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#allow my dude to CRY once in a while

teaboot · 10 months

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My brother and I played a game once called "What's the most annoying noise on the planet" where we'd go on YouTube and try to find the most annoying noise.

It started with "revving motorcycle" and quickly burned through "baby crying" and "guy throwing up", and proceeded thusly.

I thought I'd won when I found an awful, ear-splittingly off-key and saccharine children's church song.

I'd actually lost, you see, because my brother started playing this non fucking stop. Cackling from the other room while I screeched like I was on fire.

Cut forwards a few years. We're both learning piano. He starts going to church. Really starts coming in to himself. Gets on really well with the pastor, a super chill dude in his 90's who was less "yall are burning in hell, so-and-so is evil" and more "Christians aren't allowed to hate anyone, so calm down and do some community service". That kinda guy.

Anyhow, my brother gets really good at the piano. So good that Pastor D asks him to play a song at service some time. Obviously I show up.

Can you guess the fucking song?

I almost lost my mind. Two years. Two years. He'd learned the piano and he'd remembered how much I hated it. I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry or strangle him in the parking lot. Possibly all three.

He finishes the song. We all clap. There are old folks in the front row wiping their eyes. It was all very sweet.

Then Pastor D takes up the pulpit with tears on his face and tells my brother that it was such an interesting choice. And such a beautiful song. Because it wasn't wasn't a popular choice. But he remembered singing it in his youth.

It was a sweet moment.

And Im still so fucking mad about it

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wowconradfisher · 11 months

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all of the girls you’ve loved before

pairing: min ho x reader

genre: slight angst, best friends to lovers, they are both so dense to each others feelings..

summary: being best friends with KISS’s resident “heart throb” is not for the weak. falling in love with him isn’t either, so what happens when the line between best friend and boyfriend becomes too blurred?

a/n: hi hello i am back from the dead. i’m convinced this acc is just gonna be a jenny han-iverse fic acc bc if not conrad then i’m writing about min ho. i have ended school so i hope i am more consistent with writing! feel free to send in requests + questions btw :D i hope u guys enjoy this silly fic that is also based off a taylor swift song hence the title!

Sitting outside of your best friend’s party that he throws every year was not something you thought you would be doing. You were convinced that this time was going to be different, and maybe just because you were seeing Min Ho in a different light, he would see you too. Here you still were, all dolled up but with no guts to walk into the party. You sighed, thinking about how pathetic you might be looking at the moment to anyone walking by. It was annoying in your opinion, just a month ago you couldn’t stand the thought of being with your best friend but now you’re starting to second guess and think more about the times you’ve spent together.

It was about 2 weeks ago when you and Min Ho, well more so you, started kind of overthinking the things you two would do together. You used to think that it was just regular best friend things you did, like talking about your past lovers and flings, laughing about all of the late nights you both have spent on your own having lame fights on the phone. But then you start thinking about the other nights, sneaking out past curfew and holding onto each other's hands in hopes of not getting caught. Or the way he would treat you the way he would never treat anyone else, allowing you to see his softer side, doing silly things like letting you do his skin care after he knows you’ve been crying in his bathroom about some dude that said “loved you” not knowing how carelessly he’s throwing out the words that mean so much to you. You see yourself doing the regular “best friend duties” like never saying bye to each other because you know you’ll be seeing each other again anyways, but you know it shouldn’t bother you when you see the new transfer student Madison write your best friend’s name in a heart all over her assignment.

You shook yourself out of your daze and stood up, you knew it was wrong for you to be feeling this way about your best friend and there was no reason for you to start feeling this way now. Looking at your phone’s reflection to fix up your makeup, you took a deep breath and confidently made your way to the venue. Walking in and seeing a bunch of lights and loud music was expected, but tonight your goal was to forget about how you felt and let the universe tell you what to do.

“Excuse me ma’am who let you out looking so good?” a voice spoke from behind you while tapping you on the shoulder.

You turned around and to your surprise it was one of your other close friends, “Q oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in like a week!” you exclaimed while pulling him into a hug, not failing to notice Florian behind him. Once you pulled away you waved at the other male who signaled to his flask, basically asking you if you wanted a shot. You grinned and suddenly all of your prayers had been answered and your night had begun.

If you were being honest, you knew you weren’t a light weight. You always thought of yourself as someone who could just drink enough to not be a heavy weight and be at the perfect level of tipsy where you can feel the buzz. This is the point where you had to go out to the dance floor because of how free it made you feel, not a single care or worry in the world. That was until you felt someone tapping on your shoulder. You turned around to see a guy, a random one you have never seen before around KISS. You could admit he was a bit attractive but not as attractive as Min Ho.

Looking up at the stranger you let out a forced smile, “Hi?” you spoke, but sounded more like a question

“Couldn’t help but notice a pretty girl dancing all by herself, you looking for someone to dance with?” the guy asked as he tried to put his hand on your waist.

You backed away before you suddenly felt someone behind you put their hand around your waist, “Baby I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a boy spoke with an accent you could recognize anywhere. Looking up, you let out a soft genuine smile at the sight of your best friend.

Min Ho cleared his throat and saw the guy was still there, “Hey man I don’t know if you noticed but she’s my girl, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t hit on her,”

The guy furrowed his brows at Min Ho before quickly realizing who he was, “Oh shit sorry man I didn’t know,” he quickly muttered out

“You’re lucky I didn’t have you kicked out. Now leave us alone, yeah?” Min Ho replied, shooing the other guy away.

Once the guy was gone, Min Ho held onto your hand and led you to a more secluded area away from the party. He looked at you and caressed your cheek, “You okay Y/N?” he spoke softly

You looked up at your best friend and took in the way he looked at you. The way he looked at you made you feel so delicate, like you were the only person that mattered to him. You broke out of your daze and just nodded at him, “Thank you Min, I think it’s time for me to head out now though,” You spoke

Min Ho frowned, but it looked more like a pout to you, “But I just found you,” he spoke, “and we didn’t even get to dance yet,”

You took his hand that was on your cheek and held it, “I know, I’m sorry I’m just not in the mood for it anymore,” you replied softly

After hearing your response, it was like something in Min Ho clicked, causing him to hold your hand again, “Okay, let’s go then,” he spoke like it was no big deal

“Let’s go? What do you mean? Like you’re gonna just ditch your party?” You asked in disbelief

He nodded, “Uh yeah duh? Why would I stay at a party that my best friend doesn’t even want to be at?”

There was that word again, it just keeps dangling over you and taunting you everytime you think you guys could be something more than just friends. Hearing his response just made you let out a small smile. Him pretending to be your boyfriend just lets you have a glimpse of what you weren’t but what you could be, truly it does break your heart but what can you really do about it. After that night, he just dropped you off back at your dorms, you didn’t even have the energy to invite him in like how you guys usually do. It did feel awkward just leaving him but you needed this. Your heart needed it.

You did feel bad for ghosting everyone. It had been a week since the party and you needed to shut down and take time for yourself to really think about what you wanted to do about your feelings for Min Ho. After being by yourself for a week and doing your work online, you felt like you really did learn a lot about yourself, and that in order to get over your feelings for your best friend, you had to accept that you had those feelings in the first place.

During this week of you ghosting everyone, you weren’t the only one in question about their emotions. Min Ho to say the least has been snappier than ever to everyone. Most times, whenever you were around he would be at his nicest, you were someone who humbled him and brought him back to Earth but without you? He truly was something and someone you did not want to cross. The boy is a mess, he doesn’t know how long ago you guys haven’t talked for this long. Even if it was just a week, it felt like years. One thing Min Ho will do for you but never admit or do for anyone else is giving you space.

If he’s being honest with himself, he tried so incredibly hard not to fall for you or do anything that can potentially jeopardize his relationship with you but the moment he saw you at his party looking the way you did dancing on the dance floor, he knew he was done for. That’s why the whole week he has been so upset with himself for doing what he did that night, for calling you baby, for pretending to be your boyfriend, all of it, because now you weren’t even talking to him. It wasn’t until you texted him asking if he could come over where he finally felt the feeling of anxiousness leave his body.

Min Ho was standing at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, debating on when to knock. That was until you beat him to it and just opened the door after hearing his shuffling from behind the door. Genuinely you were surprised, you didn't expect him to show up so fast, and with your favorite flowers too?

"Hi Min," you spoke with a smile before opening your door to let him in, "Come in please, you've been here countless of times so don't get shy on me now,"

He chuckled, taking off his shoes before stepping into your dorm, placing them among your other shoes and then following you to your room. Before sitting down, he handed you the flowers, "Here Y/N, I got you your favorites,"

"What's the occasion Min?" you asked taking the flowers and admiring them before placing them on your lap

"I just missed you that's all," he replied before sitting down next to you

You cleared your throat and started fiddling with your hands, "Min Ho I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while," you spoke, "But if I'm honest I want to say I'm sorry for ghosting you for a week, I just needed time to figure out what I was feeling,"

Min Ho grabbed onto your hands and held them, preventing you from fiddling with your hands and causing you to look up at him, "It's okay Y/N, you know I would give you all the time in the world," he replied

Staring into his eyes, you knew you had to say it now or else you would never want to say it, "Min Ho, I'm in love with you," you said feeling so much lighter with that confession alone, "I think I always have been, but I wanted to be sure of it before I told you. I don't know when it exactly happened, but at one point the lines between being my best friend and wanting something more with you started to blur. So please tell me now if I'm just overthinking this whole thing and maybe I'm the only one who feels this way but-" you spoke before Min Ho leaned in to kiss you.

Your eyes widened in shock for a second before you closed your eyes finally kissing him back, melting into his touch and putting your hand onto his chest. If you could describe what the best thing that has happened to you, it would be this moment alone. The way your lips moved together in perfect synchronization, like you were both made for each other. Truly it could not compare to anything you've ever felt before.

Once you both pulled away, your forehead rested against Min Ho's, "You drive me crazy Y/N, I never even thought I had a chance with you but I'm so thankful all of our past romances led me here to you," he spoke

You smiled at his response, "So does that mean you love me too?"

"I love you more than words can describe, I mean I can show you in actions too?" He replied with a smirk

"Min Ho!" you gasped, playfully hitting his shoulder

He laughed at your reaction, "I'm kidding! I mean unless you were serious?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at the boy you were thankful to be in love with. At least this time you were sure this would be real.

#min ho x reader #xo kitty #min ho xo kitty #tatbilb #sang heon lee #min ho x kitty #netflix #Netflix x reader #xo kitty x reader #sang heon lee x reader #to all the boys trilogy #to all the boys ive loved before movie #x reader #y/n #min ho x y/n #kitty song covey

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himezoro · 2 months

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love wins all (a roronoa zoro story, part 1)

tysm for your support on my last update ! i'm trying to post as much as i can. here is part 1 of a story called "love wins all" starring roronoa zoro, i hope this premiere will be of your taste ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

part 2 here.

warning! : smut (implied, so minors please DNI!), angst, female gender, (Y/N) insert.

wc : 2k.

・˚˖𓍢ִ໋⋆‧₊˚ ࣪⋆・

« So I guess my invitation got lost in the mail? » you heard the hoarse voice speaking through the opened door of your quarters. You kept on looking at yourself in the magnificent mirror standing in front of you, looking at how the white dress hugged your form, pretending not to have heard the said voice, ignoring the immediate chills it sent down your spine. You knew who these words belonged to, and so did your racing heartbeat.

.・゜゜・ 24 hours before ・゜゜・．

It was an ordinary day on the Thousands Sunny. Everyone in the crew kept busy attending their activities. Luffy was playing with Usopp and Chopper, Franky kept himself busy with the ship’s artillery, Sanji was preparing dinner with Brook playing beautiful pieces of violin by his side, while Nami and Robin were busy talking. Zoro was enjoying his nap under the sun. It was an ordinary day, but a perfect day to spend.

Zoro liked hanging alone, to concentrate on his goal, to meditate. Sometimes, and only sometimes, would he allow himself to wander through his memories, and the ones of one particular night, before he even joined the crew, before he met Luffy almost three years ago. The night he spent by your side, kissing you until your lungs gave out, making love to you like he never made love to anyone, because you were his first, and vice versa. The night he laughed his heart off, the night he traced hearts all over your thighs while gripping them hard as he fucked you with all his might. The night he heard you say “I love you”, the night he gave his heart to you, the night he swore won’t ever end.

The night before he walked away saying his dream was unstoppable. The night he said “it was not the right time”. The night before he broke your heart, the night before he heard you cry. The night you said you hated him, and wished it never happened.

The night he wished to forget.

