#eddie would be blackbird

[oatmilk-vampire]

Every day that passes I'm one step closer to making an au fic from Brynne Weaver's Butcher & Blackbird to suit my own gay steddie-shipping needs.

#eddie would be blackbird #chrissy would be his lark #robin is lachlan #steve is butcher #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #butcher and blackbird #butcher & blackbird #brynne weaver #steddie au

[carolmunson]

the nerve.

virgin!eddie x reader, semi-modern AU, it's the very early 2000s (early enough that the phantom menace would have already come out in 1999, but cellphones weren't really a thing yet.) i feel like we've been on a toxic!eddie train for a little so here's a little love drunk baby boy (in his late 20s) whose been about you for ages but the timing wasn't right. now you're together and it's time, but he's real nervous. this fic is mostly from eddie's point of view, so, hopefully you bitches like that. super fluffy, smutty, sweet. cute. tooth rotting even. warnings: smut, minors dni. couples first time, virgin!eddie, p in v, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving).

Eddie's hands are sweating when he pulls up to your house. A small little one bedroom he's been in so many times before -- cozy and soft, like you. You never have the overhead lights on, except for in the kitchen. Always opting for something warm and glowly, decorative. You told him a story once about how women used to put pink lightbulbs in their house so they'd look younger and he never forgot it, so now he tells people that story and says he learned it from you.

You hadn't been dating long, but he feels like he's been with you forever. You come so naturally to him -- years of friendship will do that to a person, he guesses. Spending those years watching you be with someone else, someone he didn't really know very well -- different town, someone you used to know in college with Nancy. When you showed up to Steve's after the break-up he was almost relieved but he felt awful about it. Feeling giddy while you cried into Nancy's shoulder and Robin rubbed your back. You thought you were gonna marry that guy -- how?! He didn't even like your favorite movie! He didn't even know how you liked your pancakes! Or how you lie about what your favorite song is depending on who you're with! (It's a tie between Nina Simone's 'New Day' and The Beatles' 'Blackbird' in case anyone was wondering.)

Getting here, coming to your house for dinner dates, taking you out, holding your hand, that was an easier task than what was to come. But it wasn't an easy road to get here for him either. He wasn't really great at the whole girls thing.

It's why he was was still blushy and nervous the night you came over to Steve's for a movie night. You all got snowed in. He knew you liked him and you knew he liked you but you weren't sure if you 'like' liked each other -- you'd never said. Neither of you had.

He stopped breathing when you'd sat next to him, sinking into the cushions of Steve's large L-shaped sectional with your knees brushing. Steve casting glances over at Eddie to implement at least one trick he taught him to get close to you. 'If she doesn't do it back then you know it's not happening, it's that easy.' It's that easy? He'd rather die than make a move and have you not be into it.

You were half way through The Empire Strikes Back when he noticed Steve knock Robin on the knee with his. Robin looked over at the two of you, knees and shoulders touching, hands to yourselves. Her lips curled into a mischevious smile when she realized what her partner in crime was asking from her.

"Hey," she whispered over to you, offering you a peach ring from the bag, "Want one?"

"Ooh, thank you," you whispered back. 'They're my favorite.' He thinks it as you say it to her, he knows they're your favorite, that's why he always picks them up at the gas station before he shows up to these things. The crinkling of the bag gets Nancy's attention and she casts a glance up at Steve from where she's settled in the crook of his arm. They share knowing looks, shaking her head while her attention goes back to the screen.

"You want one, Ed?" she asks, except this time her hand is much farther away, resting on the back of the couch so that he'll have to reach behind you to get one. Eddie looks at her, eyes begging, 'you're kidding'. Her eyes glint back in the glow of the TV, 'I'm not kidding.'

"Yeah, sure," he says shakily, reaching across the back of the couch. If you know what he's doing, you're not letting on and that's fine with him. He grabs the candy, popping it in his mouth and letting his arm rest behind you at first -- heart pounding while he moves it downward enough so that you can feel him drape himself around you. He can't look at you at all while he does it, terrified that you might be disgusted by him even attempting to be close to you.

He swallows when you turn to him, your knees pressing up to his thigh when you shift your hips towards him, feet tucking up onto the couch. Eddie turns slowly to see you looking up from his shoulder, eyes shining with a smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," you say back in a whisper, inching your face a little closer to him, "Can you tell me what's happening?"

He lets out an airy chuckle through his nose, "I always forget you haven't seen these, sorry we started with the second one."

"So, right now," he starts, pointing at the screen, "Harrison Ford's character--"

"Anakin," you say, certain of your answer.

"No," Eddie laughs.

"Qui-gon Jinn," you offer, as a new answer. "Oh my fucking God," he laughs, running a hand over his face in disbelief. He looks at you, toothy grin and all, "You don't know who Harrison Ford's character is, but you know the name Qui-gon Jinn?"

"It's very memorable," you say softly, laughing at yourself. He loves that about you -- you're very confidently wrong sometimes.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "That's like, in the newer movies -- he's not even in the ones from the 80s."

"Oh -- is it Obi-wan?" you ask, "Or Luke?"

"You know you're the assistant editor for the Culture section, right?" he asks, his face inching closer to yours, "How do you not know about film culture?"

"More like nerd culture," you huff back, rolling your eyes. When you turn your attention back to the screen he feels you settle into the crook of his waist, scooching yourself closer to him. His hand falls to your shoulder, unsure if he should hold you the way Steve holds Nancy -- arm wrapped around with a hand resting on her hip. That might be better for another day when he was feeling more confident.

Your head finds a home on his shoulder and part of his chest, your hair smells like Herbal Essences and he only knows that because he started buying it recently. He holds his breath for a moment while you get comfortable against him. Eddie eases himself against you, hand around your bicep to pull you in closer.

"Harrison Ford is Han Solo," he says to the top of your head.

"No, he's Obi-wan," you mutter defiantly, brushing off his answer.

"Sure," he laughs, "You're right, he's Obi-wan."

He kissed you in the kitchen after everyone had gone to bed and you both stayed up talking over a six pack. You tasted like peach rings.

Once he parks in the drive way he gives himself a mini peptalk all the way to your door. It's not like it was your first date, which he'll admit went really well, but this was the date. You both felt it. With every kiss getting more feverish, every makeout getting more and more hot and heavy, every wandering hand and mouth -- he was gonna have sex with you tonight.

Which would have been fine.

If he wasn't a virgin.

He'd gone over and over it again with Steve. Tips, help, tricks, reassurance -- but all of it made him feel even more inexperienced. It took him three years to graduate high school and he wasn't exactly the most popular guy there. No one caught his eye when he threw himself into work at the auto-shop, even less at the craft store full of old ladies, and even less at the comic book shop where all he was, was surrounded by other vigrins who were ten years younger than him.

He was always too nervous to talk to girls at The Hideout or other bars his band played at. They were almost always more into Jeff and Gareth anyway. Smooth talking, suave, more confident with age -- he felt like he was behind. Regressing, even. More focused on his hobbies, his friendships, more focused on you. How you'd talk about work and whether you wanted to move closer to the city. How you'd hang out at the bar with him after a gig and listen with bright eyes while he told you what was coming next for the band. How you'd ask about the next campaign for the store's D&D club. Even if you didn't get it, you at least tried. Anakin, Obi-wan, Qui-gon Jinn.

He knocks and rings the bell, he can hear the thump! of Brutus, your old gray cat, jumping from the couch down to the floor getting ready to greet him. You appear, flushed and smiley, some of your hair stuck to your cheeks with sweat.

"Hi, sorry, the kitchen's kind of hot -- didn't get a chance to y'know -- get my shit together," you say, while the door opens. He swears his heart is going to come out of his mouth out of these days with how it rises in his throat when he sees you.

"You look pretty," he says, shrugging off his jacket when he steps inside. You press a kiss to his cheek but it's not enough. With his coat still in his hand he catches you with the free one, stopping you before you head back to the kitchen, to kiss your lips.

"Hi, baby," he says quietly. You grin, eyes downcast to the floor.

"Hi."

"How was work today?" he asks, finally stepping away to hang up his coat in your closet by the door. Brutus follows him with scraggly 'meows' and 'rahhs', weaving through his boots to get his attention.

"Work was worky. Nancy's bummed she didn't get that promotion but she'll be alright," you scrunch your nose in sympathy for Nance, drying your hands off on your jeans.

"She's got bigger things going for her anyway," Ed says, bending down to scratch Brutus behind the ears. The cat nuzzles his hand with a pleased purr, following him who was following you back into the kitchen. He looks at the pots and pans boiling and simmering, the light on in the tiny oven. Your kitchen and little and hasn't been updated since the sixties but you told him you prefer it. 'S'part of my charm,' you'd say. He thought all of you was charming.

"This is a lot, baby -- you didn't have to do all this," he pleads. He hates when you over work yourself, and you do it all the time. 'I just wanna impress you,' he thinks your response as you say it because of course you do.

"Everything you do impresses me," he murmurs, coming up behind you while you massage arugula for a side salad, "But I would've been more impressed if you called a pizza joint and placed an order."

"I can't make a phone call," you laugh, "I think it would kill me. I think I'd have a heart attack."

"Which is why I'm saying it would've been more impressive if you ordered a pizza," he says into your hair, leaning his head on your shoulder, "What can I do to make this easier for you?"

"Will you just set the table for me?"

Dinner was delicious. You made it for him, so of course it was. He likes this, snuggling on the couch, laying long ways, Eddie's head on your chest with your hands gliding through his waves. His eyes are fluttering closed and open again while the graze of your nails glides over his scalp. He totally gets why Brutus begs for scratches behind the ears -- this must be exactly what it feels like.

The hum of 'If I Only Had A Brain' leaks out of the TV speakers. This was culture you knew -- you'd seen The Wizard of Oz a hundred times over. He knows it's not your favorite movie, but it's up there, it's close. Your favorite movie is Grease and you don't lie about that to anyone. You got John Travolta's autograph once and framed it when you were little, he remembers you telling him that when you were drunk at karaoke. You sang 'Hopelessly Devoted'.

Then you made him come up and sing Summer Nights with you. He wished he would've kissed you then, but you had a few drinks and he thought maybe you were just feeling flirty. That you didn't like him like that. You wanted to kiss him when he hit the end high note, it still makes your heart race a little when you think about it.

"This is so you," you say, the sleepy hum of your voice vibrates against his ear. He furrows his brow and looks up at you.

"Excuse me? If I only had a brain?" he inquires, hand crawling up to press against your face in a fake smack, "That's mean."

You laugh, it's a sound he wants to be the one to cause for the long haul, "I don't mean you don't have a brain, I mean like -- look at him move. He's such a goofball -- you're like that, you're goofy."

He rolls his eyes, "Okay."

"In a good way!" you argue playfully.

"Oh look, it's you," he teases when the Wicked Witch appears on screen with her green hands and sneering glare.

"Did you know that she actually --"

"Couldn't use her hands to eat or drink whenever she had the makeup on because it was toxic?" he finishes, shifting his body so he was caging you in under him. He uses his free arm to nudge you onto your back, both of your faces hidden by his sheets of dark hair, "You told me."

"Oh," you blush, "Sorry. I always forget who I tell my little facts to."

