the writer's room.

She'd been dodging Gordon's flirtatious office banter for weeks now, and doing a pretty good job of it, her main strategy being using her other coworkers as a buffer. There was only so much he could say in front of a room full of other people, even if he was their boss.

But her buffer had unwittingly abandoned her and now she felt exposed.

And then she saw their last minute guest just in from California.

"Lenny!" she called out, rushing over to him, her heart racing.

He looked up, a strange mix of emotions in his eyes she couldn't quite read in the dim backstage light.

All she could think was how good it was to see him, even after the way they'd left things.

That he looked like California had been treating him well.

That he was still as handsome as ever.

That she'd missed him.

And that he somehow, even now that he lived all the way across the country, was still there for her exactly when she needed him most.

And it was then that she knew how to get Gordon to stop pursuing her.

She just hoped he'd go for it.

"Midge? What are you doing here?" Lenny wondered as she dashed her way towards him as quickly as her heels would allow.

"Got a job. Been working here and some around town. Doing a whole lotta working, basically," she explained, a bit breathless.

"You're working here?" he reiterated.

She nodded, glancing over her shoulder towards the stairs. "Yes and I'll tell you about it later but I need you to do me a favor right now."

His brow furrowed. "What's the favor?"

"I need you to kiss me."

Lenny blinked in surprise, not quite sure he heard her correctly. "Kiss you? Here?"

"Yes. Right now," she insisted, feeling a little frantic.

He exhaled, looking down for a moment. "Midge, I don't know what that night meant to you but–"

"Lenny, please," she begged, gripping his collar as steps began to descend behind them. "Kiss me."

Any argument from him fell away at the desperation in her voice. In an instant his hands were cradling her jaw fervently upwards as he bent to meet her lips in a searing embrace, pulling her in tighter to himself than any would deem decent for a dimly lit club let alone a fully packed television studio that cut her paychecks.

God help her, it felt like coming home.

She felt her grasp drift from his collar to the back of his neck, letting the feeling of him flood her senses as everything around them melted into blue.

Behind them she vaguely registered someone clearing their throat. "Evening."

They parted reluctantly at their host's interruption, Lenny searching her eyes before turning to acknowledge Gordon.

"I see you've met tonight's guest," Gordon quipped awkwardly.

"Midge is–," Lenny began in vague explanation.

"An old friend from Hebrew School," Midge finished, lacing her hand with his, keeping him close.

"Hebrew school, huh? Where do I sign up?" Gordon chuckled.

"Oh my son's just starting. They're looking for a power forward for their basketball team. You'd be a shoo-in," she joked, brushing the clumsy attempt off and turning to Lenny. "Hey did you know Mrs. Friedman is still teaching?"

"Friedman's still there? Jesus," Lenny exhaled in mock surprise, keeping the bit going.

"I think she taught him too," she bantered.

The audience applauded as the band began to play.

Gordon shook his head with a rueful smile. "That's my cue. See you out there in a few, Lenny. You, uh, might want to blot first."

He indicated the corner of his mouth, tipping the comedian off to the telltale lipstick smudged on his face.

When they were relatively alone again, Lenny turned his attention back on her.

"Let me guess. New boss has been trying to make a pass at you."

Midge smiled sheepishly, looking at her shoes. "Figured he'd take the rejection better if he saw there was someone else in the picture."

"Glad to be of service," he replied, pulling his hand away to absently fix his tie.

He was getting that all alone look in his eye and it just about broke her.

"How long are you in town?" she asked, a thread of hope in her voice.

"Just the weekend."

She nodded. She hadn't really expected anything longer. Not with the lease and his daughter back on the west coast.

"Buy you a drink after the show?" she ventured. "We could, I dunno, talk about the weather or our kids or who's got gout. And maybe I could get your number…"

He arched a brow in question. "You said–'

"I know what I said," she cut in, not needing him to repeat it. "It was dumb. My toes were still defrosting."

He nodded. "About that night…"

"You were right."

"I was a little harsh," he admitted gently.

"And I deserved every word," she insisted. "I'm so sorry Lenny. That was supposed to be your big night. We were–"

"I know," he whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck, adding, "I sent Jo-jo back for you that night at Carnegie, after I had a moment to cool off a little but you were already gone."

"It's okay," she murmured. "It turned out to only be a mild case of frost crotch. Lost my hat though."

She really had no one else to blame for that night but herself.

He shook his head, not quite accepting the answer. "I would have worked something out. Set you up with the hotel for the night. I should have called. I almost did call. Quite a few times but–

A halfhearted smile pulled at her lips. "I probably wouldn't have taken it then anyway. I'm kind of stubborn. Trying to be a little less self sabotaging now."

