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acourtofsnakes · 1 year

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I Wanna Be Your Slave - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie takes you out to celebrate your birthday, but when you surprise him, he loses his mind. Just a little.

Warnings: Mature themes but it is just a makeout, albeit a spicy one. Kissing, biting if you look hard enough, grabby hands, Eddie being weak for his beautiful girlfriend, swearing, gooeyness, food and drink mention

A/N: This is sort of set in the AU universe of Darkness At The Heart Of My Love, hence Rocksteady and Eddies uncle (you'll see)

A/N 2: This is a little indulgent piece for my beautiful, amazing partner in crime, @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis ! Happy Birthday, my love!! I hope you have the most amazing day, you deserve it! Thank you so much for our friendship, for supporting me and listening to me ramble. It's an honour to be your friend and i'm getting gushy so i' going to stop now🥰

Masterlist

“Eddie, you do realise someone could walk in, right?”

“Shhh, baby, I really could not fucking care right now. Look at you – fuck, how can I think about anything else now, huh?” His hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you closer even though there was no closer left. The space between you was less than a breath, the heat of his body searing into yours.

You were both in the storeroom - of all places - at Rocksteady, the bar that Eddie’s uncle Denny – his mothers brother – owned. It was a gorgeous place, the walls covered in posters and polaroids, neon signs making an ambient glow that was both cosy and welcoming. The air smelt like delicious food from Sammy’s kitchen, music constantly playing of course. It was an extension of Eddie’s trailer, the welcoming buzz of rock and metalheads that looked intimidating but were really just softies.

The soft chuckle left your throat, melting into a gentle moan when Eddie’s lips found their way to your neck, mouthing over the skin as he wound a ringed hand into your hair to tug it back, exposing more of your throat, “And if your uncle walked in? Or your aunt?” Fuck, his lips felt like heaven as they grazed over your pulse point, making what little care you were pretending to have quickly fade away.

Eddie pressed you further into the wall, his silky curls brushing against your skin, “Then I’d tell him to fuck off, because I have more important things to do, like worship my sweetheart, who looks like a goddamn goddess in my clothes on her birthday.” He let out a breath against your skin, a soft shudder running down his body, “Fuck.” He melted again, having to take a moment, hands tightening on your waist almost in restraint.

He still wasn’t over it.

You’d walked in about forty-five minutes ago, ready to celebrate your birthday with your friends, and to have a little mischief yourself. Just before you left, you’d seen Eddie’s battle vest hanging on the back of your dresser chair so… Of course, you’d slipped it on, the worn denim soft and imbued with his rich scent, pine trees and rain, a little smoky and just unmistakably him.

You loved the way it fit on your body, embracing you just as he did – and it was evident how much Eddie loved it from the second you walked into Rocksteady and the poor boy couldn’t get a full word out when he came to greet you at the door.

“Fuck baby, look at you – this is my jacket, mine and you’re – shit, it looks insane on you.”

“God, you can keep this – fuck, you can have all my clothes if it means you look like this all the time – this is mine-“

He couldn’t stop staring at you, those chocolate eyes drinking in the sight of your form wearing his clothes proudly. Not only because you looked like heaven, but because he still wasn’t over how proudly you displayed your love for him. You wore his clothes, held his hand, and kissed him in public, talked about him and his music and campaigns to anyone you met. You wore the guitar pick he’d given you on a chain with every outfit and had even made a Corroded Coffin t-shirt.

As the evening had gone on, the drinks and food and laughter with your friends, his hands were creeping further and further along your body. Trailing over your thigh, sliding across your shoulders and back, rubbing up your neck with his nails grazing your hair.

Over and over, his head slipping to your shoulder, lips mouthing over your neck whenever the others weren’t looking, until you’d gotten up to get more drinks and Eddie had followed you like a puppet on a string, at your feet, hand slipping into yours before he pulled you past the bar, down a corridor, a tiny set of steps and into the cool storeroom.

And here you were.

Pinned to the wall by your boyfriend’s hands and body, whilst he grazed his teeth along that point on your neck that had you weak at the knees and breathing his name just as your head tilted back against the wall. “I just can’t get over how fucking good you look.” He groaned into your neck, lifting his head when you tugged at his hair, “What is it, baby? Tell me what it is you want, I’ll give it you – Fuck, I’ll give you anything.” His eyes were blown out, dark like a midnight sky, locked onto you and completely, utterly yours. He was yours, always.

You slid a hand to his jaw, feeling the faint brush of stubble against your palms and you gently traced the plush shape of his lower lip with your thumb, “Kiss me, Eddie. Please.” You lifted your own eyes to his, eyes that could make you feel untethered in the middle of a storm, but also safer than anything in your entire life.

Eddie nodded faintly, his face turning soft and molten and he ducked his head to meet yours, his nose grazing the length of your own as he breathed, “I love you, so much.” Before his lips were on yours and that was where coherent thought ended.

Everything became him, his taste, the brush of his tongue to yours, the rumbles in the back of his throat that mirrored your own.

It was the way his hands grazed and gripped your body with little restraint but still with all the care in the world, like you were the most precious thing in the universe to him, even though he knew you wouldn’t break.

It was the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, something you would recognise blind.

The beat of your hearts, falling in unison as you drowned in each other and the ever-present heat that never went away, no matter how long you had been together. It would always be there, because you were constantly learning new things about each other, falling in love a little more.

Eventually, when he had kissed you so thoroughly you almost forgot your name, you broke apart; if only because you were both gasping for breath and looking at each other with a simmering fire that meant you could have to leave your own birthday celebration earlier.

You blinked at him, before you both let out a soft little breathy laugh and you dropped your forehead against his shoulder, feeling his hand curl itself further on the back of your head.

You sucked in a deeper breath, holding it for a second before letting it go, the sound muffled against his shoulder, “At the risk of being a cliché, wow.” The soft chuckle came naturally as you slid your hands down Eddie’s back. It still never failed to amaze you how he could take your breath away – literally – with just a make out. It didn’t need to be tumbling over whatever surface was nearby with minimal clothing, sometimes it could just be the two of you drowning in each other's kisses.

Eddie hummed a similar soft chuckle into your hair, his hands now rubbing up and down your arms like a gentle come down to ground you, “At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I agree.” He grinned against your forehead, brushing his lips over the skin to plant a soft kiss between your eyebrows, “You can wear my clothes more often.”

“Eddie, you do realise I wear your clothes more than I wear my own, right?” You leant back just enough to raise an eyebrow at him, laughter clear on your face, along with the soft flush over your cheeks and your kiss-swollen lips.

Your boyfriend drunk in the sight of you with those gorgeous doe eyes, the honey rich chocolate glimmering with joy and adoration, and maybe a little bit of smugness that he made you look so ruffled up, “Hey, so you admit it then!!” He grinned, all pretty and yours, “You always denied it before and now I finally have my confession.”

You rolled your eyes with playful exasperation, giving his chest a pretend shove, “Oh, shut up, you love it. As proven just now.” You raised both eyebrows now, unable to stop the stupid grin on your lips.

Eddie matched it still, letting you push him away but his hands on your arms just pulled you with him away from the wall, close to his body because even the thought of parting, even just a few centimeters, was too much. “Oh yeah? How’d you work that one out, gorgeous?” He cocked his head in that way of his, curls bouncing around his shoulders.

Again, you mirrored him, moving so your feet were between his, gently nudging him back toward the door, “Because whenever I wear your clothes, you can’t keep your hands off of me, and you turn into a babbling, blushing mess.”

He blinked at you, cheeks indeed flushing softly even as you opened the door and the sounds of the bar came back to greet you. But then he beamed once again, shrugging lightly, “I have no shame in that, sweetheart. You know I’m always at your knees, so why would I hide it?” He ducked down to kiss your cheek, then peck your lips before pushing the door open and letting you duck under his arm.

It was your turn to flush softly as you walked out, turning to look at him, “You’re a dork, you know that?” God, you fucking loved him.

Eddie swept into a bow before looping his arm around your shoulders, “I’m your dork.” He drew you in close, kissing the top of your rumpled hair because he couldn’t stop himself, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #joseph quinn #darkness at the heart of my love series #kas!eddie #eddie munson au

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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Rick Conroy's Recent Rentals:

Teen Wolf (1/2/3)

As a refresher, this is a shot from 4x02: Vecna's Curse. Robin, Max, Dustin and Steve are using the video store's database to look through the most recent rentals of all the Ricks in town as hints for which one Reefer Rick is, so that they can get his address and track down Eddie.

Unfortunately for them, this selection here from Rick Conroy didn't give off 'reefer' vibes and so they moved on to the next one.

However, luckily for us, this could very well have been hinting at events that are either already happening in s4, or are perhaps still yet to fully come to fruition in s5.

2. Teen Wolf (1985)

This is easy/hard because although it could be fairly simple, it could also be complex, to the point where it may very well go even further than this film. So I guess I'll just humor the implications, both simple and complex, because why not.

The entire plot of Teen Wolf revolves around a protagonist who is tired of being average, only to find out that he's actually the opposite of average: a frickin' werewolf.

There are a lot of possibilities for where elements of this film could align with certain concepts in the show. I even feel like it could be related to a specific arc on the most basic level (ie. Sixteen Candles = Birthdaygate).

Ironically, something I also noticed related to this, is that in the same episode we get the Rick selection with Teen Wolf, we also see the poster for it in the exact same spot as the Sixteen Candles poster was at the end of s3. We even see the letters ARC(ADE) in the right corner of the frame for both (probably just a coincidence, but a cool one at that).

Notice the pole going straight through the Teen Wolf poster here? More on that later...

Initially, I was going to just associate this film with the storyline related to the basketball team, because we do see a prominent arc related to basketball in s4, and so that felt like an easy way to pinpoint that reference?

However, I did feel sort of inclined to dig deeper, and this is because the other two films from this specific Rick selection connects to Will's character more than any of the other characters arguably.

Basically, after being stumped with the Teen Wolf mention, and intending to just stick with the simplicity of how the reference could apply to s4, I moved on to Romancing the Stone, only to find out it screamed Will, and so a part of me began wondering if it could be more complex than it seems when it comes to this reference.

And so, what exactly would Teen Wolf (1985) have to do with Will and his present/future arc, assuming that these three movies are indeed related to his character?...

Well, Twelvegate.

Just take a look at the film's slogan at the top of the movie poster:

He always wanted to be special. But he never expected this!

Upon rewatching this scene I also noticed there are twelve Ricks total...

As many of you probably know, there has been a decent amount of imagery with Will's blocking being obstructed by rods/poles/stakes, etc. (ie. Phineas Gage). So the fact that a pole interferes with the poster for TW could also be intentional in its attempt to give it some association to Will.

Here are the several other shots we get of the TW poster in this same episode:

I remember so much discourse about how this shot above was foreshadowing Max's confrontation with Vecna, which I do still fully believe to be the case. However, now I'm also rethinking about how that claw representing Venca looks just a little too aligned with the TW poster to not at least be a little bit intentional...

Look at Dustin and Max's bikes! They're blue/yellow directly in front of the poster!