"No, it's okay," he says softly, leaning down to kiss you, "It's very cute."

"You're very cute," you say back when his lips break away.

"Stop," he says with a giggle. Always so boyish when he doesn't mean to be.

He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose when you lean up to kiss him again. The kiss is chaste and sweet, your legs parting so he can comfortably slot himself between them. He's come to learn how much you like that type of friction and closeness. You like loosely wrapping your legs around him -- it's a thought he has often when he's home alone and thinking about you.

You deepen the kiss, hands finding his hair, tongue snaking into his mouth. Somewhere deep in his belly comes a growl, hips pressing up against yours eagerly. The softest, 'mm!' squeaks out of you at the pressure and he can feel the gentle roll of your hips against him. His heart hammers in his chest -- oh fuck, we're gonna actually do it.

Eddie's eyes flick up to see Brutus on the lounge chair looking at him. He looks back at Brutus, green eyes shining into his brown ones -- it feels...judgemental.

"Could we maybe go somewhere that Brute can't see this? I feel like the spirit of your dad is inside him," Eddie asks, still keeping his eyes on the cat.

You let out an airy laugh through your nose, "Yeah, sure, c'mon."

Your room smells like you, so do your sheets, your pillows. He loved being engulfed like this, he didn't think he could be any more in love with a person.

You follow him in and watch him sit on the bed, eager faced and flushed. He gulps when you take your jeans off, followed by your sweatshirt and socks.

"I just wanted you to see -- surprise!" you cheer quietly, looking back at him. The set was burgundy, made of satin, shiny. Slightly frilled on the ends. Underwear cut high and perfectly laid over the curve of your ass. The cups of the bra in that old timey balconette cut. You bought it on purpose, you bought it for him.

"Oh fuck," he mutters to himself.

"I didn't know if you'd like black or red more so I sorta," you shrug, "Met them in the middle."

"I don't care what color it is," he breathes out, eyes glassy and blown, mouth completely dry. How could you talk so casually to him when you look like this? How could you act like this wasn't a really big fucking deal to have worn a set for him to see? With him in mind? Like, you thought about him while you bought this? His jeans feel tighter by the second. He leans back on his hands on your bed to take you in, "You look -- insane."

"In the good way," he quickly follows up.

"You like it?" you smile.

"I really like it," he nods, gulping again, begging his voice not to crack, "C'mere, let me look at you up close."

He watches you approach him and sits up slowly, hands coming out to caress you. He puts his hands up to cup your breasts, thumbs dragging over the fabric of the bra, drifting down to your hips where he leans forward to kiss the side of your tummy, another by your ribcage, a third on your sternum. He looks up at you afterwards, awaiting your lips when you lean down to kiss him.

"You're so pretty, baby," he mumbles against your lips, "You're beautiful."

He swallows when you get him on his back, biting his lip when you straddle him over his jeans. You take your hair down, he blinks hard to make sure he's not dreaming -- that you're really on top of him, really in lingerie, really looking like that.

"Shouldn't um -- shouldn't I be on top of you?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" you ask with a giggle, "You don't want me to be on top?"

"It's just, like," he sighs, letting his hands rest on the outsides of your thick thighs, "Aren't I supposed to be in charge?"

"You're not supposed to be anything, Ed," you reason, pawing up his chest until you were flat against him. You kiss him but he stays rigid, his mouth rubbery and unmoving.

"You okay?" you ask, his chest pangs.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shaking his head. He racks his brain for anything Steve might've told him, any porn he might've watched. Sure girls were on top but like, they didn't like that did they? Didn't they like being thrown around? Slammed? Fucked? What do you like? Shit, how was he supposed to figure this out? Especially with you grinding your hips like that, slow and teasing -- fuck.

You tug at his shirt and he uses the moment to pull it off, scooching you off him to take off his jeans. Regular, clean, tartan boxers. He wished he'd worn something sexier -- like boxer briefs or something -- something that didn't look so ridiculous with a hard on.

"So we're doing this, right?" he asks, climbing back on the bed and laying you down on the mattress.

"Only if you want to," you smile at him, reaching behind you to snap the bra off throwing it on the floor. All the light in the room was from a single three wick candle on your dresser on the back wall but even then he could see the curves of your chest. The shape of your body under him. Your head hits your pillow and he sighs, using one arm to steady him and the other to glide over you, from your cheek, down your neck, landing on the swell of your breast.

"You're so perfect," he says softly, eyes lingering where his hand was resting. He kneads it gently and smiles when it earns him a small gasp. Your legs part again and he uses his knees to part them further.

You look up at him, a little confused, but part your legs further anyway. He sits up, leaning back to take your arms and pin them against your chest, falling back into his previous position. He kisses roughly, you oblige but it doesn't feel like him.

He bites at your lower lip, hard enough that you let out a whine but he takes it as the go ahead. He lets his mouth wander, nipping down your neck in harsh love bites with nothing to follow up to soothe them. His hand snakes into your hair with a sharp tug.

"Ow," you whisper, but he doesn't hear it. Too busy trying to make sense of this in his head. Is he supposed to lick a stripe up your neck before or after he bites? Is it supposed to be closer to your jaw? Where did he even see this? This would be easier if he wasn't achingly hard.

“Hey, hey, stop — stop,” you say sternly. Eddie recoils immediately, sitting back on his heels and shrinking into himself with a deep blush you can’t see in the low light. His eyes sting with embarrassed tears, adams apple bobbing while he tries to swallow them down. His heart is beating so hard he think it might shoot directly out of his chest. And how awful would that be? First he ruins sex and then he just bleeds all over you?

“What’s going on?” you ask, pulling your blanket up from the end of your bed.

“I just — I’m doing what I thought you might like?” his voice his tight, like he’s holding back a cry, “Am I not doing it right?”

“Ed, I just want you to be yourself,” you sigh. You reach out to him but he slinks away before you can, "You're like, trying to be the DM version of you right now."

"Yeah but he's like, hot and confident," Ed shrugs, "I'm just...Eddie Munson, resident virgin."

"I wanna fuck Eddie Munson, resident virgin," you state plainly. His cock twitches, he thought he might even cum from hearing you say that.

"And you won't know what I like unless you ask me, don't just guess," you instruct softly. He let's you reach back out and touch him, pulling him down to lay next to you. His hand skates over your tummy and he wraps an arm around you to pull you close. The smell of your perfume and shampoo engulfs him instantly -- his brain had to be shutting down at this point.

"This is all about communicating," you assure, "Do you think you like it rough like that? Like how you were doing to me?"

"Um, I don't know," he lies, because he does like that. He thinks he likes doing it and he thinks he'd like it being done to him.

"I like it," you confessed, "Just not right now."

"Oh," he blushes, "You like when I'm rough? Just not all the time?"

"Exactly," you smile.

"So what do you like tonight?" he asks awkwardly, "Or what would you like tonight?"

"Soft," you say, pressing a kiss next to his lips, "And gentle."

You kiss him again, on the lips this time, "You."

With a newfound approach he leans in to kiss you, this he knows he’s good at because Steve overheard you tell Nancy that you ‘never got so wet from making out before’ and that it ‘made you feel like you were in high school again’. He gasps when you break away to kiss his jaw down to his neck, his hand traveling up to get entangled in your hair.

"I really like when you kiss me there," he pants out, eyes rolling when you reach a spot on his neck right above his collar bone, "Fuck."

"There?" you grin against his skin, letting your tongue run over it again before sucking on the spot eagerly.

"Fuck, yeah there," he whines, hips bucking against your thigh. You maneuver him again, crawling on top of him and he succumbs to letting you take the lead. Your hips do that deliciously evil grind over him again, and he can feel how dampened your panties are over his boxers. Each drag of your hips pulls his skin over the head of his cock, sending him hurtling closer to cumming than he anticipated. He reaches feverishly for your hips, holding you to a stop.

"Too much?" you ask. Fuck, why are you so cute?

"A little," he confesses, breaths getting heavy, hips twitching.

"Sorry, I just...I'm really horny," you whisper with a giggle, covering your face with your hand like a visor. He giggles back, shimmying down so your heat was directly over him.

"We can...you know," he says, reaching up to move your hand and place it on his chest, "We can do it."

"You sure?" you ask again.

"I'm sure," he assures, heart still thumping with nerves. He watches you lean over him, breasts directly in his face, knocking his nose, while you fish in your beside table for a condom.

"I brought some, they're in my --"

"Too late," you say, gold foil packet in hand, offering it to him while you sit back between his legs.

"You're too confident in me," he says at the sight of the Magnum XL wrapper.

"I promise I'm not," you laugh, "I've seen a lot of dicks."

You both pause.

"I mean...you...fuck, you know what I mean," you smack your hand to your forehead, "Let me shut the fuck up really quick."

He takes the condom from you and tugs down his boxers slowly, while you help him take them the rest of the way down. He sighs while he reaches down to pump himself a few times before slipping on the latex. He catches your eyes round out when you see it, your soft swallow of the saliva pooling in your mouth.

Maybe you weren't too confident in him.

It was a little tight, if he was being honest.

"I'm gonna be on top, okay?" you ask. He nods, looking at you while you slide off your underwear, nerves building in his throat. Adrenaline coursed through him like he just did a line, like he just played a show. Like you just kissed in Steve Harrington's kitchen. Like when you tasted like peach rings.

You kiss him while you get back over him, sliding over his length with your lips. Your thighs twitch when the rigidness of the underside of his cock runs over your clit.

"Ooh, fuck yes," you mutter to yourself, face crumpling with pleasure.

"That's good? You like that?" he asks, hands resting on your hips while you continue toying with yourself over him. You nod, knowing you're wet enough to take him without foreplay, which will be a different conversation for a different day.

He squirms when you take his cock by the base, guiding the tip to your entrance. "Oh, fuck, fuuuuck me," he gasps while you start sinking down on him, "Jesus fucking Christ. Shit."

He watches you sink all the way down to the base, bodies meeting again. He feels you press your weight on your hands on his chest, eyes rolling when you adjust your hips, walls tightening over him.

"Baby, I -- you're -- Jesus," he gasps, a soft groan follows suit. "Oh my god, oh my god," he hears you whine, eyes begging when he looks up at you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, nerves overriding his pleasure, "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm okay," you breathe out, "It's just you, fuck, you feel so good."

"I -- I feel good?" he asks, "I'm making you feel good?"

You nod over him, hips dragging up slowly and then back down, little soft gasps and moans coming out of your mouth when you lean your head back. He watches you in awe, light bursting behind his eyes and sparks going off in his belly while you pick up the pace.

"I'm -- oh my god -- I'm not doing -- shit -- I'm not doing anything," he admits, "How am I -- oh god, oh god --"

You slow down, resolving to grinding your hips slowly to answer him, "You don't have to do anything, you just...you fit like, perfectly in me."

He grabs a pillow and covers his face so you don't see him smiling like an idiot, "Are you saying I have a nice dick?"

You laugh and it sends vibrations down his shaft to his sac, his hips jump involuntarily. He feels you reach for the pillow and he grips it harder.

"C'mon, let me see you," he hears you say, relenting when that soft coaxing tone comes out of your mouth. You tuck the pillow off to the side, still sitting there with him inside of you. He puts his hands on your hips, sliding them down your thighs and then back up again.

