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the-californicationist · 3 months

Note

Ok but imagine price being a dockworker and coming to the bar the reader is a server at after long days. Smelling like the salt on salt, chest hair peeking thru his shirt. She knows his exact order down to how much froth he wants on his beer and he just melts into his chair once he sees her on shift but their asses won’t even kiss yet (they wanna fuck diiiirty in between all the barrels out back tho)

Thank you so much for the ask!! I wish I got more of these <3 I love impromptu writings!! ^_^

MDNI

Somehow, you knew it was him by the sound of your door. The way that it creaked and popped, and the force with which it knocked the tinkling little bell at the top - all of these noises were the same, or at least they should have been, no matter who was coming or going from your bar. The way the metal bolt clicked out of the frame, the way the warped wood of the threshold whined and bent, the way that one pane of glass shuddered in the top left corner... it shouldn't have sounded different when he walked in. But, it did.

He sat in his seat, objectively the worst one in your bar. It was out of the line of sight from the television, and it was down at the fruit-filled service end, far from the keg taps. It was where you ran credit cards and kept your phone to take breaks, and you flattered yourself that the reason he sat there was to spend time with you.

John Price was a piece of work, that was for sure. He would come by right before close and linger. It was nice to have someone walk you to your car, especially on cold nights, since you were so close to the docks. He'd ride his old Triumph over from his work as a shipping and receiving foreman in the harbor, and he'd smell like sweat and the salt from the sea. His clothes would reek of tobacco from those fat cigars he'd always smoke, and you knew his beard would smell like it, too.

You wondered what it felt like, his beard. You wondered if it was as soft as it looked. You wondered what he would say if you asked him to give you a ride back to his place on that old, worn-out bike and lay you on his bed so he could kiss you from behind that beard all night. You wondered, over and over when you lay in your own sheets alone, what it would feel like for him to drag that rough-shaven chin over the swell of your breast. How would it feel on the insides of your thighs? Would it hurt you?

"You want the usual?" You asked him, trying your best to concentrate on shining the glass in your hand and not about having his body between your legs.

He smiled up at you and nodded,

"Sure, love. The usual."

As you poured his lager, keeping a little extra foam at the top, just how he liked it, you caught yourself staring again.

It was cold out, so he was in a thick coat, but he never had his collar buttoned up. There was always a bit of his chest on view for you through the drab plaid shirts he wore. He had a cut tonight, and you could see it soaking through the white of his undershirt.

"You okay, John?" You set his beer down and motioned to his gash.

"Oh," he chuckled warmly, "Yeah. Just got a little too close to the off-loader crane and paid for it. No harm, really."

"Let me clean it up for you. C'mon," you opened the bar's side door and lifted it so he could duck underneath, taking his beer with him and following you upstairs to your office.

Your barback would take care of the two other patrons you had. It was a Tuesday after midnight. You could close without any harm done.

As John wandered into your space, he noticed your makeshift cot in the corner.

"Surely you're not sleepin' at work, love?"

You laughed a little nervously,

"Don't tell the health inspector on me. Have a seat in that chair. Lemme get the first-aid kit."

He sat. Your heart pounded in your throat. As you dug around for the kit, you felt your nerves fraying. Maybe you liked John a little more than you thought.

"Here. Alright, can you show me the cut?"

You knelt in front of him so you could be in line with the wound. You tried to clean it, but his clothes were getting wet.

"Oh, sorry. Uh -"

"Here, love," he shucked his jacket off and peeled his shirt off from his back, leaving it around his arms, pinned in the sleeves, "That better?"

You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

He was huge. It was almost monstrous, the way his body bulged out around his bones, enormous snapping muscles rolling around his shoulders and neck, making him look like an animal. He was covered in soft, brown fur, and as you went to touch him, you made a grave mistake.

You hesitated.

Ever observant, you knew he caught you stumbling over him, frozen in place like a scared doe. But, mercifully, he said nothing, and allowed you to get to work.

Clean. Dry. Salve. Bandage. Smooth the edges. Make an excuse to do it again, once more to seal it down.

"There, all done. You have been a very brave patient," you smiled up at him and went to box up the supplies back in their little tin.

"You know," he purred, "Brave patients usually get some sort of prize."

You laughed softly,

"Fresh out of lollies and peppermints, I'm afraid."

"Sure there isn't anything else you'd offer me to suck on, love?"

His voice was low, dark, and deep. It crawled to you on its belly from the bottom of the sea, from the pressures and the cold, black hell of the fathoms of the water, lapping at the sides of your boat, threatening to sink you. He looked at you like a tiger shark studies a diver, with a chilling curiosity from the mighty to the fragile, wondering what you taste like and deciding if he'll bite.

John's arms were still bound by his clothes. If you wanted to flee, you would've had plenty of head-start. But, you didn't. You were moving outside of your own volition. It was as if you were dreaming, watching yourself be piloted by an unknown force. You stared him down and stood, stepping right between his knees, forcing him to look up at you and wait for your reply.

You peeled off your white tee shirt, revealing your bare breasts to him. Going bra-less meant usually meant more tips, but tonight you weren't concerned about the money. You wanted him to praise you. You wanted to call his bluff. You wanted him to fuck you on the stack of kegs in the corner of your office and let the sharp metal rims dig into your belly as he stuffed his cock into you from behind.

His shirts were gone from his arms in a second, and he leaned forward just enough to put his face to your breast, letting you feel the heat of his breath on your skin, sighing into you. John held your eyes captive in his the whole time, as if he may look away and break the spell. Then, he watched you watch him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling on it as gently as he possibly could, as gently as anyone had ever done.

You trembled, letting go of a breath you'd been holding, looking down at him as he sucked your flesh between his wet lips. You were right about the smell of the tobacco.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #ask me anything #careful what you ask for #because my answer is usually smut

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logicpng · 9 months

Text

safe... ♪

couldn't resist uploading the bg too i'm really happy with it

[Image ID:

Digital illustration, depicting Aster, a humanoid being in a suit and a starry head, with Rigel fronting, indicated by red and orange colors and symbols of the sun on the backs of his gloves and tie. He is sitting on a window of an image viewing program displaying an image of grass, which seems to be growing out from the surface of the program, a mouse cursor laying in front of him, lightly buried by the grass. The two are surrounded by a collage of other image viewers, depicting various flowers, clouds, sun, and a grassy hill. The space behind him is filled with an ethereal light, shown separately in the second image.

End ID]

Photo credits under cut, + timelapse

photos used by following folk on unsplash:

Hongru Wang - sky & hill

Debashis RC Biswas - grass

CHUTTERSNAP - sky & sun

clouds:

Wolf Zimmermann

Rodion Kutsaiev

engin akyurt

Nicholas Swanson

flowers:

Robert Woeger

Daniella Cressman

Szymon Ostrowski

Richard Loader

Myrlene NUMA

Dagmara Dombrovska

Geraldine Dukes

Richard Burlton

#original #oc #original character #object head oc #object head #frutiger aero #ai oc #aster #rigel aster #CaelOS #technically it fits the aes it deserves the tag

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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

Text

she is midnight rain | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter one | chapter two: she doesn't think of me

chapter summary: you just learned that your soon-to-be professor is straight up terrible. and in an attempt to drop out of her class, you instead became the target of her humiliation. you just knew you will hate her as she will you.

warnings: evident mommy issues (not really into depth)

a/n: im very excited to write this series (that's a lie, i'm only excited about the smutty parts, the beginning, not so much). will be trying to post an update every other day ꒰ ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷⸝⸝꒱

for all your years in high school, and the very few months you had before college, you didn't have a plan. you didn't know where you wanted to go. you didn't know what you wanted to take. there were too many choices. or maybe there's barely any. you just couldn't choose for yourself, you couldn't decide.

when you don't have a mother or in your case, when you have a mother who chose her boyfriend over you, you don't really have anyone telling you what to do, where to go. and maybe some people would love the same freedom that you had, but with that freedom was misguidance. you had nobody to help you choose, nobody to guide you, to teach you, to tell you what's best for you. you have to decide all that.

but when nobody told you what was best, what was the standard for best, how could you possibly have known. how could a child understand what was best for her when she was taught nothing about the sort.

you didn't know what you wanted, and your best judgement told you to trust in your friend and follow billy maximoff. he was your bestfriend. your other half. the only person you can confide in. you knew that you had to study where he would. you couldn't possibly survive on your own. you needed him to guide you. to tell you what to do. to protect you.

"you're in mrs. romanoff's class."

you were snapped out of your thoughts. you've been staring at the field the entire time. at the massive open field between the campus and the gate. you didn't know how long you've been here, for a moment, you didn't even remember billy being in front of you holding your class schedule.

"y/n, yoo-hoo. are you okay?" billy waved a hand in front of you. "what are you thinking?"

you sighed, "i can't believe i'm in college now and i still don't know what to do." you said, looking over billy's shoulder and getting once again lost in your own head. "how am i going to survive..."

"well, i'll survive." he said proudly, earning back your attention. you almost scowled at him for being a show-off. but he smiled at you. a soft reassuring smile. "i'll survive for the both of us." he said.

your heart fluttered a little. you didn't have a mom. or a dad. or siblings. but you had a family. you had billy.

"i know what i'm going to be. i have a plan. and while you don't have any for yourself, i'll carry you." he says.

you looked at your watch. freshman orientation is in a few, and seeing your attention on the clock sent billy the hint that you both should get going. nevertheless, your conversation didn't end as you both walked into the campus.

"how will you carry me?" you mused, not returning the same sentiment he sent you as you simply humored his words.

he held the straps of his bagpack. "mmmm..." he started thinking, "i'll get a job as soon as we graduate. you can stay with me and my parents until i get my own place which i'd be glad to share with you." he says. "that way, you can finally move out from your mum's house."

"that's... very free-loader of me." you chuckled, visualizing the life you'd share with your friend.