And that's that on that!!

Though, if I’m being honest, this all still felt a little too simple to me.

The poster with Michael J. Fox opening up his shirt to reveal the title Teen Wolf also reminded me of the official reveal that Vecna was 001? Where the UD vines sort of scatter to reveal the number on his wrist...?

While it could be relevant as a potential hint for Will only now discovering as a teen that he has powers/is connected to the lab, similar to the protagonist of Teen Wolf only now discovering as a teen that he is a werewolf, I still want to try to take it another step further.

Now, going back to the basketball plot in s4, because I do think there still could be some connections between the show and the basketball theme in the film, is that there's actually a really layered connection to Teen Wolf going on here. And it has very me intrigued.

Although, this connection can be easily overlooked, as it's not related to the 1985 version, but actually the 2011 drama series, loosely based on the 1985 version, which goes by the same name...

As it turns out, Mason Dye’s most notable role before he was cast as Jason Carver in s4 of Stranger Things, was his role as Garrett in s4 of Teen Wolf.

So I guess the casting department decided to typecast tf out of Mason, by giving him the role of a character in a storyline potentially inspired by elements from the movie Teen Wolf? A role which also happens to be almost identical to his role in the series Teen Wolf?

Jason Carver character description in Stranger Things: popular basketball player ends up hunting down Hellfire Club (ALSO peep his #12 jersey... yep.)

Garrett character description in Teen Wolf: popular lacrosse player ends up hunting down Scott's pack

This also reminded me of the Duffer's talking about the casting of Amybeth McNulty. For those who don't know, Amybeth starred in Anne with an E (2017-2019), which is a drama series based on the book Anne of Green Gables (1908). There's also a well known TV mini-series based on said book which came out in 1985. After casting for Vickie was announced, the Duffers revealed that they were fans of the AOGG book and the mini series as kids (which is why the book was referenced in the show a few times), but also made a point to add that they were big fans of AWAE.

This is interesting to me because I feel like TW and AWAE are the kind of shows that have a bad rep (mostly deserved for TW atp), but specifically because of how they present themselves on the surface?

Werewolf teens and a talkative red-haired girl in braids don't exactly scream quality TV to most people? Which like, fair enough. Not to mention, both adaptations were based on stories that were very popular in the 80's, being modernized for future audiences. And so a lot of people hated them for that reason alone, without even giving them a second glance.

However, within the context of the Duffers, who are well known film nerds, who literally watch anything and everything under the sun, I think it's possible (and even likely) they watched Teen Wolf the series.

Arguably, TW's most impressive narrative moments come from season 3b. Which interestingly enough brings us back to the main focus I had for this post, which is how exactly this could all relate to Will.

Answer?

Will being possessed by the Mind Flayer is EXTREMELY void-Stiles coded:

Void-Stiles is easily recognized as one of the strongest arcs in the entire series, and for good reason. S3b season truly tested the limits of Dylan O'Brien's talent, along with a lot of other elements in the show just really hitting the mark that season. The story-building, the vibes, and the acting from the cast overall was pretty good, making it well regarded as a fan favorite (sound familiar?).

At first it starts with Stiles sacrificing himself, essentially dying for a short period of time, only to come back to life, but to have also left a door open in his mind. This door (ajar) makes Stiles vulnerable to the Nogitsune (an evil spirit that feeds off of chaos, strife and pain), who of course takes advantage and attaches to Stiles.

Slowly, Stiles starts experiencing an inability to focus, sleepwalking, vivid dreams during the day, while also not being able to tell the difference between dreams and reality. Eventually this leads to the Nogitsune gaining control, who then starts to have more influence on Stiles' behavior, leading him to trick his loved ones around him into believing that it's him by acting like Stiles at times, when really it's the Nogitsune. He uses Stiles' body as a vessel to wreak havoc on the town of Beacon Hills, but also specifically Stiles friends/family.

He even goes as far as to make Stiles do things like twist a sword into his best friends chest, then finally detaches himself from Stiles' body only to in that very same moment kidnap Lydia (his love interest), and ending in a battle with him orchestrating the attempted murder of an entire floor of a hospital, along with successfully killing a beloved main character.

While I do think it's possible we could see some similarities between these storylines here (we arguably already have), something I realized a while back when researching for birthdaygate, was that it did remind me a great deal of Stiles' arc in s6a of TW.

What makes this arc kind of ironic in the context of this post, is that there are some parallels to Back to the Future...

Basically everyone forgets Stiles existed, to the point where he's completely erased from reality, including photographs (Back to the Future reference). Other details about him, like his name and his connection to the people around him, is what plays a big part in his return (including radios being used between realms to communicate with him... yep).

As it's happening, Stiles starts going up to everyone he knows, first casual friends, and slowly down the line to people that mean the most to him. Suddenly his best friend doesn't know him, then his dad, finally the only person left who remembers him is Lydia, only for him to be taken and for everyone to forget (including Lydia). And this was basically the big cliffhanger that closed off the first episode of the season, with it being a guiding force to them getting Stiles back in the following episodes.

Now, I just want to make it clear that I do NOT think that this is how s5 is going to play out, like barely, if at all.

My main purpose for this post was to look at the simple and complex in relation to this reference and how it could relate to what is to come, in any shape/form.

Like, we know they draw a lot of inspiration from Star Wars and Lord of the Rings (along with 100+ films and more). And yet still, that doesn't mean we're expecting the show to play out exactly like it does in those stories.

What we're expecting is some inspiration & parallels.

S5 is said to be drawing a lot of inspiration from s1-2, which are two seasons most tied to Wills disappearance and possession.

Clearly in the case of this reference, there are A LOT of possibilities for what this could be hinting at related to Will's arc in particular.

I'm excited, but also terrified to find out what...!

#byler #stranger things #movie inspo #twelvegate #teen wolf (1985)#teen wolf (2011)#ALSO I love how Michael J Fox is just chilling in all these layered references going on here related to Will #just wait until we get to romancing the stone...#also I have a theory that the duffers were big tw stans pre-downfall #that it plays a small part in why they insist on not going past 5 seasonns... bc they don't want their show to go downhill either #they've seen tw and dozens of other shows go from impressive to unwatchable #TW has gotta be the biggest example of this in recent years #i'm not even talking unliked endings #i'm talking UNWATCHABLE endings #i feel like the duffers set themselves apart bc as time went on they actually clued their cast in on the overall series arcs/plans/ending #which made it easier for the cast to stay as opposed to leaving around s3/4 #with the creator of teen wolf he kind of is just allowing the show to go on forever and ever #and so he's sort of been forced to work around the casts desire to even continue participating #and so ever since they lost the bulk of their cast but especially dylan obrien (the heart of the show)#it just become unwatchable #like imagine ST losing gaten but just continuing to roll out new seasons???#i don't want to imagine it. it would suck. it simply wouldn't be stranger things anymore #and that's also why i think the duffers refuse to kill of their mains for shock value #bc everyone knows the less og characters you have as the seasons go on #the more the show becomes a shell of its former self and what used to make it so good in the first place:#it's fucking characters #i can guarantee you after s5 that this is the end of these characters story forever...#and i'll be fine with that!

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leverage-ot3 · 2 years

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leverage international teams i support with all my heart:

ryn, maddie and ben from freeform’s siren. they primarily handle wildlife cases in the pacific northwest. bonus if it’s an aquatic job because duh ryn could fuck them over in a heartbeat (perks of being a mermaid)

neal caffrey has his own team, mozzie included. el joins on occasion but peter has to maintain plausible deniability so he’s a no-go. mostly stays within new england but will travel if a job necessitates it

villanelle and eve have their own team but are specifically a skilled duo. they mainly operate in europe

the not me team. all of them are pretty versatile so often they can switch between roles. black and white play the same person sometimes because twin fuckery just works. they mainly operate in thailand because of their passion for social justice within their own country but they will take jobs in surrounding areas on occasion

idk I just think patrick jane from the mentalist would have a hobby of ripping off corrupt rich people in his spare time. lisbon also has to maintain plausible deniability so he mostly joins other groups in the area in need of thievery or grifting skills. stays within the US since he has a family and a job

nolan, john and sarah from red notice. they are mostly in it for the crime and it took them a while to warm up to the idea of not keeping famous art, but helping people is alright they guess. they take jobs internationally- they aren’t picky

the alice in borderland group once they get out of the simulation. they’re jaded from their time there and screwing over powerful people is kind of their niche now. operates out of japan

the sense8 cluster. takes jobs globally because they’re from all over. one of the most talented international crews because of their combined knowledge and skills

the old guard crew when they don’t feel like killing people lmao

jaskier, yennefer, and geralt are still kicking and since there are no more monsters to hunt or kingdoms to reluctantly overthrow, they took this up as a hobby to pass their time. ciri also participates, as well as various other witchers

(yes all of these are be gay do crime. but that’s the synopsis of og leverage so I stand by these choices)

#feel free to add on #look do I think villanelle could have redemption? honestly idk but this is my blog so I can dream in my posts #breanna has to take a nap when she realizes 90% of leverage associates are queer and/or polyamorous #notable addditions: the stranger things team (grown up of course)#the all of us are dead kids are thirsty for the blood of the bourgeois after the zombie debacle #so lee tae joon’s team takes them under their wing #i know in my heart the gang from motherland fort salem would be AMAZING at leverage jobs #the crows. obviously.#the peaches from a league of their own #leverage #leverage redemption #white collar #red notice #siren freeform #the witcher #not me the series #alice in borderland #the old guard #the mentalist #sense8 #crossovers #crossover #i forget how I tag them lol #leverage crossover #leverage international #mine #this is just me testing the waters to see what fandoms y’all are in and want to talk about LMAO

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pharawee · 1 year

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"I like stargazing, but you have to go to the mountains for it. There are no stars in this city. Have you ever been stargazing in Thailand?"

—CHAINS OF HEART, Episode 1

#chains of heart #chains of heart the series #haii sarunsathorn #boom raweewit #tanawat sukfuengfoo #chainsofheartedit #thai bl #thai drama #thaidrama #bl series #bl drama #my edits.#this is the psychological action thriller bl i deserve #even if it turns out that the mysterious stranger (tm) is din after plastic surgery or sth #also #one more for the cowherd & weaver girl allegory counter #ken wins this because he got it tattooed #and i like how he toughened up after what happened to him #still pls ken bestie seek therapy

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gothicbarbie · 1 year

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MY TOP 15 BL’S OF 2020

WOW, 2020 was A YEAR. This was hard ranking these but I'll try my best...

1. Where Your Eyes Linger [Korean] - One of my all time favorite series, I think because I really felt the chemistry between the actors in this one. I love the whole bodyguard sort of trope as well and the writing in this was so well done imo. I loved the tension filled moments and build up between the two. I just wanted moreeeee.

2. I Told Sunset About You [Thai] - Season 2 was iffy but season 1 was AMAZING from start to finish. I felt like I watching a movie. The writing, the scenery, the build up for the main pair... it was all so well done.