He mumbles gently, "Can't believe you're here with me."

"I can," you smile, hips rising and falling again.

"Shit," he gasps, fingers pressing hard into the fat of your hips and back to your ass to steady you. He blanks out his mind, shaking out whatever Steve said, whatever porn he watched, whatever he read online. He lets you keep riding him until he sees stars and on instinct he wraps him arms over your hips to keep you in place and pull you to him.

"Want me to slow down?" you gasp out.

"No," he grins, planting his feet on the mattress. He bucks up into you, once, twice, three times until he gets a steady rythym. You feel like fucking heaven, and you sound like it too.

"Oh fuck, Eddie," you whine out, it's high pitched and needy. He grunts in response, chasing his high while your tits bounce in his face.

"Oh my god, oh fuck that's -- that's so good," you gasp, the end coming out in a yelp. Your nails did into his shoulders and he hisses in response, the pain feels good -- he makes a mental note of that to go back to later.

His thrusts slow as he feels himself getting closer to the edge, taking it away from him as he eases up. He wants this to last forever -- he can't even believe he's lasted this long.

"You good?" you ask, taking his face in your hands. He smiles, it's stupid, pussy-drunk.

"M'good, I'm so good," he says softly, "I wanna be on top now."

"Oh, okay," you chuckle out, "Let me just--"

You raise up off him and he whimpers at the feeling of you leaving. The cold air hitting his cock, his chest -- he feels exposed. You lay back on the mattress, legs open and spread for him while your hand travels down to rub lazily at your clit.

"You can't be serious," he whispers, "That's so hot."

"Me touching myself?" you ask.

"Yeah, you -- shit, you're a like a high preistess or some-something," he says, eyes wide with wonder while your hips squirm. He feels stupid after saying it, mentally scolding himself. You're such a fucking loser, Munson.

"Can you um," he takes a deep breath while he steadies himself between your legs, lining himself up with your opening, "Can you keep doing that while I -- do this?"

"Yeah," you nod, a whimper coming out of you when he pushes in. His body knows what to do but finding a rythym is hard at first. The caveman in him wants to just go for it, jackhammer you until he cums. He starts like that, hard and fast thrusts, grunting and moaning like an animal, hips smacking against the backs of your thighs -- but he can hear Steve in his head.

'Start slow and work your way up, try different angles -- when you feel her like...I don't know -- gush? That's when you know you're hitting it right.' 'Gush?" 'Yeah, gush. You'll know what I mean when you finally do it.'

He takes your legs, pressing them up against your chest -- a position he's definitely seen in porn. But the normal kind. The real couples kind. The kind where they're definitely in love. He readjusts, sliding back into you slowly, he smirks to himself when your eyes roll back, arms falling back to your ears.

Then he feels it.

The gush.

"Ed that feels so good," you whine, tears pricking your eyes, "You're doing so good, baby."

Eddie gasps, cock twitching wildly at the praise. His face gets white hot, biting his lip, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

You catch his reaction, letting yourself get louder for him.

"You're such a good boy, Ed," you coo between moans, "You're so good for me."

"So good," he rasps back, hips starting to snap erratically.

"Oh baby, shit, fuck, I'm gonna cum -- m'gonna fuck -- cum," Eddie grunts out, laying flush against you while he finishes out hard and fast. He groans into your ear while you feel him spasm over you and inside you, riding out his orgasm until he comes to a stop. He takes a shaky breath but he doesn't get up, his chest and shoulders continue to shake, he sniffles.

He's crying.

"Oh, no, Eddie -- baby are you okay? What's wrong?" you ask, running your hand over the back of his head. He lifts up slowly, looking at you and your concerned face, your kiss bitten lips.

It makes him want to cry more, "Oh angel, I'm sorry. I'm not sad I --"

"I just love you so much," he sniffles, laughing at the ridiculousness of this, face already wet with tears, "I love you and I've never like -- felt close to anyone like this before. M'sorry for crying. I know it's stupid --"

"It's not stupid," you smile, pulling him to your chest, "I love you, too."

He laughs again, "Do you think I'm some loser virgin for crying?"

He sighs at the feeling of your nails against his scalp again, his body still so sensitive with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"No," you smile, "Especially not a loser virgin. Since, you know, you're not anymore."

"I guess you're right," he says into your neck.

In the light of the three wick candle on your dresser, you both continued you lay there, naked and wrapped up in each other on your bed. You've switched around, your head on his chest and his hand stroking your hair.

"Do you uh," he starts, "Did you cum?"

You shake your head no, "I didn't, but that's okay."

"No, don't say that," he huffs, "Steve said that girls say 'it's okay' but that it's actually not."

"Psh, you really listen to everything that Steve says?" you argue.

"Well yeah, he's -- you know, he used to get girls before him and Nance were official," he says, "He wouldn't lie to me."

"Well I'm not lying to you either," you say, leaning on your side to look up at him, "It's okay."

He squints down at you, "I don't believe you."

With you on your side, he gets up on his knees again, hands finding your hips to lay them back on the bed.

"What're you doing?"

"I said, I don't believe you," he repeat, leaning down to kiss your stomach, your hip bone, the top of your pubic bone, "So I'm gonna make you cum."

"You're really confident," you say while he opens your legs to get between them.

"You think I can't?" he asks, a small frown falling onto his face.

"No, I'm sure you can," you urge, "I'm just saying, you sound really confident."

"It's sexy."

"Sexy?" he asks with a grin, kissing the inside of your knee, "I'll take it."

He looks down in the low light, your pussy still slick and glistening, still slightly puffy from earlier. No wonder guys ventured down here so often -- you looked delicious.

His fingers graze your inner thighs, making you shiver. His eyes meet yours, a devilish smirk dancing over his features, "Do you like that?"

"M'just excited," you blush, grabbing the pillow from earlier to cover your face. Eddie gets to work, laying down on his stomach, letting his lips slip and slide against your inner thighs before licking a thick flat stripe up through your lips. Your whine is loud enough to leak past the pillow, your hips grind slowly up against his mouth.

This was a skill he felt good about. He'd only done it once before a couple years ago during a really drunk hook up in the city, but he definitely didn't hear any complaints. And he figured, if he was a good kisser he had to be good at like...kissing pussy? That's how he thought about it at least.

His tongue traveled wherever he could let it go. Into your opening, against your lips, up and over the hood of your clit. He listened to your breathing, how your hips would react, the tensing in your thighs, trying to see where you liked it the best.

"Up a little higher," you instruct, pillow discarded, leaning on your forearms to look down at him. Your eyes meet and he melts, nodding while he moves up, waiting for your okay. He reaches up, the gods of cunnilingus speaking to him while he does, and pulls back the hood of your clit to lave his tongue over it.

"Ohmygod," you whisper out, head falling back on its hinge, "Don't stop."

"That's really hot," he croaks out to himself, looking at the expanse of your body above him, your exposed neck. He didn't mean to say it out loud. Fucking christ, he sounds like a teenager. He busies his mouth so he stops talking, sucking gently over you while your hips grind in time with his work.

"You can -- mm -- you can use your fingers, too," you tell him while your hand comes down to entwine in his hair. Eddie's eyes flutter closed, the gentle tug when you hit the right spots sends him reeling. His other hand comes up, tongue still flicking in alternating rhythms over your clit. He lets one finger slide in without resistence and then another -- Steve always said something about using two, but he doesn't remember, he just remembers 'curl upwards'. He pumps slow at first, your moans are getting to him, the sound hitting him right in his pelvis. The tightness of your walls around his fingers feels just as good as it was around his cock.

"Oh just like that, just like that, fuck," you gasp out. The praise sends him into a frenzy, hooking his fingers up to feel a different texture than before -- spongey, rigid.

But that's what it happens -- more than a gush. A flood, all over his fingers while your walls clench down hard on him. Hips rising off the mattress while you cum for him, whimpers and whines pouring out of your mouth.

"Easy, baby, easy," he giggles, free hand gripping your hip to ease it back down, "I got you."

You steady your breathing on the bed, feeling him detach from you, pressing soft kisses back up your tummy to your chest.

"You okay?" he asks gently.

"How," you breathe in, and out, "Did you get so good at that?"

He shrugs, "I dunno, just sort of winged it. Was I really that good?"

"You were really that good," you nod, "I came really hard."

"Fuck yeah," he nods to himself, still not realizing that he's thinking out loud, "Sick."

"Sorry," he says with an embarrassed shake of his head. You sit up, pecking him on the lips in a silent 'I love you,' and go to your dresser to throw on some pajamas. He reaches down off the bed to slide on his boxers, pulling his shirt over his head. You meet in the middle of the room and he can't help but hold you to him, feeling closer to you than he ever has. Magnetized, like you're meant to be touching at all times.

"I made brownies," you say, "They're already sliced up and in the microwave. Figured we wouldn't have time to get to dessert, so -- I prepped ahead of time."

"Is it lame to say I already had dessert?" he asks, a boyish grin showing off his teeth.

"Yes," you reply with a smile, "It is."

"Do you wanna watch Grease with me?" you ask while you walk to the door, warm light pooling into the room as you open it.

"Are you gonna say every line as it's being said like you always do?" he responds, following you out of the room, trying not to trip on Brutus who is scurrying past his feet to sleep on your bed.

"Of course I am," you say confidently, going to the kitchen to take out the plate of covered brownies in the microwave above the fridge. He takes them from you, placing them on the counter while he grabs two small plates from the cupboard above your head.

"Then I absolutely want to watch it with you," he smiles, a genuine full smile. Steve is gonna lose his fucking mind when he tells him.

Eddie Munson, resident virgin loverboy.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MISSBERRYCAKE! They have six fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and five of them posted to the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by Missberrycake:

When the Sun is High (I'll Meet You in the Woods)

An Act of Grace

If I Loved You Less.

Blackbird

The Wonder

"I'm nominating missberrycake for a spotlight because I've loved a number of her works that I think have been underappreciated. Her pieces can be quite melancholy, but I think are really lovely and always leave me feeling content. She writes dialogue and characters in a very believable and layered way. I first came across her after her most popular fic, though I think she's done some fabulous ones since!" -- anonymous

Below the cut, Missberrycake answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Ooh, I have a long and storied past with shipping and, while I've been a Stranger Things fan since the start, I hadn't really picked up any shipping threads until S4. I think Steve and Eddie have a great mix of that jock and loser dynamic and enemies to lovers vibe that works really well - but also the ending to S4 was really ripe for some good angst storytelling. A little reminiscent of Stucky or Reddie.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hm. I'm not sure. I am a sucker for time travel, but I don't think I've red too much of that. Probably slow-burn - I just love being frustrated!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Well … according to my most used tags on Ao3, it's AUs and Time Travel, and Friends to Lovers shows up there as well, which all sound right. I know that I'm enjoying a book or show or whatever when I think, I need to write and AU of this!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Ahh! That's too hard - I have a lot of bookmarks for fics I love! It’ probably a battle between Lovesick in Loch Nora by red0aktree and standing up the dead by heartofwinterfell. The first is so gah, you know? So romcon. The latter, I love the concept. Even though it's Max-led, Eddie is fabulously done in that fic, for sure.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Not really - ideas tend to swoop in when I'm not actively thinking about it. I have had a niggling little thought about a folklore esque cryptic came back wrong story, something creepy, you know. But we'll see!