For sure, there were times he tried to reach out for you. First, he thought of a letter, but only contemplated the paper he took from Nami’s stationary before smashing it into a ball and slamming it to the wall. Once the crew got a Den Den Mushi, he thought about calling you. And he did, multiple times, always hanging up when he heard the sound of the voice he loved so much it haunted him at night.

Sometimes he would catch himself thinking about how you would fit onto the ship, into the crew that became his family. He knew the girls would adore you, and that Usopp’s stories would make you laugh. He knew Luffy would live by your kindness and take advantage of it during dinner. He knew you would love hugging Chopper and eat Sanji’s treats, even though this latest thought triggered his jealousy, since he knew the cook would be head over heels for you.

And when he lingered there alone, his usual frown on his napping face, he suddenly felt his ears pick, tickling.

“Did you see the news on the paper? It says the wedding of the century is going to happen!” Nami exclaimed, the paper still in her hand while Robin sipped on her tea, tilting her head to take a peek at the head title.

“Ono Nusjuro, the rich bachelor noble, son of Ethanbaron Nusjuro, to marry (Y/N) tomorrow for the wedding of the century! It sure sounds decadent” Robin laughed, letting Nami get back to her commenting.

“Come on, doesn’t he look quite hot? Honestly, if he weren’t a filthy noble and I was not the Pirate queen I am today, I would definitely have tried to date him. I mean, look at his eyes? HIS FACE? I mean, the dude’s perfect.”

Before Robin could interfere, Usopp and Sanji got to their table wondering what the fuss was about, while Zoro remained at his place. After all, it was just your name. It didn’t mean it was you.

It can’t be, he inwardly scoffed.

“Oh LAWD, who’s that gorgeous girl? Don’t tell me she’s going to marry that jackass? I mean, yeah he’s got money and all and he’s a little handsome but did he live as much adventures as I have?” Usopp said while staring at the papers above Nami’s shoulder.

“Quelle beauté... (what a beauty). She’s an angel bestowed by the Gods to walk on this planet and let us dream. Such a shame that sloth is taking her away, while I would treat her like the Queen she is meant to be...” Sanji sighed.

It can’t be, it couldn’t. Zoro thought, his logic gaining power.

“Just imagine the amount of food there’s going to be. I mean, the guy’s family is loaded. And the clothes, the jewelry…” Nami kept on dreaming, not noticing that the captain ran towards them at the mention of food.

“Where’s that food you’re mentioning?” Luffy asked Nami while she pointed at the paper. Luffy took a while to read the title before stating they would go at that wedding’s dinner.

“Luffy, do you understand what you’re saying?” Usopp asked, wondering if his captain has fell onto his head and lost all sense of responsibility. “We’re talking about the wedding of the century, the one of Ono Nusjuro, son of a World Noble? And we’re kind of pirates?”

“Since when did that stop your sense for adventures, Usopp?” Luffy genuinely asked, not seeing the problem.

Robin took this opportunity to take the paper into her own hands and quickly go over the article again. “Actually, the ship’s heading into the direction of the island anyway.”

And this is how the Strawhat crew decided to crash the “wedding of the century”, and how Zoro’s countdown started.

.・゜゜・ 5 hours before ・゜゜・．

The whole crew felt excited at the idea of going to a wedding. It was a change to their routine, and it included dressing up and having fun, while remaining a tad careful as to not getting caught. Zoro could not bring himself to look at the paper that started it all, he did not want this to be true.

You were his. You were his only one. The first he ever had, and the last he ever would. You wouldn’t have hidden this from him. You couldn’t. At least, that’s what his brain kept on repeating as he stepped down from the ship with the rest of the crew.

As he followed the others to pick out an elegant outfit to fit into the sumptuous décor awaiting, he heard the thrill in the inhabitants’ voices.

“Miss (Y/N) looks so gorgeous. Master Nosjuro is so lucky to have her!”, “They’ll form such a brilliant alliance for their families.” “I can’t believe this is happening!” “What do you think Miss (Y/N) will wear for the banquet? I hope she wears a princess dress, like Cinderella!”

Zoro sighed, his stubbornness maybe doing his poor aching heart a favor.

They’re wrong, (Y/N) won’t marry that jerk. Not when she's mine.

.・゜゜・ 2 hours before ・゜゜・．

Zoro followed Usopp to the shop he picked and, while his friend checked the fitting room, laid his good eye on a beautiful ring with a rose quartz in the middle. It was shaped like a burning sun, and it couldn’t help but bring a small, sad smile to his lips. He paid for it before Usopp came out of the fitting rooms and shoved his new treasure in the pockets of his new found emerald green tuxedo.

I could resell it in case I get low on cash. He thought, not wanting to admit he hoped to give it to you someday, in a wild, feverish dream.

“Aren’t you excited to live such an event? I hope there’ll be beautiful ladies there, so I can find love as well.” Usopp enthusiastically stated, shaking Zoro’s shoulders as he walked out of the fitting rooms with his costume.

As they walked out the small shop and around town, Zoro felt his heart stop. Not because of the beautiful scenery in front of him, with the bright blue sky shedding hues of pink, nor because of the wonderful music that was played.

His heart stopped because there, on the wall, was a picture of yesterday’s article.

And it had your face on it.

The face he longed to see for so long, the face he could draw with his eye closed, the face he cupped in between his large hands as he glided his tongue on your luscious lips. The lips he had seen smile so bright, the lips he had seen suck onto his thick length, the lips that caged the most sinful noises he caused that night. And it had your eyes, oh, your eyes. The eyes he would gaze into absentmindedly, the eyes that twinkled when they would see him, the eyes he saw rolling when he hit your sensitive spots that night. The eyes he filled with love at midnight, only to fill them with anger and tears by five.

Zoro clenched his fists as he stared into your picture. His nails dug into his skin, yet, he did not feel any pain. The one he felt right now in his chest though, this one, he felt deep. He has been concealing this fear for the past twenty-two hours. Hell, he has been concealing his heartache with pride and dignity for the past two to three years. Seeing what he feared to be true shed a new sense of rage and hurt into his built body.

“I know right, she’s pretty huh?” Usopp said as he noticed his friend stopping in his tracks. “But these girls are not for us, we’re adventurers, pirates! Our adventures don’t have time for beautiful ladies… even though I have to admit, she looks stunning.”

“The most beautiful in the world.” Zoro muttered only for himself to hear, gazing at the picture of your face with a deep sense of nostalgia.

He kept at looking at your face for a while, going through his memories of you. That moment where you hit his face with the pillow because of his relentless teasing before he dived in to kiss you, that moment where you played with his hair and he almost fell asleep, that moment he let his hands caress your breast as you sat down on his lap and slowly grinded. That moment where he thrusted into you for the first time and felt your cunt swallowing and squeezing him whole.

It didn’t take him another second to tear that picture down and start running, leaving Usopp dumbfounded. He started running at full speed towards the palace the wedding took place in, clenching the picture of you in his large hand.

It felt right to run. He ran away all these years, he ran away that night. Now, he ran to you. For once in his life, Zoro knew where to go, and how to get there. It felt like his heart was a compass, and the closer it felt to yours, the closer he was to his destination, where he should have been a long time before.

It’s time, he thought.

Time to get to you.

to be continued here, in part two ♡︎

#one piece x reader #op x reader #opla x reader #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece angst #one piece headcanon #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro headcanons

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belokhvostikova · 9 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The realities of life come hurtling down with no mercy, and the progress you believed to have achieved crashed and burned right before you. But for once, Eddie Munson is there to give you the one thing you’ve been yearning for: stability. Because Eddie Munson loves y...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, brief alcohol consumption, brief mentions of drugs, depression, bullying, strained parental relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, mentions of parental death, mentions of driving under the influence, and mentions of childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | And that’s the end! I truly will not be able to formulate the right words to express just how utterly thankful I am to all of you who have shown your support and love on my first series! I am forever grateful, thank you. I love you all! Also, I had my little Breakfast Club moment at the end. Also, I added a small allusion to Shrek, I'M SORRY! I was watching it while writing.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭

“Hmmm…”

Surely—only in the logistics that was Eddie Munson’s mind, of course—anyone could decipher the underlying “fuck off” that was spoken into that quiet, drawn out hum that Eddie’s sleeping state grumbled out from the comfort of his bed. But it was evident that his uniquely catered Eddie Munson language got lost in translation, because whoever was creating that grating, jarring, and abrasive knocking clearly was not smart enough to interpret his message, he came to the conclusion. Totally not because it was just a sleepy murmur… totally not. Nonetheless, the corrugated wood of his front door was rattling harshly under the fervent hits of bare knuckles, seemingly also bringing awareness to the repeated request to tighten the door hinges from Uncle Wayne to his forgetful nephew, though that ask fell quite redundant on deaf ears- well, until now, of course.

Maybe if Eddie waited long enough they’d go away.

No, they didn’t.

“Fuck me, man.” He complained with a yawn. Truthfully, Eddie would like to say his slumber came about under the guise that it had been a long day, I mean, hey, rule number four of the Munson Doctrine specifically states a tired man deserves a restful hours long nap, should it ever be brought up with complaints from another party member. But the honesty of the inner workings of his mind actually proffered the idea of sleep to fill the gaps in which you were not in his company. After you had left his trailer, Eddie had plopped on his bed with a pained groan of pure longing for you to just return and stay with him forever. He missed your pretty face. Your mawkish voice. Your saccharine smile that just made all his insides turn into a mush of gooiness. Sleep gave him the ability to close his eyes and transport his subconscious into another reality where you were laying delicately in his arms, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, lips pushed into a pout as they smushed against his naked chest with little breaths tickling his skin, and you were just losing all your worries in the solace of his heavy arms wrapped around you in protection against all the evils of the world that could hurt such a beautiful person. And also, sleeping through the evening allowed Eddie to stay up all night, which for whatever reason enabled his mind to formulate the most insanely creative ideas of his upcoming campaign, because, honestly, who could conjure up the idea of hooded cultists who hail a so called Lord Vecna at two in the afternoon? Not anyone sane, that’s for sure. The ominous hour of 3:00 a.m was a profoundly better time for ingenious ideas to flow. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone. But that’s all besides the point.

“Jesus shit, dude, fucking relax.” He aimed against the knocking perpetrator. Eddie groggily stood on wobbly legs, the sensations of pins and needles nestling into his toes, as his bare feet trudged their way through piles of clothes and thrown magazines.

Reaching the doorway of his bedroom, his movements came to a halt, he needed a good stretch before cursing a neighbor out for disrupting his peace. He had his bets that it was surely the recently converted Jehovah Witness that lived three trailers down, who made it her mission to “condemn the devil within and save him from satan.” One time, Wayne even caught the middle-aged woman sprinkling holy water around the Munson trailer during the time Eddie decided to practice his guitar just a little too loud. His tired muscles burned with the extensibility of his reaching movement; back popping with a deep arch, elbows cracking as his arms turned up to the sky, and a waking yawn to resume his conscious breathing. Padding his way to the front door, his left hand rubbed the dry remnants of sleep from his eyes, as his right hand eased the harsh reddening imprints of his jeans on his abdomen with hard scratches. He really should have taken off his belt before a nearly two hour long nap.

The rapid knocking was really starting to piss him off. It had been reaching the five minute mark, couldn’t people pick up the point that someone didn’t want to be bothered? “Oh, my god.” Eddie sighed with a heavy breath, clinched eyes to attenuate the pounding headrush that coincidentally became worse with every deafening knock. His heavy hand slammed onto the door knob with a cruel twist.

“What the fuck is wrong with- oh.” It was you. Fist frozen in the air, but it had quickly fallen from the opening of the swinging door. You flinched at the sudden ambush. “Sh-shit, sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“No, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can leave, I shouldn’t bother-”

“No, no, no, no.” The sound of your quiet, nasally voice had upset his stomach with worry. “C’mon in.” His body moved for your entrance. Upon seeing you in the glowing lowlight of the yellow lamps across his living room, Eddie was able to make out the redness of your eyes, followed by your creasing eyebrows that seemed to find no moment of peace to relax. “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?”

He hadn’t meant to upset you further, but his gentle prodding question seemed to elicit your pent up emotions, and your face immediately crashed into the palms of your hands, as tears began making their pounding way out with choking sobs that you attempted to conceal. Eddie had no hesitation rushing his arms around you, where your stature had just given up in the embrace of his warm body. Your drenched lashes seeped through your fingers, spreading their salty wetness across the expanse of his naked chest, his lips pressing into the crown of your head, where he inhaled the sweetness of your lingering smell that he was just dreaming about merely two minutes ago, and his large hands raced around the canvas of your back to give you the comfort neither of you were ever privileged with as lonely children.