3. Color Rush [Korean] - The storyline for this BL is just so fun, I really loved the entire premise of this world. The chemistry between the two was nice and Korea does such a good job of building up the connection between their pairings. I'm sad that season 2 dipped a bit in quality and that season 1 felt a tad unfinished, but I still really enjoyed it.

4. Why R U [Thai] - This was a well done BL that was fun, I enjoyed the chemistry between Saint and Zee and I didn't find the drama or the angst overwhelmingly frustating. Plus it had a nice side ship and I liked the love scenes too.

5. 2gether [Thai] - I know people love this one, and I really enjoyed it too. It's perfect for those with a sweet tooth. There are some really great affectionate/sweet moments betweeen the main pairing. It was also the first BL I ever watched (if you don't count waterboyyy way back in the day lol) so it has a soft spot in my heart. But I do think it was a tad too safe for me. I prefer my BL's to have angstier/hotter moments throughout. The ending kiss made up for things, but it was unreastic to not have a proper kiss beore that. JMO.

6. Manner of Death [Thai] - I saw a gif of maxtul from this on tumblr and it's what originally got me into BL's. It spiked my interest. I see those two as the grandfathers of BL because they have been in so many things together, and their connection is so strong. I enjoyed this one a lot because it was a more mature series, and had it's own vibe/feel to it that I really appreciated.

7. TharnType Season 2 [Thai] - Season 2 wasn't as strong as season 1 for me but it was still enjoyable. I was really into Mew/Gulf and their chemistry when I first started watching BL's because it felt so genuine to me, and T+T was one of the first shows to really push the boundaries with the intimacy. Solid season.

8. Your Name Engraved Herein [Taiwan] - This was such a beautiful movie, with a positive ending, and I really loved watching it. It was depressng at times, but overall I just think it was so well done.

9. Mr. Heart [Korean] - Recently rewatched this series and it was so good! So fun and enjoyable. Loved the storyline, it felt pretty unique. I enjoyed the connection between the main two. What brings it down for me a bit is some of the physical moments in the series, like when one of them would hit the other... not for me. But overall, I could look past some of things because I enjoyed the rest of it.

10. Cherry Magic [Japan] - Such a cute and fun series, and definitely one of the most memorable ones for Japan. I had a bit of an issue with the intimacy stuff (they really couldn't even peck on the lips once??? It felt too platonic to me at times) but that aside, it was well written and a great watch.

11. Boy’s Lockdown [Filo] - This is actually my favorite of all the "quarantine" related series we got after Covid. To me, it was cute and fun and we got to see the main two come together in a nice and organic way. It was a good mix of different content.

12. Gaya Sa Pelikula [Filo] - Some cheesey/annoying moments for me, mostly regarding the sister character, but the rest of the series was nicely done. It also sort of felt like a mini movie. It has a slightly different vibe for me from other Filo series. I enjoyed it a lot.

13. Wish You [Korea] - Not my ultimate favorite series from Korea but it was well done. Wish I had more to say about it haha. But it was good.

14. Hello Stranger [Filo] - Another quarantine related story, and for a "web series" where the characters never really met til the end, it was really enjoyable. It was a great depiction of what students were going through during covid and I liked the way they went from scene to scene and did different interactions.

15. Because of You [Taiwan] - Def. some low/cheesey moments in this one as well but it was the first Taiwan series that I saw, so I enjoyed how different it felt compared to the other countries. Taiwan definitely has it's own style too. I liked that there were three couples in this one, and I enjoyed all three storylines.

Honorary Mentions: I'm not going into details with any of these series, overall I found parts of them enjoyable, but there were things I didn't love overall. But still worth checking out.

Korea: Craving You

Japan:Life: Love on the Line, HIS

Filo: My Day, Gameboys, Quaranthings, Cheat the Series

Thai: Gen Y, Present Still Perfect, Ingredients, En of Love, My Engineer, Saifahzon, My Gear Your Gown

Also check out my lists from other years! https://gothicbarbie.tumblr.com/post/705678223200174080/my-top-bls-of-2019-and-earlier https://gothicbarbie.tumblr.com/post/705227666795741184/my-top-15-bl-series-of-2021 https://gothicbarbie.tumblr.com/post/705139242020618240/my-top-20-bl-series-of-2022

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space-girl-and-droids-art · 2 years

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Small Leia & Ben Kenobi.

#star wars art #kenobi series #obi wan kenobi #small leia #my art #leia organa #it broke my heart when leia asked obi wan if he was her bio dad #he would've been the best uncle / grandpa and the fact that they grew up as strangers it's unfair #fuck you palpatine

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myosotisa · 1 year

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Old Heart - Part 1 - Barely

‖ chapter summary: Faced with tragedy, you are forced to travel across the country with a series of people you barely know in order to reunite with your only remaining family. The second leg of your journey, and your traveling companion for it, promises to be way more than you bargained for.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: death of a parent, gun violence, grief, existential dread

‖ word count: 8.3k

‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

Tuesday, August 9th, 2016 – Quantico, Virginia - 13 years Post-Outbreak

Out of everything you’ve learned in life, you know without a doubt that it really only takes one moment to change everything.

One moment, you’re walking through a safe zone you’ve lived in for the last 10 years with your dad. It’s a normal Tuesday morning and the two of you are on your way to the mess hall for breakfast. It’s the only time you have to see him because he normally works late on the base. So, despite your hate for mornings, you got up, met your dad in the hallway of your tiny apartment, he’d hold out his arm and you’d loop yours through it before going on your way together. It’s a routine, same time everyday. Has been for years. And today is no different. It’s raining lightly but the sun still shines. You wonder if you might catch a rainbow after you’ve had your eggs.

The next, you’re on your knees in the mud. There’s blood on your hands. There are people scattering, ducking for cover, running and crying out in fear. Your whole body trembles as you reach out toward the prone form in front of you. The familiar tan of his sunkissed skin. The smattering of freckles across his collarbone and up his neck. Your eyes, the ones everyone said matched perfectly, staring straight up into the sky. Unseeing. A bullet hole completes a 3 point triangle with them as they dull.

The one after, there are hands dragging you away from him, through the mud, through the crowd. You’re kicking and you’re screaming but you can’t even hear it past the shot still ringing in your ears. Armed guards descend, reaching to check for a pulse. As if someone could survive a shot like that. They circle like vultures to a carcass.

You lose sight of the gathering crowd as you’re dragged around a corner and pushed up against a wall. Every instinct in your body screams run, fight, lunge, survive but there’s a forearm to your throat and a single finger on your lips. When you blink away the tears, Helen is there. She works with your dad, you’ve had dinner with her more than a few times. Her eyes are bloodshot, her breathing heavy as she presses you to the wall with her entire body. The pressure and the brick digging into your back ground you for the moment.

“We need to get out of here, now.” Her voice is a soft hiss, her eyes darting toward corners and through alleyways. She’s anxious for sure, maybe even afraid. “You’re not safe here.”

There are a million questions you want to ask. What happened, how did someone get past the defenses, what are they going to do with him, how is she here, how did she know, what is she so afraid of. They all get lodged in your throat in a chokehold worse than the one she’s applying, the only sound that comes through is a broken sob.

Her posture folds then, taking an inch back and moving both hands to cradle your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I know. But we need to go. There’s no time.” Her thumbs wipe across the tears on your cheeks as she holds you just a bit tighter. Like that’s the only way to keep you together. “Do you understand?”

You don’t understand. Not at all. There is not a single thing that you currently understand. But you nod and let her hold your hand anyway. You follow her through side streets away from the mess hall. Away from your life as you know it.

Here one moment – gone the next.

Saturday, August 13th, 2016 – Louisville, Kentucky

“I really think you’ll like him, he’s still the coolest guy I know. Always has been.”

This is your 3rd time meeting Dustin Henderson. You’d been deposited into his care (mostly against your will) 3 days ago. The only thing he had going for him as a traveling companion is his bright smile and infectious enthusiasm. He’d accepted your silence with the ease of someone who was used to running their own conversations, even seemed excited just to have a new audience, no matter how little you participated. If you were being honest, you were grateful for the noise.

“I think this is the 7th time today you’ve said that I’ll like him.” You hear what you think is him huffing, but you’re too focused on tossing a stress ball into the air above you to bother looking over. You’re laying on a brick wall outside of St. John’s United Church of Christ, a few miles from where you and Dustin had slept for the night. “Why a church, anyway? There must be a million other potential drop off points in this place.”

“Dunno, Eddie always wants to meet at churches. Maybe because they’re normally pretty big and recognizable.”

The ball drops into your hand and you lower your elbows to rest, turning your head toward him with a small frown. “He a man of God or something?”

Dustin lets out a snort of amusement, his curls wobbling from where they stick out underneath his hat. “Definitely not.” He offers you another bright smile before he returns to scanning your surroundings. You would assume from his demeanor that he’s goofy – well intentioned, undisciplined. But you’ve seen how he wields the shotgun slung across his torso, how he seems to be able to hear things you’d think impossible, how he navigates through the ruined cityscapes of his domain with ease. He’s sharp as a whip and not afraid to get his hands dirty. A clever disguise of prey to lure in predators. He’s a part of this team for a reason after all.

Struggling to sit up with a groan, you lean forward to drape your forearms over your knees. “So, how much does he know?”

“About?” Dustin pauses, then shifts toward you when you don’t reply. All you offer is a loaded look, waiting for him to catch on to what you’re really asking. His eyebrows draw together in confusion before it appears to hit him. “Oh. Well. He knows you’re Robin’s sister.”

“Half-sister,” you correct easily.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “He knows you’re Robin’s half-sister and he’s tasked with getting you from point A to point B.”

“So nothing, is what he knows. Absolutely nothing.”

Dustin’s arms, brushed with dirt and a subtle sheen of sweat, cross over his chest as he leans further back against the wall you’re sitting on. “Yeah, I guess.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull your pack into your lap, digging through for your water bottle. “Listen,” you make a noise to let him know you’re paying attention, “you know it’s not my call who knows. Nancy decides when to bring people in.”

Immediately, you dig your palms into your eyes in frustration, rubbing in tight circles and unable to keep the tension from leaking out into your tone. “Why does everyone just do whatever Nancy says? Who the fuck even put Nancy Wheeler in charge?”

“Your dad did,” he replies, as if it isn’t an absolute punch to the gut. As if it doesn’t make fire burn up your throat and beg to burst from between your lips in a scream. He seems to recognize it soon after he says it, and decides the best way to move on is to sit in an awkward and tense silence for the next 30 minutes. Which is fine. Whatever. Works for me.

In fact, the next time he makes any sound or movement at all, he’s shifting forward, primary hand gripping his shotgun. “Dustin?” He holds out a hand for you to stop as his head tilts a bit down, his eyes closing to focus. You search the area visually and listen hard to see if you can get even an inkling of what he’s hearing. Coming up short, you simply watch as he trots down the small set of stairs between you and the street, directing his weapon west. You flounder, trying to decide if you should hide or pull your own pistol.

Just as you’re about to roll off the wall to duck behind it, a long whistle rings out. 4 distinct tones that echo past the debris of nearby fallen buildings and through the gothic architecture of the church behind you. Dustin’s posture immediately softens, his gun lowering slowly as he repeats the whistle back, adding an extra note at the end. He turns back, taking the steps two at a time as he returns to where you're sitting. “Your new babysitter is here.”