"well, you're my free-loader." he looks at you all giddy. "that's what friends do, right?"

you sighed, "yeah."

billy never had a good relationship with his twin brother, tommy. tommy decided to stay with his father after their parents got a divorce. billy on the other hand, stayed with his mother as she remarried.

you've never met mrs. maximoff's new husband. in fact, it's been a really long time since you'd seen billy's mom. the last time you saw her, she had some sort of a 50s haircut. from what your bestfriend tells you, she went through quite a few hair phases from a shoulder length side part to a long-haired rebonded look. at some point, you know she went crazy and got a full head of tight blonde curls. that was her, "going through a hard time with my husband so i must do something so incredibly different with my hair" hair. she went back to the normal big curls, fluffy airburn hair after she remarried though.

that's how close you were with billy. you were his sister, almost. you knew everything about him. even about his mother's haircuts half of which you're sad you weren't around to see.

"mr. stark's coming by for the orientation, did you know that?"

you looked at billy. "the rich guy who owns stark industries?"

"yeah. he's a friend of my moms and dad's."

"no way?!" you all but gasped. you did coo in shock a bit, looking at him with widened eyes. "damn, it must be nice to be connected to him." you say, your mind going on to imagine what your life would be if you were as rich as him. or even connected to him. then you wouldn't have to think about all the important decisions you need to make.

"he's connected to a lot of the professors here." billy mentions. "mr. rogers, mr. banner, mr. barton. but he's closest to mrs. romanoff. they're best friends." he looks at his watch. "i think he's here for the engineering department though. he's funding them lots."

"mrs. romanoff?" you ask, complete disregarding his following statement.

"he's the reason why mrs. romanoff met my parents." he says.

"i'm in her class right?"

you haven't taken a look at your timetable yet because billy has held onto it since it was given to you. eyeing all the names of your professors and giving you some kind of commentary about them. he knows a lot about them. mrs. maximoff used to be a professor here, and for the entirety of high school, billy frequented this very campus.

"yeah." he scoffed. "good luck."

"why? is she mean?"

"terribly." he says. "she's nice, but as your professor? she'll eat you alive."

you were in two of mrs. romanoff's classes, unfortunately for you. you had her in english literature, and business economics. and until classes had officially begun two days after your orientation, stories of how horrible she is; from how she failed more than half of the total students she's had in her lifetime, to how much she enjoys either suspending, or expelling her students over the littlest inconveniences became the center of all your conversations with billy. for someone who knows a lot about her, you wish he had gotten her instead of you. now the dreading fear of seeing her live up to your horrible expectations of her with you is just crippling.

"i'm dropping out of mrs. romanoff's classes." you blurt out during billy's long monologue of the stories he's heard about the professor.

he looked at you, "no! i didn't mean to scare you." he almost laughs. "she's actually really nice!"

you shot him a sharp glare. if he dares to defend mrs. romanoff after all the stories he's told, then he's better off shutting his mouth.

"yeah, no. too late."

there was a part of you that tugged at the idea of actually doing it. if there were something that stopped you, you would so give into it and drop it. you simply needed to know that you wanted to do—that you can do something about it so you can lie yourself into thinking that you have, this new life of yours, under control. and you were lucky enough to just serve into that purpose as you were unlucky enough to have stumbled upon a wooden door that had mrs. romanoff's name spelled out in gold letters.

natasha romanoff.

billy has been talking this entire time, explaining to you how mrs. romanoff could've been better than what he initially led you to believe. you've been taking mental notes but you haven't really been paying attention, so you only got, "she's the best professor here. constantly commended by the dean himself" and "her class is the hardest to get into. only the best of the best can get into it—"

you heard nothing further as you started fixating on how there was absolutely no way of telling if she was in as the massive window deemed useless with the blinds covering it. despite your efforts in trying to take even the smallest peak inside, no luck.

you can turn away. but you're here now. besides, not knowing whether or not she's in isn't really an inconvenience worth turning away from.

perseverance glinted your eyes. you weren't giving up. you put a hand on the handle, "y/n, no, she—", and you went in without hearing out billy, or even giving the chance for anyone to let you in.

you have to transfer out of her class before you have to go in it. as uncomfortable as this might be, it's this, or a whole year or more worth of wishing you got out when you could.

inside was a woman sitting at the desk just a few steps away from you. it was a relatively average sized room. it wasn't too small. not too cramped. but it wasn't too big either. not too empty. the walls of either sides were bookshelves. the back wall, a massive window overlooking the entire front of the school.

the woman lifted her head to see you, and immediately, you were taken aback by her... beauty. the features that are of the ordinary, but on its entirety, with all of it combined, created this image of the goddess sitting in front of you.

you melted. you pictured her to be an old woman, but now you see why everyone was so intimated by her. her simple gaze, and unmoving disinterest of your presence made you feel so small. to have such a gorgeous woman look at you like you didn't matter, exactly the way that she did you, is so intimidating. so belittling. yet, you were enamored. you were captured by her. she was just simply mesmerizing. satisfying.

she had red hair. massive curls that cascaded down her shoulders as if so intricately placed to look so neat and clean. she had a side part, though, it was barely noticeable as the part was a lot closer to the center than it should be for a side part. her eyes were so brightly... emerald. despite of the shadows created by the light behind her, it stayed so vibrant. like a gem. she had such a beautifully molded nose. and red lips. you wanted nothing else but to stare at her forever.

"i suggest you start saying something now, before this intrusion of yours becomes the reason why your time here ends."

her voice sent chills down your spine. you felt goosebumps. all the hair in your body rose. her voice was so terribly cold. she was composed, and calm. and had not a care in the world, especially you. the way she delivered it with such disinterest, almost in a condescending way made you feel so small. it gave you all the more reason to drop out.

she was looking up at you. her chin was resting at the back of her hand where she had a pen between her fingers.

she made your heart race in fear.

"i'm in your class." you take a deep breath. "i'd like to drop out."

you see the end of her lip twitch almost in amusement when her eyes dropped to the papers on her desk. she fixed her posture and started fixing the mess she had laid out. she did it so painfully slow as if you weren't there. but when she stood up, placing both of her hands on her desk, you knew she wasn't trying to torture you. the way the end of her lip raised into the slightest grin made you realize she was having her fun with you. like one of the students she'd amuse herself with first, embarrass, torture, belittle, before kicking out. almost like you were a toy. one of the many for her.

you gulped.

"tell me, miss y/f/n y/l/n. why do you want to drop out?" she asks, slowly going around her desk before she gestured to a chair in front of it—not to offer you a seat, but to require you to do as she wants, and sit down. "you haven't even seen me in class yet. i doubt you even had the chance to attend your very first class which you will soon miss if you continue to—waste, my, time."

you gulped again. something about the way she stares at you while she walks to the small table by the bookshelf where she had a few glasses and whiskey made your throat dry.

"i heard stories."

"i assure you, miss y/l/n," you flinched a bit when her glass hits the surface of her desk, later followed by her body dropping to her seat in the most elegant way. "whatever you heard is true."

goosebumps again. not good goosebumps. "please let me leave because i want to cry" goosebumps. her eyes were piercing through you, you can't imagine moving. to even relax your shoulder and somehow offending her with the slight movement is such horror for you.

she took a sip from her drink. before letting the glass hang barely by her fingertips as she leans closer to you, her chin resting once again on the back of her hand.

"how old are you?" she asks.

"i just turned 18." you answer quickly as if it would disappoint her if you waited a beat.

"what is something worth knowing about a y/f/n y/l/n?" you didn't notice the way your name rolled off her tongue. you didn't notice she knew your name this entire time. she said it with such grace. never had your name sounded so foreign. so new. so beautiful.

something about her was pulling you in. sucking you into her. and you weren't sure if it was the fear of getting kicked out, or just because of her sheer charms that made you blurt out every thinkable thing about you.

"i'm 18. i just turned 18." you started, taking a deep breath in and calming yourself down when you realized how quick you were talking. "i can't drive for the life of me. i hate milk. i'm plainly unhealthy. i don't drink vitamins. or eat an average amount of nutrients and meals in general. i'm nocturnal, i can't fall asleep at night. i love juice, soda, everything but water. i have a complicated relationship with my hair. i..." the realization stunned you. the realization that you were sitting in the office of who you heard was the strictest professor in this very university, telling her about the most absurd, uninteresting things about you, when you might just be on the very verge of getting kicked out of your bestfriend's dream university.

you calmed yourself down. you tried to rid yourself of the panic you resorted to burying deep deep down, you fixed your posture, cleared your throat, and in the most modulated voice that you can harness within yourself, you said, "i am ambitious, strong, independent—" that's a lie. "bright, optimistic, and persistent. and i really want to have the opportunity to begin my year in this university—" hopefully not in your class. "because i know that i have the exact amount of wit, and dedication this school is looking for in a student." i don't want to be in your class. "if given the opportunity to... in a different class wherein i can flourish."

"well," she says as if impressed. you stood up when she did, giving her a hopeful expression like that's going to boost your chances of getting out of her class without suffering the grave consequences she's known to give.

she moved around the table again, this time, moving slowly towards you. step by step. closer each passing second. and when the two of you were finally faced to face with each other without the desk between you, her small smirk dropped. "no." she says in a way that showed you how amused she was of putting your efforts of coming in here to waste without sounding anywhere besides stern.

"what?"

"i said no."

"no, what?" at this point, you were in distress. but you tried your best to hide it. you weren't very successful though. your voice raised, though you all but shouted.

her left hand rested on the surface of her desk when she leaned her hip against it, tipping her head slightly to the side, "look, miss y/l/n, i did not just waste all this time getting to know you and your... habits, just for you to drop out of my class."

her tone was unkind. she was cold, and stern. and she wanted nothing but to get her way. your attempts gave her mere amusement. she didn't acknowledge you, or your request, she just wanted to see the way your face would contort in shock when she declines you after letting you think your efforts would get you anywhere.