You were in utter distraughtness…

Four Days Earlier

That following Tuesday after your return to Hawkins High you got slapped in the face with the biases of privilege, as Jason Carver smiled at you after leaving the front office from a meeting with Principal Higgins during the school day. Believing your hopes of finally having the world align to the imperative need of justice you felt were deserved for Eddie Munson, others… and yourself came to be too good to be true after Ms. Kelly had called you into her office. Before you, it was Martin Valencia, sophomore, who detailed the accounts of when Jason threatened the boy because he stood too close to jock’s locker. Then, Nathan Werner, senior, lamented the numerous times Jason and his posse would throw bits of food at his lunch table under the guise of just “messing around.” Tracy Owens, freshman, spoke of when unsolicited comments about her body were hurled against her when she stepped out of her comfort zone and wore a dress she felt pretty in. Because of Jason’s words, Tracy never wore that dress again. Then it was you. Ms. Kelly had used the term “anonymous tip” to explain your visit to her office, but Eddie Munson’s name was written all over it. Unless, of course, a bystander had felt bad for the agenda that was being pushed against you before and prior to your suspension, but that wouldn’t occur in the bubble of Hawkins High. No, you knew this nameless hero came forward—completely unbeknownst to him, funny enough—with the purest intentions of explaining your hurt to invigorate the importance as to why he cared so much about you that it reflected in his actions. Why he couldn’t bear to see you pained by the abhorrent actions of angry men, because he’d been there. He’s fallen victim and he’s victimized. But that wasn’t who he was anymore- it wasn’t who he ever wanted to be. So, Eddie Munson spoke. Even though he didn’t want to throw your name out there without your permission, his words were clear enough to pick you out.

Subtly may not have been in his skillset, but at least compassion was. Even if he was still learning.

Truthfully, you were wavering between the feelings of anger and relief upon initial arrival. While the notion of speaking to a licensed counselor for the guidance and understanding the troubles within seemed essential for your progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being cornered when your name echoed through the intercom. You wanted to speak on your own terms. Choosing when and how. And the abruptness of your visit felt more like an intervention, though Ms. Kelly was firm with her assurance that your personal feelings were not going to be psychoanalyzed without your consent, and you were merely appreciated for any input you could provide about the bullying that was from Jason Carver.

So, as Eddie Munson had done, you spoke. Finally.

But the reality of life came crashing down as you were humiliated with the fact that all that strength you mustered to be vulnerable about the hurt and pain inflicted onto you by a schoolmate ultimately meant nothing in the eyes of the authorities when Jason Carver ultimately got off scot-free. Despite her best efforts, Ms. Kelly presented the finding of what’s been going on with the rightful opinion of suspension as consequence, but her professional judgment had proved to mean nothing when Coach Monaghan had reminded Principal Higgins of the upcoming semi-finals that their star player couldn’t miss.

Jason Carver’s suspension declined into two days of detention.

Reality, too, had devastatingly slapped Ms. Kelly in the face. No title. No profession. Not even her degree could trample the opinion of a white man with a promise to bring home a trophy. She was a woman, a woman of color who resided in the rurality of Indiana. This had been the verity of life for Ms. Kelly. For Chrissy Cunningham. For you. Looped and controlled into an endless cycle of becoming puppets for puppeteers who felt that a total of four inches between their legs somehow made them superior.

But who were you guys to let them have a say in the show?

Chrissy Cunningham had made her strong decision to leave a relationship that hegemonized her will. You were on the course to liberate yourself from the appalling titles that tried to demean your worthiness. And Ms. Kelly would have her power when principal evaluations would circle at the end of the school year. Retirement would be hurtling early for Principal Higgins.

“It fucking sucks doesn’t it?” Eddie Munson had found you on the bleachers after cheer practice, as everyone but you began clearing out for the day. Marinating in your sweat under a blistering sun surely would be enough to send you to the showers, but on days like these, simply sitting and reflecting was enough to just be… enough for the day.

You didn’t even have to ask to elaborate, as he sat down next to you. You understood. “I took a picture of you and your friends and I got a week of suspension, ugh.” You threw your head back, as he chuckled at your exasperation.

“That was totally out of jealousy, looked way too sexy in that photo, of course, it pissed Higgins off.” That was able to get a sweet giggle out of you, and Eddie swooned at the sound.

“Well, it was a very… nice picture of you.” You smiled, before containing an even bigger grin with a bite to your lip, which had Eddie piquing with surprise.

“Wait, really?” He sprung up, his back jumping into the straightest posture it ever had been before. “Because, y’know, I was totally just kidding, but you- you just admitted that I was sexy-”

“I did not say those words!” You protested with a bubble of laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Eddie waved his finger in your face, “you can’t take that back, sweetheart, you totally think I’m sexy.” He puffed the lapels of leather jacket, which was surely too hot to be wearing in the spring weather.

“Oh, whatever.” Your effusive voice too giggly for the faux groan of annoyance you attempted to portray, but the fluttering butterflies stewing in your belly were ready to contradict any reservations you planned on having with him; your body was clearly ready to open itself up to him.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t try to deny it, it’ll do you no good.” He smirked. Soon, a prodding tongue peaked from his lips to indicate his venture as to how he was going to convey his next words correctly without turning into a nervous mess. Maybe it was still too early to ask you his impeding question. Maybe you would flat out say no to his face. Maybe hearing and processing the rejection was needed for his progress. Maybe- just maybe, you would actually say yes and his throat would constrict with anxious nerves. Maybe he should just take the leap. “Y’know, some scientists actually say that tagging along with the ever so devastatingly handsome man you think is sexy to, I don’t know, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, is actually a good way of dealing with, y’know… tingling feelings.”

Oh, he was so close to being smooth, but he was internally dying at his poor choice of words that had you dying of laughter at him. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight enough he’d get sucked up into a blackhole and he wouldn’t have to relish on the fact that he just uttered the words “tingling feelings.”

“Aw,” you beamed with amusement, “like a date?”

If Eddie Munson couldn’t suave his way out of embarrassment, he sure could joke his way out of eternal misery. “Woah, no!” He fervently shook his head. “I believe that’s something that happens when two people like each other. And, c’mon, that’s totally not us. We’re buddies!”

“Oh, right.” You nodded along to his sarcastic logic that made you gush inside. “Well, that’s actually really good, because since we’re friends we can tell each other about our secret crushes, right?” Eddie’s lips completely folded within themselves to hide his ebullient smile. “See, there’s this guy, pretty tall, he’s got this whole Van Halen wannabe hair-” you couldn’t contain your giggles as his mouth dropped with dramatic flare, and his hand held his heart with pain.

“Kirk Hammet, this dude would prefer Kirk Hammet.” Eddie corrected matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, he's got this Kirk Hammet wannabe hairstyle-”

“Much better, keep going.” He chimed in with approval and encouragement.

You could only playfully roll your eyes in retaliation. “Anyways, he’s also super funny- oh, a fully decked out metalhead, and, you know, just a little bit… sexy.” Eddie got full merriment from seeing you suddenly shy away from the revelation, just belting a trading laugh at your banter. “So! As a friend, Mr. Munson,” you pulled him back to the topic, “do you have any tips on how to get him on a date with me?”

“Well,” Eddie tittered with a breathy sigh, “hypothetically- theoretically- if it ever were to randomly occur- just in case he were to ever ask you out to, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, I personally think you should go with him.” He rejoiced proudly.

You giggled before sincerely smiling at him. He was so unbearably cute. It stung to have to turn him down. “I’d love to go with you, Eddie, but…” his grin had slowly began to drop, “I’m still very much grounded and confined to my room. It’s school and practice, that’s it.” You despairingly reminded.

Eddie let out a disappointed breath through his nose, nodding to affirm his understanding, though mumbling a small “prick” at the allusion to your father.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie, maybe another time we-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He interjected. “Don’t apologize or try to, like, make it up to me, it’s not your job to do any of that, it’s okay.” Eddie managed to speak out with a small smile. Though it wasn’t a direct no, he was accepting it, letting it be spoken without interference from his anger. This was a part of his learning. This was a part of his growth.

“The day will come for us.” You reached for his hand, and his eyes stayed connected to the delicate movements of your small fingers playing with his ringed ones, as he situated himself in the intoxicating sparkling feeling that was igniting just from touching your skin. “You know, when we can properly go out… as friends who don't like each other.”

Eddie chortled a smile. “Totally platonic." He joked. "Buddies even. Like brother and sister-” Your suddenly scrunched face of cringe had Eddie immediately reeling back his words. “Wait! Wait, no! Too far- too gross, I took it too far, I’m sorry! Sweetheart, I’ve never spoken to a girl before!”

“Eddie!” Your cheeks burned with laughter.

Eddie’s chest was heaving heavily under your crying face, as he attempted to minimize his panic for your sake. He had just dreamed of a perfect reality in which you came back into his arms, filling in that empty hole in his heart with all your love and care that he fully intended to return three times greater. But this isn’t what he wanted- how he wanted it to happen. You, pained by some evil that hurt you to the point of sobs, he hated seeing it. His hands raked over your head, trying to smooth the shaking mess that you were, before cupping your hot face and maneuvering you away from the comfort of his chest. “Honey, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.” His thumbs smeared the tears that tainted your cheeks. “Okay? Are you hurt? Something happen? Did someone- did he touch you? Please!” His round eyes frantically roamed your face for answers, but he was only met with sniffling sobs. “C’mon, baby, please just breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”

You fervently shook your head. “I-I can’t go back- back home. P-please, Eddie, don’t make me go back.”

“No, no, no, no, I won’t.” He shoved you back into the warmth of his body, arms cascading around your trembling figure to ease you into peace and safety. “It’s okay, just stay here with me.” He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, where you simply let yourself get lost in the engulfing waft of cheap cologne and cigarettes. “Just stay here with me.”

Minutes had passed where he took responsibility of gently rocking your conjoined bodies side to side with ease in the middle of his living room. He didn’t prod any further, simply letting your emotions cry out in a safe environment, where they would be understood and appreciated for their strong efforts of being vulnerable. Maybe then, he’d ask. When your breathing settled, when your eyes didn’t sting with fuzzy vision, when air could properly heave in through your nose and out from your mouth, when you could gather your thoughts and articulate your words, when you could just be okay.

Just as you always dreamed.

It was devastating that a kind person like you couldn't be granted a simple ask: to just be okay.

Eddie felt your lips move, as you mumbled into his chest. He delicately pulled away to see your wet face, “What?”

“I-I said, um, I didn’t bring- I don’t have anything with me, l-like clothes.” You sniffled, as you wiped your noise with your sleeve.

“Oh, uh, okay, that’s fine, do you want to borrow some of mine- it’s okay, really-”

“I promise it’ll only be for one night!” You worried interjected. “I-I’ll leave first thing in the morning, and I’ll figure something out by then-”

“Okay, no.” Eddie immediately stopped your rambling. “You have to tell me what the hell is going on, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” His hands firmly gripped your shoulders, so he wouldn’t be tempted to bring you back into his embrace and possibly wash over the issue at hand because he had you in his arms again. As much as he really wanted it, he really needed to know what was hurting you to the point of sobs and desperation.

“Eddie, my dad…” You had begun to blubber with a sense of shame, because in all honesty, you were embarrassed about the unfolding events of your life. Normalcy, why couldn’t you just be someone normal, be someone with a normal life, with normal parents, with the stability of just being loved and understood and not followed by animosity? What- what could possibly be so wrong with you that people hated you? How terrible of a person were you that you were deserving of all this hatred? “He kicked me out, h-he doesn’t want me!”

In a matter of days, your progress- that progress you were so proud of for enduring, was taking a steep hit to rock bottom, where you felt you were just going to rot in the depths of nothingness, where no light of life could revive you. Everything you had ever worked on was slipping into the abyss at high speed, and the breaks were refusing to stop.

You were crashing into despair.

Two Days Prior

The balmy Thursday afternoon felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to what was Tuesday’s scorching humidity that had been suffocating the small town since the coming of spring. Though slugging through Hawkins High’s poor excuse of a courtyard alongside Chrissy Cunningham to reach the end goal of the football field for practice felt exceedingly unbearable, after your confiding revelation brought forward an onslaught of urging requests from your bubbly friend: your father would be going out of town that Friday.

“Come on, just do it!” Her hand tightly gathered around your arm, where you became suddenly aware of just how strong she was, as her insistent movements left you shaking in her grasp. “It’s not like he’s going to say no, he's the one that asked you out first! I mean, your first date together, that’s so cute!” She swooned.

“Not a first date.” You quickly interjected. “Very much a friends hanging out thing.” It may have been easy to joke about it that earlier Tuesday, but suddenly reveling in the idea that it could very well be considered a date—hell, it was—had your tummy stirring with queasiness.