“Dustin, I swear to God, that’s not funny, and I will break your fingers.”

He barks a small laugh until he catches sight of your glare, then quickly raises his hands in surrender with a muttered apology. You’re about ready to continue to tear into him when you see a figure in black appear in the corner of your eye.

You’ve heard a lot of stories about Eddie Munson over the years, most you doubt are true, but have never actually met the guy. You know he's a little bit older than Steve, putting him in his early 40s. He’s been running the smuggling train through Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, and Arkansas for close to 10 years. He’d been part of Hopper’s original team, loosely connected via radio and scattered across North America. While you’d heard more about him in the last 2 days from Dustin than you had the entire rest of your life, you know he worked with Robin, Steve, Nancy, and your dad already. While you couldn’t say you’d ever stopped to wonder what he looked like, it definitely was not this.

But walking out from behind a solitary pillar, it couldn’t have been anyone else. A pair of dusty blue jeans and black boots, a red flannel tied around his hips, a white t-shirt that almost shines from how bright the sun beats down, a black biker jacket layered over it. His near-black hair is pulled back behind his head and, despite having a pair of aviators on, he still raises a hand to block the sun from his eyes as he surveys the area. When he catches sight of the two of you, his arm swings down to his side and he begins his approach. You watch carefully – studying his gait, the length of his legs, the broadness of his shoulders, the narrow waist tucked beneath leather. He’s tall, lean, strong. Intimidating, even without any weapons visible on his person. While Dustin is a predator disguised as prey, Eddie is a wolf, plain and simple.

Your sweaty palms press to the dusty, sun bleached concrete on either side of your knees as you face him. Dustin meets him halfway, arms wrapping around torsos to clap on backs as they exchange a happy greeting. While you had become very aware of Dustin’s fondness for Eddie over the last few days, you’re still surprised to see the affection returned in almost equal measure. By all appearances, the older is gruff, unapproachable, untouchable. But he still hits the underside of Dustin’s cap to knock it off, and, when the younger dips to reach for it, loops an arm around his neck to ruffle his unruly hair. They start elbowing each other and pushing lightly, messing around like brothers and acting half their age. Acting like there isn’t an apocalypse, isn’t a war, isn’t death all around them.

It’s hard to believe something like that is still possible. Relationships like that still exist.

Dustin is pulling Eddie back toward you before you’re ready for it.

“And this is your package to deliver,” Dustin offers with a grin, ignoring the hard glare you send him once again. Eddie raises the sunglasses from his eyes and it takes everything in you to stay firm as he studies you just as you had studied him. This close, you can see a bit more – the bits of gray woven into the dark waves of his hair, the sun-creased laugh lines that remain despite his neutral expression, a scar that arches down the corner of his lower lip and chin, disappearing into the subtle fuzz of a salt and pepper shadow across his jaw. But you mostly get caught on his eyes. They’re youthful in appearance: wide, bright, and a rich, beautiful shade of warm umber. Despite the crow’s feet that arch out beside them, if you’d looked at his eyes alone, you’d assume he was your age and no older.

“Hey,” he seems to finish his study of you first, offering nothing more than a slight head tilt of acknowledgement before his aviators hit the bridge of his nose again and he redirects back to Dustin. “So I get her from here to Three Corners, right? When are they expecting us?”

Doesn’t even ask your name or anything. Like you weren’t even there. Like you weren’t even a person, just a package to be delivered. Dustin doesn’t seem to notice as he whips out his map and they discuss the route the two of you will be taking so the younger can report it back to Colorado when he gets home. The frustration boils in the base of your gut again, a bubbling pool of lava that is desperate to erupt.

“We’re gonna have to stop in Memphis for a day or two,” Eddie explains, rubbing the back of his sweaty neck with his palm as they look over the map.

“And why’s that?” You cut in, some of the heat invading. Both men look toward you, as if just realizing you’re still there, before Dustin finally acknowledges your question.

“Memphis is Eddie’s base of operations. The two of you can get some actual sleep, bathe, and stock up for the rest of the trip there.” Eddie grunts an affirmative, back to facing away from you and leaning over the map Dustin has spread over a concrete pillar.

Your tongue presses against your cheek in annoyance, staring hard at the sun-faded leather that drapes over his back. “So how long until the next hand off?”

This seems to humor him, a small laugh huffing out of his nose as he shifts back toward you and lowers his sunglasses. “Desperate to get rid of me already?” There’s a bit of a tease in his tone that makes the boil bubble faster, the tension in your jaw getting tighter. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs the map and slaps it down next to you. “4 days to Memphis,” his finger tip touches the paper map, dirt under his nails, and drags from Louisville to the southwest corner of Tennessee. “2 or 3 days in Memphis to stock up. Then another 4 or 5 days to Three Corners.” Before you can really see where Three Corners is, he’s folding the map back up into its usual rectangles and holding it toward Dustin. “So I’ll be outta your hair and you’ll be outta mine in 14 days max.”

Your former partner gapes at him, taking the map and slowly drawing it back towards his chest with a dropped jaw. “Eddie, come on-”

“Jeez Henderson,” you interrupt with full disdain, hopping off your perch and wiping the dust off your clammy hands, “this is the guy you were so excited for me to meet? Whatta riot.”

This, finally, gets a reaction out of Eddie. Strong eyebrows raise as his head tilts, gaze hard on you as you turn away toward your backpack. “Listen, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be, but it’s not a fucking field trip. I don’t care who you are or who you’re related to. We’re not going to be friends. I’m going to get your privileged ass from here to where it needs to go, alive mind you, and you’re going to shut up and do what I say.”

Steam billows out of your nose as you whirl back toward him, hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Privileged? Field trip? Look man, I get you’re old, but this complex that’s radiating off of you is really a bit delusional. We get it, you’re so seasoned and experienced and that makes you so much better than everyone else. I feel like I’m about five seconds away from getting ‘y’know back in my day’d.”

His own jaw sets tight as his neutral expression falls into a sharp glare. “You fucking brat, I should just-”

“HEY.”

Dustin’s voice isn’t loud – not when anything or anyone could be nearby and hear, but the volatile nature makes it feel as though it should be a scream. Both your and Eddie’s mouths snap shut as you face him, his cheeks flushed with something that looks like embarrassment. “Is this going to be a problem? I thought you were both adults.”

A scoff. “I dunno, is she actually legal?”

A glare. “Does a senior citizen count as an adult?”

“Guys.” Dustin looks furious. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever actually seen him mad. “I don’t need a guarantee that you two are going to be friends. I don’t care, actually. You can both be stubborn idiots if you want to be. But I do need a guarantee that you won’t get each other killed.”

A harsh silence falls over you all like a blanket of fresh snow. You’re fully capable of putting your sudden negative feelings toward your new escort aside to get through the next 2 weeks. Making a fast enemy out of anyone you meet isn’t the best way to go about life in this world, but making friends isn’t exactly a great idea either. If he can keep his ego in check, you can easily make it through 2 weeks of silence and then forget about each other at the end of it.

The two of you make eye contact again, the shape of his eyes barely showing through the tint of the lenses. A silent appraisal. Can I trust you? And the answer looks to be a resounding: When pigs fly.

“We’ll be fine.” Eddie answers first, breaking away from your gaze to look over at Dustin again. “Haven’t died yet, have we?”

The younger looks at you, like he also wants your word on if this will work out. As if you have a choice in the matter.

“All good, boss,” you offer with a half-assed salute and smile before shouldering your pack with a huff. “On the road we go.”

Eddie gives a stiff nod then claps Dustin on the back once more as he passes. “I mean it, you guys,” Dustin continues as he holds out a hand to you. “If she ends up dead, Steve and Robin will kill you. And if you get him killed, Max will hunt you down.”

“Not going down without a fight, Henderson,” Eddie’s cocky grin is back, the tension that built quickly between the two of you immediately pushed to the side. “Don’t worry about us.”

He begins to walk back the way he came, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow, while you give Dustin one last pleading look. “And get home safe to Sally, okay?”

Dustin nods, hitting the brim of his hat with a finger. “Will do. Check in when you get to Memphis.”

All you do is wave back at him as you scamper to catch up with Eddie before he disappears back into the debris he emerged from. You keep your eyes on the wiry bun of hair at the base of his skull as you follow in his footsteps, leading you in the direction the sun will inevitably set at day’s end.

Very little is exchanged between you and Eddie over the next 3 days. As soon as you’re out of Louisville city limits, he leads you to where he stashed an old pickup truck. It won’t have gas to last even a few hours, but with some luck, there will be enough to scavenge along the way. You offer to trade off driving, explaining you’d learned on the base, but he says it won’t be needed.

Luckily, there’s a CD player in the car. You don’t recognize any of the songs, but the music helps fill the silence. It doesn’t help with your boredom however. After spending way too much time trying not to notice Eddie’s mannerisms – like how he bounces the leg that isn’t on the gas pedal almost all the time, how he taps one finger to the beat of whatever song is playing, how he mostly drives with his right hand and his left elbow propped up on the door – you start digging through the glove compartment.

“What are you doing?” His voice makes you jump, having not heard it in hours.

“Snooping,” you answer plainly, not even bothering to look at him as you dig through the mess of papers and trash in the small space. He lets out a long suffering exhale but makes no move to stop you. Eventually you find a paper map, slightly stained and a bit tattered, but it will do the job for a little while.

You unfold it over your lap and find Louisville. It becomes a challenge to see if you can figure out which way Eddie took you out of the city, but you find your sense of direction in a moving vehicle a bit lacking. South and west, that’s for sure, but you’d made more than a couple turns before getting onto this long, clear stretch of road and you’re not even sure where you started beyond the city. There had been a few hazards along the way, mostly broken down cars, but they were easy to maneuver around and Eddie had seemed entirely prepared for them. It made you wonder how often he made this same trip back and forth.

The next 15 minutes are spent looking out the window waiting for a road sign to fly by. With that info, you should be able to get a better idea of what highway you’re on and maybe even where on the highway based on the exit. Your patience rewards you with a faded green sign in the distance – a shield symbol with the number 62 in the center and says the upcoming exit is for ‘Central City’. Really? Couldn't it be something more unique?

Regardless, you bend back over the map and use your finger to trace across the weave of roads and cities, trying to find where you might be. You’re able to find US Highway 62 stretching west across the northside of Kentucky, but nothing that says Central City. The tension builds between your eyebrows as you pull the map a bit closer to your face, thinking maybe you’re just missing it.

“Look at Nashville,” you whip toward Eddie, who is looking between the paper in your hands and the road. He sounds wholly bored, but tilts his chin to direct your attention back to the map. “From Nashville, trace your finger straight north until it hits 62. We’re a little bit west of that.”

There’s still no ‘Central City’, but you figure it’s probably just too small to show up on a map this size. “Why didn’t we drive down through Nashville?” You find yourself asking, eyes scanning the wrinkled paper. “It seems more direct than this.”