"but, mrs. romanoff—"

"BUT...! miss y/l/n—" she didn't shout, but the way she said it, the way her voice raised. you wanted to crawl into a cave and cry. especially with the way her eyes lingered on a little too long on yours before she looked away and returned to her seat. "i could so easily penalize you for entering my office with no permission." her tone was mad. graceful, elegant. calm and collected. but mad. "i would have you suspended if i didn't appreciate your... attempt, to even come inside my office, to speak to me and look me straight in the eye requesting me for something... you're gutsy. you could've used that in my class instead."

you weren't going to win.

today, you realized, that mrs. romanoff will always have the power. and if you can't handle that, then you're better of leaving the school.

she's dreadful. she's dark. she's the storm that angers the seas. and the rain at midnight. she is going to potentially ruin your chances of succeeding in this university—in life, and you will... hate her as you are now definitely sure she will you.

"i'll see you later."

you did see her later. a blissful 2 hours without her was replaced by dread when the moment you sat on the very back of the lecture hall, she came in. everyone stood before her, as if it were highschool, and you just went with it. just a mere clack of her high heeled shoes had everyone on their feet, their hands on their chest as if she was a goddess to be worshiped.

"good morning, everyone."

nobody spoke, it was mere silence after a beat of her greeting in which she gestured everyone to sit. you hid behind a tall man. the lecture hall was packed. although, there were a few empty seats up front.

"i'd like to begin today with..." she didn't have much with her. she only had a clipboard which she places on her desk. she took quite a while adjusting. but when she did; when she was leaning back on her seat, her legs elegantly crossed, where her hands rested on her knee, she looked straight ahead. and for a moment, you thought you can feel her eyes boring through the people you're hiding behind of and staring at you. "i have absolutely zero tolerance for any of your bullshit." all the calmness of her tone before was replaced by a sheer sharpness. "you either do as i say, exactly as i say it, or you leave this classroom. better yet, this school. are we clear?" she was stern. and you were scared. "now," she says with an exhale. "you at the back," you froze. "are we clear with that?"

#ath: natasha romanoff #ath: natasha romanoff series (wasn't midnight rain)#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu imagine

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im-a-goat-in-disguise · 3 days

Text

Hey there! Do you want the entire wall-e script? Here you go.

EXT. SPACE

FADE IN:

Stars.

The upbeat show tune, Put On Your Sunday Clothes, plays.

“Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers...”

More stars.

Distant galaxies, constellations, nebulas...

A single planet.

Drab and brown.

Moving towards it.

Pushing through its polluted atmosphere.

“...Close your eyes and see it glisten...”

EXT. PLANET’S SURFACE - CONTINUOUS

A range of mountains takes form in the haze.

Moving closer.

The mountains are piles of TRASH.

The entire surface is nothing but waste.

“...We’re gonna find adventure in the evening air...”

A silhouetted city in the distance.

What looks like skyscrapers turns into trash.

Thousands of neatly stacked CUBES OF TRASH, stories high.

Rows and rows of stacked cubes, like city avenues.

They go on for miles.

EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH

“...Beneath your parasol the world is all a smile...”

Something moving on the ground far below.

A figure at the foot of a trash heap.

A SMALL SERVICE ROBOT diligently cubing trash.

Rusted, ancient.

Cute.

Every inch of him engineered for trash compacting.

Mini-shovel hands collect junk.

Scoop it into his open chassis.

His front plate closes slowly, compressing waste.

A faded label on his corroded chest plate:

“Waste Allocation Loader - Earth Class” (WALLY)

Wally spits out a cube of trash.

Stacks it with the others.

Something catches his eye.

Tugs on a piece of metal stuck in the stack.

A hubcap.

The sun reflects off it.

Wally checks the sky.

ON TRASH HEAP HORIZON

The sun sets through the smoggy haze.

“...And we won’t come back until we’ve kissed a girl --”

He places the hubcap in his compactor.

Presses a button on his chest.

The song stops playing.

The end of a work day.

Wally attaches a lunch cooler to his back.

Whistles for his pet COCKROACH.

The insect hops on his shoulder.

They motor down from the top of a GIANT TRASH TOWER.

EXT. AVENUES OF TRASH - DUSK

Wally travels alone.

Traverses miles of desolate waste.

Oblivious to roving storms of toxic weather.

Passes haunting structures buried within the trash.

Buildings, highways, entire cities...

Everything branded with the SAME COMPANY LOGO.

“Buy N Large”

“BNL” stores, restaurants, banks...transportation!

The corporation ran every aspect of life.

There’s even a BNL LOGO on Wally’s chest plate.

CLOSE ON NEWSPAPER Wally drives over.

Headline: “TOO MUCH TRASH!! Earth Covered!!”

The deck: “BNL CEO Declares Global Emergency!”

A photo of the BNL CEO giving a weak smile.

Wally’s old treads are threadbare.

Practically falling apart.

Cause a bumpy ride for his cockroach.

He passes the remains of other RUSTED WALL-E UNITS.

Fancies one with NEWER TREADS than his own...

EXT. DESERTED STREET - MOMENTS LATER

Wally now sports the newer treads.

Rolls past a SERIES OF HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARDS.

The solar-powered ads still activate when he passes them.

BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

(Ad #1: BNL logo over trash)

Too much garbage in your face?

(Ad #2: starliner in space)

There’s plenty of space out in space!

(Ad #3: starliners take off

from Earth)

BNL starliners leaving each day.

(Ad #4: WALL-E units wave

goodbye)

We’ll clean up the mess while you’re

away.

EXT. EDGE OF THE CITY

Wally drives down a deserted overpass.

Activates an even LARGER HOLOGRAPHIC BILLBOARD.

CLOSE ON BILLBOARD AD

Shows off a CITY-SIZED LUXURY STARLINER.

Depicts passengers enjoying all its amenities.

BILLBOARD ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

The jewel of the BNL fleet: “The Axiom”.

Spend your five year cruise in style.

Waited on 24 hours a day by our fully

automated crew, while your Captain and

Autopilot chart a course for non-stop

entertainment, fine dining. And with our

all-access hover chairs, even Grandma can

join the fun! There’s no need to walk!

“The Axiom”. Putting the “star” in

Executive Starliner.

The BNL CEO appears at the end.

Waves goodbye as the Axiom takes off.

BUY N LARGE CEO

Because, at BNL, space is the final “fun”-

tier.

The holographic billboard powers off.

Reveals the AXIOM’S DESERTED LAUNCHPAD in the distance.

The mammoth structure sits across the bay.

Now empty and dry. A polluted, dead valley.

ON COLLAPSED BRIDGE RAMP

Near its edge rests a WALL-E UNIT TRANSPORT TRUCK.

A giant child’s Tonka Truck left to weather the elements.

A “Buy N Large” logo on its side.

Wally approaches the rear of the truck.

Pulls on a lever.

The back lowers.

Wally motors up the ramp.

INT. TRUCK - CONTINUOUS

Open racks for storing WALL-Es line both walls.

KNICKKNACKS OF FOUND JUNK littered everywhere.

The tired robot removes his newfound treads.

Ahh... Home.

Wally motors down the center aisle.

Flicks on an ancient BETAMAX PLAYER.

Jury-rigged to an iPod.

Pushes in a cassette labeled, “Hello Dolly!”

The image is very poor quality.

Actors sing and dance to Put On Your Sunday Clothes (POYSC).

The same song Wally worked to.

WALLY

[Hums POYSC]

Wally opens his cooler.

Newfound knickknacks.

Pulls out the hubcap from his chest.

Looks back at the TV.

Mimics the dancers on the screen.

Pretends the hubcap is a hat.

Continues to unpack:

A spork.

A Rubik’s Cube (unsolved).

A Zippo Lighter.

He presses a BUTTON by the rack of shelves.

They rotate until an empty space appears.

His new items are lovingly added to the shelf.

The Zippo joins a pre-existing LIGHTER COLLECTION.

A new song, It Only Takes A Moment, plays on the video.

Wally is drawn to it.

Presses his “Record” button.

ON TV SCREEN

Two lovers sing gently to one another.

They kiss...hold hands...

Wally tilts his head as he watches.

Curious.

Holds his own hands.

EXT. TRUCK - NIGHT

Wally motors outside.

Turns over his Igloo cooler to clean it out.

Pauses to take in the night sky.

STARS struggle to be seen through the polluted haze.

Wally presses the “Play” button on his chest.

The newly sampled It Only Takes A Moment (IOTAM) plays.

The wind picks up.

A WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest.

He looks out into the night.

A RAGING SANDSTORM approaches off the bay...

Unfazed, Wally heads back in the truck.

IOTAM still gently playing.

...The massive wave of sand roars closer...

Wally raises the door.

Pauses.

WHISTLES for his cockroach to come inside.

The door shuts just as the storm hits.

Obliterates everything in view.

INT. TRUCK - SAME

Wally alone in the center of his shelter.

Unwraps a BNL SPONGECAKE (think Twinkie).

Lays it out for the cockroach to sleep in.

It happily dives in.

Wally collapses himself into a storable cube.

Backs into an empty shelf space.

Rocks it like a cradle...

...and shuts down for the night.

Outside the wind howls like the Hounds of Hell.

INT. WALLY’S TRUCK - NEXT MORNING

Wally’s CHARGE METER flashes “WARNING”.

He wakes. Unboxes.

Groggy and lifeless.

Stumbles outside.

EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK

The morning sun.

Wally fully exposed in its light.

His front panel splayed out like a tanning shield.

A solar collector.

His CHARGE METER chimes full.

Solar panels fold away into hiding.

Wally, now awake, collects his lunch cooler.

Heads off to work.

...and accidentally runs over the cockroach.

Horrified, Wally reverses.

Reveals the FLATTENED INSECT under his tread.

The cockroach simply pops back to life.

No biggie. Ready to go.

Relieved, Wally resumes their commute.