“Oh, please.” Chrissy laughed. “You guys can tiptoe around your feelings all you want, but everyone knows it’s so obvious. What’s so wrong with admitting it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” Last time the admission of feelings came about, Eddie Munson had drunkenly confessed the entirety of his problems in your bedroom in the dead of night. And while you both have accomplished the responsibility of recognizing that moment of brutal vulnerability as a stepping stone to receiving help, it doesn’t derail from the fact that whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson was built on a foundation of troubled minds fueled by hatred and anger. The fear of potentially reverting back to the people you both used to be kept shouting at you in the depths of your mind. It was cemented that as a couple, your relationship couldn’t reflect that of a sweet high school romance- no, you and Eddie Munson were not granted that privilege of peace, and your relationship would be stalked into a corner where all the bubble worlds of Hawkins, Indiana would unite together to yell, stab, slaughter, and shoot you both down with the lasting promise that neither of you were wanted in their town, especially not together. And this wasn’t a matter of if it were to happen- this was going to happen, bound to by the reality of life, and when it does, would Eddie Munson stick by your side or run? “…I just don’t want anything bad to happen, Chris.”

“Okay, look,” she stopped you, and watched every other cheerleader in front of you walk with notice of you two behind, “I know what this is about.” She huffed with certainty. “You’re scared you’re going to end up like me and Jason.”

“Huh?”

Oh, Chrissy Cunningham, she truly did have a caring heart. “It’s okay, I promise. But I can assure you guys are nothing like me and Jason, so that won’t happen.” It had just dawned on that she actually had no grasp as to what had occurred between you and Eddie. The yelling, the even more yelling after the cafeteria incident, the inebriated word vomit- nothing. She genuinely knew nothing about the gravity of the situation. And it truly was not her fault, in fact, you liked that she didn’t know the extent of it. What happened between you and Eddie stayed between you and Eddie.

So you simply nodded along. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess.”

And bless her, she was there to help you. “Look, Eddie is nothing like Jason, okay? He doesn’t care about what people think or say. He tried really hard to make it up to you for whatever he did, I don’t know, but either way he really tries. I mean, he literally hunted me down just to make sure you were okay. What has Jason ever done? Ask you what my favorite color is so he could act like he knows me and win me over?” She laughed with a scoff. “Please don’t let the people in this town dictate your happiness. Eddie likes you for you, and you two deserve to be happy with each other.”

She may not have had the clearest indications as to what was actually pestering your mind with fear, but her intentions of helping did place clarity on the uncertainty that was Eddie Munson. Her words and his actions truly illustrated the assiduous effort Eddie was enduring for the sake of his and your’s stability. Trust is a profoundly scary skill to embark on with another person, but the basis of security and love that would blossom from assurance in one another was a journey so devastatingly beautiful, it would heal the longing within both of you.

Eddie Munson laid his cards out with a terrifying layer of vulnerability. If he was doing it- working through the painful excursion into trusting you, the least you could do was reciprocate the effort. You were ready to trust Eddie Munson.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft smile, “yeah, I know, Chrissy, thank you. I’ll be sure-”

“To tell him?!” She perked up with a squeal. “You’ll tell Eddie that you can go on the date?!”

You chortled in disbelief. “Yes, I’ll tell him, leave the energy for practice.”

“Do it! Do it now!” She begged you, once again, your limbs were taken into her grasp and she was shaking you into oblivion. “Please!”

“We’re literally on our way to practice right now, I’ll do it afterwards.” You giggled, as you dragged her to catch up with the rest of the girls.

“But what if he leaves before us?!”

Eddie Munson had surely not left before you guys. It had occurred in the split second after Coach Hannigan had aggressively blown spit through her whistle to call for a break mid session, that instead of running to the designated drink cooler that became quickly surrounded by sweaty cheerleaders, you instead ignored the blatant thirst that burned your throat to dedicate a couple seconds of your time to run to the football field’s gated entrance. It was then, you caught sight of the still parked van that belonged to your metalhead, heating up in the blistering sun in the same parking spot it reserved when Eddie first arrived at school that early morning. Now, assuming you saw correctly, Coach Hannigan’s watch had indicated the time in which Eddie’s scheduled meeting with Ms. Kelly was surely to be over with. Why was Eddie Munson seemingly hanging around the halls of Hawkins High, especially when he made his disdain for the school very public, you weren’t sure. And with complete honesty, there was a part of you that wished he would have just gone home, so you wouldn’t be faced with the nervousness of having to ask him out. In retrospect, you knew just how much Eddie would like hanging out with you, and that warmed your heart, but the chances of him potentially saying no still lingered on a low chance. And that, in itself, was terrifying.

Practice had come to a hurtling end far quicker than you had anticipated, and Chrissy Cunningham was wielding all cheer captain authority to make sure you were placed in front of a shower head before they all got claimed by girls ready to leave. She’d even tasked herself with the responsibility of locating where the man was lurking, which evidently came to your dismay when her intelligent skills proffered her return in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Your shirt hadn’t even been placed on by then. And as wonderful as it would have been to discredit her “he’s in the drama room, I heard him playing music in there,” with your logical, “that could be anyone, Chris, you don’t know that it’s him,” you knew she was right. One day, you’d thank her for this, but right now, you were urging her to just let it go.

Chrissy Cunningham had used that newfound strength of hers to all but push you into the direction of the drama room, the one you hadn’t stepped foot in in a little over four years when you were asked to build sets for A Midsummer Night’s Dream for your elective art class during freshman year. And Chrissy had been right. Music was drowning its way through the closed doorway of the prop room, where the distinct screaming voices of men surely indicated itself to be muffled metal music which was in particular interest to Hawkins’ local metalhead. There was no turning back now. Chrissy had even assured to lay your father out with an excuse of “girl problems” to explain your unwanted lateness to the punctual man.

So you stood in the empty hall, long after the dragging time of school hours, with your fist hesitantly making your presence known to the man on the other side. You opened the door shortly after, where you came face-to-face with a confused Eddie, who’s features quickly melted into a sickly smile upon landing on you. His fingers worked quickly to turn down a dusty radio that had once been squashed under theatrical masks and vibrant feather boas in the corner of the room. “Hey, sweetheart.” And it was then you wondered why you had been nervous all along, when his simple greeting seemed to have placed you into ease with no uncertainty from your body.

“Hi,” you closed the door behind you, as he stood from throne King Duncan once sat during Hawkins High’s very first—and last—remediation of Macbeth, when Kevin Kavaugh’s baby face held no grip to the fake beard that once belonged to a Santa Claus costume and it had slipped off during Act 1 Scene 2. Not to mention when Lady Macbeth had to die a scene early because Carly Bennett hurled her lunch due to the numerous eyes awaiting her to speak her line. “Um, sorry for interrupting.”

Eddie Munson wasn’t having any of that, as he rounded the table he was once sat at to meet you in the middle. “No, no, my time has gotten much better since the mere second you walked your pretty self in here.” He smiled down, with a grin that just made your face heat and gain the inability to look him in the eyes.

And it was because you were shying away, refusing to meet his teasing stare, your eyes caught sight of the work he’d been displaying on the table behind him. “What are you working on?” You invited.

“Just settin’ up for my campaign tomorrow night.” He notified, as he sat half of his bottom onto the edge of the table with crossed arms.

Taking in his words, you finally peered up at him with round, crestfallen eyes. “Oh.” You heavily sighed. “So, you’re going to be busy all night tomorrow?”

“Yeah, basically.” He nodded. “DnD campaigns can last for hours, which is why I’m settin’ up early. Still gotta meeting with Ms. K, so I don’t wanna waste any time. Figured putting everything up would be easier. Finish with counseling and head straight into DMing, y’know, Dungeon Master n’ all.” He proudly pointed at himself.

And your obvious response of another despondent “oh” had clearly railed Eddie into a small frenzy of concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He suddenly stood again. “Are you okay?

“No, no.” You quickly assured him into ease. “I was just, um- it’s stupid really, well, it doesn’t matter s-since you’re busy and I don’t want to disrupt your plans, but, um, I just thought it would be a good idea to go out- or hang out, you know, tomorrow, like, together or whatever to the Hideout like you wanted.” Mrs. Crosby, your Public Speaking teacher from the tenth grade, who used to parade you around as a model student who spoke so clearly and concisely with confidence, would surely be disappointed at the sentence you just uttered.

Not Eddie Munson, though. No, in fact, Eddie Munson was grinning ear to ear with a teasingly amused smirk at your sudden shyness, something his insides were melting and reveling in, especially knowing he was the cause of your flusterness. So you surely didn’t appreciate his, “Holy fuck, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Refusing to let him see your heated face, you hid away in the comfort of your hands with a whine. “Stop!” But his snickering laugh was failing to cease. “You’re being mean!”

“Aw, no, c’mon, sweetheart, let me see your pretty face.” He smiled, gently grasping your wrist at an attempt to pull them away.

“You’re not helping by saying that.” Your muffled complaint had him chuckling, as he worked to pry your hands away, leaving your face vulnerable to his lovesick smile.

“There she is.” And for a split second, everything was quiet. Neither of you spoke, but rather lavished in the couple seconds in which you both peered at each with mesmerized eyes, because though it was never verbalized, neither of you could believe that you had each other. Eddie cleared his throat. “Um, could you ask me that again?”

You giggled in disbelief. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Of course, not.” Eddie laughed. “But this is quite literally the first—and probably only—time a girl will ask me out- let alone one as gorgeous as you, so c’mon, hit me with it. I wanna bask in the feelings.”

“Oh, god, you’re ridiculous.” You delicately chuckled, but Eddie was still awaiting your invite with a large smile to ease you into your words. You sighed with a grin that matched his, and gave him your full attention as you looked up into his dough eyes. “Will you, Eddie Munson…” you trailed off into a small giggle, “…go on a date with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And that answer, you weren’t expecting.

“What? No!” You quickly interjected. “Your campaigns tomorrow, you can’t go.”

Eddie laughed, “Isn’t there a game tomorrow you’re supposed to be cheering at? When exactly were you expecting to go out with me when we’re both busy?”

“Uh, well, yeah, but the game doesn’t start till six, I figured we’d go to the Hideout before then, you know, after school?” You reasoned your thinking, but Eddie still couldn’t contain his chuckles.

“Y’know, you really are so fucking cute, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Nobody goes to the Hideout in the afternoon, it’s a bar, more of a nighttime thing.”

You scoffed incredulously with a lingering beam. “Oh, well, excuse me, you’re the one that suggested it in the first place. I’ve never been, I was just trying to be nice and go along with your request.”

“Oh, I know, honey, you’re just the sweetest.” He softly spoke, as he stepped closer, leaving you to truly crane your neck to meet his smile. “So, after my campaign, after your game, we’ll go.”

“Yeah?” God, Eddie Munson was truly baffled by the idea that you, someone so utterly enthralling who had the purest heart of good and acceptance, was questioning the validity of his statement of wanting to go out with you. He should be questioning you- questioning the world of what granted him the right to get to know or even go out with you. But this was a part of his journey. Eddie Munson was deserving of good things, and so were you. And while the both of you could easily fall into an endless hole of overthinking your worthiness for each other, it would ultimately do no good. As the wise words of Chrissy Cunningham once said, you and Eddie Munson were deserving of happiness. And you both had been put through too much to let that chance slip away because of fear. Eddie was told to face it, and he was. You were strong enough to do the same.

So, Eddie Munson confirmed your questions with an affirming nod that spoke everything he needed to before he took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’ll be okay? I don’t want to put you in a dangerous position.” His fingers gently touched the tips of yours, where they met on the old wood of the table.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You softly spoke with a delicate smile. “I actually wanted to tell you that my dad will be leaving town Friday for work, so… we can have our day.”

“Perfect.” Eddie whispered into the air, and you watched his large eyes flicker to your lips, where they linger just long enough to spark the atmosphere with palpable tension. It had dawned on you just how close he stood, chest puffed to yours, where his wrinkled band t-shirt gently caressed the basic top you had changed into, and this spark was heavily enticing your lips to just finally give in to all desires and crash into peaceful bliss- but not right now. As Eddie’s head slowly leaned in, you had to reel back. For now, at least.

“Um,” Eddie immediately halted his movements from the clarity of the moment, and drew back.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “so, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You reassured him away from his worries. “But, um, it’s just my dad’s waiting for me.” And the silky curve of your lips proffered him the understanding that you wanted him, too. Just as much. And when it was right, the moment would come.

“Yeah, okay, so, uh, after my campaign- or your game, whichever one ends first, just meet me by my car and we’ll go on from there. That sound like a plan, sweetheart?”