He considered her, his eyes soft with that same knowing look of adoration she always seemed to find there.

"Drinks later?"

"My treat." She nodded.

The stage manager walked passed, drawing them back to their surroundings. "Stand by Mr Bruce."

Midge inhaled, setting her shoulders.

"Okay let me look at you," she insisted.

He smirked, turning slowly to let her inspect him.

"Suit is good. Tie looks good. Hair's good…"

She stood on her tiptoes, placing a slow, tender kiss to his lips.

"Which coworker was that one for?" he asked.

"That one was for me…" she admitted. "Are we good?"

He smiled, tucking a loose strand of her hair into place.

"We are now."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… Lenny Bruce!"

#Midgelenny #midge x lenny #tmmm fanfic #prompt fill #Gordon takes the hint

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leeloooonfire · 1 year

Text

When Eddie tells Dustin he's staying in a penthouse in San Francisco for the next 5 months to work on his next studio album, Dustin asks, "Have you ever been to the EndUp, Uranus, Junk or Osmosis?"

At first, Eddie doesn't really know what to say. He KNOWS the queer party scene in almost every major city in the western hemisphere, but Dustin?!

When he answers truthfully, "Not in the last eight months", Dustin only clicks his tongue and says, "Good."

And with that he starts talking about the DnD club, about that new girl in town and about how his mother has the hots for good ol' uncle Wayne.

If Eddie was a different person, he'd forget about it and also wonder how Mrs Henderson and Wayne actually happened.

But he's not.

Dustin mentioning the clubs is so random and so out of topic that Eddie's brain can't help but latch onto it.

At first, he only wonders why Dustin knows about the queer party scene of San Francisco and how he got to know about it. Was ist Robin?

Probably, with her living in San for the last few years, but that still doesn't explain why she told Dustin about the clubs.

Then, Eddie can't help but wonder why Dustin simply said 'Good' before changing the topic as if he never asked the question in the first place.

Why Good?

Sure, there's still the fear of Aids when going out, but its not as bad as in the early 80s.

His community - they got it now.

So, Eddie is almost sure that's not it.

At first, he tells himself he'll leave it alone - maybe only ask Dustin about it the next time they see each other. However, when he meets up with a friend at the Eagle for some drinks and a chat about music and his friends new love, he can wonders what he might find at any of the bars and clubs Dustin mentioned.

So, obviously, Eddie goes. Between sleepless nights off from writing and talking to his friends or manager on the phone, Eddie visits the scene in San Fran.

He goes dancing, grabs some drinks and even once hops into one of the dark rooms and gets a blowie from some random guy called Tex.

It's good, it's fun - but Eddie still doesn't understand why Dustin asked - until he sees him in club Uranus.

Or her.

Or, well... Stevie Devine.

Stevie Devine wears golden heels and lipsstick so dark it's almost black.

She has brown eyes like a baby deer, long brown hair and a black dress that twinkles with every move.

She laughs and sings while playing the piano and Eddie knows her.

Eddie and Steve talk on the phone about 5 times a year: for both theirs and Dustin's birthday, Christmas and the Upside Down anniversary, but the last time Eddie really saw Steve was in 1987.

It was for Robin's birthday when they all meet up before Eddie vanished on a tour through Europe with his band.

It was when they all thought they'd stay in contact more and life wasn't too demanding then.

Last time Eddie saw Steve, he had a purple eye and busted lips that closed around their shared joint they smoked right behind Buckley's garden shed.

But the Steve behind that shed in 1987 and Stevie Devine on that dimly lite stage in a queer club in San Francisco have absolutely nothing in common. The more Eddie stares at the tall, beautiful drag queen, the more he is sure that they simply cannot be the same person, right?!

But Stevie sees him, and after her show, she comes up to him and asks in a smokey voice, "Why are you here?!"

Eddie tells her - tells her about him staying in town to produce another album, to write and compose music, and that obviously, he -as a gay man- is allowed to visit all the bars.

"No. I mean, why are you here?!" Stevie asks, fingernails clicking against the table, and Eddie shrugs, blinks a few times, and then says, "Dustin mentioned something."

With that Stevie huffs, rolls her eyes and tells him to wait outside.

Eddie nods, but can't help but watch Stevie go, hips swinging, long legs striding through the room to vanish through a door to the back of the club.

Of course, Eddie waits outside, always eager to do what a beautiful person wants him to do.

He stands there, hands in his pocket, then in his hair, then rolling a cigarette before lightening it only to have something to do with his hands.