EXT. WALLY’S WORK SITE - THAT MORNING

A SERIES OF “WALLY AT WORK” MOMENTS:

- CU of Wally’s hands digging into garbage.

CU of trash being scooped into his chest compactor.

A cube lands by the cockroach.

- Wally discovers a BRA in the garbage.

Unsure what it’s for.

Tries placing it over his eyes, like glasses.

Tosses it in his cooler.

- Wally finds a set of CAR KEYS.

Presses the remote lock.

Somewhere in the distance a CAR ALARM CHIRPS.

- Plays with a paddle ball.

The ball keeps smacking him in the face.

He doesn’t like it.

- Wally discovers a DIAMOND RING in a JEWEL CASE.

Throws out the ring. Keeps the case.

The jewel case drops into the cooler, then...

...A RUBBER DUCKY...

...A BOBBLE HEAD DOLL...

...An OLD BOOT...

...A TROPHY...

- Wally finds a FIRE EXTINGUISHER.

Activates it.

FOAM blasts in his face.

It’s tossed far, far away from his cooler.

- Wally’s shovel hand strikes something solid.

Faces a REFRIGERATOR much larger than himself.

Now what?

- CU on fridge door.

A WELDING BEAM moves down its center.

It emits from between Wally’s SPLIT BINOCULAR EYES.

The door falls apart in two pieces. Reveals...

...a SMALL PLANT

in its early stage of growth.

Wally is entranced.

Carefully, he extracts the section of earth around it.

CLOSE ON IGLOO COOLER

Wally gently places the plant inside the old boot.

Dusts dirt off the leaves.

EXT. TRUCK - DUSK

Robot and faithful cockroach return home.

Wally stops short of the threshold.

Stares at the ground.

Continues staring.

A RED DOT

quivers on the dirt.

A single laser point of light.

Wally moves to touch it...

...The dot races along the ground.

Wally drops his Igloo.

Chases after the dot.

EXT. EMPTY BAY

The dot leads Wally deep into the polluted expanse.

He is so fixated on it he doesn’t notice

MANY LASER POINTS

coming from every direction.

All racing into the valley over the contour of the terrain.

Triangulating towards a center.

Wally’s dot suddenly stops.

Slowly he reaches for it.

Can’t grab it. Just light.

ALL THE DOTS converge in front of him.

The ground shakes.

Wally becomes confused.

Doesn’t see above him.

The SUN growing brighter behind the cloud cover.

A noise. Building.

Rocket engines.

Wally senses he should look to the sky.

Now THREE SUNS are descending on him.

Wally runs for it.

An enormous COLUMN OF FIRE blocks his path.

A second column of fire.

A third.

Trapped.

Wally cubes the ground beneath him.

Working fast.

Noise deafening.

Heat rising.

Digs in just as a tide of flame carpets the ground...

...Then suddenly quiet.

Smoke clears.

CLOSE ON THE SCORCHED EARTH

Wally’s head rises out of the dirt.

Glows red hot from the heat.

Trembles with fright.

Everything in shadow.

Something very big looms over him.

Wally climbs out of his hole.

Bangs his head on metal.

WIDE on a massive SPACESHIP.

Rests ominously in the empty bay.

A PORTAL on its underside opens.

Frightened, Wally tries to hide.

Nowhere to go.

He places a SMALL ROCK on his head. Boxes up.

A DEVICE lowers to the ground on a long stem.

Scans the surface.

Wally creeps closer for a better look.

The device unfolds.

Wally boxes up again.

A CAPSULE descends from a chute in the stem.

ROBOT ARMS emerge from the device.

Place the capsule on the ground. Press buttons.

The capsule falls away in sections, to reveal...

...a PROBE ROBOT.

It hovers gracefully above the ground.

White. Egg-shaped.

Blue-lit eyes.

Female.

Eve.

Wally is transfixed.

Inches closer.

Watches Eve from behind the device.

Tilts his head.

Time stops.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Eve hovers over the ground.

A BLUE RAY emits from her front panel.

Fans out 180 degrees.

Scans random objects and areas.

The device rises back into the ship.

Exposes Wally.

He rushes for cover behind the nearest rock.

Never takes his eyes off Eve.

Watches her float away from the ship.

...from the ship?

The ship!

Engines roar back to life.

Wally digging furiously.

The rocket takes off.

Smoke clears.

Again, a red hot Wally peeks out from the ground.

Looks for Eve.

She is watching the ship rise into the clouds.

Waits until it is completely out of sight...

...then Eve rises high up into the air.

She flies around the bay.

Soars like a graceful bird.

Does loops in the sky.

Zooms right past Wally’s rock.

He is hypnotized.

Eve descends gently to the ground...

Wally sneaks up closer.

Hides behind another boulder.

Slips.

Makes a NOISE.

Instantly, Eve whips around.

Her arm converts into a LASER CANNON.

Blasts Wally’s boulder to smithereens.

...Smoke clears...All quiet.

Eve, now cold and dangerous.

Scans the area.

No sign of life.

All business again.

Hovers away to probe more of the planet.

ON OTHER SIDE OF BOULDER CRATER

Wally boxed up behind what little remains of the rock.

Trembles uncontrollably.

EXT. AVENUE OF TRASH - DAY

Eve wanders through the pillars of cubed trash.

Scans random areas.

Wally spies from the shadows.

Too frightened to approach.

She moves on. He follows.

EXT. TIRE DUMP - DAY

Eve probes a mound of tires.

Wally hiding nearby.

He flinches at the sight of

HIS COCKROACH

innocently approaching Eve from behind.

She spins around.

Blasts the insect.

Wally is gut-punched.

The cockroach climbs out of the smoking crater.

Unscathed. Still curious.

Eve finds the insect intriguing.

Lowers her arm.

The end separates into individual hovering sections...

...A HAND.

She lets the insect crawl up her arm.

Wiggles into her workings.

It tickles.

EVE

[Giggles]

Wally relaxes.

CHUCKLES privately.

Eve sonically picks up Wally’s location.

Locks onto him.

10.

Arm converts to laser cannon.

Fires rapidly.

Quick glimpses of Wally dodging the blasts.

Trash piles are systematically obliterated around him.

Wally now exposed.

Nowhere to hide.

Boxes himself up. Shakes uncontrollably.

Eve holds her fire.

EVE

(electronic hums)

[Identify yourself.]

She slowly approaches Wally’s box.

Keeps her gun trained on him.

EVE

(electronic hums)

[Repeat. Identify yourself.]

Wally peeks out from his box.

Doesn’t understand a thing she says.

Doesn’t care.

Can’t believe she’s real.

The cockroach climbs down her gun arm.

Jumps onto his master.

Eve scans Wally.

A RED LIGHT appears on her chest.

Buzzes “negative”.

He’s not what she’s looking for.

She retracts her gun arm.

Hovers off.

Wally watches her go. Lovestruck.

WALLY

[Sigh.]

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ABANDONED BNL SUPERSTORE - NEXT DAY

LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S “LA VIE EN ROSE” PLAYS

Eve scans through the market.

Wally follows from a safe distance.

A stray puppy-dog.

Eve glances over at him.

Wally panics.

Bumps into a RACK OF SHOPPING CARTS.

Creates an avalanche.

11.

They chase him down a flight of stairs.

Wally reaches the exit doors.

Won’t open!

Carts pig pile on top of him.

EXT. BNL REFINERY - NIGHT

Wally perched on the roof.

Patiently watches Eve fly.

She scans the ground below her, like a searchlight.

Eve comes in for a landing below.

Shuts down for the night.

Wally waits.

Quietly sneaks down the refinery fire escape.

Accidentally trips. Tumbles to the ground.

Eve doesn’t wake.

Wally creeps up to her.

Opens his arms wide...

...and measures her.

Turns to a pile of trash.

Splits open his eyes. Begins welding something...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. BNL REFINERY - NEXT MORNING

Eve powers up again.

Does a double take.

A TRASH SCULPTURE OF EVE stands in front of her.

She hovers away, unimpressed.

Doesn’t notice Wally hiding behind a PILE OF PIPES.

Wally kicks the pipes in frustration.

They roll on top of him.

SONG ENDS

MONTAGE OF EVE SEARCHING

- Scans a car engine.

Negative.

Slams the hood shut.

- Scans a Port-A-Potty.

Negative.

Slams the door shut.

- Scans an Apollo capsule.

Negative.

Slams the hatch shut.

- Scans a FREIGHTER HOLD.

12.

Negative.

Slams the lid shut.

EXT. DERELICT SHIPYARD - DUSK

Eve hovers over the freighter.

Frustrated.

Not finding what she’s looking for.

Wally eavesdrops from afar.

Eve flies past the ship’s CRANE MAGNET.

Gets stuck.

Wrestles to free herself.

Furious, she BLOWS UP THE ENTIRE SHIP.

The reaction startles Wally.

Eve slumps down against a dredged anchor.

She gives up.

Concerned, Wally cautiously approaches.

Sits at the other end of the anchor.

Both robots stare silently at the fiery wreck.

Then...

...slowly, very slowly, Wally inches towards her.

Musters the courage to speak, when --

She suddenly turns to him:

EVE

(hums)

[So what’s your story?]

Wally falls backwards with surprise.

Me?

Eve scrolls through a variety of languages:

EVE

(German)

[Directive?]

(Japanese)

[Directive?]

WALLY

[Huh?]

EVE

(Swahili)

[Directive?]

(English)

Directive?

WALLY

(beeps)

[Oh, I understand that!]

13.

EVE

Directive?

Wally eagerly turns to some nearby trash.

Scoops it into his compactor.

Proudly spits out a cube.

Points to Eve.

WALLY

(struggles to speak)

Di...rec...t--

EVE

Directive?

Wally nods.

EVE

Classified.

WALLY

(beeps)

[Oh. Sorry.]

She scans his CHEST LOGO.

EVE

Name?