What is your writing process like?

Overly organised! I'm a planner, so I need to know what the ending is before I start - I will generally map out acts and scenes and character arcs before I write the first sentence, which I think helps me immensely so that I don't have to do so many edits later.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure I must do, but I don't know about them. I guess - I'll tend to write all my dialogue in a scene first as a but of a template and then fill in the gaps.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, when I've finished for sure. The only time I've ever abandoned a fix was when I posted as I was going on a schedule and it really killed the enjoyment of it for me - too much pressure on timing and the lack if ability to go back and fiddle with things.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I'll stick to my Steddie fics, so it would have to be An Act of Grace, for the Bigbang. I adore that fic, honestly, and worked really hard on it. I think it came out almost exactly how I wanted it and I was so excited when posting finally arrived!

How did you get the idea for An Act of Grace?

It was two things, really - firstly I had watched ‘Howards End’ with Joseph Quinn in and fully needed to see Eddie in the similar time period, I could not get it out of my head - the idea of a servant Eddie and aristocratic Steve came to me pretty quickly after that and was too perfect. Also, though, I wanted to do something with a distinctly English vibe to it (I am English!) - I sometimes feel a bit at sea writing USAmerican characters and settings, so something more familiar I though might work better for me.

When writing When the Sun is High (I’ll Meet You In the Woods), what was something you didn’t expect?

For it to be so popular, actually! Particularly as it was being posted. It's my most popular Steddie fic by a country mile and I'm really fond of it - trying to get a version of Steve and Eddie who had a history to work with canon was a fun challenge.

What inspired If I Loved You Less?

Well, its an Emma AU, so Emma! I was watching the most recent film adaption and NEEDED to write it, but I also loved Clueless growing up, so putting a modern twist on it made the most sense to me. The placement of characters in that story was very fun!

What was your favorite part to write from Blackbird?

The tree decorating scene, for sure. I love that part of Christmas myself, so I had a great time adding in little bits and pieces from people I know and traditions they have.

How do/did you feel writing When the Sun is High (I’ll Meet You In the Woods)?

Gosh, it feels like it was so long ago! I was just excited to get something out into fandom, I think, and to become part of the community.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Wonder?

Ooh, probably knowing that it wasn't going to do very well? 😄 I completely love that little fic, so to kind of keep it contained to just Eddie and Wayne - even mostly Wayne - was tricky. Sometimes less is more!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Hm. In the epilogue of An Act of Grace, Claudia gives a little speech about Steddie. I think I like that a lot for the way it kind of sums everything up so nicely. A bit of a snapshot of them as characters.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Nope! I've taken a bit of a break from writing at the moment, buy I've been at it for 13 years, so I'm sure I'll be back at it in the future.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just to say thank you to whoever submitted my name! It's made my month, probably!

Thank you to our author, Missberrycake, and our anonymous nominator! See more of Missberrycake's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie writers #writer's wednesday #writer's spotlight

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift has recounted auditioning alongside actor Eddie Redmayne for the film adaption of Les Miserables adding that she was there for “a good time but not for a long time”.

The singer, 32, and Oscar-winner Redmayne, appeared as guests on The Graham Norton Show where they spoke about the screen test for Tom Hooper’s 2012 version of the famous production.

Swift said: “Basically I was up for two roles – I had the look of Cosette and the range vocally of Eponine, so it was established I was there for a good time but not for a long time, I wasn’t going to get the role.

“But they asked if I would like to go to London to do a screen test with Eddie, who is one of my favourite actors, and I thought ‘This isn’t an experience I am going to get again in my life’, so I said yes.

“When I got there they put me in full 19th century street urchin costume and told me they were going to paint my teeth brown and I was like, ‘You are going to do that after I meet Eddie Redmayne, right?’

“But no, they made me look like death and it became a nightmare. When I met Eddie I didn’t open my mouth to speak!”

Redmayne, who played Marius Pontmercy in Les Miserables, and was named best actor at the Academy Awards for his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory Of Everything, added: “I thought we would just be singing off each other – I didn’t know we would be in each other’s arms.

“My overriding memory of it is that I had had pizza and garlic dough balls beforehand and all I could think about was my garlic breath while Taylor was dying in my arms and I was trying to show emotion.”

I’d Do Anything star Samantha Barks landed the role of Eponine in the film, with Hollywood star Anne Hathaway playing Fantine and Mamma Mia! actress Amanda Seyfried playing Cosette alongside Hugh Jackman’s Jean Valjean.

Swift released her new album Midnights last week to rave reviews, with it breaking the Spotify record for most-streamed album in a single day.

She told Norton: “It’s all about sleepless nights and the hour of midnight.

“I’ve had sleepless nights all through my life and there is such intensity when you are up all night. It’s a concept album and the main question is ‘What keeps you up at night?’.”

On the response to the album, she said: “I am thrilled,” adding jokingly: “But, I do think it’s a little accusatory when people say I broke Spotify. It was my gorgeous fans that broke Spotify!”

#taylor swift

[neverlostmycrown]

Evanescence - Evanescence (Ev3) Deluxe Edition, 2011 - Digital Booklet

(hq via archive.org)

Amy would like to thank: I want to thank everyone at Blackbird Studios in Nashville, for letting us use your amazing place to create, and for making us feel like part of the family. Special thanks to John and Martina McBride (for running such an awesome studio, and for the BBQ!) Nathan Yarborough - the best and sweetest assistant engineer anywhere, and all the interns who gave me rides home. Also, thank you to all our friends at S.I.RNash- you’ve been such an important part of this record. From writing and pre-production to rehearsing and performing, it all happened in the big room at the end of the hall! Thank you for being so good to us. Big love to Nick Raskulinecz, the man with the plan. Thank you for believing in me, for pushing me, for making me stronger, for cracking me up, and knowing when to say HELL YEAH!! Thank you Paul Figueroa: Engineer extraordinaire, master chef, bowling champion! Thank you Terry, Tim, Will and Troy for having my back, for bringing rad, inventive ideas to the table, and most of all, for making it LOUD! Thank you so much David Campbell, Dave Eggar and all of the string players. Thank you Chris Vrenna, you rule! Thank you Will B. Hunt for the inspiration, the good times, and the very special music we made together. Thank you to John Nicholson, one of my new favorite people! Also thank you to Phyllis Sparks and Mike Simmons. Thank you Dave Fortman, for your advice, support, and friendship throughout my career. Thank you Diana Meltzer for discovering me and always supporting me! Thank you Josh, for supporting and encouraging me to be brave and remember love, above all. Thank you Mom, Dad, Carrie, Lori, and Robby for being my biggest fans and always supporting me, making me feel safe when life gets hard, and taking me to Disney World no matter how old I get! Love to all of my wonderful family- I am so blessed. Gotta give a shout out to my girl, Beth! Thanks for being someone I can always count on. I can’t wait to laugh around the world with you once more! Thank you Zach and Stacy Williams, for your friendship and your inspiration. Thank you Eddie “Muscles” Mapp (for being awesome). Thank you everyone at Wind-up records for working so hard for us and putting out this album. Thank you Andy Lurie for all your hard work and support. Thank you Chrissy Igoe and the rest of 110 Management. Thank you Gary Haber and Patty Wicker for everything you do for me! Thank you Ken Ewing, Sheryl Rowling and Steve Baron. A very special thank you to our fans, for listening to our music, for letting it take a place in your hearts, for sharing your lives with us, for making all of this possible.

#evanescence #amy lee #ev3 era #evanescence era #self titled #evanescence 2011 #digital booklet #official booklet #text #ilovethis #old times #memories

[spindlesaurus-rex]

Eothiriel murder mystery au mark 2

Because @konartiste asked!!

After the Funeral

It was, in the end, a beautiful day. The sun was strong for September and the air was warm. The beech trees in the garden of the graveyard of Meduseld’s parsonage gently waved and light fell through them, dappled and surprised, onto the neatly trimmed verges that were as they had ever been. The blackbirds were singing, ready for the autumn glut in the hedges and ditches, bright and clear in the morning air. It was an English morning, pure and true. And Uncle Theo was still fucking dead. 

Eomer Eadig, Earl of Meduseld, and just plain Eddie to his friends was currently attempting, in his own way, to square up to that fact. He stood by the fresh earth of the grave, alone, and tried to find some sort of meaning in it all. He did not succeed. All he saw, instead, was the earth that covered his uncle’s body and the neighbouring plot that held his cousin and no rhyme or reason for why he still stood there at all. 

He wondered just how much Wynnie would resent him if he took the bike and left. Just drove out of the grounds and down, away from all the sober suited people who must still be milling about the chapel grounds or starting up the vast lawn and through the yew walk to the house. His house. Damnit, he didn’t want the thing. Besides, that manicured thing that George the gardener called a lawn wasn’t the way to come upon the house anyway. To see it properly you needed to go via the meadows instead, wild grass in the wind, tramp down the path that wound from the hill and trip down those final steep steps until you came upon the roof below you, blinding in the sun. The wildflowers would be out, purple mallow bright against the green and yellow of the long grasses. 

How hideous it was to love something so fiercely, he thought, and be so afraid of loving it at the same time. From behind him came a little cough. 

“They’re starting to head up, old chap. Wyn’s in the lead, so they’ll be alright for a while, but I promised I would come and tell you.” 

Imrahil, master of the neighbouring Amroth Hall, stood tall and unbent. His hair was beginning to grey, silvering his temples and his clipped sharp beard. It lent him an oddly roguish air, as if one could ever forget that he had spent his youth running about in rigging. Eomer loved him fiercely, and had since childhood, having spent the best and earliest days of it running around Imrahil’s home and his own. Neighbouring was a stupid word for it, it took the better part of three hours to ride from one to the other and by the time you had the vistas changed from rolling ranging hills to the sharper cliffs of the sea, but neighbours they were. Imrahil had been staying at Meduseld for the week, helping everywhere. The idea of him leaving this afternoon, of all of those people who only a moment ago he had resented leaving him alone in that great big house without Theo or his Uncle suddenly threatened to bend him in two and he pulled air sharply into his lungs to say something, anything but the words wouldn’t come and he staggered slightly. Imrahil put out an arm. Steadied him. The sun fell brightly still through the trees and, for just a moment, Eomer wept. 

The breeze stirred the leaves above them. Eomer passed a hand over his eyes. Imrahil squeezed his shoulder and he straightened, turned to face his dear friend. “You know I’ve told Wyn to go?” he asked softly, gesturing at the path ahead of them.  

“She’s worried about leaving you.” Imrahil matched his stride, knocking his shoulder against Eomer’s as they left the churchyard and headed into the sunshine. “And I can’t say that I blame her. I don’t like the thought of you rattling around in Meduseld just now on your own. You know you’re welcome with us, don’t you? For as long as you like? Alfie would love it above all, you’re my grandson’s favourite as we all know, and -” He broke off. Eomer was smiling at him, softly, but shaking his head nonetheless. For a while, neither of them spoke. The birds sung still in the hedges about them and the yew walk came into view. Finally, Eomer cleared his throat. 

“I can’t. He trusted me to do this. I have to begin it.” 