When the door opens about 20 minutes later its not Stevie Devine, but Steve Harrington with smudges of make-up on his face and a bag filled with golden heels, a black sequin dress and very long, but very fake brown hair.

"Knew I shouldn't have told Dustin," Steve says once he joins Eddie beside the club, reaching for Eddie's cigarette. His hand is broad and looks like it can hold a nail bat and smash interdimensional monsters to pulp, but he also has long nails and a simple silver ring around his wrist that makes it look almost dainty.

"He didn't really say anything, just asked me if I had been to any of the major queer clubs in the city. It got me interested," Eddie tells him honestly and lights another cigarette, unsure if Steve really would like to share. "Didn't expect to find you here."

There's a blush on Steve's face and his hand flits to his neck to brush some of his natural (also quite long) hair behind his ear before saying, "It's... a somewhat new thing."

"Somewhat?" Eddie asks, trying not to stare onto Steve's lips where he can still find traces of glitter and dark red paint.

Steve shrugs, laughs awkwardly and says, "You know how it is."

Eddie nods, yeah, he knows. Or at least, he can imagine what Steve means. So, he says, "You looked good on that stage."

Steve laughs and it almost sounds like his Drag Queen persona had sounded in the club: dark and sensual and somewhat forbidden.

"Thank you, you do look good on stage as well," Steve replies, flicks the burned down cigarette away and sends Eddie a blinding smile.

"You've been to one of my concerts?"

"Once or twice," Steve says, moves from one foot to the other. His feet must hurt after wearing the heels for the last few hours.

Eddie holds out his arm like a gentleman from the 18th, "Wanna grab a drink?"

"I would love to, but Robin and I always meet up after shows for milkshakes and fries, you're in?" Steve leans on him, long fingers gently curled around Eddie's arm.

"I would love to." Eddie repeats the words and follows Steve into the night..

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie stranger things #fanfiction #dustin henderson #robin buckley #somwhat friends to lovers #drag queen #accurate places in san Francisco

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clickedbait · 6 months

Text

It was their first con as guests rather than attendees. They'd finally built up a reputation big enough to garner reason to be and to be seen. They had people coming to see them. It was insane! Spencer could hardly believe it, but he knew him and Graham had worked hard to get to this point. Their channel, Couch Critics, was taking off like never before after the latest releases of the Detective Dark movie. They nailed a review that boosted their channel by the thousands. Soon enough they were getting those fancy buttons from Youtube and a bit more revenue than they could've ever expected-- even if Vivien wasn't too happy about it. What a way to play it risky being interns at Supreme Studios, but then again... wasn't that why they'd been hired? The balls they had on them-- how charming. Either way? They were at this convention for themselves and meeting people who found their shit good. It was thrilling, it was invigorating, but even more.. it was surprising.

They'd never known what it was like to be admired this boldly, but they took it in stride that morning of the first day. Reenergizing at lunch and then diving right back into it. They ate it up, feeding whatever egos were growing exponentially in their heads. There were even a few pretty girls that wanted pictures with them, one even tossing Graham a wink at one point. It was unbelievable, otherworldly and something they were sure neither of them would ever get used to. However, the day just had more surprises for Spencer-- this one in the form of a thick southern accented woman with a chihuahua in a sling.

@whatscanon introduced herself as "Branda" and her dog as "Carol Anne", stating they were from Alabama and recently a fan of their things. She'd moved out to LA about two weeks prior to this, but put her packing aside to get the VIP treatment of seeing people she watched. It was a lot to dump on a short meet and greet, but something about that crooked shy grin and the way she kept anxiously petting her dog had Spencer hypnotized. He couldn't look away from the way she'd talk with her other hand and then bring it back to the dog, both rubbing the tiny animal's head. She was something else and that was exactly what Graham said as she walked away after standing between them for a photo op. And really all Spencer could let out was a quiet, "Yeah, she is..."

They'd gone to a party after the first day wrapped, a bands kind of only party. It was guests and VIPs, guests having access to somewhere more private and VIPs the main floor. Graham and Spencer stuck to the main floor, mingling with fans they'd met that day and new people they could network with. It was fun, it was good, and it was a dream come true. Until Graham got sick and was quick to excuse himself first to the bathroom then back to their room. He told Spencer to stay and talk more, build themselves up. So he did that, talking and laughing-- sipping his watered down VIP Party drink. Weak. But what did he care? He felt famous.