WALLY

(struggles again)

W-wally? ...Wally.

EVE

(smooth; almost perfect)

Wwww-aaaa-leee...

Wally nearly melts.

She says his name so beautifully.

Moves closer.

EVE

Wally. (giggles)

Eve.

Wally tries to repeat it:

WALLY

Eeee...?

EVE

(slower)

Eve.

14.

WALLY

Eeeaaah?

EVE

Eeeve. Eeeve.

WALLY

Eee--vah!

She giggles again.

Wally likes making her giggle.

WALLY

Eee-vah! Ee --

EVE

Eve.

The wind kicks up.

The WARNING LIGHT sounds on Wally’s chest.

He moves to grab her.

WALLY

(Gasp!) Eee-vah!

EVE

(hums)

[Hey watch it! Don’t come any closer!]

She draws her gun on him.

Doesn’t understand the danger.

The sandstorm rushes up behind her.

Too late.

Wally collapses into a box.

The storm hits full force.

Eve is instantly lost, disoriented.

EVE

Wally? Wally?

WALLY’S HAND appears out of the dust.

Calmly takes Eve’s hand.

INT. TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

The back door lowers.

A rush of wind and sand.

Wally pulls Eve inside. Closes the door.

She coughs up dust.

Wally hits a switch...

Strings of CHRISTMAS LIGHTS fill the space.

His racks of oddities painted in colored light.

15.

An air of enchantment.

Eve is taken aback.

WALLY

(beeps)

[Come on in.]

She drifts through the sea of knickknacks.

Becomes spooked by a SINGING BILLY BASS FISH.

Threatens to shoot it, but Wally calms her down.

He is compelled to show her everything.

Hands her an eggbeater...

...bubble wrap (so infectious to pop)...

...a lightbulb (lights when she holds it)...

...the Rubik’s Cube (she solves it immediately)...

...his Hello Dolly tape.

Curious, she begins unspooling the tape.

WALLY

(loud beeps)

[My tape!!]

He grabs it back. Protective.

Inserts it carefully into the VCR. Please still work.

The movie eventually appears on the TV.

Plays a clip of POYSC.

Wally is relieved.

WALLY

(beeps)

[What do you think?]

Mimics the dancing for Eve.

Encourages her to try.

She clumsily hops up and down.

Makes dents in the floor. Rattles everything.

Wally politely stops her.

WALLY

(beeps)

[How ‘bout we try a different move?]

Spins in a circle. Arms out.

Eve copies.

Spins faster, and faster...

Too fast.

Accidentally strikes Wally. He flies into the shelves.

Eve helps him up from the mess.

Wally’s LEFT BINOCULAR EYE falls off.

Dangles from two wires.

Eve GASPS with concern.

Wally placates her.

16.

WALLY

(beeps)

[It’s fine.]

Feels his way to the rack of shelves.

Rotates them until...

...SPARE WALL-E PARTS appear.

Replaces his broken eye with a new one.

Eve is relieved.

She eyes his LIGHTER COLLECTION.

Flicks open a Zippo. Ignites a FLAME.

Wally freezes.

He had no idea it could do that.

Moves closer to inspect it...

ON WALLY

It’s the closest he’s ever been to Eve.

She remains focused on the lighter.

Wally stares up at her.

...The tiny flame flickering between them...

...The Hello Dolly video plays IOTAM in the background...

Suddenly, he is moved to express his love.

Musters the courage to open his fingers...

...Timidly reaches his hand out to hers...

-- Eve turns and looks at him.

Wally instantly chokes.

Pulls his hand back.

Eve becomes intrigued with the TV.

Scans the image of the lovers singing IOTAM...

Wally watches her.

His infatuation still palpable.

Then he remembers...

WALLY

Ee-vah!

He rushes to his shelves.

Eve watches him rummage through junk.

A drum falls down on his head.

She giggles, charmed by it all.

Something about Wally...

She is drawn back to the lovers on TV...

...then the lit Zippo lighter in her hand.

A tap on her shoulder.

She turns to find Wally holding something.

The plant.

Eve immediately locks onto it.

17.

Drops the lighter.

In a flash...

...her chest opens...

...a TRACTOR BEAM snatches the plant away...

...stores it inside her...

Then she shuts down completely.

Only a SINGLE GREEN LIGHT pulsing on her chest.

Wally is stunned.

What’d I do?

Waves his hand in front of her face.

WALLY

Ee-vah?

Knocks on her chest plate.

No response.

Wally panics.

Gently shakes her.

WALLY

Ee-vah?

Still no response.

WALLY

Ee-vah? ...Ee-vah?!

CAMERA MOVES IN on the blinking green light...

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ROOF OF WALLY’S TRUCK - DAY

The morning sun.

Wally places Eve in his charging spot.

Aims her hovering form to f

Actually looks like I can only post the first "part", roughly... Already this is lagging my phone. Will experiment more tomorrow. For now, enjoy!

38 notes · View notes

softiegyu · 1 year

Text

His Adrenaline

Pairing: Cho Guesung x idol!gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst

Tags: Football!Guesung, World Cup, South Korea vs Ghana, established relationship, softness all over please

Part 2

Find part 1 here!

The first half had sent everyone into a frenzy for two reasons:

Ghana was winning by two points, nil points for South Korea.

To say that you were worried was an understatement. But your worry could never come close to those of the players, especially the strikers unit which are meant to score. Countless of attempts were made, but good respect and impression also went to Ghana and its goal keeper. Nonetheless, the worry was ever present among the supporters of South Korea's national team. But so we're Ghana's. To say you weren't competitive was a wrong thing to say.

"There's still time, Sungie," you held his arms as his gaze drifted aside in the changing room. You held him tight, urging him to look at you. You can see the doubt in his eyes, much of the many players. Words of encouragement were sent his way over and over again, whether it be from your or the coach, even the Captain.

Everyone else sat in their own seats accordingly, downing water down their throats or over their heads to wash of the sweat. While the others did so, you were met with silence. With a sigh, you turned around and grabbed a small water bottle. It wasn't too cold, enough for you to worry less about it covering his head in the cold liquid or else he'd get a headache, or worse, sick. In order to help him, you offered to wash his hair instead.

The strands of his fell through your fingers as they sifted through. The right shampoos used over time, especially this morning, always gave a beautiful touch and glow to Guesung's hair. Even with sweat just under it, nothing can break that beauty you could personally touch. With a few droplets everytike, your fingers went through his scalp, washing off the sweat. As always, your touch was soft, calm, gentle, but enough pressure to cause him to close his eyes and lean back against your front. You welcomed the lean with a lean of your own to support his head and back. His head went to your abdomen, just under your chest.

For someone that went through so much already within this match, you guessed that words wouldn't suffice. This should do.

You drove your fingers around to adjust his hair, letting them dry within these minutes left from this half time break.

"What I would do to get that kind of touch from my girl right now.

"Not here, Wooyoung." Your lips pursed at Guesung's warning tone. There was a brief moment of selfish pride you had to push down.

Wooyoung playfully pouted, looking at you for backup on that from his seat that was two seats away from your right. Your only response was a shrug, a small smile of "sorry, can't help you there, buddy".

The roar of the crowd grew as South Korea's strikers began to dash towards the goal. With Guesung in the middle, he was flanked with the opposite time. However, luckily, a player was just along the line to cut the idea of offside completely off.

The roar grew loader as the ball went into the air and Guesung threw himself into the air for a header. You couldn't contain yourself, already at the edge of your seat and jumped up, screaming out in the first chance of victory as soon as the ball clearly went through the impending gate keeper and the goal line itself to almost going through the nets within.

A girlfriend of another player had grabbed your hand, the both of you hugging one another into a right embrace at victory. Most of all, nothing can surmount the love and pride you felt toward your boyfriend. This moment, the first step of redemption for the entire team.

As he ran across the field, the untamable scream that left him, Guesung searched for you in earnest. His tongue pulled back in with an irreplaceable, blinding grin.

When your eyes met, all was spilled in these little mere seconds between you two. Pride, adoration, respect, and simply: finally! Of course, it wouldn't end without a wink sent by him towards you.

The game continued, no chance for Ghana to take the ball in their favor as the scales tipped towards in South Korea's favor - or so, Cho Gueseung's.

Why? Because the second goal was scored by him, a header, this time higher in the air and any moment, he would be gliding further high up. The goal touched the net and the whole stadium roared ever louder. Guesung made an immediate beeline towards you, shouting out with the adrenaline going through his veins. You jumped in your spot, laughing out in excitement and being held by your friend by your side. You couldn't wait to find his smile of, only hoping, he'd score a hatrick.

You can clearly see that it does affect the entire team to push through again. But Ghana stood their ground and hope was diminishing as they scored the third goal - no longer a tie.

All of you sat nervously in your seats as the game was coming to a close. You prayed that at least one goal to keep the team going or else their fight to win against Portugal within a few days would only hang in loosely in the idea of winning.

Pushing harder only brought the men to tire and you tired for them. If only you could get down there to help! But Alas.

Let us not forget the horror of perhaps missing out a third goal if it was not for the referee stopping the game of a deserved corner shot, warming the coach a red card which fueled anger in not only the coach himself, but a few players.

After taking rest at the hotel which everyone stayed at, you had your own room, much to you and Guesung's dismay. You werent able to see Guesung even after the match; at least no directly. Nonetheless, you were able to see him and the team again the same evening when practice was scheduled. Luckily, it was private too so you were able to grab a rented car and join in to watch the team practice.

Your presence was enough for Guesung to fuel himself more, but the overall mood of the team was rather dull. You could feel it with ease. Not even music was driving them forward, only the determination with Bento and his team.

But your eyes, they could never leave Guesung's form. It was so easy to see the frustration in his form, growing a little reckless and corrected by Son who gently handled him. Even he was affected by today's game but it was their power play that went through is what they should look towards. At least that's what you wanted to tell them, but you weren't sure what else to do that could trigger anything else.