You could only muster a little “mhm” through your bitten lip before turning to the door. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stop by the game and actually see me cheer? I know there’s absolutely no way you’d actually rather play a nerdy little game surrounded by smelly props.” Eddie could visibly see your sarcasm oozing out of your teasing smile, and it truly made him battle his internal restraints to not run up and swoop you into his arms with a loving kiss. God, you were the one torturing him, and you had no clue in the world.

He winced before pointing a stern finger at you. “Don’t make fun of me, sweetheart, you’ll make me lose all self-control, and there would be nothing stopping me from dropping down on my knees in front of you and-”

“Eddie!” You chastised with a flustered face of hot cheeks that had him dying of laughter with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh!” He smiled, “By the way, my freshmen, way smellier than any props in here.”

Eddie Munson was truly a piece of work.

Your snotty sobs had deliquesced into the quiet hum of Eddie Munson’s shower, where hot water burned your skin, as it felt like a deemed punishment for what you had just put Eddie through. He had taken it upon himself to reclaim countless times that your visitation was something he welcomed with open arms, and to let out all that was needed for you to be okay, though his reassurance did little to distract you from obvious trauma dumping you just proliferated into his life. It was no different than Eddie Munson bawling his eyes out while his intoxicated mind spewed the pain and regret of his life, in fact, that may have been even more severe than what you had transpired, but it still didn’t derail you from the notion that crashing into him with all of your hurt couldn’t be well for his mental progress, and you loathed the idea of what you were doing to him.

When your tears had finally subsided into small whimpers, Eddie had still held you tightly in his grasp, processing the information of what your life had just turned to- probably thinking far more than you had been able to.

“Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie, I don’t mean to-”

“Hey, sh, just take a minute, okay?” His hand continued to smooth down the back of your head.

Though, your rampaging thoughts were quickly manifesting into a jumble of words that were torpedoed out of your mouth. “No, really, Eddie, I’m sorry, I swear it’ll only be for the night, or I can leave if you want me to, I-I just- just- can we just be here for a minute?”

Eddie’s arm tightened around your waist, and his hand securely cradled the back of your head, where he just gently whispered, “of course,” into the air, and your arms finally linked themselves around his neck for the safest embrace either of you ever felt.

Seven minutes had passed by with no interruptance to the peaceful quietness you and Eddie had cascaded between the both of you. Your tears had damped the warm skin of his neck into a sticky, itchy residue that had you wanting to pull back, yet you weren’t entirely ready to leave his body. And it was even more evident he had no plans of letting you leave, as his hands refused the budge from the firm hold they had against you. When you eventually made the decision to carefully move away, Eddie saw how the obliterating uncomfortableness you were currently suffering through: reddened eyes with humid skin that mixed terribly with your drowning tears and sweat from the spring mugginess of the night. Eddie had delicately brushed everything away from your hot face and neck, where he was finally able to see your beautiful face shining past the pain of your expressions.

Being so exposed, you truthfully felt so gross. The moment of transparency, where you just stared at his concerned face that longed to keep you away from the troubles of the world, made you feel like an utter failure, because for once, you couldn’t solve your way out of a problem. No homework, quiz, test, or exam could amount to the complexity of mental and emotional health, and while you managed to keep your mind distracted from the issues of your life, your efforts ultimately could not lead you straight to being okay, and you felt like a failure.

“I’m sorry.” You harshly rubbed your eyes with a deep sniffle. “I’m such a mess, I don’t mean to drag you into this.”

“No, you’re not, honey please stop apologizing, everything is fine.” He cleaned your face with a heavy hand swiping your cheeks. “I want you here. I want you talking to me.”

With a trembling sigh, your sore voice croaked. “So it’s okay if I stay here- it’ll be just for one night, I promi-”

“Yes, of course, it’s okay.” He cut off your apologetic rambling, because even though you hadn’t explicitly spoken the words I’m sorry, he knew it was drenched in your cramped sentences. “But I’m gonna really need you to work with me here, sweetheart, and tell me if he laid his fuc- if he put his hands on you? Did he, baby?”

“No.” That was the succinct answer he needed to hear, and a small breath of relief washed over him for a second. “W-we, um, we just started yelling and-and got into this big fight, where I just screamed at him, you know, about everything, and t-then he just kept yelling back, and he got so angry.” You heaved heavily. “Eddie, I don’t have anywhere else to go, um, I-I’ll figure something out, I just- I really can’t go back there.”

“No, no, don’t go back.” He ran his hands over his face. “Please, just stay here as long as-”

“No, Eddie, I can’t do that to you or your uncle.” You pursed your lips with slumped shoulders, feeling awful for taking advantage of his living situation for your accommodation, but Eddie would be livid to hear you keep denying yourself safety.

“Stop, don’t even try it.” He firmly stopped you. “Just, for once, let me help you. You’ve done so much for me, you deserve to let me just fucking help you through this, sweetheart. Please.” You relented. There was no point in making this situation harder for yourself, and you desperately just wanted to have some tranquility in your life, and Eddie was offering the biggest hand to you. Closing your eyes, you just agreed to his loving aid with a soft nod of acceptance. You once laid your bed out for Eddie Munson when he was at his lowest, he’d be damned not to give you that in return.

“What do you want right now? We can talk- or just, like, completely avoid it, but only for a little bit, don’t keep it inside, that’s what Ms. K said- oh, uh, food! Are you hungry? Have you eaten dinner yet? Maybe like a cup of water? I can order some food, you don’t really want me cooking anything, but I have like a shit ton of pretzels-”

“Is it okay if I shower?” You quietly interrupted.

It was hot, suffocatingly hot. The months of spring brought an awful draft inside trailers that were not equipped with the proper protection for the incoming heat wave that would engulf Hawkins, Indiana. When winter hit, freezing families bundled together dreaming of the day warmer weather would mitigate numb toes and shivering bodies, but when that dream would come, sticky skin of sweat and hot flashes that made it feel like you were burning in an oven made the poor civilians of Forest Hills Trailer Park yearn for winter to come back. Just stuck to suffer yearly.

And you were sweltering.

Twenty-Two Hours Prior

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Honestly, how crazy would it be for Eddie Munson to rub his Black Ice Little Tree air freshener onto his jacket to mask out any potential bad smell? It’s not like carried his cologne around with him at all times, let alone for dates he doesn’t even go on. Plus, he always wondered if that Old Spice smell was too much. Last time, he became oblivious as to how much he wore, and Gareth Emerson couldn’t stop the ongoing sneezes that occurred whenever had Eddie stepped within a two feet radius of the poor kid. Safe to say, Eddie Munson learned two sprits was enough. But he had only applied his cologne this morning, what if the smell was gone? What if he still terribly smelled like that cigarette he smoked just before Hellfire started? Or what if he smelled like the illegal greens that resided in his lunchbox, after having to spend an extra five minutes rolling joints for Naomi Rahman after she explicitly stated she thought his service came pre-rolled. He knew he should have charged her extra for the free labor. Shit, what about his breath? Was he going to kiss you today?! Were you going to kiss him today?! Does he even own chapstick? And his hair, how come it looked so frizzy in the murky reflection of his rear view mirror? Was it always this frizzy? Why the hell do people let him walk out of the house like this?!

Eddie slumped back in the old seat of his van with a groan. This was going horrible- granted the date hadn’t even started, but still. He couldn’t do this. How are you even supposed to act on a first date? Shit! This is Eddie Munson’s first ever date with a girl- a gorgeous girl- the most beautiful fucking girl he’s ever seen for crying out loud! How the hell do people do this so casually? You were probably cool as ever.

“Oh, my god, Chrissy help me! I'm freaking out over here!” As much as you’d like to scream, your devices only left you whispering fervently, as you and Chrissy Cunningham had snuck away into the corner of the locker room, where your cheer bag had been precisely fitted with three pairs of earrings, two necklaces, two pairs of shoes, and three dresses; however, despite being intricately picked for the sole reason that they were the best dresses you owned, you began hating them upon closer inspection. It’s lovely how the mind works, isn’t it?

“Would you relax?” Chrissy huffed, shoving her frayed bangs away from her eyes. “You’re stressing me out, and I’m not even going on the date. And it’s not like this is going to be your first, you’ve been out plenty of times.”

“Three.” You sternly corrected, with the high wedges in your hands acting like a scolding finger, as you pointed them towards your friend. “Three is not plenty. And as if I cared what those guys’ thought, this is Eddie. He, I actually do care about.”

“Aw, that’s so cute.” She giddied out a squeal, which could only be met with your eye roll. “No, but seriously, Y/N, it’s Eddie, you know he’s, like, totally obsessed with you, I don’t think he really cares about what you’re going to wear.”

An underlying “I know” was spoken into your sigh, as you put down the shoes, and simply looked at everything laid out on the old locker room bench. “So,” you took a deep breath, “any of these will be fine for the Hideout?”

“Wait,” Chrissy’s eyebrows raised into her forehead, “you’re going to the Hideout? Why’d you bring heels? That place is totally, like, a rundown-beer-old man kinda place. Not a heels and dress type.” She stressed.

Just when you were beginning to calm down... “Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Came the whisper yelling. “I’ve never been! How do you even know?!”

“That’s where Jason and Andy always bought their booze from for parties. The owner is totally like this desperate guy who always wants money, and, well, he sold so they bought.” She quickly explained, groaning at the memories of having to sit in the back seat with the numerous boxes of cheap beer, because Jason Carver was that much of a douche he made his girlfriend move to the back for his friend to claim the front. “But, anyways, just wear your cheer shoes, it’ll still look cute with your dresses, especially the green sundress one.”

“But my sneakers are so scuffed up, they’ll look messy.” You whined. If only Eddie Munson knew how much thought you were putting in just to see him. He would think it was so cute.

You were then met with a Chrissy Cunningham deadpan that had you snapping back to reality. “Y/N, get real, Eddie’s probably wearing that t-shirt he doodled on with markers. I highly doubt he’ll judge you for a scuff mark on your shoe.”

Eddie Munson’s wristwatch ticked at 10:25 p.m. The last straggle of students, teachers, and town goers were slowly evacuating the emptying parking lot, as the numerous cars prompted the small bit of traffic that would occasionally occur in Hawkins that wasn’t directly correlated to the Fourth of July Fair. With the tiniest bit of a pep talk that honestly made him feel a little lame, Eddie exhaled deeply before making his way out of the car. Four weeks ago, Eddie had walked in on Dustin Henderson intently watching “Sixteen Candles” in the comfort of his own living, after Hellfire’s designated room got invaded by a bombardment of paint cans and set designs for Ms. Kathey’s drama club, insisting that her “Our Town crisis” was far greater than any campaign Eddie’s club had to host. Wanting the brownie points, Dustin took it upon himself to impress his Dungeon Master by proffering his house as an alternative, though when Dustin had muttered the words “mi casa es tu casa” he hadn’t anticipated Eddie Munson to just meander in without a warranted knock, leaving the kid vulnerable with his movie playing loudly in the background. Now, Eddie Munson was still a proudly proclaimed asshole back then, so the situation gave him great leeway to blackmail the freshman into doing his dirty work- by that, he meant his science homework. But now, there was no science homework, and Eddie Munson was instead trying to replay the foggy memory that was Jake Ryan leaning against his red car in the coolest fashion, as Samantha Baker stared in awe. He wanted you to stare at him in awe. He wanted to be cool. With the exception of the cool sports car and confidence, of course.

But when the back doors of the gymnasium had opened and the harsh light of the beaming lamp post illuminated your figure upon entrance, Eddie Munson had been apotheosized. Long gone was the air in lungs, as when his eyes landed on you, it felt like a sucker punch to his stomach, and any confidence he was trying to willed by mimicking the acts of Jake Ryan had abruptly slipped his mind, and Eddie began fidgeting in place. Chrissy Cunningham had completely gone unbeknownst to Eddie as she waved you goodbye, the janitor, Charlie, who was currently dumping a barrage of trash from the gym was left unnoticed by Eddie, everything- every little thing that wasn’t you didn’t matter in this instance.

Just you.

You had shyly approached him with a soft smile to your lip that had Eddie’s heart fluttering in his chest. “Hi.” That simple greeting was enough for Eddie Munson to officially say goodbye to the conviction he once held when he flirted with you just yesterday.

How you were able to fuel his charm with giddiness one day, and then have him melting into a puddled state of flusters the next day was beyond the knowledge of modern science.

“H-Hi.” His voice rasped into the night air, which had you softly giggling.