Spencer was deep in a conversation with a group of people when he heard that crooned voice ordering a drink somewhere behind him, an accent he'd only heard the once today but stuck with him. He looked over his shoulder to see Branda, dogless, but there. She was leaning into the bar, smiling wide at the bartender. He heard someone say his name and he muttered out, "Yeah, I'll be... right back." Then he was turning, body moving as if he were floating. He sidled up to the southern woman, smile stretching onto his face and heart suddenly jumping up his throat, "Hi--" his voice cracked immediately upon exit and he cleared his throat, lifting his free hand to cough into the side of a balled fist. He tried again, "I mean, hey." His voice was even, maybe a little lower but better, "Branda, right?" Maybe this was weird, maybe he shouldn't have approached. He continues, trying not to stumble through it, "I'm Spencer, you know that, but I wanted to introduce myself."

#whatscanon #✦ › starter › spencer ʷᶦˡˢᵒⁿ

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stratossphere · 1 year

Text

wrong side of the bed | v.v

ville’s in a horrible mood, and you’re the one that’s been abandoned to deal with it.

warnings: gn!reader, ville is a huge douche for most of this fic, drinking, smoking weed, arguing, fluff at the end

word count: 5k

a/n: fic is based very loosely off of this interview. grimey-as-hell ville has a soft spot in my heart

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @h3artk1ller @4377666

— —

Today had been so shitty it was almost comical. First, and what had caused the day to go the way it had, was the fact that you and Ville had been fighting since you'd gotten up that morning.

"Brush your fucking teeth. You're going to be on live TV today." You said for the millionth time as Ville sat dead-faced in one of the bus seats staring at the wall whilst not moving. He was still in his clothes from the night before, and there was a huge stain on the sleeve of his shirt from where you'd accidentally knocked a bottle of wine on him the night before. He hadn't moved an inch since crawling out of bed at the asscrack of dawn to sulk in a real seat, and he only had 15 more minutes before he had to be at the studio you were taking him to for his interview with Charlotte Roche.

"Will you shut the fuck up and quit nagging me? I don't give a shit what I look like on their piece of shit show." He snapped back, shooting you a venomous look where you were already dressed and ready to go. Everyone else had gone out to breakfast seeing as they'd quickly opted out of being any part of this whole deal, which left you stuck alone with the devil himself.

"Oh my god. Whatever. Go in smelling like garbage and looking like you're homeless. See if I give a shit." Some days you got really sick of arguing with Ville over having some basic hygiene. You put up with his hatred of showers and changing his clothes well enough, but in a tiny bus, you could only stand it for so long.

"Well, I only have three outfits, and you doused one of them in red goddamn wine, so I don't know what you expect." Ville spat just as you got up from where you were sitting across the aisle from him, his gaze following you as you walked right past him.

"I would feel bad if you knew how to pack for yourself. Not my fault you like to permeate in the same disgusting clothes for a month at a time." You muttered, moving to the other side of the bus and grabbing your cigarettes from where you'd left them in the windowsill the night before. He turned completely in his seat so that he could continue to glare at you from across the bus.

"What do you fucking want? What will make your pissy ass happy?" He pressed, looking like he couldn't have had a clue in the world. You just stared at him for a second, then began naming off a list.

"Brush your teeth, change your goddamn clothes, put some deodorant on, and put on a fucking hat to cover your hair." You weren’t dying from his lack of bathing, as he'd probably be easily convinced to jump in the shower in the dressing room after his show tonight, but every time he went into an interview looking greasy as all hell, you had someone shoving it down my throat once you were back at home. You weren't a fan of Ville giving himself a reputation to be a pissy, grimy piece of shit amongst your friends and family through the media.

"My god. You're like a mother." He said degradingly, shoving himself out of his seat and now completely avoiding looking anywhere near you as he angrily dragged his tiny travel bag out from under the bench seat of the bus before slamming it down on the table. You just shook your head at him in awe.

"What the hell is up your ass today?" Sure, sometimes he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and could be a little grouchy (which usually just meant he didn't respond when you talked to him), but today he was being outwardly aggressive. Something told you it had something to do with who specifically was interviewing him, but you knew pointing that out would just make it worse, so you kept that little observation to yourself.

"I'm doing what you want. Are you going to nag the shit out of me the whole time I do it, too?" He asked, his tone so full of snark that you were thankful you were so far away for fear of throwing something at him had you been close enough. He was really lucky that his good traits outweighed his bad ones.

So yeah. Good start to the morning. Ville made the both of you about ten minutes late, which you had seen coming from a mile away, and by the time you got to the studio where Charlotte and her team were filming, Ville was in an absolutely horrific mood. He wasn't talking, he wasn't even smoking, and he wasn't looking at you at all. He just glared straight ahead the entire ride, and continued to do so as you entered the back of the studio so that you could head to the green room and he could go straight to the stage considering he was so late.