And so, you waited, cheered on over any practiced matches that occurred between one another. A few had made jokes, lifting the mood up a lot more. It was enough for you to feel better, if not more over Guesung's small smiles towards you or the rolled eyes at the attempted jokes by other players.

It went a little better, but far less than you hoped.

As night fell, it was time for everyone to head back home. Within the few hours that passed, their vigor was rebuilt, somewhat.

"We still have one more match everyone," Heungmin called out, spinning around in his heels and waving around. "One to prove we can still make it. We just need to win it. If Germany loses once again tonight, we still have a good chance at heading to round of 16." Everyone knew that, but the reminder of the Captain, everyone nodded. Fueled by something else.

"Hey, Captain!" The voice of Guesung made some heads turn, including yours where you stood by his side. His hand in yours tightened. Was it reassurance? Was it something else? His face was unreadable, except for a slight crease: a frown he was trying to beat down. Your own began to crease in confusion, shooting glances between he and the team, especially his coach. "Mind if I stay here for a bit longer? I think I need a little more time..." He threw a glance towards you, silently asking for your support. You squeezed it back in reassurance. Always have.

With a confident and reassuring look, you smiled towards the team. "I promise to bring him back. He won't be late. Too late, at least."

You easily caught doubtful looks, those that clearly had mischief in their eyes, yet you easily dismissed them as you caught the gaze of Bento. You can see the hesitance more than what he let on, but a single nod and everyone was walking out, leaving the two souls within the field.

Guesung made it to his duffle bag, pulling out a ball. You've followed him towards the inner box just before the goal, standing a ways aside. Watching him all the time - from the way his muscles shifted and tensed to the way his face contorted into concentration, if not the frustration that was growing by the moment.

"Sungie?" You called out carefully. He didn't look at you, only hummed as he paced a little ways back and eyed the goal. Watching him from the side, you could see the anger growing and you didn't like it.

You can only imagine what's going on in his mind. Clasping your hands together, you kept quiet as he braced himself, ran ahead and shot the ball. The noise echoed across the empty, open field and into the night. The ball barely had time to sail across the floor before it touched the back of the net.

He shot again, with more strength that necessary, it touched the net again. Another shot, in. Another one, he let out a gruffed noise. A fourth, he let out a choked groan. That worried you. Stepping slowly closer, your slowness grew frantic. Just before he shot the sixth, you were holding his arms and stopping him from shooting again, almost toppling over but his sturdy position made you regain your balance. "Guesung!" You exclaimed, bringing him to look at you with haste, hands shifting to hold his jaw not too lightly but enough to hold him in position.

His gaze shifted from the world around you to yours: determined, frustrated, angry. But there was also some kind of desperation in there. Guilt.

What for? You already knew.

"Guesung," you whispered in your own desperation; eyes never strayed from his. "Listen to me," Finally, he looked at you, nose flared as his breathing was a little erratic from emotionally and physically, "Whatever you are feeling now, know that all that has happened is not your fault. None of it is." Your lips tilted to a smile. "You scored two amazing goals! Saved the team and reassured the entire world that South Korea has yet to lose any potential!" His eyes shifted down, tilted his head in a way to find better comfort in your hands and you let him.

"I would have done better!" He countered, making you shake your head.

"This burden, this weight you carry on your shoulders should never be this heavy. Never, ever on your own. Why? Because this team, a team, exists for a reason. All those men that played with you today, this team, these men, they are always there to help you. You aren't the only one that feels this but that doesn't mean you should feel any less happy about it. I need you to see and understand that this is not the end."

You moved yourself closer to him until you were chest to chest, eyes trailing to dried streaks of sweat down the side of his neck. "Push down that guilt, replace it with the chance of winning in the next game. Put all of your vigor there. Strive further for it until you hold that golden trophy in your very hands."

His frustration has slowly melted away, his eyebrows shifting from the anger to a different kind: sudden understanding. Relief. Care. A different kind of guilt. His eyes became glassy as well, forcing yours to do as such. Guesung's hands moved to hold on your wrists, turning them to place gentle, long kisses on each palm in silent thanks.

"Y/N..." He whispered. Looking down at you, you can tell the struggle he had in finding the right words for you. In this moment, you realised he shouldn't say them out loud.

It was easy to lean in, closing your eyes and slotting your lips around his in the most familiar and loving way you have always mustered. The tenderness in this moment could have easily melted you away, but you held on for him. A short hum escaped him as he kissed back softly, letting a long sigh escape through his nose only to let out the rest from his mouth as soon as you parted ways. Guesung's forehead rested on yours, his hands sliding down to your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to his body. You immediately engulfed the warmth in every aspect.

You remained silent like that, your eyes down at his chest, his at yours in the beautiful and understanding silence.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered. You only hummed in response and he held you tighter.

"Always welcome, Sungie."

#guesung cho #cho guesung #cho gue sung fanfic #cho gue sung imagines #cho gue sung

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

Text

Eddie was biting at his nails as he paced around the apartment.

Steve still wasn't back.

He still wasn’t back and it was an hour past when he said he would be.

He checked out the front window every few minutes, praying that he would show soon. He wouldn't be able to take this all night, he was only ten minutes away from finding him himself, parents be damned. He was probably overreacting, Steve had insisted he was overreacting, but nothing about this felt right.

Two years they had been together, two years and Steve hadn’t seen them once. They had been at their vacation home in Jersey when things went to shit, and decided to stay there for the foreseeable future, son be damned. There were a few calls here and there, maybe once every two months, calls that Steve was always expected to initiate, calls that he would walk away from downcast and depressed, always crawling into Eddie’s lap with a short, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eddie’s not exactly proud, but he had eavesdropped once on the other line, morbid curiosity and worry taking full control. It was his dad who picked up, who completely ignored Steve’s small, “Can I talk to mom?” to berate him over still living at home, and how he was lucky that the housing market in Hawkins was at its worst or he’d be homeless, and how it was about time he started to pay some rent.

“If you can actually learn to be responsible down there, we might let you live with us when the house is sold, whenever that may be. But we'll be damned if we let a free-loader stay in our home. Do you understand Steven?”

He hadn’t even said goodbye when he was done, just a short, “Your mothers sleeping, I’ll tell her you called,” and the click of the phone.

Steve hadn’t set foot in his old house for nearly a month before that call, it was more of a glorified storage unit if anything. Steve had basically moved in with him and Wayne when they were still dancing around each other, and he could probably count the times they’d slept apart in the past two years on one hand.

And he was already paying rent, in his own way. Even when Wayne had absolutely refused to take a dime from Steve the first time he’d tried it.

“Just keep my Eddie out of trouble and smiling, and you can stay here as long as you want, free of charge,” The embarrassing, wonderful old fuck.

It helped that Steve was slowly becoming Wayne’s new favorite, because his uncle had fantastic taste, and Steve was probably the sole reason they had stopped eating cut up hot dogs and canned green beans every other day.

So Steve bought groceries, gas, even snuck in a few twenties into Wayne’s wallet every month, the little weirdo. He cooked and cleaned, forcing Wayne and Eddie to do the same, out of the sheer guilt of watching someone so sweet do all of their dirty work.

It’s not that Eddie and Wayne couldn’t take care of themselves, they could, but it had been just the two of them for so long, and Wayne had been a mill working bachelor living in a trailer park before Eddie came along, he hadn’t been brimming with knowledge on how to keep a clean house, just a moderately decent one that CPS wouldn’t raise a brow to.

But Steve…Steve was a cleaner.

“You learn a thing or two when you gotta get rid of all traces of a house party,” he had laughed, when Eddie had caught him cleaning under the couch, a concept neither Wayne or he had ever grasped. Though that explanation hadn’t explained how he was so good at cooking.

It had been almost shocking the first time Steve had cooked for him. He loved Steve, he really did, respected him too, but back then the guy basically subsisted on granola bars and pop tarts, and it was Robin or Eddie who usually had to shove real food down his throat, even if it was from a shitty fast food place half the time.

He couldn’t really be blamed for the expectation that Steve couldn’t cook for shit. So imagine his surprise when Steve blew him away with something he hadn’t even heard of before, beef bourg-something, which ended up being about the best thing Eddie had ever tasted.

“You can’t be gorgeous, sweet, and a good cook Stevie, you gotta pick a lane here.” He had been worried for a split second that he’d gone too far with the gorgeous and sweet bit, but Steve had just laughed, so obviously pleased that Eddie liked what he made. Which, in hindsight, Eddie should have taken as a massive green flag, it could have saved him weeks of pining.

It became a regular occurrence after that, and Steve would always glow from the approval he would get from Wayne and Eddie, like they were doing him a favor by eating delicious food.

“My mom used to like it, when I cooked,” Steve had admitted, much later one night, “Dad hated it, said that it was a short fall to being a fag, but my mom…she always said thank you. Always smiled. She’d ask me about my day sometimes, if I made something she really liked.”

“I like doing it,” he confessed, “But I haven’t had anyone to cook for in a long time."

"Steve…"

“But now I do.” Steve interrupted with a grin, so sincere as he grasped Eddie’s hand, “For someone who deserves it."

Eddie had kissed him silly that night.

He still wasn’t sure if he actually deserved it, but he could agree that the Harringtons certainly did not. He didn’t even know what the fuckers looked liked. Their house was always shockingly impersonal, no family photos ever in sight, just expensive meaningless art that went with the furniture.

So why were they calling now? And how did they know to call Eddie’s house?

It had been Wayne who picked up the phone, just on his way out, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he passed it to Steve. It had been a short call, and then Steve was getting dressed, trying and failing to reassure Eddie that everything was fine.

“It happens sometimes, when they get back, it’s like a checklist item, to see me.” Steve had said, shrugging on Eddie’s jacket. He was failing to reassure him, not when he could see his hands shaking as he tied his shoes, “I’ll be fine. It will be one awakward dinner, and then I’ll be back before you know it.”