“Roads into and out of Nashville might as well be graveyards.” He goes back to leaning his cheek on his left fist. “Nashville itself is totally wiped out. Well, not wiped out, but you get what I mean. All that's left is clickers and corpses.”

“Oh, okay.”

Having completed your goal, you carefully fold the map back up and set it on the dashboard. The gravity of his statement hits you hard despite the casual nature he shares it with. You remember reading in a book a couple years ago the population of Nashville had been over half a million people. Half a million. There’s no guarantee they’re all mindless Infected now, some probably got out, but statistically speaking…

Better not to think about it.

The rest of the days are spent listening to the same 14 songs on repeat, stopping along the way to siphon gas and hit supply caches he has set up across the state, breaking to eat or go to the bathroom, and sleeping. You take turns keeping watch while the other sleeps in the bed of the pickup. He explained he didn’t want to drive at night and risk trying to siphon gas in a dangerous area while it’s dark, so when the sun starts to set, he pulls the truck off the highway and into the closest tree line to hide away.

During the first night, you find another reason to resent Eddie. When he lays down on top of his sleeping bag, it only takes moments for him to lose consciousness. The second his eyes close, his breathing slowly gets deeper and the tension in his face falls slack. He wakes just as easily, but the rate at which he’s able to fall asleep is more than enough to keep the heat in your veins from fading. When he does wake up and gruffly order you to get some sleep, you lay down and stare at the stars overhead. Sometimes you actually manage to drift off.

Sleeping in the car is easier. Especially because it keeps you from more awkward silences with Eddie.

The third night is colder than before. You’re at a higher elevation than home and edging closer to winter every day. In the woods at night, the wind kicks up and sends shivers down your spine no matter how tightly you pull your jacket around you. While Eddie softly snores in the truck bed, you sit on the running board below the passenger seat, your sleeping bag wrapped around your shoulders to combat the cold, in silence.

You’ve come to learn that silence is your worst enemy. Infected have patterns, ways to outsmart them. People have weaknesses, morals, and desires. Hunger, thirst, FEDRA – they all have motivations for why they exist and ways to beat them or get around them. Silence, on the other hand, is overbearing, all encompassing. The quiet settles into your bones, leaks into the marrow, infects the white blood cells that are born there, uses them as weapons to subdue the boiling in your blood. Silence lays across you like a heavy, fiberglass blanket suffocating all of the air out of a fire.

It's a fertile breeding ground for thoughts better left alone.

One thing about living most of your life on the base at Quantico is you never saw too much of what the rest of the country looked like. The tall walls of concrete kept your community mostly secluded from the rest of the world and people like you had very little reason to venture outside those walls. You knew how to use a gun, how to drive, how to fight. For emergencies, your dad had insisted. Because you never wanted to catch yourself wishing you could when you really needed to know. Now, after days of driving past dilapidated towns, broken down cars, cracked streets, and the odd infected, it’s a harsh dose of reality. One you had thought you were prepared for, but evidently not. So you sit in your sleeping bag and remember the quilt from your bed, the one your mom had given you, with its faded pastels and fraying edges. The random poster of some boy band on the wall after you’d found it in an attic and put it up just to have something to look at. You miss the Christmas lights you’d hung along the ceiling after convincing your dad they used less electricity than a normal lamp. The walk to the mess hall in the morning when the world was just waking up and most people around didn’t have reason to be in a bad mood yet. The Carolina Wrens that rested along power lines and sang their high pitched songs. The guarantee of scrambled eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, and maybe some jam and toast if you were lucky.

You miss your dad.

Mistakenly acknowledging the grief you’ve been avoiding – just forcing yourself to keep moving, to keep fighting, to keep going – feels like releasing something long kept captive. It claws its way up your throat, starts to buzz in your ears, presses hard against the backs of your eyes. You try to scare it back down into the pit it came from, but you realize too late the path you’ve gone down and don’t have enough fire left to keep it at bay. It roars and howls, tears and bites, grows and climbs until it overtakes you completely.

You press your face into the polyester around your shoulders to muffle the first sob as it rips out of you. Let it soak up the tears that pour out as your back bends, drawing you in towards your knees, instinctually trying to make yourself feel smaller. Like maybe if you curl in tight enough, you can compress the waves that start to batter you so forcefully that they won't have room to move. Make it so the churning in your gut can’t erode at the concrete you’ve poured down your spine to keep yourself upright. This can just be a small release to take the pressure off the top. This won’t be the breakdown. The breakdown will never come.

If you’d been lucky, Eddie wouldn’t have heard your muffled cries. Would’ve slept right through your unwilling moment of weakness. But he wakes just as easily as he goes down to rest and has ears like a bat even in REM sleep. He sits up in the truck bed and leans over the side toward where you’re sitting in what you assume is panic, but you don’t dare to look. Instead, you just beg your body to stop sobbing, to stop trembling, to hold it together in front of him.

It doesn’t listen.

Dead leaves muffle the steps of his boots as he hops down to the ground and approaches slowly, like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. Your choked cries and gasps are still muffled by the fabric pressed to your face – but it’s not exactly hard to guess what’s going on.

Eddie kneels a respectful distance away, his voice soft as the night itself. “Are you hurt?”

The gentle tone, the concern he shows in something so small almost destroys you. Almost tears you right in two. Almost makes the breakdown happen right here and now. But remembering how he’s acted since the two of you met – how this is the first time he’s asked you anything at all – has enough heat roaring to life to stifle your sobs and stop the tears. It takes a few moments of harsh swallowing and rubbing at your damp skin before you straighten up, blinking the last tears away to face him head on. “I’m fine.”

He huffs through his nose, his head tilting a bit to the side like a curious dog. “Yeah, you look real fine.” And if he hadn’t said it so sarcastically, with such disdain…

Better not to think about it.

Pushing off his own knee, he rises to his feet with a groan, arms stretching skyward. “You should try to get some sleep. I’ll watch for a while.”

Running the backs of your hands under your eyes, you shake your head harshly and focus your gaze back out into the woods. “My shift isn’t over yet.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly keeping a good watch like this.”

Your eyes roll and you pull the sleeping bag tighter when another shiver rolls down your spine. “Oh yeah, none taken. Asshole.”

Leather ladened arms cross over his chest as he cocks one hip back and looks you over. “You’re cold, you’re tired, and you’re crying. Use my sleeping bag to warm up and get some rest. I’ll wake you up a few hours before sunrise so I can get another nap in before we hit the road.”

You want to fight him. You want to tell him to fuck off and go back to sleep, let you keep doing your job. But the small amount of kindness he’s shown, added to the way you’ve lost all the heat and steam that kept your engine running, makes it near impossible to argue. So instead you stand and shuffle toward the back of the truck, brushing past him without a word. You’re about to lift your shoe up onto the back bumper when a soft call of your name has your attention drifting toward him.

Eddie is barely illuminated in the moonlight. A shadow of himself in the dark. You can’t read his expression, can barely see the vague outline that implies he’s looking in your direction. “I’m sorry, y’know. About your dad.”

“Yeah,” you lift yourself up onto the truck bed with the very last bit of energy you have left. “Yeah, me too.”

Neither of you say another word as you shuffle down into his sleeping bag and layer yours on top. It’s still heated from his time spent in it and it smells of pine, whiskey, and something human. With the warmth surrounding you and the stars above, you find just enough comfort to allow you to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Tuesday, August 16th, 2016 – 10 miles outside Memphis, Tennessee

The pickup rumbles to a stop, waking you from your nap. Your head tilts up from leaning hard against the window in shock. After wiping some drying drool from your chin and stretching your shoulders in the limited space, you look to the shadows out the windshield in confusion. Eddie flips the engine off and pulls the emergency break from beside his seat. “How long was I out? Do we need more gas already?”

“No, Sleeping Beauty, you were only out for an hour.” It really is comical how easy it is for him to take you from half asleep to wanting to snap his head off. “I know you need your beauty rest, but we gotta walk the rest of the way.” His door swings open with a creak, echoing in the concrete room you’ve parked in. Choosing to keep your mouth shut and just follow his lead instead, you open your door and slide out of the seat, your legs already protesting from how they were contorted while you slept.

“Is this a garage?”

“Yup.” Walking around the front toward him, he already grabbed his backpack and has it laid out on a table littered with gear. Pistols, rifles, ammo, machetes, metal pipes, baseball bats, knives, canned food, batteries – a spread perfect for any survivalist. It must’ve taken ages to collect it all, and even more work to keep it stocked this well.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. “Is this all your stuff? Or do you work with other people?” Eddie throws an annoyed look over his shoulder, like you should know better than to ask him anything. Embers fire to life as you walk up right next to him, looking directly into the side of his face while he keeps his eyes on cleaning his pistol on the tabletop. “Is it so horrible just to make conversation? Would it really kill you to be a normal person and talk to someone?”

“Maybe it would. Why the fuck do you even care?” The retort is cold but provides you with a bit of clarity. The chill isn’t directed toward you, but at the idea in general. The issue isn’t just you. The issue is someone caring. You just happen to be the one doing it.

“I don’t care,” you assure him as you swing your own pack onto the table next to his, opening it a little too aggressively and pulling out your own pistol. “Just bored.” The magazine clicks out of the grip at your request, falling into your opposite hand. You silently count through the remaining bullets and reach for the box of 9mms on the table. Your skin tingles with the heat of his glare but he doesn’t make any move to interrupt. You take enough to fill the empty space and let the rest clatter back into the box.

“I share the garage with someone else.”

The admittance falls as he rocks the slide back up the frame and clicks the parts back into place. He doesn’t look away from his work so you don’t either, trying not to react too much to him answering a question. The last thing you want to do is say something wrong and make him clam up again. Would probably be safer to talk about the plan than potentially ask anything else about him as a person. At least, if you wanted to avoid the silence. “How far out of Memphis are we?”

“Couple hours walk,” he’s much quicker to answer as he slots his pistol into a holster near his waistband and goes digging through a box full of what looks like rocks. “Too many patrols and blocked roads to bring the truck further without getting caught.”

“Why are we worried about getting caught? By FEDRA?”

He glances over at you, eyebrows drawn together tight like he’s confused. “Civ’s aren’t supposed to leave the QZ. If I got caught and they recognized me, we’d be fucked.”

Nodding once in understanding, you started putting your things back together with a bit more care than you’d ripped them open. “So we’re sneaking in.”

“We have a few routes in and out of the zone that we rotate through for safety. The closest one had some Infected lurking around last time I was there, but they might have cleared out by now, so we’ll try there first.”

You shoulder your pack again and spend the rest of your time waiting by snooping more. The garage is small and pretty dark, the only light coming from the open door to the outside. Just big enough to fit the truck, the work table, and room to stand between them. There’s nothing personal that could be traced back to anyone and most of the weapons are in locked containers. Nothing a pair of bolt cutters couldn’t get through with a little bit of elbow grease but still better than nothing.

Eddie claps his hands together in what seems like an attempt just to startle you – and it succeeds in making you jump as it echoes against the walls. When you turn on him, steam rushing up from below, his shit eating grin is the happiest you’ve seen him since you left Louisville. “Ready?”