“Um, I hope this is alright?” You smoothed down the creases of your dress. “I didn’t know- uh, is this appropriate for, like, the Hideout?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” He cleared his throat, eyes following your body up and down, before reverting back to your eyes out of respect. “You’ll totally be, like, the prettiest girl who’s ever walked in there- well, I mean, way more than pretty,” he awkwardly corrected, “because, um, you look r-really beautiful. You are really beautiful, Y/N.”

Your eyes had lit up and twinkled under the night sky. Briefly looking away to compose the ever growing smile on your face, you finally peered up at him. “Thank you, Eddie.” You delicately spoke, following suit of eyeing him. “You’re really beautiful, too, you know?”

Unfortunately—or very fortunately for your entertainment—Eddie had sucked in a deep breath, far bigger than he had anticipated, out of shock from the words he just heard, leading him to hurtle into a fit of uncontrolled coughing. “Sorry!” *cough* “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” *cough*

“Are you okay?” You laughed, your hand gently being placed onto his chest with small rubs to ease his derailment.

“Totally your fault.” *cough* “Why do you have to be so- ugh!” Eddie heaved, as his back straightened, and the clearing of his throat helped alleviate his little fit. But how could someone blame him in the first place? Not once, in the twenty years that Eddie Munson had been alive, has he ever heard someone call him beautiful. It was the great juxtaposition of Eddie’s life, because that’s what society told him. Eddie Munson was far from beautiful. Freak. Criminal. Errant. Disgrace. What would be so wrong with believing the town’s word, that he really was everything terrible in the world? They believed, so he believed it. Eddie Munson spent the entirety of his childhood wondering where he went wrong to continue to be degraded, and then turned his early adulthood into becoming those things, because why try to change the people’s opinion. It was already cemented into the books. Eddie Munson was a shame.

And you had just casually waltzed into his life and ruined that. Ruined his pessimistic beliefs. Ruined is cynicism. Completely ruined the agenda placed against Eddie Munson, because, for once, someone outside of his personal friends and family wanted him.

You wanted him. And in the Munson Doctrine, the newly indicted rule states your word triumphs all. Because you gave him meaning. You gave him a chance. For redemption. For love feelings. For everything.

“My fault? I have no clue what you mean by that.” You giggled against his blushing state. “But you’re lucky I didn’t have time to call you sexy before your little aneurysm. I was totally ready to sneak that one in there-”

“Okay!” Eddie clapped his hands to cut you off. “You are trouble. Into the car, before you fucking kill me out here.” He left the last part to quietly fuse into the night sky with mumbling lips.

Eddie Munson’s hand had lingered on the small of your back, where he guided you to the passenger side of his car, and opened his chariot for your voyage (his words). Your cheer bag had found the floor of the back side of his van, where remnants of trash you once saw when Eddie Munson graciously stole you away from your house as per your request still nestled in the same spot they were once discarded. Eddie was quick to appear on the driver's side, and his van lit up with the last bit of life it had within her, where he began trailing behind the last of students leaving Hawkins High.

Eddie Munson was going on his first date ever.

“Wait, stop, go back.” Eddie’s finger halted on the knob of his radio, ending his knit-picking ministries of finding the perfect channel for his music taste. It was always a mystery why he continued this routine. Eddie knew anything from the local channels would never play his preferred choices, but the procedure always developed the same: switch between channels, condemn the local radios, reach for whichever one of his tapes was closest. Except for tonight, of course, you interrupted his precious routine. “Go back, please.” You sang with the most satisfied smile, as Eddie—with his skeptical, squinted eyes—begrudgingly gave in, turning the knob ever so slightly to the left.

It was David fucking Bowie.

“Yay! I love his music! Keep it there.” You gushed, as his voice began drowning into the small atmosphere of Eddie’s van, and he, so predictably, protested your personal taste in music.

“Nonononono.” His hand immediately reached back for the radio. “I am not losing you to some British dude with weird hair. Pass me my Sabbath tape.” Now, full transparency, Eddie truly could no care to bash your taste of music. In fact, he, himself, occasionally bobbed along to the voice Bowie every once in a while. It was just something about bickering with you that made his tummy tingle, that he just couldn’t help himself. He liked your little offended face.

You gasped an offended gasp, as your hand playfully smacked his away from the premises of the radio. “Um, excuse me, isn’t Ozzy Osbourne just another British guy with weird hair?” You giggled.

“Woah, woah, woah, now, babe, you better choose your words wisely here, alright?” Eddie chortled. “He’s British metal, it’s the only acceptable form, this though…” he exaggeratedly grimaced, as the lyrics to “Changes” belted out from the speakers, “This is just lame.” He teased, while you dramatically scoffed. “Sounds like it belongs in some weird cartoon movie with, like, ogres and shit.”

You guffawed at the oddity of his opinion. “That’s literally right up your alley, sir. And, in my humble opinion, Mr. Dungeon Master, I believe orcs are far more lame.”

If it wasn’t for your presence in the vehicle, Eddie Munson would have swerved off the road and crashed into the nearest tree. His wide eyes and flushed cheeks swiftly met your laughing face, before distracting himself with the attention of the road, clearing his throat to prevent the impending cough that was inevitable ever since he met you. Your name calling was now sparking another tingling feeling inside him. “You… ugh,” Eddie grinned with red cheeks, “You are trouble.” He bit his lip, as he just took in the sight of your head falling back with laughter. God, you were so comfortable. So comfortable with him. “And for your information, orcs are not lame, in fact, because you said that, I’m changing this terrible song-”

“No!” Your hand had seized his, fingers lacing tightly to prevent his movements, and you locked your entangled hands into the soft plush of your thighs. Eddie Munson’s mouth fell agape. You really were trouble.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do whatever you say.” He rushingly mumbled out for your amusement.

“Just enjoy the song, Eddie.” Your thumb caressed his hand, and you felt him tighten his hold on you. “Expand your horizon, and I promise to listen to all the screaming men you want me to.” You turned up the song, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to protest your want. Not when you looked so damn perfect enthusiastically singing your heart out, with your hand in his, with his skin grazing your thigh, with you in the front seat of his car, where he could picture you sitting to the end of time, because it looked so natural.

You and Eddie Munson were natural.

Chrissy Cunningham had entirely been correct. For the past twenty years since its start up, the Hideout had indefinitely established itself as a rundown-beer-old man-kinda-place. There had been a reason why Jason Carver was so insistent with Chrissy Cunningham staying in the car during their retrieval for cheap beer. Eddie Munson had soon fallen to regret ever bringing you here. Unabashed stares from men had been glued to you the second you and Eddie had made your presence known within the bar. Eddie had wished they were merely targeted at him for the simple reason that the regular goers were shocked to see the metalhead, who dedicated his Tuesday nights playing loud music on the stage, with a pretty girl who they deemed to be out of his league. But it would be stupid to think of that, when the stares had obviously been directed to the young girl in a pretty dress, someone these men had grossly dreamed of. Eddie had attempted to shield you from the many perversions aimed against you, as he directed you to a table farthest away from the small crowd that lingered at the bar.

He felt like a complete asshole when he watched you coil into yourself, arms cramping over your tummy once you situated yourself onto the rustic chair. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie had leaned in to immediately apologize. “I should’ve put more thought into this, I just couldn’t afford anything like Enzo’s, but we can absolutely leave if you want.”

“No, no.” You assured him with a small smile. “If this is the place you like going to, I want to enjoy it with you, too.”

“You…” His head dropped in disbelief at the person you were- at the person he got to experience this moment with. “You’re too fucking nice to me, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Really, let’s leave if these assholes are making you uncomfortable.”

But you had sternly shaken your head. “I don’t know when it’ll be the next time we get to hang out like this. I don’t want to let anyone ruin our night, Eddie. I-It’s okay.”

Eddie could see right through your smile. You were devastatingly uncomfortable, but your words held so much truth, you genuinely did not want to leave, sacrificing your consolation for a special moment with Eddie. Because this was your chance- your opportunity to be with one another, and given the hardships of reality, who knew when something like this could be offered to you and Eddie again.

He had immediately shrugged off his jacket, passing the heaviness of leather and denim over your shoulders for you to take lead in letting your arms get swallowed by the sleeve. “Take this, princess, at least.”

You adjusted his jacket around you, before sitting up and beaming at him. “How do I look?” You rhetorically spoke with a giggle.

Eddie Munson was about to cry. His fist clenched tightly out of sight beneath the table, and he blinked harshly to get rid of the invading tears that were about to come forth. Why did he have to react like this? What were you doing this to him? Why did you have to give him the time of day after everything he’s put you through? The sight of you- your hair, complementing the perfection of your features, because you meticulously styled it flawlessly just for him; your eyes, sparkling in the low light of the bar with such happiness, because you were looking at him; your cheeks, plumping with such liveliness, because your alluring lips were curled into a heavenly smile, because of him. Eddie Munson wasn’t deserving of good things, so why the hell were you opening your arms to him? Accept it, accept it, accept it, he forced himself as a reminder. Accept your care. Accept your passion. Accept your love feelings. You were putting your life at risk wearing the jacket that branded Eddie Munson. But you were doing it with the greatest smile he’s ever seen.

You wanted him- you wanted Eddie Munson.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.”

Your lips folded within themselves to contain your beaming smile. “You’ve already said that.”

“Because it’s true.” He spoke with such conviction.

Your hand snaked under the table, where you met his tense fist, but your delicate fingertips ignited them to unfold and relax with comfort, where fingers just mindlessly played with one another. “Thank you, Eddie. And thank you for asking me out… first, at least.” You giggled. “You know, before you held me against my will to ask you out?”

Eddie let out a guttural laugh. “What are you talking about, princess? You practically hunted me down and begged me- no, pleaded with me to just finally take you out. I’m just for the food, of course.”

“As if.” You scoffed with a playful roll to your eyes. “But, you know, now that you mentioned it, I am desperately hungry for food. What is there to feed me?”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, this fine establishment offers us some very stale nachos-”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Some burgers made with the fakest of meat, and just drenched in grease from a stove that’s never been cleaned-”

“Very appetizing.”

“And, of course, three-day-old cheese fries with, y’know, just a sprinkle of dust for flavor.”

“Ooh!” You perked. “That! I want cheese fries, please.”

“Then cheese fries she will get.” Eddie stood with a lingering chuckle, getting ready to place in your order. “You wanna pick your poison? I can get it for you.” He pointed towards the bar.

“Whiskey old fashioned.” You smiled confidently.

Eddie blinked back in surprise. “That really your usual?” He interrogated with a flabbergasted laugh.

“No, I’ve just always wanted to say that.” You giggled with amusement. “That’s what my dad and his friends say when they come over and invade his liquor cabinet. I’ve never drank before, so I’ll just have whatever is your favorite.”

Eddie Munson had instantly fallen back into his seat with a gaping mouth of shock. “Sweetheart, you let me bring you to a bar, and you don’t even drink?!”

You retaliated with a deadpan shot directly at him, and your hands finding your hips like a scolding mother. “Eddie, how hard is it to believe that I just really want to go anywhere with you, that I don’t care where it is?”

“Uh, very.” He answered too quickly. You could only laugh in return, gently smacking his bicep.

“Just go get my drink, please.” You failed to sternly convey, as your effusing voice spoke too bubbly to be austere.

“I’d be a terrible influence to let you indulge in beer, and an even worse person for letting your first be from here. How about a soda?” He crooned affectionately.

But you, of course, protested so eloquently with crossed arms. “It’s never a bad thing to try new things.”

Bits of yellow liquid had toppled over the rim of the thick glass, as your cup of beer fell heavy against the wooden table with a loud clunk. Eddie stood smiling next to you, sliding the drink to be perfectly stationed in front of you. He had returned far quicker than you had anticipated. “Here you go, Evel Knievel, go crazy.” He jabbered, urging you with a nod to his head, as an act of support. Your round eyes peered through your lashes and connected with his. With a confident grip of the overly large cup, you brought the drink to your face, getting a whiff of something not too bad but not entirely pleasant, either. Possibly overestimating yourself, your lips engulfed a section of the rim and you happily accepted a hefty swig of the beer. Eddie looked down at you expectedly, because as he prophesied while ordering your beer, your nose had cutely scrunched into a multitude of creases, becoming the biggest telltale sign that you surely did not like it. Eddie had laughed but pitied you as if you were a lost puppy, “Aw, you want me to get you a soda, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You grimaced, though ever so politely.

“It’s okay, good thing I only got one, I figured you wouldn’t like it.” He chuckled, as he slid the beer over to his side, and brought the cup to his mouth, where his mouth rested upon the gloss stain of your lips. If this was the closest Eddie Munson would ever get to kissing you, he would take it. He gladly took a gulp with no reaction. You envied him. “I’m proud of you for at least tryin’ something you wanted, pretty girl.” He lovingly pinched your chin, before leaving to retrieve your soda.