"Don't bitch at her out there just because you're mad at me." You warned as you paused in the hallway where he would continue to the stage and where you would go into the green room behind you to watch his interview on the monitor that was inside. You had a hand on his arm because you knew he would just ignore you and walk away if you didn't, and he just stared ahead like he wasn't listening. You sighed. "There's no one else out here except for you, which would usually mean that's who I'm talking to."

"Yes. Whatever. I'll see you in an hour." And, with that, he promptly started to walk right away from you without another word. You could not have physically rolled your eyes harder.

"No kiss, dickhead?" Usually you had a stupid little 'good-luck-kiss' ritual before either of you had to do interviews or go on stages, and there was no way his bitchy attitude was going to break your streak. He let out a huff, spinning back around on his heel before coming back to you.

"Fine, fuckass." He gave you my kiss, which was a lot nicer than what you had anticipated considering his mood, before he wrapped a single arm around your waist and hugged you. Who would've ever thought. "I love you."

"...I love you too. Please be nice." Your chances weren't good on that request, but you were asking anyway. He gave you another kiss with a look on his face that told you there was a good chance he was going to do about the opposite of that, before you really did have to watch him disappear down the hallway.

God, this was not going to go well.

As you got comfortable in the green room (thankfully there was no one else but you inside), you watched with one hand resting against your face as Ville and Charlotte started the interview.

It was pretty well known amongst everyone that knew Ville that he didn't like Charlotte Roche. She clearly had a huge, burning crush on him, and made it extremely obvious with her annoying habit of twirling her hair and laughing at everything he did despite the fact that he was often more standoffish than conversational with her throughout the multiple interviews they'd done together. So, sending him into her interview in the mood he was in was like sending a wolf to help a chicken stuck in a trap.

They started an awkward talk about the album that had been out for almost a month now, during which Ville put about zero effort into looking like he wanted to be there (enough for Charlotte to point it out), before they moved on to arguing about what was an acceptable time to get up in the morning after Ville mentioned usually getting up at two in the afternoon.

To give him credit, you would've hated talking about any of this stuff too, and he was incredibly hungover from staying up into the good hours of the morning, but Ville was clearly being a brat just to be a brat. You would've felt bad for Charlotte, had she not been continuously invading your boyfriend's space on live television.

"I can say whatever the fuck I want on my fucking shit show." Charlotte was saying after Ville had made a half-assed joke about telling her not to swear, leaning in ridiculously close to his face as she spoke and making him tiredly lean away. They were making you cringe, and you weren't even there.

"You just ruined some children's lives." That was his helpful retort to her badly-landed joke, which made it even worse, and then he continued even further. "There could be two four-year-olds listening in, and now that you’ve said fuck, they're going to want to say fuck."

Jesus, he really knew how to make situations painful when he was in a bad mood. It had taken you a while to get used to Ville's devotion to trying to make every conversation he had dry and awkward on purpose when he was sober (which he'd eventually gotten over once he'd realized he was attracted to you), but Charlotte didn't really know him. Albeit, you didn't necessarily like her, but this was just hard to watch.

And then he made it even worse, because he had clearly stopped being able to ignore her horribly aggressive hair twirling habit (that you knew was because he had a crush on him) that she acted on in all their interviews.

"What are you doing with your hair? You're acting like a fucking psychopath." He then proceeded to do an impression of her fast-paced talking while doing an even more dramatized version of twirling his own hair, and you couldn't help but literally laugh out loud at how horrible they were. There was a reason they gave actors pep talks on at least pretending they had chemistry when they had to do interviews.

You quickly realized that Charlotte was clearly staying off of the topic of you on purpose, and you found amusement in the fact. It was especially obvious when she tried to joke about Deep Shadows and Brilliant Highlights being about a secret affair, only for Ville to immediately shut that down and correct her with the reiteration that the album was 'a dedication to the hardships the love of his life suffers through for his companionship'. You would've been lying if you'd said you weren't pleased with the way she struggled on her feet after his quick snap back.

Most of the interview was painfully horrible to watch, so eventually you stopped paying attention and just busied yourself with one of many bottles of champagne left in a gift basket for Ville. You didn't mind waiting, but forcing yourself to cringe for long periods of time was torture, so you were avoiding watching the monitor in front of you at all. The only moments you paid attention was when you heard your name.

"Y/n, actually, is very helpful with all of that. They take care of most of it." Ville was talking more than dismissively now, and you hadn't been listening to what Charlotte had asked him, but you had a feeling it had been either about music videos or the pictures on the inside of the album, because that's mostly what you’d been allowed to help out with.