Choosing (again) to exhale the heat instead, continue to avoid the animosity for as long as you can, you tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “When you are.”

The sun is absolutely blazing when you both step out of the shadowed garage and into the bright heat of the morning. You’re surrounded by light gray concrete on all sides, the sun’s rays ricocheting off of every surface until the light is hitting you from all directions. Even squinting hard with your hand over your brow does little to assist your eyes in adjusting to the new normal. When Eddie steps back up, garage door lowered and locked behind you, he has his aviators back on and looks perfectly content.

Prick.

“Must be shit around here in the summer.” You’ve only just made it outside and you’re already tempted to take off your jacket despite the subtle breeze.

“It’s shit everywhere in the summer,” Eddie’s grumbled reply is almost quiet enough for you not to hear, but offers another piece of information. He hates the heat. “Come on, ‘s this way.”

Outer Memphis is utterly deserted. Both by humans and infected. Hell, even seeing an animal at this point would be shocking. But that doesn’t mean it’s missing life, not at all. Greenery stretches all around you as you walk through the suburbs and toward the city center. Vines climbing up walls and poles, grass and weeds pushing out from between sidewalk cracks, bushes weaving their way into chain link fences. Trees left to go wild grow towards each other, making canopies of shade here and there as you walk down the empty streets. The leaves have just started to turn into yellows and oranges, some falling and scattering in muddy piles across the pavement. If you hadn’t known any better, it would’ve looked like humanity just disappeared one day and left the Earth to reclaim what was hers. But you do know better. And the signs of what actually happened are everywhere if you know how to look.

Shattered shop windows of every pharmacy, liquor store, gun shop, and grocery. A rusted and warped metal sign calling the area a FEDRA quarantine zone, matched with another that tells you to look out for signs of cordyceps infection. An apartment building with a yellow ‘X’ spray painted across the door and dried fungus peeking out through the cracks in the frame. Lines of cars in off street parking with the wheels stripped, hoods open to scavenge for parts, gas caps hanging from tanks siphoned. Deep brown streaks of long-dried blood arching across the pavement towards alleys and behind buildings.

While it can be easy to look at the plant life thriving and feel serene, really focusing on the details produces a sulfuric taste in your mouth. One that can only be washed away with liquor or enough time to forget.

You’ve been walking for close to two hours when a wide palm suddenly lands on your chest, halting you in place. It mostly freezes you in shock and disbelief at the touch, but when you look up and see Eddie staring at you with a single finger pressed to his lips, it’s enough to make your heart rate kick up in your chest and a cold sweat break out across the back of your neck. Neither of you move for a few moments. You try to focus your ears in to listen, wanting to try to understand these stimuli Dustin and Eddie seem to instinctually respond to. At first, all you can hear is the brush of leaves across concrete. Attempting to push past that, squeezing your eyes shut as if that will help you extend your senses further, you pick up on the edge of something deep. It’s a rumble in the distance, pitched low and long as it rolls through the air. Almost like a groan.

Brown eyes pitched black by tinted lenses meet your own as soon as you look for them. Wordlessly, Eddie directs you towards the sidewalk where a car sits with its wheel wells flat to the ground. He follows close behind as you cross over and duck behind it, shuffling towards the back bumper to try and peek around the other side. You’re looking out over a 4 way intersection and you spot the source of the noise towards the northern end.

Three infected stand in the street, deep moans pouring from their throats as their heads twitch erratically. One’s arm is broken, bent unnaturally backward, and all three have torn clothes and are covered in dirt. There’s visible fungal growth along their skin, indicating they have been this way for some time, but their eyes remain uncovered. Runners.

Shifting back to being fully behind the car, you hold up 3 fingers to Eddie. His expression is stone as he circles his finger in the air before him. Confused for a moment, you realize he’s probably asking you to check the perimeter and make sure there aren’t more. A careful glance around yields nothing. You return to him with a shake of your head. His middle finger and thumb pinch together 3 times in quick succession, his eyebrows raising in a question. It takes you another pause to consider what the motion means, what exactly he’s trying to ask you. It’s not like the two of you had considered beforehand how to communicate in case danger arose. But some part of your brain nags at you: He’s asking if they’re Clickers.

Going with your gut, you give another small shake of your head and mimic a person running with your own pointer and middle finger. He exhales through his nose in what seems like both relief and amusement before motioning for you to get behind him and reaching for something in a side pocket of his bag. By the time you’ve inched your way around so he can look out beyond the car, he’s produced an intense looking slingshot and a small tan pellet. Unable to ask what the hell he’s doing, you can only watch as he places the pellet into the sling and begins to pull it back hard, his bicep straining against leather with the movement. The tip of his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he takes aim.

It goes sailing – your eyes can barely track it as it arcs high and sails directly over the heads of the infected. You think maybe he missed trying to hit one of them, but his true intention becomes clear when it makes contact with the ground. There’s a small flash of white accompanied by a sharp crack that echoes between the buildings on either side of the intersection. All 3 heads immediately turn on the noise, one so forcefully it almost knocks itself off its feet, before they take off running. Eddie counts to 3 under his breath and then grabs your bicep, pulling you along with him as he jogs across the intersection and a couple blocks further. You rip your arm from his hold but continue to follow close behind as he ducks around a corner and into an overgrown city park.

Once you deem you’re a safe distance away, you chance talking again. “That was a pretty neat trick. What are those things?”

His long legs don’t stop moving so you try to keep the pace as he continues to hurry away from the scene. “Little mix of gunpowder and a couple other things. Some brainiac made the recipe as an alternative to fireworks or sparklers for the kids, which then turned into kids throwing them everywhere and pissing off the guards, which got them banned and confiscated. And, well…” The corner of his mouth pulls toward his ear, dry lips spreading in a sly smile. “FEDRA contraband is fair game if you know where they keep it.”

For the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh. It bubbles up unexpectedly, the feeling foreign by now, and bursts from between your lips in a bark, one you’re quick to stifle with your hand as it trails off. “Y’know, I thought people were supposed to grow out of their rebellious phase by your age.”

His smile disappears just as fast as it occurred, a flat look directed your way. “Very funny,” is his grumbled reply, huffing as he adjusts his pack. “Come on, we’re not too far.”

You perk up at the idea of this hike finally being done, especially with the promise of a bath on the other side. Jogging up to his side from where he’s walked away, you ask for confirmation with a little bit too much enthusiasm. “Really?”

“QZ was set up in the Medical District, just east of the Mississippi,” he explains without looking your way, his head swiveling on an axis. Ever vigilant, circling his surroundings like a hawk. The two of you approach a small, wrought iron arch, bracketed on either side by hedges that have to be 9 feet tall. You assume it leads out of the park but Eddie stops you before you can cross through. “Wait here a second.”

Eddie leans his head through, looking both ways like he’s about to cross the street before disappearing to the right. Unease prickles up your spine as you hear the shift of greenery ahead, your lower lip drawing in between your teeth in a nervous habit. The silence builds, starting as a pressure at the base of your skull and growing into a ringing in your ears. It spreads down through your nerves like radio static as you shift uneasily, anxiety setting in quickly the moment you’re left alone. Adrenaline drumming up, you’re close to either yelling for him or bolting when he finally calls out:

“Okay, we’re clear, come on out.”

You pass through the archway and into a tunnel of vines. The sun filters through as the leaves shift, projecting dancing shadows on the packed dirt floor. You turn right and push ahead, using your arms to part a curtain of hanging vines. There’s a concrete staircase on the other side leading up. Halfway to the top, you look ahead and see Eddie.

His back is to you as he stands tall and proud. His silhouette is surrounded by bright blue sky on all sides. The red flannel around his hips and loose bits of his hair sway in the breeze as the sun beats down on the cracked leather of his jacket. His hair is frizzy, his jeans dusted and worn, his boots spread wide as he raises a hand to his brow to look out. A few steps further and you see he’s standing on a sort of balcony over a decorative town square, a murky fountain in the middle and dilapidated statues lining the walkways. It’s situated on a hill, well above the city center that stretches beyond. You can see straight over the buildings of downtown, to the barbed wire-lined walls of the Quarantine Zone, and beyond to the Mississippi River as it rolls.

Eddie turns to you, slowly walking backward toward the stairway down into the square, hands in his pockets with the thumbs sticking out. “You coming or what?”

thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment, they make my day 💜

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #older!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #the last of us au #eddie munson series #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #Old Heart

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thegeminisage · 6 months

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i got super special permission from @staff (because they love me so much and think i'm so cool) to make a TOS episode sorter. if you've never done one of these you basically pick your favorite out of two until you run out of choices and the tool ranks every episode for you. it's a long series (79 episodes!), so it'll take awhile to finish.

a note for app users: this link WILL NOT WORK IN THE APP. you MUST copy it and paste it into your mobile browser manually, or retype thegeminisage.tumblr.com/tossorter manually. on mobile devices the page may unload if you switch apps for too long and cause you to need to start over; if you're on mobile try to do it in one go and take screencaps of your results as soon as you're done.

have fun and if you manage to sit through the whole test reblog with your results so we can compare notes <3

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #liz's star trek stuff #deeply tempted to use the tosedit tag to get more eyes on it but i know in my heart it would be wrong :(#i have to rely on the generosity of strangers...

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share-the-damn-bed · 2 years

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Jonathan, in the middle of an existential crisis: And then, before you know it, we’re just like my mom and dad: divorced, my kids hate me...

Me, intentionally ignoring the point of the scene: Oh my god, you want to have babies with Nancy? My heart!! What a cutie pie~~

#stranger things 4 spoilers #jancy #jonathan x nancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #this doesn't even align with my headcanon that jancy will choose not to have children #but god for whatever reason the idea of them in domestic fluffy bliss triggers the release of dopamine in my basic-ass brain #for years I wanted angsty goodness and now that we have some major angst I want fluffy family fics #also I have watched the golf scene too many times. It is my favorite #definitely the best is ST4 and one of the best Jonathan scenes in the series #there are a lot of layers and a lot of heart going on

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

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When Blue Meets Yellow In the West: A Series Long Theory - Part 3

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

#stranger things #byler #byler analysis #blue and yellow meet in the west #when blue meets yellow in the west #gategate #???#*creates blue and yellow electricity in attempts to open the gate*#*is unsuccessful*#'you have one year'#mike:... yes sir #*one year later*#'just a little more time is all we're asking for--just a little more time to open closing doors'#blue outside the mall/yellow inside the mall #*mike leads the way to scoops ahoy* (blue and yellow logo/sign)#*mike dings to bell profusely needing robin's assistance*#*mike leads the way through a series of doors before checking to make sure the coast is clear one last time*#skittles? aka taste the rainbow followed by shot of mike and will #will --> you open up the door (gate)#mike: *staring at will holding dustin's forever clock with heart eyes* *nvm back to pretending this is boring bc my gf is uninterested*#Jim NOT ON MY WATCH Hopper intervenes #the week is long #the silver cat feeds #.....#the gate is opening...#and mike is relieved #but he's also terrified.