Eddie’s pajamas felt soft in your hand. They were his finest pair—no holes, no stains, no loose threads—coming from the back of his dresser, because five months ago, Eddie had shrunk them in the dryer. Nothing too drastic, but they clung to his body in ways he was too uncomfortable with, and if a certain pair of pants or a t-shirt didn’t provide him the privilege to move about freely, the back of the dresser they went. But he honestly wasn’t kidding, they were his finest pair of pajamas. Entirely because they hadn’t been in Eddie Munson’s possession for too long to be worn to demise. And now they sat neatly folded on the toilet, awaiting to replace the soft towel that was wrapped around you tightly.

It felt wrong. Having to leave your skin to dry out in the humid atmosphere of the Munson’s bathroom, as you truly left with nothing in your hands, but the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet. Despite the shrinkage, his pajama pants had still managed to pool around your ankles, even with the stretchy waist clasping at your stomach at an appropriate height. And his t-shirt had been no different, sleeves long enough to get caught in the crease of your inner elbow if you ever chose to bend your arms. Dio, written boldly across and attended with an unsettling depiction of a creature to embody the tone of the album cover. You’d ask Eddie about it some other time. And he would gladly answer.

Your hand had become coated with a warm layer of water, as it swept away the condensation pestering the hanging mirror. Red, your eyes had still been stained with the dreaded redness of tears and exhaustion. But at least, the last bit of hot water for the Munson’s managed to circulate your blood back to your drained face, and the tiniest sliver of liveliness could be detected if anyone chose to inspect close enough. Eddie Munson would be that person. He always had no problem staring at your face.

Turning the brass door knob, the waft of a cooler breeze from the trailer’s air conditioner cascaded goosebumps along your arms. It’s quiet. Your hands tightly clenched around your balled up pile of clothes, as you begin your slow movements to the kitchen. But the stove light continued to be the only thing keeping the kitchen company, as Eddie was still nowhere to be seen. The washer had been stationed to your left, where the clean clothes of Eddie and his uncle resided in a basket that had yet to be folded. Choosing to follow suit, your denim shorts were folded in half with delicacy, placed onto the metal washing machine, with your shirt joining soon after, ready to grab first thing in the morning. Because that was a promise you were holding, you were truly not ready to take up any more space in Eddie Munson’s life, not when he had his own issues to understand. He didn’t need yours as a cherry on top. Even if his persistence told you otherwise, that he’d have you living with him in a heartbeat.

Hearing a muffled shuffle coming from the end of the hall, you paddled your way to the doorway of his bedroom, where Eddie had caught you through the creaking sound of his door opening up to your face.

“Hey, um, feelin’ a little better?” He finished up smoothing the wrinkles of the newly spread bedsheets, something he retrieved from the back of his closet. Though, they hadn’t shrunken. He honestly had just forgotten about them, until ten minutes ago. You nodded truthfully, the corner of your lips barely tugging upward, but enough to make your dry skin feel tight with the movement. “Um, oh, your room for tonight.” He opened his arms to showcase the myriad of posters that would be staring you down while you slept. “Clean sheets n’ everything. Hotel Munson, if you will, best service in town. Especially that continental breakfast, don’t miss it.”

That managed to turn your facade into a real smile. Something Eddie loved. “I can’t take your bed.” You spoke so quietly, someone could have thought you were whispering him a secret. “You’re already doing a lot by letting me stay here, Eddie.”

“No, please take it.” He walked up to you with an earnest voice. “Honestly, take anything- I’ll give you anything, Y/N, just please.”

You stared at him with longing eyes that just pulled at the string of his heart. “Will you sleep with me?” You sighed softly.

Eddie Munson had fervently shaken his head with all purpose in the world. “I’ll give you anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Eddie. For everything.”

“You’re the only reason why I’m getting better, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m devoting my life to you.” He smiled solemnly at the breathy giggle he managed to squeeze out of you. Progress was progress, and this was the start. “Although, I checked, and I don’t have any ice cream here to help. But I can go to the store real quick-”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You assured him with a tender hold of his forearm. “Really.”

“Okay.” Eddie accepted with a sigh. “Um, is it okay if we talk now? I don’t want you keepin’ anything to yourself, honey. I wanna hear your voice.” Eddie's hand had engulfed yours, urging you to follow his small steps to the made bed right behind him. He had dropped with ease, letting you stand between his spread legs, where his other hand had joined your united ones, and both sets of his fingers began toying with yours languidly. “Please.”

You slowly took up the empty space next to him. What was three inches of space closed to be touching thighs, when Eddie had snaked his arm to grasp onto your hip and pull you as close as possible. The worry of whether the move was a step over your boundaries had quickly dissipated in Eddie’s overthinking mind, as the close proximity had prompted you to lay your head comfortably on his muscular shoulder.

But before Eddie could think of laying against your head in return, you had quickly chosen to turn your face to the wall where a large burgundy blanket had taken the place of an actual curtain over the window. It was behind him, where his back was turned to. Because you didn’t want Eddie Munson to see your face right now. You shielded away. And he would let you. As long as he got to hear your voice.

“If I look at you I’ll start crying.” You quietly mumbled against his shoulder. Because you look at me with all the care in the world, and my father doesn't.

“It’s okay, baby.” His lips fell onto the crown of your head and made no judgment to move, even long after his lips had already puckered to plant you a deserving kiss of compassion. “Take all the time you need.”

Come Monday afternoon, Eddie Munson would thank Ms. Kelly for guided lessons on how to be a therapist. Even if that was far from her intended goals with him. But as long as it was helping you, he’d facilitate his newfound skill.

“Being with you, Eddie…” you took a deep breath, “…you just make me realize so many things.” Both of your arms had bear hugged his bicep, keeping him as close as humanly possible. “My dad, I wish he would just get help from someone for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would get better for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would just care for me.” Like you did. “I told him. I told him everything. About what he’s done. How he treats me. How I feel. Everything, I finally said everything, Eddie.” Your voice began wavering with a stinging throat. Because even if you had chosen to peer away from Eddie’s sympathetic face, it wouldn’t steer you away from the hurt of losing everything you’ve ever known. “I stood up to him, Eddie.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He whispered into your head, his hand working to grab a caring hold of your thigh. “So fucking proud.” I wish I had the strength to do what you did when I was younger.

But you had finally picked up your head and cried at him with glossy eyes and a frown so deep it felt like a knife in his chest. You harshly began shaking your head. “He yelled at me, Eddie. He screamed so much.” You began choking. “He didn’t want to hear about how I felt. Eddie, he was blaming me. Said it was my fault. For everything.” You agonized.

“No, no, no, sweetheart, none of this is your fault, alright?” He cupped your hot cheeks securely in his hands. “None of it is. Don’t you dare listen to a word that asshole said, okay?”

“But, Eddie, he’s right.” You sobbed. “I just can’t- Eddie, I should have left you alone that night.” The club picture. Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were blaming yourself for everything that had occurred. You didn’t even have to verbalize it for Eddie to understand. He knew what was about to come out of your mouth.

If I didn’t bother you, you would have lived your life.

If I didn’t bother you, the school wouldn’t have been so disgusted with me.

If I didn’t bother you, my dad wouldn’t have been so ashamed of me.

Eddie Munson’s face had dropped stunned. So blankly, he just spoke, “Don’t fucking say another word, Y/N.” And maybe that had come out far harsher than anticipated, but he had indicated it with such love, he honestly didn’t care. Eddie Munson wasn’t going to tolerate another hateful word to be said about you. It was the reason Jason Carver still sported a faded yellow bruise on his cheek. It was the reason why he spent hours killing himself over the nasty words he once screamed at you. Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare be alive to hear you speak horribly about yourself. The men in your life had already terribly decided to do that to someone so far from deserving it. Including him. And processing the horrid regret of feeling appalled by his actions, he was going to be the first to understand that hearing these words come from yourself was going to hurt ten times worse. For him. But especially for you. The rage coursing through his body, he was desperately trying to handle it. But someone was hurting you. And Eddie Munson was fighting all restraints to not end up with a murder charge by the end of the night. “If you sit there and tell me straight to my face that he made you believe any of this was your fault, I’m killing him.”

You sat still, blanking your round eyes at him in disbelief. Though jarring, his words- his entire shift in demeanor had snapped some sense into you. Because you believed him. Everything he had just uttered came with a harsh truth. How Eddie had managed to speak the scariest words, yet so clearly convey his adoration for you was truly unbeknownst. To you. To anyone. But not to Eddie. No, because Eddie was beginning to understand his feelings for you were drilling deeper and deeper to the point where he’d jump to any matter to protect you. He would have done anything to go back in time and confess it to you the moment he first spoke to you. But it was too late. And now, all he could do was devote his life to you. Just like he said. It wasn’t a joke.

So, you whispered, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Do you believe that?” His eyes frantically scanned yours in search of certainty. “Because everything that's happened has been my fault, sweetheart. Not yours. And I need you to understand that. Do you?” His words were so firm, it felt like a parent lecturing a child. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you that first day in the cafeteria. I shouldn’t have been an asshole the night you took my picture. I shouldn’t have crossed the line when it came to Jason. I shouldn’t have called you those disgusting names. And I shouldn’t have fucking scared you, and dumped all my bullshit problems onto you.” Eddie’s eyes were beginning to burn with a gloss coat of tears, but his face remained stoic, not wanting to deter you from the purpose of his words just because of his emotions. Because he knew you would. Eddie Munson knew you cared about him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m so fucking sorry every piece of shit person in this fucking town has blamed you for my mistakes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ed-”

“No. Don’t fucking make yourself believe that it’s okay.” He pleaded. “It’s not. None of it is. I know you’re happy that I’m getting help, I am, too, but if there’s any part of you that still hates me, then hate me, Y/N. That’s okay. It’s okay to be fucking angry and sad about everything me and everyone else put you through. You don’t have to be this selfless person who excuses everything that’s ever been done to you for the sake of normalcy, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do that to yourself. Be mad at me. Be mad at your shit excuse of a father. Be mad at fucking everybody. You deserve to have your feelings heard. And if your dad isn’t going to be the fucking one to do, I will. I swear I will, princess.” He swore with all urgency. “But only if you want me to.” Eddie huffed, as he longed into your sorrowful eyes, and cemented his proposition. “You’re going to sit here and tell me if you want me to make it up to you. I don’t care if we’ve already been on a date, none of that matters, except how you truly feel. It’s your choice. You get to decide. You choose.”

Eddie Munson had laid out his cards. For once, the decisions of your life were in your hands. Not your father’s. Not anyone’s, but yours. And maybe that was the entire reason as to why you took Hellfire’s picture in the first place. Everyone had made their decisions about Eddie Munson and his friends. Exclusion. Ostracism. Rejection. Everything had been chosen for them. Eddie Munson’s life and character had already been set in stone by the people of Hawkins, Indiana. And you had recognized it when Principal Higgins made his decisions. So you took back that power. You disobeyed the expectations of a small-minded town that bred conservatism and conformity. You made your choice. You took his picture. You did what was right. Everything that has happened has been a result of you making your own choices. No one likes when a teenage girl is capable of breaking the decisions that have been set for her. Because that makes her a powerful woman.

That makes her you.

So you made your decision. Firmly. “I want you to make it up to me.”

And Eddie Munson accepted it. “I will.” He so effortlessly agreed. “Now, c’mere.”

Eddie had taken a hold of your legs, and moved them around his waist, where your body crumbled into his lap, arms holding on for dear life around his neck. He moved until his back uncomfortably hit the frameless wall, where lumpy pillows only gave him support, but Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare to move. This was him listening. A large hand splayed across the canvas of your back to sooth, and another keeping your head secured in the solace of his neck. This was him making it up to you. Because though you weren’t speaking, your cries were articulating the anger you bottled. “I hate him. I hate him” You choked.

This was your power. And Eddie Munson was accepting it with loving arms.

Nineteen Hours Prior

You’d been laughing for nearly three hours.

Eddie Munson’s bottom was beginning to feel the numbing sensation of his ass giving out for having been sat for too long. But he couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to. Not when you were uncontrollably laughing at the stupid jokes he made, because he was bringing joy to your life. And it was a real laugh. Not a cute one that would be gently let out for fear of being judged for having experienced pure happiness. No, you were being loud. And sincere. And Eddie Munson loved hearing it.

“That’s so not fair.” You whined finishing the last bit of cheese fries that stained the lined parchment paper with grease within the basket of stray fries—all too small and soggy to be enjoyed. And there was no dust. “You can’t just casually mention you turn up this place with your five fans cheering you on.”