"Y/n is...your partner, yes?" Yeah, she had to be doing that on purpose. There was no way she'd met him (and you!) this many times without remembering. Ville clearly thought the same thing, because even you could see the look he shot her.

"Yes. They’re here, actually." He muttered, leaning back a little further where he was sitting and glancing uninterestedly ahead. They then divulged into a (mostly one-sided) conversation about what it was like to travel with a spouse (thankfully Ville left all of your fighting out of his answer), and then you were tuning out again. You’d hear his own rendition of the painstaking conversation once he came back and dragged you right out of the studio so that he could go off just like every time he and Charlotte ended up in the same country.

Eventually you got bored enough to where you started to doze off, the interview in front of you completely forgotten in lieu of catching up on a shitty night's sleep due to sharing a twin sized bed with someone who was all long arms and legs.

So, when you suddenly heard the door slam open, you jumped about ten feet in the air as you opened your eyes to the view of Ville storming into the room. Thankfully, he was still by himself, but he left the door open as he grabbed the gift basket off the table before standing in front of you where you were lying horizontally on the couch with a champagne bottle in your lap.

"Get up. We're going." He prompted, glancing behind him like he was checking to see if anyone was coming after him. You stared at him for a second, trying to wake yourself up before he just offered out a hand with impatience.

"What did you say?" You asked tiredly as you accepted his hand before he was pulling you to your feet, setting the decently-dented champagne bottle back in the basket. There was no way he was leaving this quickly if it had been a nice send off between the two of them. He made a face.

"I didn't say anything. I'm fucking tired and pissed off and I want to get the fuck out of here." He muttered, guiding you right out the door and back down the hallway that you'd come from. Something told you he was leaving so quickly because he was probably supposed to be talking to someone else before he left, but it wasn't like you were going to argue. You wanted to be out of there just as bad as he did.

"Was it really bad?" You already basically knew the answer to that question based off the little amount of the interview you'd stayed awake for, but you could tell he was just waiting to burst and go off, so you gave him the rip in the seams to do so. He took a deep breath and shook his head for a second before he even replied.

"I'd like to say I deeply appreciate and admire all of the female species, but she is a raging goddamn cunt." He spat, slipping a loose arm around your waist once you made it out of the backstage door. "How much of it did you see?"

"I stopped paying attention after you did an impression of the hair twirling." You muttered, shielding your hungover eyes from the sun as you walked back to your rented car. That actually pulled a chuckle out of him.

"Well, what do you expect? She acts like a wild animal in every interview, and she's got the eye makeup for it, too." He defended himself as you both separated to get in either side of the car, slamming his door a lot harder than he needed to once he was inside. You laughed as you got into the driver's side.

"Ville, that was like, ridiculously bad. I couldn't even watch it." You said truthfully, giving him a good reason for the fact that you'd been asleep on the couch facing away from the TV when he'd came and got you. "I get that you don't like her, but..."

"—but nothing. I don't care if it was bad." He huffed, slouching down in his seat and then letting his eyes close. "Did you hear the bullshit she said about the album being about a secret affair?"

"Oh yeah. That was kind of funny, actually." The idea that Ville was so bold about cheating on you that he would create an entire music album about the fact was so horrendous that it was comical. "Do you think she does coke before she does interviews?"

"I don't fucking know what her deal was. I don't want to think about it." He was grumbling, which about told you how sociable he was going to be for the time being. "You seem pretty calm for how close she was getting."

"You were pissing me off, so might as well enjoy watching you suffer." If you were ever to be intimidated by another person 'threatening' your relationship, that other person sure as hell wasn't going to be Charlotte Roche. Hard to be intimidated by someone your boyfriend spent his free time murdering in his head.

"You're an ass." He muttered, leaning away from you when you tried to reach out and touch him with your hand that wasn't on the steering wheel. You rolled your eyes, dropping your arm loosely on the armrest and shaking your head.

"Takes one to know one." Okay. You were being a little childish, but it's not like he had been the pinnacle of maturity today. Hell, he'd compared you to a mother, which was incredibly offensive to you, personally.

He didn't respond to that (thankfully), and you drove back to where the bus was parked outside of the venue in tense silence. You weren't in the mood to play peacekeeper considering how early it was and how much of the animosity was coming from his side as opposed to yours, so you made no attempt to try and break the tension. He would get over himself eventually, and hopefully you'd feel a little less hungover by that point.

So, the remainder of the morning was spent doing pre-concert rituals on the bus (which meant everyone had begun the long day of drinking themselves to shit) whilst you and Ville talked little to almost not-at-all. He was still pissed off (which everyone else was completely ignoring), so he was actually avoiding conversation with everyone as well as you.