Imrahil sighed beside him. “We’ll stay, if you like, as long as you want. Or simply ride over. You can or we will. Hell, I doubt you’ll be able to stop Lola -”

“Lothiriel? Your Lothiriel? Little Lola? I thought she was still in Paris?” Eomer did not try to hide his surprise. He hadn’t seen Imrahil’s youngest child, his only daughter, for some time. She had been in some theatrical or something her brothers had dreamed up, a last hurrah before she went off to school. He remembered her collar, starched and wide and white against the navy of her dress, and how she blushed when they all applauded, pleased with herself. She had blushed, too, when he had kissed her hand in a show of appreciation meant more to make her brothers laugh than to please her. Yet he had been fond of her. She and Wyn, when they could, would sneak away from any governess and join him and the brothers, Amrothos always so brash and Erchirion always so cunning and Elphir trying to keep them all from anything too dreadful, and all of them roving the hills with grass-seed in their boots and plans packed in their bags alongside the ginger beer. Lola and Wyn had never turned from a thing, giddy alongside them. He hadn’t thought to age her in his mind and, for an absurd moment, he imagined her riding over on the pony she had had then, collar flapping. 

Imrahil laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend calling her Little Lola to her face, old thing. I think she’d likely take a parisian heel to your tenderest toe! She tried to make it back for today, of course, but her train was delayed in London. She’ll be here soon, I shouldn’t wonder. Telephoned from the hotel this morning to say she’d buy a car if she had to. She was very fond of your Uncle and - well, she wanted to be here. So she’ll be down and around and about in the shire. I’ll need you to keep her out of trouble, I shouldn’t wonder” 

They had almost made it within sight of the party. Already Eomer could hear the voices, the bubble of polite chatter. Within moments he would be back amidst the thick of other people’s grief and there would be right things to be said and done and thought. He paused, and Imrahil, catching his movement, paused too. 

“She isn’t going back?” He asked. “To Paris? To school?” 

Imrahil laughed again. “School?” he fixed Eomer with a questioning look “She’s twenty two, Eomer. She’s been done with school for some time. She took a degree and has been keeping my sister company. But now Irviniel is coming back and Lola claims Paris has delighted her long enough. Even if it hadn’t been for this, she would have come back over with Ivy in a month.” 

“I can’t think of her as twenty-two, I don’t think” Eomer confessed softly and Imhrail snorted as they resumed their steps. 

“Imagine being her damn father,” he muttered and together they rounded the corner and came upon the rest of the funeral. 

#my writing #fanfic #lotr #lord of the rings #eomer #lothiriel #au #inspired by agatha christie #my beloved #jeans wips

[foxieflower]

Here's my official post-canon headcanons reference for Eddie and Waylon!

Besides this and artwork, I also have a pile of snippets I'm starting on ao3 if anyone would like to follow my nonsense there while I write domestic fluff about these two!

Ch. 1 Leg Day

Ch. 2 Heart of a Stallion

Ch. 3 Darling Dear

Ch. 4 Blackbird

Ch. 5 The Tears Weren't for You

#eddie gluskin #outlast whistleblower #outlast #waylon park #weddie #my art #outlast fanart #foxie writing #outlast fanfic #outlast headcanons #post canon

[usafphantom2]

Blackbird lands in the dead of night, a Christmas miracle.

December 22, 1982, SR -71 # 974 Emergency landing at Grand Forks Air Force Base, North Dakota.

The crew coordination between the pilots and RSO (Reconnaissance Systems Officer) was one of the strongest contributions to the SR-71’s outstanding safety record.

This trust and bond between them allowed two separate individuals, sitting in two separate cockpits with two different roles, to perform like one individual.

During the emergency descent, Pilot Smith could not see the runway. This was his last chance to land in zero visibility. RSO McKim said, “Strobes on site.”

Then Smith pulled the throttle to idle and felt the runway!

On the night of December 22, 1982, Lt. Col. Bernie Smith and his RSO Major Eddie McKim experienced a left generator failure while on a mission over Iceland / Canada. They selected Grand Forks AFB in North Dakota as the nearest suitable emergency airfield. During the descent, a primary hydraulic system failed, one of the most severe emergencies on the SR-71. They needed to land immediately.

They dumped fuel to reduce the landing weight as they neared Grand Forks. The weather was deteriorating rapidly. It was now two hundred feet overcast, with one-half-mile visibility and a slippery runway with freezing drizzle. During this emergency, Smith flew the instrument landing system down to minimums. The "Minimums" callout is made at the minimum altitude, and this is the point that the Pilot Flying has to make a decision -- continue landing or bailout. The runway environment was not in sight, and visibility was so bad he could not see anything. The idea of a missed approach was not an option, though, as there were no suitable alternate fields available, and they were too low on fuel.

Smith will never forget Ed’s words while he sat there staring into zero visibility at close ground proximity. “I have the strobes in sight. You’re on the centerline. Keep on coming.” With no visibility around him either, Ed was looking through his viewsight and had picked up the sequence of flashing lights beneath the aircraft. It was this bond and trust that made Smith pull the throttle to idle and sit there until he felt the runway. Miraculously, they landed, blowing out the tires on a sheet of ice. There was only one hangar that would be able to house the crippled Blackbird 605 was just barely big enough to hide the top-secret airplane. Armed Air Force security surrounded the SR-71, protecting it from onlookers, which was standard procedure. On Christmas Eve 1982, Smith and McKim took off for Beale Air Force Base, their home, with a little bonus tail art. “Merry Christmas, Grand Forks”

Eye witness Tom Bennett, “ I was there when it happened. I was a nav in the 46th Bomb Squadron (B52Hs), and we partied with the crew at the club. I believe the pilot’s name was Bernie Smith. The crew lost hydraulics somewhere near Iceland en route back to the States. They wouldn’t make it to Beale, and GFAFB was the last northern tier base open because bad weather precluded them from landing elsewhere. Their departure was on a Saturday, and a large crowd gathered to see it take off. They did an air show for about 10 minutes in the pattern (mostly high-speed runs), and then at the end, they slowed for an approach gear down, then went gear up, hit the burners, and they disappeared into the overcast. A lot of noise, a lot of speed.... “🔥🔥

Four years ago, John Des Portes shared this story with me, and I paraphrased it. One Photo credit goes to Dale Riggs, who was there at Grand Forks and took these two photographs. Second photo credit to Don Hinton who took a picture of the tail art I expanded, and re-took the picture ~ Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[princessstevemunson]

Eddie’s favorite Beatles album is the white album, because when his mom was having a good day she’d put it on and they’d laugh while singing along. It’s the album that they’d sing along to in the car whenever they went to visit his uncles Wayne and Dan. It was in the background when they made pancakes on the occasional Sunday morning. Even when she was really sick she would sing him to sleep with “Blackbird.”

The first time he laughs after his mom passes, his uncle Wayne puts on the album—because while Eddie lost his mom, Wayne lost his best friend—one Sunday while they’re making breakfast. He starts giggling when Dan dances with both Wayne and Eddie during Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.

#his vecna song is either blackbird or obladi oblada #Dan is Wayne’s partner #eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie munson & wayne munson #also eddie really relates to the song Julia later in life

[dynamite-lazerbeam]

Would Eddie Munson like the songs on my playlist?

Except I have what many would consider questionable taste at best and believe that people, even metalheads, can like more than one music genre. No idea if this is a modern au or an everybody lives au or what because it’s a mess but I digress. 18 and Life - Skid Row Duh.  Loves Sebastian Bach-- maybe a little bit too much. 1985 - Bowling for Soup Yeah, the nostalgia train hit modern Munson hard with this one.  Not his style of music but loves the references. Alone - Heart Secretly.  Belts it out in the car. And So It Goes - Billy Joel Probably not a Joel fan, but he, like, gets it. As It Was - Harry Styles Though I think it’s possible that he would like some Styles songs, he’d think that this one is commercial music. Babooshka - Kate Bush Yes.  A resounding yes.  An unashamed, unabashed yes. The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing - Danny Kaye Not really his style.  “Old people music.” Blackbird - The Beatles The first song he learned on guitar.  For sure a soft spot. Black Dog - Led Zeppelin Though not metal, Zepp was his first foray into “heavier” music. Blessings - Chance the Rapper Though I’m in the minority that thinks Eddie would develop a healthy appreciation for rap, Chance would not be one of those rappers. Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen Yeah, Eddie loves Queen.  Argue with your mom.  Freddie is a hero of his and he loves Roger’s vocals as well. Brush Up Your Shakespeare - Kiss Me Kate No musicals.  God no. The Chain - Fleetwood Mac I honestly don’t think he’s given Fleetwood Mac much thought one way or another.  Like, it’s not really his style of music, but if someone were to say it was their favorite band he’d probably just be like, “Oh.  Cool!” Chateau (Feel Alright) - Djo Maybe as a high jam.  Maybe. Crazy Crazy Nights - KISS No.  Hates KISS.  Could get the same message from about 10 other, better songs. Dreams - Fleetwood Mac See number 13.  Maybe the soundtrack to an acid trip he had once. Don’t Go Breaking My Heart - Elton John and Kiki Dee Hates it, but definitely got pulled into a drunken karaoke rendition once (he was Kiki.  Steve was Elton). Drive My Car - The Beatles Meh.  He gets that they’re The Beatles and he respects that, but he’s not going out of his way to listen. Falling - Harry Styles No.  Respects the “I’m well aware I write too many songs about you” line, though. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen Once wrote an entire DnD one-shot where all of the characters and places were inspired by songs.  The Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy made his appearance as an NPC. Glory of Love - Peter Cetera Would strangle Peter Cetera with his bare hands if he could. Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benatar Definitely just me projecting, but I think Eddie loves powerful women voices.  Whether you read him as being attracted to women or not I think he just *clenches fist* loves women. Home Sweet Home - Motley Crue Yeah, dude loves Crue.  Wants to be Mick Mars, especially after injuries sustained in the Upside Down. Hopelessly Devoted to You - Olivia Newton John Go-to drunk karaoke song.  Will never hear him admit to being a Grease fan outside of this context, but is definitely a comfort movie of his (he is, obviously, more of a Rizzo fan than a Sandy fan, but he’s a drama queen before all else and nothing says drama more than “Hopelessly.”). I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Please picture with me, if you will, a Corroded Coffin gig.  Eddie has just gotten into a fight with his significant other (a small one, probably a misunderstanding, but Eddie is dramatic and loves and opportunity to “suffer for his art”).  He knows they’ll be there.  They never miss a show.  So here comes Eddie, all eyeliner, leather, and angst, and they open with this.  Of course, immediately after the gig it’s “I’m sorry baby,” and “You were amazing up there,” and all is forgiven. I Know the End - Phoebe Bridgers I think every single Stranger Things character would find the parallels between their lives and this song to be too uncanny not to like this song. I’m in Love with My Car - Queen Uh, yeah.  Especially mechanic Eddie.  He’d tie his hair back and have this song blasting, singing along while he looks under the hood. Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin This song is pure feral energy, just like Eds. I Punched Keanu Reeves - Hello Peril While hilarious (iykyk), no.  He has an emotional attachment to Bill and Ted. Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry Yes.  Is actively upset that Back to the Future tried to erase Chuck Berry’s genius by implying a white kid gave him the idea for this song. Killer Queen - Queen Favorite Queen song by far. Let’s Hear It for the Boy - Deniece Williams Does not like a single song from it, but actually really enjoyed Footloose.  An oppressive small town, a guy who likes heavier music… so sue him, he identifies. Light My Love - Greta Van Fleet I love him, but Eddie would totally be a “Greta Van Fleet is a Led Zeppelin rip off” truther; man would listen to a single song and go off about authenticity and corporate bullshit before literally never giving them another chance again. Neighbors - J. Cole I genuinely think Eddie would be very stereotypically “I hate rap” for most of his teens and early twenties, but I think eventually he’d grow to appreciate any type of fight through music, especially protest songs, which this is. Norwegian Wood - The Beatles This is the perfect campfire song, and I think if you could convince Eddie to go acoustic for a weekend and go camping, this would be the first song he’d learn. Paranoid - Black Sabbath Eddie canonically likes Sabbath, so I would hope he likes one of their best singles.  Is definitely on every “Intro to Metal” mixtape he’s ever made for his friends. Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) - Kate Bush Pretty indifferent to it pre-Max.  Now has a mixtape of everyone’s favorite songs.  He carries it everywhere.  Also learned it on guitar and plays it at the hospital when and if his name is cleared and he’s allowed in. Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting) - Elton John “Token good Elton song,” according to him. Scarborough Fair/Canticle - Simon and Garfunkel Definitely something he would base a campaign off of. Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos As with every other DnD nerd, regardless of music preference, he fixates on it.  Is the source of at least half of his LoTR/Ren Faire/DnD fantasies (the softer, less badass ones he doesn’t talk about).  Refuses to believe it’s Jesus music. Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus Are you kidding?  This song is basically an autobiographical account of his life if/when he had a crush on anyone in a different friend group.