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becca-alexa · 1 year

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Ride the Lightning

Chapter Eight: The Unforgiven

Read on AO3!

01 ┋ 02 ┋ 03 ┋ 04 ┋ 05 ┋ 06 ┋ 07 ┋ 08 ┋ 09 ┋ 10 ┋ 11 ┋ 12 ┋ 13

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Veronica can't help but be worried when Eddie misses school - will he finally be able to apologize?

Word Count: 4.4K

Content Warnings: mentions of illness

Author's Note: GOD this took way too long to put out -- i'm back at school and it's really killing me but i will try to get these out as soon as i can!! and THANK YOU FOR READING 💗

and as always HUGE hug and many many kisses to @rollforhellfire for putting up with me and reading these before they go out 💗💗💗

He’d missed first period.

Whatever. If he wanted to risk his chances at graduation with shoddy attendance, so be it.

It wasn’t like she cared.

Sitting through Ms. O’Donnell’s ramblings on… whatever Shakespearian drama she’d decided to delve into that week was usually easy for her. Simple; she’d take a few notes, answer a few questions. But, as her eyes drifted to the empty seat three desks over, Veronica couldn’t help but chew on her lip - it wasn’t unusual for Eddie to be late, but he was rarely absent. She kicked her feet, trying to figure out where he could be, what he could be doing, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear name being called.

“Miss Windsor?” Mrs. O’Donnell called out, tapping her manicured fingers against her desk in annoyance. “Miss Windsor!”

“H-Huh…?” Veronica’s head snapped toward the board, face flushed as she desperately tried to recall what the older woman had been saying. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

Mrs. O’Donnell rolled her eyes. “What was Romeo’s intention in pursuing Juliet?”

Veronica gave a quick answer - true love. It seemed to pacify the woman, as she’d turned back around and continued her droll recitation of the literary classic. Struggling to keep from gnawing at her nails, her eyes moved to the clock hanging above the door, and she counted the seconds for the class to be over, a feeling of unease already settling itself in her stomach.

He’d missed second period, and third - and by fifth, Veronica was beside herself with worry. Not that he deserved her concern, but it still managed to wrap itself around her chest, tightening, pulling the air from her lungs as she pushed through the heavy double-doors leading into the lunchroom. Searching the crowd, she nearly barreled into an unsuspecting group of freshmen in her haste to reach her table.

“Max.” Veronica called out, winded, clearly frazzled, dazed and confused beyond anything her friends had ever seen. “Did you see Eddie this morning?” The younger girl gave her an odd look, chewing through her sad excuse of a burger before answering with a shrug.

“His van was still there when Steve picked me up.”

“You didn’t see him at all?”

Max shook her head, stabbing a straw through her carton of chocolate milk. “He’s probably sick.” she said by way of a reply, giving the two of them an exasperated look. “Like, who the Hell goes for a bike ride in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

Sick? Of course he’d gotten sick.

Eddie was sick… and it was her fault.

“You lookin’ for him?” Robin chimed in, wiping sandwich crumbs from her hands. “I have him next period - I can pass along a message, if I see him.”

Veronica slowly shook her head, her thoughts a violent spiral behind her troubled eyes. “No, it’s… That’s okay. I don’t think he’s here today.” She looked around the room, her bag suddenly too heavy, the noises suddenly too loud. She needed to get out, needed to leave-

“Hey, aren’t you going to eat?” Max shouted over the crowd, giving Robin a confused look as they watched Veronica shove her way toward the doors.

“I forgot I had something to do!” she shouted back, giving them both a wave, not bothering to look back. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Veronica stared at the door to the trailer, absentmindedly counting the rusted spots speckling the metal, the plastic Melvald’s bag in her hand stuffed to the brim with… everything, feeling as though it’d been filled with bricks. Don’t be stupid, it’s just Munson, she reminded herself, her words echoing through the empty expanses of her mind, never finding purchase, never truly reassuring her. Taking in what she intended to be a calming breath, she knocked on the door. Once, twice, even a third time, but was met with silence, the quiet buzzing of the rain around her silenced only by the sound of her pulse thrumming in her ears.

Looking around, she found the small plastic rock hidden just behind the railing Eddie had shown her after their first few meetings; flipping it over, she pulled out the key, brassy and well-worn with age, and let herself in. “Hello?” she called out, her voice cautious, hesitant - she'd never actually used the secret key before. Usually, Wayne had always been around to let her inside. She felt… out of place, being in the trailer by herself. Something felt off, missing. “Uncle Wayne? You home?”

She took off her shoes at the door, not wanting to track in mud and water. The television was off, as was the radio, the coffee maker, the hallway light that always seemed to flicker, no matter how new the bulb was. The unending stillness unnerved her, the sound of her setting her bag of supplies atop the kitchen counter much too loud, too jarring. Working quickly, she pulled out a pot from one of the cabinets, putting it on the stove, all but tearing open a can of soup and leaving it to warm - chicken noodle. Simple, filling, familiar. She wasn’t sure what kind of soup Eddie liked, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why she cared. But, she conceded with a sigh, he did need to eat - even if that meant taking his preferences into consideration.

With the soup debacle cleared, Veronica made her way further into the trailer, to where she knew Eddie’s bedroom to be; the furthest room down the narrow hallway, past the bathroom and the oddly-framed picture of geese flying over a lake, worn and yellowed from years of nicotine. She stopped just before the threshold of his door, her mind still a whirlwind as she took that final step forward.

“Eddie…?” she whispered, having to squint her eyes as she looked around the room. The curtains were drawn, the blinds closed, blanketing the room in a stuffy, musty darkness. “Munson, are you in here?” Hearing no answer, she let herself in, and reached for where she knew his lamp to be - and, to her shock, she found him, abed and asleep. Rather, as asleep as someone with a raging fever could be. A swell of sympathy - unwarranted sympathy, she reminded herself - overcame her at the sight of him, shiny with sweat, his brows furrowed almost painfully as he groaned, turning onto his side, pulling his blankets infinitely tighter around him. Even from beneath the covers, she could tell how roughly he trembled, his cheeks and nose apple-red.

“God, Munson, why’d you have to do that…?” She brought his desk chair to his bedside, her touch gentle, featherlight as she brushed the damp hair off his forehead, feeling for his temperature. “You total dingus…” Her mind began to wander, her thoughts trailing off to nothing as she allowed herself a single indulgence; she let her hand trail down his face, the backs of her fingers soft against the light stubble of his cheek, tracing over the gentle edge of his jaw. Feeling the caress through the iron grip of his nightmare, Eddie leaned into her touch with another groan, chasing any relief he could find, its source be damned. He was so hot, and she was cold-

“Hey, you alive in there?”

That voice. Wincing as he swallowed against the dryness of his throat, Eddie peeled his eyes open, aching and miserable in a way he hadn’t felt since… well, since he’d been dragged out of the Upside Down. His chest burned, his hands itched, but all he could feel was the cool relief ghosting over his skin. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, his mind still a pitiful haze as he mumbled, “Angel…?”

Angel. That was new.

“Sorry, it’s just me.” Veronica tried to keep her smile out of her voice. She didn’t pull her hand away, letting it rest against him, her thumb rubbing slow circles over his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad-” Eddie croaked, burying his face into his blanket as he let out a series of hoarse coughs, his shoulders shaking with the effort he expended trying to catch his breath, tears gleaming at the corners of his eyes as he calmed himself down. “Shit. Bad.”

“I’m sorry.” Her response was genuine, honest. “Would some warm soup make you feel better?”

“Not hungry.” he mumbled with a pout unbefitting his twenty years.

Veronica rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she bit back her grin. “You can’t take your medicine on an empty gut.” At her words, a shiver ran through him - just the mention of medicine made his stomach roll, clench, flip; he buried his face back into the blanket, his breathing labored as he tried to keep himself from tossing his cookies all over the carpet.

“What is it?” Veronica asked, suddenly panicked. “Are you-”

Eddie nodded.

Her head snapped around the room, searching for something she could give to Eddie to use, counting the seconds between his breaths as she finally found his trash bin. Dumping out the empty baggies and crumbled homework assignments, she shoved the thing at his face just as he’d started to heave. She held onto him - he clung to her - as he brought up whatever sorry excuse of a meal he’d had that day; pulling aside his hair, she rubbed at his back, mumbling soothing words, her touch grounding him as he pulled away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Feeling better?”

“Still shit.”

She leaned him back against the wall, propping him up with pillows to keep him comfortable as she left to flush away his impromptu escapade, returning with a glass of water. “Drink it.” She left no room for arguments, but he was too weak to even reach out for the thing, let alone bring it to his mouth. Veronica, again, rolled her eyes as he looked away, his own clenched shut in shame, his lips a thin line as he tried to keep them from quivering.

“You’re something else, Munson, y’know that?”

He didn’t argue with her.

With the patience of a saint, she brought the glass to his lips, pausing often to let him breathe as she made sure he finished it off, leaving and returning with another - and a sleeve of saltines. “C’mon, big boy, you need to eat.” He shook his head, focusing on his breathing, slow and steady. She leaned in toward him, her hand back on his forehead, tender and sweet - she had to break out the heavy artillery. “Just one. For me, yeah?” She pressed the salty square to his mouth, watching with unfiltered satisfaction as he nibbled at the corner of one, then another, and another still, until he had downed half the packet.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his piercing glare. “Feeling up for that soup now?”

With a stifled groan, he nodded, the emptiness of his stomach more uncomfortable than the prospect of eating. His gaze followed her out as she disappeared down the hall, something in his sickness-addled mind screaming at him to bring her back, to keep her with him; he tried to move but couldn’t, tried to shout but wasn’t able to produce any sound louder than a squeak. He wanted her, needed her - where was she? How long had she been gone? He couldn’t hear her anymore. Had she left? Was he by himself? As the seconds ticked by - hours to him - the lonely ache that he’d always kept at the fringes of his mind flooded into him, enveloped him, dominated his thoughts.

He was alone, as he always was.

“Hey, hey, whoa - what’s with the waterworks?” Veronica was quick to set the soup on his nightstand, falling back into her seat as she brought her hands - still warmed from the bowl - to Eddie’s face, catching his tears, wiping them away as they dripped onto his lap. “What happened? Your stomach hurt again?”

“Y-You… You l-left…” he tried to say, swallowing against the aching knot in his throat. “You were gone.”

“I was in the kitchen, remember? Getting your soup?” she ran a hand through his hair, making a mental note to brush it out later. “What, did you think I…” As the meaning of his words seeped into her mind, she felt her heart constrict, her stomach drop. “Eddie, did you think I went home?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

How often had he been forced to do this by himself? To weather his illnesses on his own? As much as she knew the man loved his nephew, she couldn’t imagine Wayne staying home to take care of him - nor could she imagine Eddie letting him do such a thing.

“I’m right here, dingus.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, still tight as she cradled the side of his face, pulling at him to look at her. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Again, he nodded, staring at her as though she were an angel. His angel.

She fed him the soup, filling the silence between them with mindless chatter about the school day - rather, it was mindless to him. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand a word she was saying, his eyes already beginning to droop as she set the now-empty bowl aside.