Fine by the rest of you.

—

When it finally came time for you to head backstage to get ready for everyone to head out and start their set, Ville still hadn't eaten anything, had gone through an entire bottle of wine and half a bottle of champagne, and had changed back into the wine-stained shirt. He looked like shit, and he was acting like shit, too.

"You need to give him some downers to even him out. He's going to perform like shit." Linde begged you after watching Ville angrily stumble into the bathroom and slam the door, earning a chorus of irritated agreements from everyone else in the room. You winced, opening your bag to see what you had on hand.

"Everything I’ve got is out." You’d gone a little overboard the night before, so you were basically cleaned out for most of what you'd picked up since joining the tour several days before. Suddenly, Burton stepped around the couch, and then held out a small sandwich bag with a couple nuggets of weed.

"If this will make him stop being such a raging cunt, then you can have it for free." He said tightly, dropping the bag right into your lap. You laughed at that, because it was amazing what Ville's horrible temper could bring out in people.

"Hey. We can share. He's gonna get all weird and bitchy if it's just him smoking." He'd know that you were purposely trying to get him to fix his behavior if not everyone else was passing. Gas cast an irritated look towards the closed bathroom door.

"My god. How long is he going to be weird and bitchy? It's getting old." He huffed, running a hand over his face.

"Until he's drunk." Linde and Mige spoke at the same time, and you snorted at that because that was about as true as it could get. He was only getting more agitated and angry at the moment, and it would take a lot more than what he'd ingested to get his mood to lighten. In fact, it might've never lightened at all, as red wine just made him aggressively horny. Hooray for you.

As you waited for Ville to make his grand entrance back into the room, you and Burton rolled two joints out of a copy of the setlist on the coffee table in a team effort to set Ville up for success. Sure, he performed a little weird on weed (he usually liked to drag out long notes and shove the microphone in his mouth an unsettling amount of times), but that was everyone else's but your problem, so you didn't care.

Finally, when Ville came back out with a champagne bottle still in hand, he was met with the sight of Mige with a joint in his mouth and Gas with one between his fingers.

"Jesus. Don't fucking wait for me or anything." Clearly his bitchy attitude had eliminated any need to convince him on anything, and Ville plucked the joint right from Mige's mouth as he shot everyone in the room a collective dirty look.

"Well, if you hadn't been drinking in the toilet like a fucking bitch..." Linde clearly wasn't in much better of a mood, and you and Mige shared a look as Ville's eyes shifted from yours over to Linde with an red-hot glare on his face.

"Hey. Come sit down and chill the hell out." You interrupted before Ville could find it in him to snap back a reply, motioning to the couch next to you and scooting closer to Burton so that he had room. However, Ville instead decided to step over your legs and drop down between you and Burton, forcing you both to both shove in opposite directions as he wormed his way into space that hadn't been there in the first place.

You were sure everyone in the room shared a look at that, but Ville was too busy ashing his joint on the floor to notice. Figures.

—

You spent most of the concert in a drug-induced haze laying on the couch, during which, as your horrible luck would have it, Bam Margera called trying to convince you to let him join the tour.

You failed to get around his complaining for half an hour before the band finally re-entered the room, giving you the scapegoat you needed to get out of a conversation that clearly should’ve been for Ville.

“Ville’s back. I have to go." As you said that, Bam immediately protested not getting to actually talk to Ville, but you were quicker. You blurted out your goodbyes before you promptly hung up, looking expectantly at everyone else besides Ville to gauge whether or not he'd shaped up his attitude. Thankfully, Linde quickly waved it off before promptly being hit in the face with Ville's shirt.

"That better not have been Bam Bam you were trying to put me off to." Ville's tone was loud and rushed, but he moved to stand by your feet at the arm of the couch before he rubbed an absentminded hand up your leg while he fished for his cigarettes in his back pocket. You shrugged.

"You’re lucky I didn’t." You muttered, running both hands over your face before forcing yourself to sit up. "Are you done being an asshole?"

"Indefinitely." He promised, crossing his finger over his bare chest before he leaned down and gave you a kiss. "I was made aware that you purposely drugged me so that I'd stop being a cunt."

"Barely. And it worked, so who cares." You said dryly, standing up and immediately being enveloped by a sweaty arm around your neck. You could barely get your words out as Ville pressed more kisses to your lips and cheek, and pretty soon Mige was spitting out a scoff.

"Oh. Now all of a sudden he's nice." He said sourly, shaking his head as he grabbed his bag from off the floor behind the couch. You groaned, trying and failing to get out from Ville's grasp.