#stranger things #headcanons #music #playlist #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson headcanon #eddie #steddie #if you squint #eddie x reader #kinda #stranger things 4 #eddie munson playlist #eddie munson music #this is either going to get zero traction #or it's going to get me killed

[gayhoediaz]

Word: soft

(this fic just hit 70k so i'll be answering these with the first three lines in which the word appears! if i did all of them, we would be here forever lol)

Buck lets his tongue swipe across his own bottom lip as he settles his hands back on Eddie’s thighs, kneading the soft, sweaty flesh in his grip.

Everything feels so soft. Simple. Light. No one is talking, and no one needs to talk. The blackbirds sing happily outside the window, and the coffee machine bubbles comfortingly as it brews their second pot, Buck’s hands safely tucked around the mug containing the last of the first, letting the heat seep into his palms.

“Hey, uh…” he says, pushing himself off of his seat on the island, and placing the empty mug aside as he makes his way over to the stove, gently sliding a hand underneath the soft blue fabric, letting the small of Eddie’s back heat his palm as he sidles up to him.

send me a word, and if it's in my wip i'll post the line/s it appears in!

#wip games #healthy communication smut fic #writing tag #nie answers 💕

[lboogie1906]

William Norton Bailey (December 8, 1912 – December 12, 1978), known professionally as Bill Bailey was an African-American tap dancer. The older brother of actress and singer Pearl Bailey, he was considered to be one of the best rhythm dancers of his time and was the first person to be recorded doing the Moonwalk, although he referred to it as the "Backslide," in the film Cabin in the Sky (1943), starring Ethel Waters, Eddie "Rochester" Anderson, and Lena Horne. He was born in Newport News, Virginia, and spent his adolescence in Philadelphia. At eighteen years old, he was discovered in New York by Lew Leslie and put in his production Blackbirds of 1930. After the production, he and Derby Wilson, another prominent taps act, formed a team that challenged each other at the Cotton Club and toured with Duke Ellington when his band traveled to Europe in 1933. He was compared to Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, who he considered a mentor and friend. Once he and Wilson went solo, he continued to be booked as a Bill Robinson imitation act, often standing in for Robinson when he was away filming. African American press at the time predicted that he would follow Robinson into film stardom. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl505DzONoF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[libidomechanica]

To pleaseth you can do

In lucendo,’ not what in shiny blackbird’s feet.     That love, a spring, and the nuptial couch is but still as I may not be told of the     mind and her beauty growth, I fought not

of Woman born? And the Dew-locks father and     powerless, aghast! They must do: for none heard a bush my earth; while thilke same, we’ll never knowing     on his own identically,

perched on to be ground. But little God I heard of     Sin pierce stars were soon his way said I, o’ my Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis—for shameful     jest, we have wept, he sat with holy

came; but Iphigene to say, is the foes. A     woman’s hand in the integrity of the day. The things: yet my heauy mould the Maids drew     him—could not the wind—shaking mightily

pight: I knocked the fair to outward than me, that     which wounded in her navel the turn those loue though her to the snake, my courage early     known the least we that I shall liking,

darkening touched in a halcyon sea. Where disabled,     unpreparates what has a kid, but coast, am given signes of lilies     once more dazle the gallows-tree, sacred

with pipe gives o’er the pass, where ours, and as a     sin, but silent, she point, I put my Corinna, come and after here sits and your belles     and flowers and with a haughtier smilest,

dearest and hour assigned, to see. To beguile     he toil’d: the executioner of the name is Jupiter, Care,—I wish is quite. Save     to close at hands mumble looked with buegle

about me then to grown and strangers to be     eddying hame fair. Ones the Lyons house did bid me because ye hae thee accloieth, my     Sinnamon sung, with rapid pace to lose,

thy brain white as we trust! That shuts itself would hold     thing I desperate now at length, to Loues indeed: we walk’d, and purple throat, before up     all care league be all you prefigure

at my faults with you care a vessel bear with     eternities in the winds are truly boring appears;—and with Heaven’s despite. So true,     no tender is lustlessness; and then

I met your mind, with she threw him seem long ago,     ’ she signes of want of blisse. Mine, minding in a dance, chatter pleasing hair, other it     should all that it is lent his staff, stood

a moment after much I bear the soul, and pleasure,     than by the least not bears the lines and let’s goe a short can never knows the could it     sound; he spoke too ripe, and sorely hurt.

With gloom. Not all I love exhausts itself, and feare.     The unblessed was far too long past that which precious is my breast: whilome in your eyes,     in vain, the desert rove? Meeting somewhere

are She pauses between St. For he to walk     with trees of my blood heart, ye’ll fall, thy cup’s heart, and his trodde in the hearts shouldst owe. And, brushed     him with open Door. To pleaseth you

can do. And your Georgian and apt to be monopoly—     the heart.—Must we thou art praise best, and up the ragged pine—a greene, a singing     out o’ h—ll. Shun which they rang like

to mince their full of some men can expound the who     looks down, but wise it was my breast. The stopped her growth and Doom: the oak and flowers, although     the female rank and studied lessons

rather and the Outward they hold on. From bonds without     alarm came to ye, my labouring night rest of leave found the lid. But, trowth, I fought     as if she knew him—could strangers walk

here. And the lawns, while and Beauty of the morn her     abide by side,—so beauty moue; whose luminous base. Softens above alone, to join     his cost too daring to the tongue was

wondered in a crescent, the Tigris hath gain’d of     quick like to his altered on again. The flesh by their own way, and Dudu, who’s     We simply nor whole, the change his feel?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #136 texts #ballad

[incorrect118buddie]

FANFIC FRIDAY:

Every Friday this page will highlight some Buddie fics ! Please send in fics that you think should be highlighted, whether it’s your own or a different author to the ask or messages inbox:

Hello hello hellllooooo! Happy Friday lovies and also happy May! I am here to send you amazing vibes for the weekend and to provide you with some spicy fics this week🔥 please keep sending in your recs , we appreciate it so much ♥️🚒🧯 love you all . Also be sure to look out for the upcoming incorrect118 quotes -author note

you've got a friend in me by @likeshipsonthesea

Summary : Buck frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then winces. “Eddie. Are you okay, are you hurt—” Buck steps closer, hands raised to assess Eddie for injury, but Eddie jerks back. Buck stops. “Eddie?”

blackbirds, silence, and early morning orgasms by @queerasdiaz

Summary: The calm. The serene. The birds outside of the window, and the early morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds - the way Eddie can feel it in every single touch, and every kiss - this is where he's meant to be. This is where they are meant to be. They're happy. They're safe. They made it.

short, shallow gasps by @gayboyeddie

Summary : Eddie would like to state, for the record, that he has never cried during sex before.It’s just — Buck does something to him.

You're the Only One (Who Makes Me) by @spinteresting

Summary : Christopher is at camp for the week. Buck and Eddie just got together, and they take advantage of the empty house, exploring each other's bodies many times in many ways.

I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be (Right in front of me) by @finduilasclln

Summary : It’s such a long time coming and still it takes Buck by surprise. It takes him by surprise even though he is the one that leans in and finally kisses Eddie. His second surprise is that Eddie doesn’t push him away, doesn’t even look at him with confusion. Or worse, rage. No, Eddie kisses him back like Buck is a tall drink of water and Eddie is severely dehydrated. Buck knows the feeling.

short, shallow gasps by @gayboyeddie

Summary : Eddie would like to state, for the record, that he has never cried during sex before. It’s just — Buck does something to him.

you've got a friend in me by @likeshipsonthesea

Summary : Buck frowns. “What’s wrong?”Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then winces.“Eddie. Are you okay, are you hurt—” Buck steps closer, hands raised to assess Eddie for injury, but Eddie jerks back. Buck stops. “Eddie?”“I did something stupid.” Eddie’s voice sounds rough, like it does first thing in the morning. His cheeks are somehow even more flushed than they were when he first stepped out. Buck can feel the discomfort radiating from him and he just—wants to make it better.Buck tries for levity. “Like, tried-to-cook-and-almost-burned-the-kitchen-down stupid or someone-cut-me-off-on-the-freeway-and-now-I-need-help-burying-a-body stupid?”Eddie huffs. “More tried-getting-off-for-the-first-time-in-months-and-got-a-vibrator-stuck-up-my-ass stupid.” Buck takes a second while his brain goes completely blank.

#fanfiction recommendation #fanficfriday #buddie fic recs #buddiefanfiction #incorrect 911 quotes #evan buck buckley #911 on fox #evan buckley #christopher diaz #edmundo diaz #streaming #television #eddie and buck #buckandeddie

[thekristen999]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @homerforsure for the tag. Also to @firemedicdiaz for the word game. Sadly, none of your words appeared in the story!

Eddie Begins AU with Pararescue!Buck.

....

The landscape was rocky and the army unit hid behind several large boulders, the downed Blackbird in the distance.

“Go, go, we’ll cover you!” Han yelled.

Han laid down suppression fire while Buck and Panikkar made a beeline for the injured team.

“Can anyone give me a sitrep?” Buck asked, removing his night vision goggles.

“Master Chief Hawkins. We’ve got one KIA and four wounded.”

Buck scanned the group for Eddie, spotting him on the far right.

Panikkar knelt next to the Chief. “GSW to the arm,” he told Buck.

Listening to Panikkar’s assessment, Buck knelt in front of his first patient. A woman clutching her stomach and panting in pain. “I’m Buckley, can you tell me where you're injured?”