She watched as his head bobbed once, twice, smiling as she pulled at a few of the pillows behind him to lay him back down. “Sleepy?” she asked, tugging his blanket up to his shoulders, biting back a grin as he curled up and turned himself toward her.

“Tired.”

“I bet.”

“Soup was good.”

“I’m glad it was.”

Veronica stood up, the bowl and half-eaten sleeve of crackers balanced in one hand when she felt something pull at the hem of her skirt, urging her to turn around.

“Stay…?”

“...Sure, Munson.” she relented, her sigh warm, balmy as her voice pulled him further into whatever dream his mind had chosen for him - something pleasant, she hoped. “I’ll stay.”

Slowly, peacefully, Eddie drifted away, clinging to her hand as tightly as his sapped strength would allow, the smallest of smiles on his lips at the feeling of her beside him.

“Christ, I feel like shit.”

Eddie walked out into his living room, hands scrubbing at his face as he stumbled toward the kitchen in search of something to drink, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, chapped lips nearly to the point of bleeding.

“Look like it, too.” Wayne called out from the couch, turning down the game he’d been watching before leaving for work - football, probably. Eddie was too exhausted to even pretend to care. “There’s still soup on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

Eddie rushed into the kitchen as quickly as his sapped strength allowed - more of a hobble than a run. “Aw, Uncle Wayne, you shouldn’t have.” he croaked, lifting the lid, sighing as a salty cloud of steam reached his face. God, he was starving.

“I didn’t.” Wayne kept his voice even in tone, watching as his nephew pulled a bowl from inside the cabinet beside the stove, digging through one of the drawers for a spoon, all the while biting back a grin. “The lil’ lady did.”

Eddie dropped his spoon in the pot, hissing out a curse as he tried to fish it out, burning the tips of his fingers in the hot broth. “Veronica? She was here?” He stared at his uncle for some sort of clarification, but the man just shrugged. “When was this?”

“Today.” Wayne said by way of reply, walking toward the solitary peg on the wall where he’d hang his coat. “Must’ve skipped school to come here, I think. Brought you all sorts of goodies.” At his words, Eddie finally noticed the plastic bag set atop the counter, filled with several more cans of soup, bottles and boxes of medicine - and, at the very bottom of the bag, pretzels. The tiny ones he liked to eat at school.

She’d remembered the kind he liked.

Memories of earlier that day slowly trickled into his mind - Veronica in his room, feeding him, calming him down. Him, in tears; her, holding his hand. As if he hadn’t already been feeling like a sentient pile of hot garbage, the fact that she had gone out of her way - skipped school, of all things - to look after him buried what was left of his crumbling pride.

Wasn’t she upset with him? Didn’t she hate him?

And, yet, she still cared.

He felt like such a loser.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine.” Wayne called out from the door, pulling his hat down over his balding head, hand already gripping the doorknob. “Every six hours, she said. Couldn’t get you to take it before.”

Eddie waved off his uncle, his mind still reeling at the fact that Veronica had been there - in his trailer, in his bedroom, with him. Tearing open the safety seal to a bottle of NyQuil, he grimaced as he took the measured amount, chasing down the green bile with a glass of water, all while thinking only of her.

It took two days before Eddie was well enough to return to school, and his presence was met with a… mixed reception.

“Veronica…!”

Eddie struggled to shout above the waves of students ebbing and flowing through the halls, all eager to leave for the day, the sound of the final bell still ringing in his ears as he pushed his way forward. ”Veronica, please - just listen to me!”

“Shove it, Munson.” her voice carried little, yet he heard it all the same, her words piercing his chest, his heart. Nonetheless, he continued after her, nearly knocking someone over as he pushed through the building’s front doors. He was paces behind her now - so close, yet still impossibly far away.

“Please, I… Just let me explain!”

“What could you possibly have to explain-”

“Five minutes.” he begged, pleaded, his hands shaking as he held them at his sides. “Please… A-And then you’ll never have to talk to me again, I swear.”

He stared at her, holding his breath as she turned around, hands set firmly at her hips. Even with the distance between them, he could see the pain in her eyes, certain they reflected his own. He let out a trembling exhale, tearing a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts into some semblance of order, his lip worried to the point of bruising between his teeth.

“What you heard that day, I… It came out wrong.” He swallowed, still watching her, the iota of confidence he’d had going into their conversation deflating as she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“How did you mean it, then?”

“Not the way you took it…!”

Veronica let out a groan, pinching the space between her eyes, her head falling to her chest as she turned back around, frustrations mounting as she struggled with the lock on her bicycle. “I don’t have time for this.”

Eddie found himself at an impasse, his unbridled need for her to just understand bringing him nearly to the verge of tears, the muddled desperation bleeding through his chest breaking his voice. “I-I miss you.”

She froze, shoulders stiff, her hands stilling atop the chilled lock as she swallowed at the tightness coiling in her throat, her words soft and strained as she replied, “Eddie, don’t-”

“I mean it, Veronica.” He took a half-step toward her, a cautious step, maybe just a tread. Still, she didn’t shy away from him; he took what little he could and bolstered his resolve. “And I’d rather you hate me and know that I do, than… than hate me and think that I don’t.”

Hate him? Veronica spun back around, giving him a pointed look as if to say she’d never heard something so ridiculous. “I don’t hate you, I…” She blinked once, twice, before pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes, cursing herself for getting so emotional. “God, I just… I really thought we were finally friends, y’know?”

“We are friends-”

“Are we?” She hadn’t realized she’d raised her voice, drawing more than a few curious eyes from the students still gathered in the parking lot. “Because it sure as Hell didn’t seem that way when you were talking to Gareth!”

"Forget Gareth! Forget that whole conversation!" Eddie started to pace, pulling at his hair, dragging his hands down his face as he tried to keep his breathing in check, failing miserably as he felt a sweltering heat work its way up his neck. “I was being a total dickhead, alright? I didn’t mean any of it! I was just talking straight out of my ass-”

“God, seriously-”

“I’m an idiot - I know! But, sweetheart, you have to believe me…!”

He stopped, turning on his heel to look at her, swearing he could feel her indecisiveness; it made him want to scream, watching how uncertain she was, how her hands tugged at the hem of her cable knit sweater, gaze falling to her feet.

And Eddie dropped to the ground, to his knees, hands reaching out, grabbing one of her own, his voice loud and booming as though they weren’t surrounded by dozens of inquisitive people. “Oh, will the beautiful princess spare a morsel of pity for this lowly knight?” As he continued on, Veronica couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, her resistance withering away with each passing phrase.

“Eddie, get up-”

“Pray tell, shall ye bestow thine most benevolent forgiveness upon such a homely creature as I?” He didn’t care for the small crowd gathered around them, gawking at his display - some in annoyance, but more than a few in unspoken envy. His focus was solely on Veronica, on the way her warring thoughts were clear as day behind her verdant eyes, her expression a cautionary mix of sadness and… and hope.

Calling forth what was left of his courage, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing the softest of kisses atop her knuckles, his touch lingering perhaps a bit too long before he lifted his head to look at her.

“Please, Veronica…?”

“Get off the ground, dingus.”

He scrambled to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers, his stomach leaping as he waited for her to speak, to sort through her thoughts.

Veronica kicked at a pebble near her foot, her shoulders falling ever so slightly, braids swaying as she shifted from one leg to the other, her hesitation palpable. “You… You really hurt my feelings, Eds.” Her voice was small, quiet, and it pained him to hear it, knowing he was at fault.

“I know - and I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

She looked at him - truly looked at him - and the shadow of a smile playing at her lips sent butterflies soaring through his chest. “So, what you said before… You didn’t mean it?”

“Everything in that conversation can be regarded as false.” he answered quickly, his eagerness making her budding smile broaden, even if only a little. He took another reluctant step toward her, hands stuffed into his pockets, lip caught between his teeth as he asked, “So, are we okay? Are… Are we still friends?”

And she shoved at his shoulder, rolling her eyes, her reply of, “Yes, you dweeb, we’re still friends.” sending an explosion of relief blooming through him, his body moving on its own accord as he picked her up in his arms, his head resting atop hers, his smile absolutely radiant as she returned his embrace with one just as tight.

Eddie wiped the sweat trailing over his brow, shaking the nervousness from his hands as he made his way up Jeff’s driveway toward the open garage, guitar slung across his back, heart pounding in his throat. Inside, he could see the other three already gathered, practicing what he could only assume to be their Indy setlist; his stomach dropped, tightened as Gareth's words echoed through his mind.

He had been neglecting the band; Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he’d played his Sweetheart, let alone practiced with them.

The trio were quiet as he approached them, unsure of what to say, how to address him - and he deserved as much, he’d figured. It was only fair, considering how things had been going as of late.

Thomas was the first to acknowledge him. "Hey, Eds." he called out, giving his friend a wave, breaking the frigid ice between them; Eddie gave a smile in return, hands deep into his pockets as he looked between the three of them, his mind wiped clean of the speech he'd prepared.

“Look, I-” he began, but was… cut off? Jeff waved his hand around, shutting him up as he whispered something sternly to Gareth, pushing the younger man forward.

“Look, man, before you start, Gareth’s got something he wants to say.” Another shove, and Gareth’s standing face-to-face with the repentant metalhead, tugging at his fingers, kicking his feet. "Don’t you?"

Eddie watched, waited as Gareth took in a deep, steeling breath, hands twisting behind him as he worked through his thoughts.

“Dude-”

“I-I was wrong, for saying what I did.” Gareth’s voice, quiet as it was, carried through the open garage as though he’d been shouting, his apology hanging heavy between them. “I was just… angry, I guess…”

Eddie blinked, still reeling from the shock of having received an apology at all - and from Gareth, of all people; he’d gone to the group fully prepared to grovel for his spot back in the band.

“I… We… know how hard you’re working to graduate this time - and that stuff I said about Veronica was just…” Gareth continued, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked behind him to Jeff, who gave him an encouraging look. And, taking in a final breath, he quickly added, “I’m sorry, man. We all are.”

Eddie shook his head, still in obvious disbelief; he took a step forward, crossing the length of the garage and dismissing Gareth’s extended hand altogether as he pulled the young man into his arms, his hold well past the point of tightening discomfort.

“A-Alright, man!” Gareth laughed, both returning his friend’s embrace and struggling to escape from it; Eddie, finally relenting, turned to them all, his face tickled pink as he asked,

“So… uh… Am I back in the band?”

“Dude, who said you ever left?” Thomas exclaimed, clapping a hand against Eddie’s shoulder with enough - albeit loving - force to knock him off balance, and the metalhead’s smile is blinding as he takes his usual position beside Gareth, strumming away at his guitar.

Tag List

@lulukings92 @i-me-mine @kaitebugg03

#becca.fic #ride the lightning #part two!!!it's finally here #thank GOD because having to write this and be back at school is literally going to be the end of me lol #this was actually the first chapter i wrote when starting this series so it may be a bit off but it is one of my favorites so far #so glad they finally made up but that scene where eddie makes up with his bois healed my heart #and as always comments are always appreciated 💗#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc #stranger things

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