"Yeah. And he's gross, too." You huffed as Ville ruffled your hair before letting you go, smacking his ass as he headed towards the small bathroom in the corner where there was a shower. Score! "Are we drinking tonight, or hitting the road right away?"

"Road. Glasgow next." Gas said as he finished off the last of the beer he'd left on the table, his voice coming out muffled as he drank and talked at the same time. You sighed, because that meant a night of shitty sleep with drunken shenanigans in painfully-tight quarters, before dropping down on the couch because you knew it was going to be a while.

But, it was for the sake of a clean and showered Ville, so you were more than fine with waiting.

—

Thankfully, the gentle shaking of the bus as it drove seemed to chill everyone out considerably, and by the time you'd been back on the road for 15 minutes, everyone was yawning and shutting the shades. You were all for drunken behavior and partying all hours of the night, but you'd already slept like shit before, and you were essentially running on empty as everything you’d drank and smoked started to pull you closer and closer to exhaustion.

"I don't know how uncharismatic you can get, but he was working on it." You were tiredly relaying Ville's interview with Charlotte back to Mige, who was the only one besides Ville still out of bed, and he just chuckled.

"Yeah, she fucking sucks. She must have to be taking some sort of amphetamine." He agreed with your earlier prediction, finishing off the last of his beer before he messily shot the bottle for the trashcan (and missed). "Bet she got the brunt of that shit-ass mood, though."

"Oh yeah she did. It got so much worse once you guys went out to breakfast." You muttered, speaking lowly to keep Ville (who was looking for snacks inside the beat-up cabinets of the bus) from overhearing you. "I don't know what his fucking problem was today, but I'm glad he's over it."

"Are you the type of relationship where amphetamine-riddled fangirls who want their hands down his pants make you jealous?" It was a funny way of wording it, but Mige looked completely genuine as he asked that question. You waved it off with a scoff.

"No. He's such a bitch to everyone that I don't even have to worry about it." Never once in your life had you seen Ville treat someone who was clearly drooling over him with anything other than blatant irritation. He wasn't super great at hiding his lack of interest in certain things.

"I can hear you." You didn't whisper that part, because you were completely fine with helping Ville be self aware, and he shot you a look from the cabinets as he called you out. You grinned, sliding out of the chair that you were sitting in and trying to stifle a huge yawn.

"What? You are!" You defended yourself, slipping an arm around his hips and leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "At least today you were."

"You, my friend, found yourself a good one. It brings a tear to my eye that they know you're a cunt." Mige snickered as Ville groaned in your arms, getting out of his seat as well and passing the both of you towards the bunks. "Think hard on that while you're snuggled up tonight."

"Yeah, fuck you too." Ville scoffed, leaning into your kisses despite his hostile tone with his arm slipping around your shoulders. "God forbid I be in a bad mood once in a while."

"You're allowed, but if you ever compare me to a mother again, I'll call your mom and tell her everything you’ve been saying." You threatened, knowing that the one person who could whip Ville into shape better than you could was Anita Valo. He chuckled at that, resting his chin on top of your head.

"Don't call my mama." He begged softly as he broke away from your embrace to give you a kiss. When you gave him a skeptical look, he gave you his most convincing smile before kissing you again as he turned off the kitchen light. "I'll be a good boy. Swear."

"You better. I'll kick your ass if you're grouchy again tomorrow." You muttered, trying to sound intimidating but still laughing when you felt his lips on your neck in the dark.

"I love you. Let's snuggle." He crooned, hands on your hips as he guided you in the direction of the bunks whilst trying to avoid bumping into anything while you walked. You sighed but obliged, blindly feeling around until you both reached your bunk and then shushing him when he swore loudly as he bumped his arm into the wall. "God fucking damn it. This fucking bus!"

He completely ignored your shushing him as he kicked the wall, huffing to himself and pulling a couple of groans out of the bunks around you before you just forcibly guided him into your bed so that he would shut up.

"Honey. Just be quiet." You groaned, climbing in halfway after him and then being yanked inside the rest of the way by his hand wrapped around your hip. He just let out a huff and pulled the covers over the both of you, his arm wrapping tightly around you as he shoved his face in your neck.

"You be quiet." He grumbled, and you could feel him smile against your neck when you yanked on his hair slightly for his attitude. You rolled slightly so that you could get comfortable in the limited space combined with Ville's space hoarding problem, ending up slightly turned away from him with his face in the crook of your neck and your arm backwards over his waist.

Well, a better end to a day that had started like fucking shit. You weren't completely comfortable, but you couldn't complain when you were snuggling with Ville, so you were happy. Especially because you fell asleep first, which meant you didn't have to hear any snoring from the man leeched up behind you.

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