Eddie watched him, trying to process the whiplash of Steve being calmly cuddled up to his side to getting ready to rush out the door.

“If it’s not gonna take long then I can just wait in the car baby, it’s not that big a deal-”

“Eddie, no,” He was firm and unyielding, but was refusing to look Eddie in the eye,“I’ll be fine, trust me okay?”

He kissed his cheek on the way out the door, “Nine at the latest, I swear.”

Eddie didn’t trust him, not with this. Steve didn’t talk about his parents much, but the small things he had been able to coax out of him were never good. Selfish, neglectful, mean, but he wouldn’t elaborate, never going further than small stories and tidbits. Eddie never pushed him, never asked explicitly, but he had a pretty strong suspicion it didn’t end there.

Steve had scars, some he would talk about and others he wouldn’t. He could perfectly recite the story of the mark on his chin, even though he was messed up on truth serum with a russian induced concussion, but when asked about the thin, silvery lines that adorned his body, he suddenly couldn’t remember a thing.

And Eddie wasn’t the only one suspicious, the rumor mill of Hawkins was strong. Daniel Harrington was known for his temper, and was borderline psychotic in highschool according to Wayne, always trying to pick fights, and always buying his way out of the consequences.

Back in highschool, there were a few whispers in the hallways, small shit about hearing screaming from the Harrington household, rumors about hand shaped bruises seen in the locker room, questions about why Steve startled so hard at loud noises.

Eddie had dismissed it, something he still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for, and most of the school did with him. Afterall, kids who had their dads beat the shit out of them weren’t popular, they weren’t captains of the swim team, they didn’t walk around in designer clothes or drive new cars. They were supposed to be damaged losers, easy to pick from the crowd. Someone like Eddie, never someone like King Steve. When in reality, even without his parents, Steve had been dealing with shit that would have sent normal people spiraling for years.

Even Wayne was on edge, obviously disturebed by the Harrington's sudden arrival. He eventually called from his girlfriend’s place, checking in on how it went, grunting unhappily when Eddie told him he still hadn’t gotten back yet, “If he’s not home in a few hours call Hopper.”

“Agreed.”

Eddie gave up on pacing and peeking, deciding to just sit his ass down on the front stoop and stare at the street. He was seconds away from giving in entirely, already trying to remember where he put his keys when he saw it. Familiar headlights were making their way up his street, parking crookedly on the curb.

Oh thank god. Eddie finally let himself breathe for the first time in hours. He should have just trusted Steve like he said-

His brain short-circuited as he watched the car door open and Steve tumble out of the driver's side, falling to the curb. Eddie was flying off of the stoop, at Steve's side in a moment as he struggled to stand.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, his baby was bleeding. His baby was bleeding and blurry eyed as he pathetically tried to stand up. Eddie didn’t hesitate, scoping him up in his arms to bring him inside.

“What the hell happened Steve?” Eddie asked, panicked as he laid him out on the couch. He looked awful, so bad that Eddie wanted to cry. His right eye was swollen and already purpling, his lip was split, sending dark, red tracks down his chin. Eddie took his jacket off for him, eyes widening to see the blood running down his arms, embedded bits of glass sparkling in the light.

"I'm sorry I’m late," Steve slurred, trying and failing to help Eddie remove the jacket, “It didn’t go so good.”

That was the understatement of the fucking century. Eddie’s mind was a cluster fuck, filled with worry, confusion, rage, despair at seeing Steve so hurt, for no fucking good reason. But he needed to focus, freaking out wasn’t helping Steve, who was still fucking bleeding. Stopping that took precedent.

Steve looked down at himself, frowning as he seemimly took in the damage for the first time, before stupidly trying to sit up, “I’ll get blood on the couch,”

That stupid statement was enough to get Eddie out of his shock.

“I don’t give a shit about the couch Steve.” Eddie hissed out, fighting not to yell. He was feeling too much all at once, but he refused to let himself be mad at Steve for being so idiotically self neglinat, not when he needed him. He rubbed a hand over his face, steeling himself to get his shit together before standing.

“Wait here sweetheart, and keep your eyes open, okay? I’ll be right back,” Eddie had to gently push Steve back down when he tried to sit up, “Just let me take care of you.”

Steve nodded, seemingly accepting the fact that yes, his literal life took precedence over cheap furniture. Eddie made it to the bathroom in record time, for once surreally grateful he had experienced the Upside Down, because it had forced him to have multiple first aid kits on hand.

He was back in less than a minute, horrified to see Steve standing on unsteady feet, spreading a blanket on the couch, like ruining the upholstery with this blood was really the priority here. He had the good grace to look guilty when he saw Eddie, sitting back down with a heavy sound, unprompted.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, Eddie thought to himself, before kneeling in front of Steve. His hands were shaking as he opened the first aid kit, but he made them work. He pressed up against the cut on his lips with cotton rounds, placing Steve’s hand against it to keep the pressure. His arms were worse, and his shaking wasn’t helping him tweeze the glass out, beer bottle by the looks of it, but he managed.

Steve was still acting woozy, barely acknowledging the sting of the alcohol as Eddie bandaged and cleaned all of his cuts, “What hurts the most baby? I need you to tell me.”

“Head,” Steve mumbled, “feels like it’s burning.”

Fuck, Eddie didn’t know what to do with that. Surface level shit he could handle, but it sounded like he had a concussion, “Steve, I think we need to take you to a hospital-”

“No.” It was automatic, so quick from Steve’s mouth that Eddie did a double take.

“Why the hell not?”

"I don’t…" he sighed, "I don't want everyone to know, okay? Not yet. I just want you."

"But-"

“Eddie, please?” He was begging, pleading in a way Eddie didn’t know how to say no too.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to be patient, “Okay, okay. Just stay right here, and keep your eyes open, got it? I’ll be right back.”

Eddie kissed him on the forehead, ignoring his soft comments about being sweaty and gross. He went straight to the phone, calling the only number he could think of.

Wayne picked up on the third ring, obviously expecting the call. He told him everything, desperate for advice, “He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but he looks bad, Wayne. I-I don’t know what to do,”

“Jesus christ, wait a second.”

Eddie kept peeking his head out into the hall, like Steve was going to spontaneously combust if he let him out of his site for too long. He repeated everything to Mindy, relieved that there was someone who knew what to do.

“Oh honey…Keep him awake okay? If he can’t stay conscious, call 911, don’t wait for us. And don't move him too much, we’ll be right there."

Thank god for Mindy, the saint. He had already adored the woman the first time they’d met, just from the way she made his uncle smile, but this was going to have her in his good books for the end of time.

Steve was still awake when he got back, thankfully. Eddie sat on the floor next to him, taking his hand, “Wayne and Mindy are coming over in a bit, okay? Someone has to check on you.”

Steve started to protest, but one look at Eddie’s unamused face shut him up. He looked away, “I forgot she was a nurse.”

“If she says you need to go to the hospital, you’re going.”

“Okay.”

Eddie waited for Steve to start telling him what the fuck had happened, so he knew who he had to murder. But he didn’t say anything, he just kept occasionally playing with the rings on Eddie’s hands, proving that he was still awake.

Eddie broke the silence first, he just couldn’t take not saying anything,“You’re not going back there. Ever. I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”

Steve laughed, wincing when it made his lip bleed a bit more. That was almost enough to have Eddie crying all over again.

“I, um, can’t go back there, actually.” He didn’t even look sad, just resigned, “They said it was you or them. I chose you and,” he chuckled, humorless, “And they did not take it well.”

“They know?” Eddie asked, the answer obvious, but the how wasn’t. They were hundreds of miles away, never giving a single shit about their son’s life.

He nodded, “They told me on the phone, said they knew what I was up to, that I owed them an explanation.”

“How?”

“Tommy, I guess. He called them, sat down with them or something,” he shrugged and even that small movement looked painful, “Worried about my life choices or some shit.”

Another one to the list of people Eddie was going to have to choke out.

Eddie should have never let him go over there alone, or at all. He knew something was up, he fucking knew it, but he was here sitting on his hands while Steve was getting the shit beat out of him.

Eddie wanted him to look at him, needed him to look at him. He cradled Steve’s face, carefully moving him to meet his eyes, "Stevie…baby, why did you go?”

He looked so broken down, tears starting to gather in the corner of his eyes. Steve went to bite his lip, flinching when he realized what a mistake that was, “If I didn’t go he would have shown up here. A-and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought I could talk them down or something, or just lie my way through it but…I couldn’t.”

Eddie resisted the urge to argue with him, to say that Steve mattered more, that he couldn’t put himself in harm’s way for his sake, that he would have gladly been the one to take the beating if it meant he would be okay. He was tracing the outline of his jaw, half for comfort and half to check for more injuries, biting down all of his indignation.

“How many times have they done this before?”

“They haven’t-”

“Sweetheart, please don’t lie to me,” Eddie wiped the tears from his good eye, patient.

Steve took a deep breath, closing his eyes, admitting the truth out loud for the first time in his life, “I’ve lost count.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn't want to scare you away,"

Eddie frowned, immediately confused, “What does that mean?”

The tears were really starting to fall now, Steve wincing at the sting of them in his cuts, “I-I know I’m already a lot okay? I’m clingy and annoying a-and I fucking scream and shit in the middle of the night and I just didn’t want to add another thing for you to have to deal with.”

Blaming himself for the terrible things other people did to him, classic fucking Steve. Eddie wanted to shake him, to yell at him that he was the most important person in his world, how could anything ever scare him away? But he held it all back.

"There is nothing that would ever make me not want you," Eddie swallowed, his own eyes starting to sting, "I'll always love you, don't you know that?"

"I-I do, really, I just...I don't know. I should have told you," Steve managed to look ashamed through his tears, and it just made Eddie's heart hurt more. He wanted to hug him, to hold him tight, and never let go. But he couldn't, not without hurting him. Steve's favorite thing in the world was getting held, and they managed to take that away. Eddie didn't know why that fact was standing out so much, but he'd never forgive them for it.