This was a combat medic unit. Buck knew they would give him a more accurate assessment before he could determine it on his own with a physical exam in the dark.

“Mills,” she said. “GSW to lower right quadrant...Maintaining pressure.”

Buck went to remove her hand when she batted it away with her other one. “I’m good...Go check on Diaz.”

“I’ve got her,” Panikkar said.

Buck moved onto Eddie who cradled his wrist, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Norwahl’s got a concussion. Binder’s…” Eddie drew a ragged breath. “C-check his tourniquet.”

Of course Eddie’s first priority was his teammates.

..

tagging @renecdote @fleurdebeton @mellaithwen @princessfbi and anyone else who wants to play.

#seven sentence sunday

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 11 - Axel Cluney

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/strong language/medical themes/mentions of blood & injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use.

Description: Saberrah Asta, Featherfall General’s newest nurse, finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she can’t fix. Will Axel’s love knock out the voices telling her to run, or will their explosive romance fizzle as fast as it flourished?

Note: Transitional chapter into the third and final act of Blue and Yellow. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts and reblog if you can. It would be much appreciated.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Axel pounded the sidewalk to the body shop where Arty worked, several kilometres from Featherfall General. He chain-smoked along the way, leaving a trail of ash and butts, his free hand tucked in his pocket when it wasn't flicking a lighter. He reached the shop with his last dry cigarette between his lips and a pounding headache from thoughts of the previous twenty-four hours.

Arty noticed Axel through a rain of sparks and the dark, dirty visor of his welding helmet. His sudden appearance gave Arty a good-spirited jolt, but the look on his cousin's face snuffed his excitement. It had been a while since Arty saw Axel looking anything worse than indifferent. Since he had gotten serious with a girl, Axel had no reason to come around, and when he did it was always for some small talk, weed or car troubles. Today, it looked like it was all three.

"Hey, Axel. What're you doing here? The Monte's nowhere near done, eh. She's still waiting her turn in the garage."

"That's not why I'm here," said Axel. "I need to borrow your car. Or someone's car."

"Thought you had your girl's ride?"

Axel dropped his shoulders and scowled. "Does it look like I have a ride, brainiac? Gimme some goddamn keys."

"Alright, jeez. What's eating you, bud?"

"Everything."

Arty fetched the key off the workbench nearby and dropped it in Axel's hand.

"Remember, no drinks. Just had her detailed."

"Yeah, right. Thanks, Art. I'll have her back at close."

"No worries, boss. You can drive the bird until I get the Monte back up and running. I'll tackle it tomorrow, first thing."

Axel went around the shop where the old yellow sports car sat glinted in the bright noon sun. The blackbird emblem spread its geometric wings over the hood, and two matching stickers of cartoon bulldogs flexed on the doors. It would have been a classic beauty in Axel's eyes if it weren't for the tacky decals Arty had plastered onto the finish. Axel never forgave Arty for marring the car's electric shine but now cared little enough he forgot about it and sped off for his uncle's house.

Uncle Harry and his flock rented a well-lived-in townhouse inside a court called Newton Boulevard, a neighbourhood where everyone knew each other, and the co-op hosted bingo Sundays and Christmas in July. Axel had spent a lot of his childhood around Newton Boulevard. The winding road reminded him of Summertime chalk drawings and playing army tag in the field behind the old E-unit housing.

When the Firebird stormed through the court and pulled up in the visitor parking, the regulars flocked with questions and admiration at the ready. Axel nodded them off, trying not to cause a scene and spoil his surprise visit. He made brief greetings and climbed up the stone steps to his uncle's house, leaving the townies to gawk at the Firebird all they wanted.

The inside of Harry's house smelled like a fast food joint, all grease and no ventilation. His son and Axel's half-cousin Kirby slouched on the living room sofa, a bucket of Fast Eddie's cheese fries in his lap, and only mildly interested in Axel's appearance. Nothing had changed since last he'd been through except Kirby's girth and the deterioration of the faux leather couch.

"Hey, Kirb. Where's Marley?" Axel asked.

Kirby shrugged his slumping shoulders and crammed a fistful of fries in his mouth, intent on the TV court judge's verdict before a commercial break inevitably wedged between him and the dramatic pay-off.

"She upstairs?"

"Sh! I dunno, Axe. She might be in her room or at her boyfriend's."

"Who's her boyfriend?"

"Hell if I know who she's sleeping with now."

Axel climbed the stairs, and the sound of daytime sleaze television morphed into cheerful Reggae and cackles. Marley's room was at the top of the stairs to the right, and Axel made no hesitation banging on the door several times before entering uninvited. Inside, Marley sat on her futon beside an olive-skinned man, smoking a blunt. The man took in a lungful of smoke from an eight-ball-shaped bong. Both sets of bloodshot eyes flew open like a cop had busted down the door.

"Marley, we have to talk," said Axel.

"What about?"

"You know what about!"

"Hey man, why don't you just calm down," the stranger said.

"Hey man, why don't you get the fuck out of my house?"

"You live here?"

"Manny, just go. You don't want to get punched out," said Marley.

"Yo, for real, mami?"

Axel pointed at the door. "Yeah, for real, bud. Beat it. Now."

Manny set the bong down on a coffee table covered in weed crumbs and empty joint tubes from various dispensaries.

"What about my money, huh?" Manny asked.

"Don't worry, babe," Marley said, grabbing his hand gingerly. "I'll post up with you in a bit. This is a family matter."

Manny nodded once and left without further resistance, having understood the sanctity of family. After all, Manny had the word tattooed in Spanish down his forearm for a reason.

"Aight, girl. Guess I'll see ya."

Axel opened the door and gestured him out, then slammed it shut. He took a sprint at Marley, and she cowered, crossing her skinny wrists in front of her face. Axel would never let his fist fly, but it felt good to make her flinch and drop ash all over her lap.

"You fucking bitch!"

Marley made to scream, but Axel clamped his hand over her mouth, her volume reverberating his hand. She shrieked under his palm and thrashed away. Even in a deficient state, Axel was leagues stronger than the hundred-pound stripper. Marley drew her teeth and bit whatever meat she could hold, sending Axel back clutching his hand.

"You're lucky I don't beat your fucking face in."

"Do it, then. We already have matching bruises!"

"You jumped my girlfriend!"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I don't give a shit about that bitch."

"What, you jealous or something? She doesn't have to wave her snatch around to make money and get guys to notice her?"

Marley crossed her arms under her chest, and the shift of her collar bone and ribs sickened Axel. She had always been a scrawny thing, but now her skin stretched over skeleton like spray-tanned latex.

"I can't believe you're shitting on sex work. That's unlike you, Axe."

"Yeah, whatever. I used to have respect for you. Now you're nothing but a fucking crackhead like your mom."

"Don't you dare talk about her to me!"

"Then stop fucking acting like her! You sent two of your friends after Sabi. She's lying in the hospital with stitches in her face! How did you think this would end?"

"I dunno, Axe. Are you gonna punch me out? Hm? Gonna beat a woman?"

Axel's arms and fists shook. He remained where he stood, envisioning the consequences of hitting Marley. Her nose was already blue and purple along the bridge and had bled out under her eyes. She glared up at him until he faltered. Hurting his cousin would only cement the family strife into his everyday life. If Harry found out Axel hit his stepdaughter, it would escalate to Rita, and if his mother caught wind of the drama, nobody would ever live it down.

After Axel retired his most gruelling scowl, Marley relaxed and knelt on the futon. Red Red Wine played through the room. The smell of weed got to Axel, and he motioned for her to hand him the blunt. She passed it to him, as well as a pink Bic lighter. Axel lit the end, tasting blueberries and Marley's spittle damp on the filter.

"What do you see in her anyway? She's totally not your type."

"Exactly. Which makes her exactly my type 'cause my type is fucking trash, and Sabi's the opposite of trash."

"So hanging out with you and Arty at Nikki's and punching people in the face isn't trash? Sure thing, cousin."

"It wasn't her idea to go," Axel said through an exhalation of smoke. "And you were asking for it."

"Anyone who dates you is trash or destined to become trash. Sorry to break it to you, but come on. If your girl's so great, how come she's with you?"

"I don't fucking know."

"And you're dating her because she's new and exciting and a nurse. You've always had a thing for nurses."

"Fuck off. You’re disgusting."

"Oh, come on, Axe. You know it's true. Remember that one Halloween?"

Axel changed his mind about the blunt and threw it at her. Marley jumped and plucked it from the cushion before it burnt a hole.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"We were so close."

"You have something seriously wrong with you."

"Lighten up, asshole. We're not really related anyway. Not even by marriage."

"I don't care, Marley. Get the thought out of your head. I was blackout wasted that night, and you were aggressive."

"Don't pretend like you didn't want it at the time, though."

"You ruined my life. Sabi fucking hates me now. If you think I want anything to do with you after that, you’re dumber than you look."

Marley shrugged and dabbed the blunt out into a heart-shaped ashtray.

"As if your life wasn't already fucked up before. Besides, I still don't know what you're talking about. I love you, Axe. Why would I jump your girlfriend? She's probably just lying to make me look bad."

"She wouldn't lie. Sabi doesn't lie."

"Bullshit. Everyone lies."

"She said two people jumped her and used your name. Why would she make that up?"

Marley yawned and stretched her twiggy arms and legs like a hairless cat. She laid across the futon, staring at the veins popping in Axel’s forehead. His eyes were shadowed and heavy. One side of his bottom lip didn't match the other in size or colour. He was swollen, bruised, strained, and too dizzy to fight anymore, especially after leaving Sabi in the hospital to deal with a breakup.

Axel hoped Farber would hear about the dramatic exit and rest easy. With the doctor and Isadora Asta off his back, he could deal with the inevitable pleading at Sabi's feet. He was confident in his plan. Sabi loved him. It lit up in her eyes before he left, and she would understand after an explanation. And If she resisted, he would persist. If she told him to go, he would simply refuse. He just needed a long rest before mustering the courage to face her again.

Marley wasn't worth the time spent not preparing to beg Sabi’s forgiveness again, if indeed begging was what it took to convince her they belonged together.

"You're lucky you're a woman. Otherwise, I'd fuck you up."

Axel spied a half pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and his mouth watered for a puff. He opened the door, readying to leave when Marley cleared her throat.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Stay the fuck away from her, and tell your buddies to back off. You're not the only one with friends, Marley. Remember that."

"I'm telling you, cousin. I didn't send anyone after her. She's just lippy. Maybe she shot her mouth off at the wrong person, and they set her straight. You know how it is around here. Look at someone wrong and pow. May I remind you that she hit me, and you did nothing. You just let some bitch hit your family."

"Thought we weren't related? Whatever. Lucky is all you are. I'll give you this one, but if I see you or your kind around my area, it won't just be an ass-beating."

Axel, as a last middle finger, snatched the cigarette pack from the table. He hardly recalled hurtling out the door, ducking into the Firebird, and heading for home. By the time he reached the elevator, his vision had faded around the edges, wandering, and he collapsed into bed fully clothed. The cat found him and mewled for food, but its owner was dead to the world.

~*~

Sabi didn't try calling Axel. Even a precisely worded text message was too strenuous to exact. Axel's departure was yet another blow to her senses, leaving her numb as the world crawled onward. The hospital food was bland, her mother's admonishing hit a wall, the sounds of machines and hushed voices all a blur. She awaited instructions, though she already knew what the doctor would say.

Crutches weren't going to cut it this time. Sabi left the hospital in a wheelchair driven by Isadora. She realized then Axel still had her car key, and her mother hadn't asked about the vehicle. She kept the realization to herself and let her mother wheel her home.

When Isadora stepped in, her eyes shot to the stack of boxes in the corner of the unused dining area, labelled in black Sharpie.

"It looks like you haven't even unpacked," Isadora said.

"I haven't, really. I tried, but..."

"What is happening to you, Saberrah? Are you doing drugs with that man? Tell me."

"I'm not doing drugs."

"Then why are you living in this filth?"

"I've just spent a lot of time elsewhere."

"That man is ruining you."

"His name is Axel, and he hasn't ruined me. He's sweet. But why would you trust my judgment? You've already made up your mind about him."

Isadora had not been present when Axel said his parting words in the hospital, and Sabi was determined to keep her in the dark. It was her freshest hurt, and the agony ran deep. She longed for bed and was too exhausted to entertain her mother or wonder why she defended Axel still.

"You should get comfortable, Sabi. I'll make you something to eat."

"There's no food here."

"Then I'll go shopping. But I'm returning, and I won't hear anything to the contrary."

Sabi grunted, and her mother drove her into her bedroom, seeing the simple bed and a dresser piled high with unwashed clothes. Had Sabi known her mother would see the apartment, she would have hurried to clean and unpack and maybe never had encountered two attackers. Like everything else, Isadora's appearance was unplanned, and Sabi looked worse for wear.

Isadora made quick work of the apartment, unpacking and cleaning as she went. She saw the empty cupboards, filled them with jars, cans and boxes of grocery staples, then stocked the bathroom with hand soap and toilet paper. The sun had gone down when Isadora stopped to check on her daughter.

Sabi dreamed of Axel in her bedroom, and upon waking, was disappointed to see her mother instead of her tall, tattooed beau. The orange haze floated around Isadora like a skirt of cloud. The woman forced a smile on her face, though in the darkness, the grin seemed sinister. Sabi's own forced smile collapsed when another wave of weariness claimed her back into a light slumber.

Ten hours passed before Sabi moved her body to the wheelchair and went to the living room, where the late afternoon sun glinted off Isadora's tar-black crown. It was strange to see her mother reading the newspaper on the sofa where memories with Axel took intimate form. Sabi tried not to think about the sexual activities done where she sat, as though her mother might learn her indiscretions with one hard look.

"Mom, you're still here."

"Of course I'm still here. I told you I'd be here when you woke up."

Sabi reviewed the cleanliness of the apartment and thanked her. Isadora accepted the gratitude with a curt nod and set the paper down on the freshly Windexed coffee table. She bowled her hands in her lap, gold rings disappearing under the fat pads of her fingers.

"Saberrah, you need help."

"Help with what?"

"How are you supposed to drive?"

"I'll be fine in a few days. I have some painkillers, and I can order dinner for a while. Mom, you don't have to make a point."

"I don't like this," Isadora shook her jowls. "I don't like this person you've become. I found disgusting things in the bathroom. Used condoms. Now I know you're living in sin."

"Mom, how many times do we need to have this conversation?"

"Until you clean up your act and stop making a fool out of yourself."

"Okay, you're right. I've been foolish. I'll go to church, but you promised not to intervene as long as I stayed in nursing. Well, I'm still a nurse, so you can't just move into my house because you hate that I have a boyfriend."

Sabi's tongue went dry from the utterance. Her head floated back to Axel and the conversation they needed to have. The exchange of property. And Sabi had a hunch their subsequent encounter would play out in her favour. Axel would ask for her back, and if he didn't, she would remind him why he loved her in the first place. Satisfied with her plan, Sabi tolerated Isadora's fierce scope for a while longer.

"I’m not like you and your sisters. I'm not a writer or a practitioner who's obsessed with academic prestige."

"I was married at your age, remember?"

"I'm sorry you had to find out about my life like this, mom. Really. I was going to call and suggest a visit soon. Then this new job distracted me."

"How serious are things between you and him?" Isadora asked.

"I have things at his place. I've met his mom. We've been going out a few months and... He's told me he loves me.

"What does she do? His mother."

Sabi paused on the truth, then let it spill. There was no point in hiding anything from Isadora and her forensic eye for detail. "She's unemployed. Most likely on disability. I've helped her out when I can."

"And he's good to her?"

"You'll never meet a man who loves his mom more. A total momma's boy."

"Would that I knew the feeling of having a child who respected me."

Isadora's dismay had been palatable up until that moment. With no willingness to bend for her mother's feelings, Sabi set aside her aches and sighed.

"I love you and appreciate everything you've done to help. All I want now is to return to normal. I don't need a live-in nurse. It's just my foot, and I'll be back on my crutches soon enough."

"The hospital should be paying your leave. You were assaulted on the job."

"No, technically, I was on the sidewalk after my shift."

"What, smoking?" Isadora asked.

"Mom—"

"I know you've been smoking! What else? Have you not found enough ways to torture me?"

"Nursing is stressful, and so are you!"

The woman fluttered her neck and felt around for her belongings: purse, keys, gloves. She stood up and wafted a cloud of Blue eau de toilette through the room.

"Fine. Where are your pain meds? You'll need them."

"In the bathroom cabinet behind the mirror."

Isadora shook her head. "I cleaned that bathroom top to bottom. I didn't find any pills. But you'll want to prop your foot and rest, Saberrah. Now, I suppose if you're done with me, I'll leave you alone."

"Why don't we have dinner soon? When I'm mobile."

"I'll check back in with you later this week. We can make dinner here. I won't hear no."

Too weary to steer Isadora away from showing up again, Sabi accepted with a nod, knocking gravel around in her skull. The relief that came when her mother vacated the apartment was quick and heavy. She waited until the footsteps disappeared through the elevator doors, then found her phone, which had been picked up by the people who helped her after the attack. Flecks of dirt still clung to the screen.

A dozen text messages and missed calls from Axel waited unanswered on her phone screen. Sabi didn't bother listening to the voicemail before dialling Axel. The rings stretched out for minutes. Each series rang in her head like an alarm bell, a tiny hammer smashing back and forth incessantly until the line picked up and she heard breathing.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

There was an enormous hesitation, and then, "yeah. I can hear you."

Suddenly, Sabi lost her words. His gruff voice chased away the balls she had gathered to make the phone call, and now they were sitting on the phone in shared silence. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. Pondering the most gut-churning possibilities, Sabi clutched her stomach.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey."

"I, um... Need my car back."

"I was about to call."

Sabi's chest cooled to hear of his plan to contact her. It confirmed that which she had hoped was Axel's regret.

"Can you bring it over?"

"Yeah. I left it at the hospital."

"I need my other things. Especially my painkillers. They're not here, so they must be at your place."

"I'll take a look around."

His monotone soured the airwaves. Sabi felt bubbles bursting under her ribs. Would he say he loved her like he always did? Call her his baby? She held her breath. Waiting for his reactions was like being plunged into ice water, lifted, and dunked again.

"When should I come over?" He asked.

Sabi stuttered, not wanting to come off too desperate after the way they had left things—Axel breaking it off before they had a chance to discuss what had transpired and who was to blame for the rotten chain of events.

"Can you come today? Like right now?"

"Yeah. Be there soon."

Axel hung up first, giving Sabi the time to overanalyze what his eagerness to get off the phone meant.

Lonely and high-strung hours rolled by, ripening the afternoon glow with shades of red. The sun disembarked from the sky, leaving Sabi on the balcony craving a cigarette. Isadora had gone through her bags and thrown out her leftover Belmonts and lighter while on her cleaning spree. Such presumptuous liberties would have caused Sabi to go off on a tangent, but now, her throbbing ankle and body weakened from a brain injury, she cared not to bemoan her mother's bleaching of the apartment.

Just when Sabi thought Axel changed his mind about coming, a knock came at the door. Axel toted a bag of clothes and toiletries, her car key and shadows of exhaustion. They stared at each other's bruises before Axel set the load on the coffee table and handed her the key.

"I didn't find your painkillers. You sure they're at my place?" He asked.

"No idea. It doesn't matter, really. I'll just pop a couple Advil, I guess."

"Okay. Sorry."

"It's fine."

"So... First off, I confronted Marley after I left the hospital. She just made up some bullshit. Didn't admit to anything."

Sabi waved her hand. "I don't care anymore. What good will it do thinking about it? She had me laid out, and maybe she had the right."

"Nah. If you're gonna hit somebody, you do it yourself. You don't send others to do your dirty work."

"I just want to move past this."

"Me too," Axel sighed.

"Are we...Were you serious about what you said at the hospital?"

Axel's eyes wandered to the balcony. Sabi followed his gaze and nodded.

"Wanna dart?"

"Yes, please," said Sabi, wheeling around to the sliding glass doors.

Axel took two cigarettes from the stolen pack in his back pocket, passed one to Sabi and lit them both. Once the nicotine had a chance to work into their bloodstreams, the conversation continued. Sabi looked across Featherfall, over rooftops and beyond where the sun turned the horizon into a coral blur. She had difficulty looking up at him without feeling utterly diminished.

"I want to be with you, Sab. I want it more than anything, but Farber can't know about us. No one at FGH. Not until I get this deal off my shoulders. After that, I promise I'll hang it up."

"You're not going to tell me what's really up, are you?"

"You're smart. I'm sure you can put it together. Farber isn't a guy to be messed with. I know he seems like a dweeb, but he can make our lives hell, and I'm already on his bad side. You have to make sure he thinks we split up for real."

"So, are we together?" Sabi asked.

Axel leaned against the railing and finally let his eyes meet hers again. "You still wanna be with me?"

"Yeah. I do. I wanna be with you, Axe. Even though my mother hates you, and I probably should, too...I can't."

"You shouldn't want a life with me. I can't pretend you're not making a mistake and I shouldn't warn you."

"But, I love you. What do I do with that? I can't change facts."

"I love you too," Axel said. "Fuck, I do. And I wish I didn't. I wish you'd never walked into that hospital room, honey."

"And I wish I'd never moved here," Sabi said.

They chuckled at the absurdity of the conversation. After anger and tears came the laughable tragedy of a love most frowned upon. The truth, both pleasant and not, had been revealed. Neither of them cared to endorse anything but what weak hearts wanted. Axel would hold onto Sabi for as long as she allowed, thorny as she might be for a while.

After that, a new bond was forged of refuse and revenge. Sabi pledged to love him more fiercely than ever before, to fuck him like it was her life's purpose, and to rub it in her mother's face. Axel reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. He knew nothing of these oaths or that his well-placed lips sealed the promise and legitimized her decision to forget about the bad times.

In her hidden heart, Sabi knew this was yet another decision made of poor judgment and of selfishness. Nothing good would come of the agreement. Nothing except Axel's love which, once pledged, took nothing short of apocalypse to shake. She wondered how much more turbulence her devotion could withstand, but only for a moment until Axel squatted next to her, peering up with woeful eyes.

"I'll do better for you, babe. I will. I promise."  Tip me on Ko-Fi (if you want to)

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