He could hear the sound of Wayne’s truck pulling into the driveway, footsteps not far behind. Eddie kissed the side of his mouth, as lightly as he could before standing to let them inside.

Mindy made quick work of tending to him, revealing more injuries under his clothes that Eddie hadn't even realized were there. His heart almost stopped at the sight of Steve shirtless, mottled yellow bruising strewn across his sides.

He and Wayne stood on the sidelines, both anxious as they waited for the news. Wayne was furious in a way that he hadn’t seen since he was a kid, back when it was Eddie being patched up from his own shit dad.

"You can stay home tonight," she finally declared to Steve, gesturing Eddie over, "You just need lots and lots of rest. Give those ribs a chance to heal a good while before you do anything strenuous. Now let's help get you to bed.”

"Thank you," Steve mumbled as Eddie scooped him up. Now that he had gotten the go-ahead to sleep, Steve was already letting his eyes fall closed, clearly exhausted. He set him down on the bed carefully, helping him change into clean clothes, ignoring the weak protests that he could do it himself.

“Please don’t go after him,” Steve mumbled when Eddie got him under the covers, "Promise me?"

Eddie hesitated, "But-"

"It's not about them," Steve rushed out, shaking his head, "Getting arrested isn't worth it. Losing you isn't worth it. Swear?”

He was right, Eddie knew Steve was right. His father wasn't just anybody, he'd press charges against almost any offense against him. And he had the lawyers to back it up. Steve was still looking at him, struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited. Eddie relented, begrudgingly giving into stupid things like logic, “I swear.”

"Thank you," Steve whispered, finally letting himself fall asleep, "I love you."

Eddie kissed his forehead, staying by his side until he was fully out of it, losing himself in his own thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Steve, he couldn’t lie to Steve, even if he wanted to.

He wouldn't lay a hand on his father. But that didn't mean he couldn't get his shit back. Preferably before it was thrown out or damaged by his psychotic family. He left Wayne with a sleeping Steve, after a few dozen promises, that no, he was not going to go commit a violent felony.

Just a few misdemeanors.

“If they haven't already skipped town, then you come right back. You hear me?” Wayne insisted, watching him tie up his boots with narrowed eyes.

“I hear you. It'll be two hours, tops.”

He parked a block away, slinking along the sidewalk. Lucky enough for him, there were no cars in the driveway of the Harrington house, and all the lights were off. The whole neighborhood was quiet. It sure looked like they booked it, maybe too afraid of an assault charge actually sticking to stay in town.

Breaking into Steve’s room was easy, first floor with an unlocked window? Child’s play. His room looked untouched, thankfully. Whatever had happened, hadn’t happened here. He didn't waste time, immediately starting to throw the few things left in his bag. There really wasn’t much to grab, a few mixtapes, some drawings from Will, the last of his clothes. Eddie was searching under the bed when he heard it, the sound of the knob turning.

He froze, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him. He expected whoever it was to start yelling, but instead there was only the click of the door closing shut behind them. He turned slowly, surprised to see who was standing there.

He had never seen her before, but he recognized her immediately. Steve looked just like her. The same big eyes and pouty mouth, the same gravity defying hair. They stared at each other, but she didn’t scream. She kept her eyes on him as she walked forward, primly sitting at Steve’s pristine desk.

Eddie was trying to calculate how much time it would take to book it back down the window and to his car, when she opened her mouth, “You can keep packing, don’t worry. Daniel’s gone for now.”

She was shuffling around in Steve’s old desk as she spoke, "You're Eddie, I presume.”

It was a statement, not a question, despite the phrasing, but Eddie answered anyway, “That’s me.”

She found what she was looking for, plain paper and a pen and started scribbling as she spoke, “Is he okay?”

That broke him out of his stunned little trance. Eddie stared at her, baffled and annoyed that she would even ask, “He’s alive.”

“Did he go to the hospital?”

“Why do you care?” He was pushing it. He should just pack Steve’s shit and go, but he was stuck, seething at the woman who allowed Steve to live with that monster, too angry to keep his mouth shut.

She shrugged, “If my husband is about to be arrested for disciplining our son, I’d like to know about it.”

There it was. Eddie was pretty sure this was the first time he had ever wanted to hit a woman before. He scoffed, “Un-fucking-believable. I’m not even going to answer that.”

He made his way into the closet, grabbing the few things that were still left on hangers. She was still scribbling at Steve’s desk, when he came out, flipping the page over to start on the back.

She didn’t look up at him, “He’s…” she shook her head, eyes on the paper, “It’s never been that bad before.”

Eddie ignored her, hurriedly going through Steve’s drawers, desperate to just get away from this bitch, this house, and get back to his Steve.

She was folding the paper up, letter style, before finally looking back up at Eddie. She was biting her lip, the exact same way Steve did, “Will you take care of him? If he stays?”

“Better than you.” Eddie snapped, mind jumping on the if.

She stood giving him a head to toe look, obviously displeased with what she saw. She held the letter out, “Give him this. He deserves to know he has options, and everything he’s giving up, because of you.” She said it matter of factly, like Eddie was just a temporary bump in the road, “We can give him a new start, and he’ll need a new start somewhere anyway, his father is spreading the news of your affair as we speak.”

Eddie stared down at the letter, making no moves to take it, "Your husband nearly kills him, and you think he’s going to be open to giving him a new start?" He scoffed, “Are you insane? Steve’s never going near that psycho again.”

“I could convince him,” she insisted, “When he calms down and realizes Steve needs help, he’ll be willing to give it to him.”

She shook the letter at him, her forced calm finally starting to crack, “Just give it to him. Consider it a trade for me not having you arrested for trespassing.”

Eddie snatched the letter from her hands, stuffing it into his back pocket, "Fine."

“Good. You can go back out through the window,” she said, turning to leave, “No reason for the neighbors to see more than they already have tonight."

“He won’t come back,” Eddie said, staring at her back,“He has a new family now, a real family, and I’ll never let either of you hurt him again.”

She scoffed, “We’ll just see about that,” Eddie could feel the venom behind her words, a peek into the real person behind the pretty mask. She slammed the door on the way out, like the petty child she was.

Eddie hated her, hated how she was so sure of herself, so confident with someone she didn’t even fucking know.

He hated how she thought she loved Steve.

Eddie was still fuming by the time he got home. He dumped the duffle bag into the entryway, the letter still burning a hole in his pocket. Steve wasn't going to leave him because of some scribbled words from his mom, on some level he knew that.

But even on the off chance he had suffered some serious brain damage and wanted to go back he wouldn't let him anyway. He'd kill Daniel Harrington himself before letting his Steve be around the piece of shit. He stepped from the hall into the living room, freezing when he saw Steve curled up on the couch, wide awake. He looked relieved to see him, before letting a frown take over his bruised face.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Eddie asked, shrinking a little at Steve’s glare. He ignored the question.

“What did you do?” Eddie flinched, but he couldn’t really blame him for expecting the worst. His track record wasn’t exactly…stellar in the physical protection department.

He raised his hands, placating, “Nothing, I promise! You won’t be seeing my name plastered on any headlines. I just got your stuff.”

Steve stared at him, looking for any tells. Eddie didn’t know how he did it, but the guy would just know when he was lying. Eventually he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, relenting.

“Come here then,” he made grabby hands, adorable even when he was pissy and all bruised up.

Eddie went to him, hugging him with careful hands, “How are you feeling baby?”

“Horrible,” Steve admitted, cuddling into his side “But not worse.”

Eddie nodded, taking him in. He still looked awful, but he was way more coherent than a few hours ago, a sign in the right direction. He thought of the letter burning a hole in his pocket, wondering if it would really be so terrible to just throw it away, Steve none the wiser. What could she possibly say to make up for this?

But on the other hand…it wasn’t his choice to make.

“I uh, “ he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, “Kinda ran into your mom, while I was there.”

Steve went rigid in his arms, staring up at him with wide-eyes.

"But nothing happened!" Eddie rushed out, flinching at the sight of Steve’s panicked face, "We just talked."

“Why would she want to talk to you?”

Eddie sighed, digging into his back pocket. Now or never he guessed, “She wanted me to give this to you.”

Steve stared at the envelope, taking it in shaky hands, “She gave it to you?”

"Wrote it out in front of me. She said, uh, that you deserved to know everything you were giving up.”

Because of me.

He left that part unsaid.

Steve frowned at the paper in his hand, shaking his head, "Help me up,"

“You’re not supposed to be moving-”

“Just to the kitchen,” Steve insisted, “I’ll lay down right after,”

Eddie gave in, helping Steve to his feet, fully intending to drag him back to bed the second he was done with whatever this was. Steve steadied himself, shooing Eddie away to weakly walk towards the kitchen.

Eddie followed him, confused as he dug around in the drawers, finding whatever he was looking for before going to the sink. Eddie watched, wide eyed as he lit a match, promptly setting the paper on fire.

"Steve-"

“It doesn't matter what it says," Steve cut in, letting it drop into the sink, "I made my choice."

He turned away from the sink, stepping back into Eddie’s arms, “All I want is you.”

Eddie held him, forcing himself to be gentle when all he wanted to do was bury himself into the other man, "You won't regret it.” Eddie choked up, teary-eyed, “I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

"It sounds like you're proposing," Steve said with a wet laugh. Eddie started kissing his face, helpless to not touch him.

"Maybe I am,”He managed to gasp out in between pecks, “But only if you'd say yes."

Fuck being young. Fuck every doubt that other people would have. There was no future that existed where Eddie wouldn't want Steve. This was it, the only person he would ever want, ever need. Steve stopped him at his mouth, careful of his cut as he kissed him, so light it was barely there.

He whispered into the small space between their lips, like a secret just for them, "I would."

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