Eddie had, of course, playfully exaggerated the weekly experience. When asked about Corroded Coffin, he had put on his bravado act, one like the most famous rockstars do during interviews in Hollywood, and braggingly told you how crazy the local five drunks act upon their arrival. “I mean, I’m a total smokeshow, babe, can you blame ‘em? Autographs, pictures, I even have groupies lining up at our tour bus.” Eddie Munson loved making you laugh.

“What do you mean I can’t mention it, you’re the one that asked about it?” He crooned, as he took a large gulp of the water he ordered after he downed the beer you had discovered to hate.

‘Well, yeah, but you’re just rubbing it in my face.” You laughed. “I’m bound to my room, I’ll never get a chance to see the Corroded Coffin live. I wanna be the sixth drunk to come watch you perform- well, with my soda that is.”

God, you were too fucking cute. “Don’t worry, baby, I got my sweetheart back home, I’ll bust her out one day for a personal live show from yours truly. She’ll love you.”

“Mh, feel like I’m meeting the parents.”

Eddie’s face scrunched with a wince. “You don’t wanna meet my parents, babe.” He chuckled. “Everything that’s wrong with me is because of them.” Sometimes if he laughed about it, he’d forget how much the truth hurt. “But, uh, Ms. K, said I shouldn’t think like that- think that I’m like them, y’know?”

You nod your head to affirm him. It’s true. Eddie’s not like them. Even if you’ll never meet them. You know he’s not like them. “Do you believe that?” You quietly asked.

The tone of the night has shifted. “Tryin’ to.” He concisely answered. “I mean, every time I looked in the mirror all I saw was my old man, been thinkin’ I was like him for the last ten years of my life, so it’s not easy to just forget it, but I’m workin’ on it.” There was a small lingering smile on his lips by the end of the sentence. He was proud. Proud of himself. You could tell.

“That’s good, Eddie.” You softly spoke with a caring smile to let it cement that you, too, were proud of the person Eddie Munson was becoming. “I also feel like I’m like my dad- well, actually I kinda just know I am.”

Eddie didn’t speak for a second. His hand had managed to sneak under your stool, where he had taken a hold of your cushioned seat—torn with its years of usage—and pulled you close until the legs of your chair screeched their way against sticky wood tiles that covered the floor and finally hit his chair with a clank. You were close. “I don’t know if you’re aware, sweetheart, but you’ve never chased me out of your house with murder on your mind.” And luckily his comment was lighthearted enough to keep you at ease with your underlying feelings, providing you laughter where you would usually cry. “I don’t think you’re like your dad, honey. Not even in the slightest bit.” He whispered closely to your face.

And surely, a smile was on your face. Not because this was a topic you loved to rave about, but for the mere fact that you wanted to tell Eddie. You felt comfortable- safe with Eddie. You wanted him to know your secrets, one you hadn’t even told Chrissy Cunningham. “I have a little brother.”

In retrospect, it had been an odd thing to simply blurt out in the midst of a semi-serious conversation, so you didn’t find blame in Eddie when he squinted at you with confusion. But out of respect to you, and with no judgment ahead, he chose to follow suit. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you did.”

“I didn’t either, until about two years ago when my cousin, Cassidy, told me.” You admitted, a tight lip smile being the only readable tell to your face. And with a heavy sigh puffing out of your cheeks, you had continued. “She, uh, she said his name is Levi, which I thought was pretty cute. And then eight months ago, my cousin also told me that my mom just had twin girls. Jasmine and Maddy. I know their names, but I don’t think they know mine.” Comprehension was quick on Eddie’s part, as it didn’t take a rocket scientist to dissect your words. Your mother had abandoned you. Started another family. “I’ve always felt like I was too much like my dad- too much of a perfectionist, too focused on work, that I just reminded her of him. It was probably why she didn’t bother coming back for me.”

And Eddie heard it. The small crack in your voice when you finished speaking. You were stopping yourself from explaining any further, because the thrush of abandonment was crashing into you at full speed, and you didn’t want to cry on your first date with Eddie. It was why you took the last sip of your drink as a distraction. It was why your eyes averted away from his gentle gaze and willed all strength to focus on the American flag that was nailed onto the wall above the bar, so your eyes could be strong enough not to bawl.

But then you felt the warm metal of Eddie Munson’s rings touch the skin of your knee, before the rest of his hand followed soon after to hold a tight grasp of your body. Of course, you looked back at him. How could you not? “Y’know, you’re pretty fucking incredible, Y/N?” He spoke with a profound smile to his face that personified all his adoration for you. “You’re quite literally the smartest person I know, and I know Henderson, sweetheart- but don’t tell that little shit I think highly of him, it’ll get to his already big head.” Eddie smiled, as he watched your frown develop into a giggle he could listen to forever. “And you’re so fucking nice. Like the sweetest thing on this planet. Got such a kind heart, taking that photo of my club, putting us in the yearbook, having the patience for everyone, and…” His eyes burned into yours, as his heavy hand squeezed your knee, “…giving me a second chance when I sure as hell don’t deserve one. Don’t waste your time wallowing on the idea that you could be him. You’re not, sweetheart. And you know it. I was dumb enough to start acting like my old man, but luckily a pretty, little thing whipped me right into shape.” Your blood had circulated to your cheeks, and he could definitively see the effect his words had on you. He was grinning ear to ear. God, how you hated Eddie Munson. “And because of her, I’m not rotting in a jail cell like he is. And I sure as hell won’t be, either. You’ve got too much kindness in your heart, you’re nothing like you dad, baby. Just because you came from him, doesn’t mean you are him. And you’re much smarter than me, sweetheart, so I’m sure that beautiful brain of yours will figure it out faster than I did. You are nothing like your dad, Y/N.”

And you accepted his words with certainty, letting them play on your mind as a reminder that Eddie Munson didn’t see you as everyone else did. There was a time he did, but he’s learned. You’re far greater than the expectation placed upon you by everyone else. You were spectacular in the eyes of Eddie Munson.

“Eddie,” his name lingered on your tongue for a bit, “um, your dad’s in jail?”

Eddie nodded. And then, he told you everything.

On the night of January 1st, a mere hour into the new year of 1976, the Munson family had spent their holidays in the cold, sterile atmosphere of Hawkins General Hospital. Eddie Munson, innocent to it all, was supposed to hit double digits that year. Exciting, it was all he could rave about on the way to Aunt Shirley’s house. Something in Eddie Munson’s tiny mind had proffered the idea that turning ten meant he was a man. Someone who was strong, and could grow muscles overnight, and used their strength to fight. A real man. Fight like his daddy… fight his daddy. He was ready for it. But the older Munson, as it typically occurred, had fallen under the influence after he stationed himself amongst the other men of the family around a cooler of beer that was empty by the time the clock struck twelve. Eddie’s mother had been insistent on driving. But when she asked for the keys, his father had made a big show of how a woman oughta learn to stay in her place, and humiliated enough, she didn’t try again. No one stopped him. No one said anything. Then the arguing began in the car. Icy roads and intoxication was a death sentence that the Munson family would learn devastatingly quickly. Eddie remembered nothing of that night except for the last scene that played in his head: his tiny soon-to-be-man hands gripping tightly the worn seat belt, with fear wracking through his small body, as daddy was swerving into the wrong lane. But it was the stop sign that changed everything. Passed with no regards, a pick-up truck had collided into the passenger side. His mother’s side. It was five hours later when Eddie Munson had woken up with a gentle tap on his shoulder. “You okay, boy?”

Uncle Wayne. “Where’s mom?”

At the very least, it was quick. Pronounced on scene. The agony of her life wouldn’t have to continue any longer. “She said you could have a couple sleepovers at mine. How’s that sound?”

Arriving at 10:43 p.m, Eddie Munson hadn’t anticipated keeping you around until 1:30 in the morning. But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Laughing about the miniscule things in life, sharing interests that drastically revealed how different you were—he was dark, you were light—and confiding about the scariness of childhood that should have been happiness, like little children sharing secrets on the playground. Much to Eddie’s dismay, you began organizing the table, stacking cups with bits of residing beer, soda, and water; stealing napkins to dust off crumbs and soak up water rings; and finishing it off with throwing the numerous balls of paper into the empty basket of what was cheese fries. You were ready to go. And Eddie couldn’t blame you. You had just cheered through an entire basketball game, he should have considered the exhaustion you were fighting against just to see him. But you’re not entirely done with your moment with Eddie. It’s not likely you’ll have another one given your circumstance.

Standing from your seat, you secured his jacket around you. “Ready to go to your place?”

You always found it amusing how your words could make his eyes bulge, just as they’re doing right now. This may have been Eddie’s first rodeo into the world of first dates, but he wasn’t oblivious to the actions that occurred after the date. In fact, he may have even rented a couple “movies” that followed the same plotline. And they always seemed to end the same way.

“W-what? Uh- I, um, what?”

“Your place.” You reiterated with a teasing smile. “That’s where you said your sweetheart currently is, and well, I’m pretty sure I was promised a personal live show.

“O-oh, right.” He swallowed thickly. Eddie Munson felt like an ass for having his blood begin to circulate to a particular area of his body, when all you wanted was to hear him play. But also, could you blame him? He didn’t know what he was doing. “Um, you wanna hear me play?”

“Of course!” You beamed brightly. “Like I said, Eddie, there’s a lock outside of my bedroom door bounding me to my room. By the time I leave, you’ll probably be off giving actual autographs, and taking photos, with a long line of groupies waiting for you. You’ll forget about me then. And I want my show now.”

You were insane. Eddie Munson could never forget about you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. You were burned into his mind for life. Just like he wanted.

Eddie wouldn’t know it unless he asked, but his assumption landed on the fixation that this was probably the first time you’d ever cruised down Mulberry Street to get to Forest Hills Trailer Park. I mean, genuinely, what reason would someone like you ever have coming down to this side of town? But Eddie stopped himself. He shouldn’t think like that. Still, the fear of judgment plagued his mind, as he anxiously took numerous glances to see your face- see your reaction. Because driving down Mulberry Street, there were no meticulously planted trees of uniform formation, but rather invasive species of plants and weeds that suffocated the dark woods. Where a sophisticated sign—lined with an array of beautiful rose bushes, and a bright light that spotlighted the fancy lettering of Pinecrest Acres—named your neighborhood, Forest Hills got nothing, only accounting for rusted trailers and dirt roads that the townspeople would use as an indicator for where you ranked in reputation. Apparently to the civilians of Hawkins, Indiana, poverty shunned you away from the title of an All American Perfect Community.

But everytime Eddie had briefly gazed at your face, he was met with a small smile of bubbling excitement to the point where your teeth had sunk into your reddening lip for the majority of the car ride over. You seemed too occupied trying to find the perfect rhythm to head bop to the songs Eddie had chosen for the departure from the Hideout—especially after the whole Bowie debacle—to focus on the evident income gap between the two of you. Or, you simply did not care. Either way, Eddie liked both options. And truthfully, you were having a hard time head bopping to the blaring voices of Iron Maiden. One day, Eddie Munson would teach you how to properly head bang, and you would complain of getting a headache, but for now, you were simply arriving at his humble home for what would be the first of many times.

Eddie had huffed out a lung to reach your door before you could. Actually, you saw him ferociously sprinting, and slowed your movements for his awaited opportunity. And you’re glad you did. Because when Eddie opened the door for you, he met you with a beaming smile of proudness for his gentlemanly actions. “M’lady.” He offered his ringed hand. “This is my, uh, castle.” He showcased his trailer with a sarcastic chortle of amusement to the reality that his home was far from a castle, and surely you could see that in the flickering blue light of the wooden lamppost.

“Thank you for bringing me, kind sir.” No grimace. No scowl. No look of disgust. You genuinely did not care for the elephant in the room.

Of course, you wouldn’t. Eddie knows the kind of person you are.

The creaking screen door was held open by the expanse of Eddie’s back, as he worked the house key of his crowded keychain into the doorknob of the front door. And upon the first step inside, you were inundated by the warmth of a cozy home, the snug smells of carpet and blankets infused by the obvious smell of lingering cigarettes, and glowing by golden lights of shaded table lamps. Had you spoken about it, Eddie Munson would have learned you envied his home. Because that’s what it felt like. A home. One where you could tell he had a lot of laughs over meals with the closest he cared for. Your house was like a museum. It’d been three years since you and your father ate at the dinner table together. And it was cold. He liked it cold. You were yelled at for touching the thermostat in search of warmth in an empty house.

“Sorry, uh, maid took off.” He made a quick round disposing of the trash that decorated countertops.

“Do you live alone, Eddie?”

“Uh, nah, my Uncle Wayne, remember I told you about him? It’s his place. But he works night shifts at the plant, so, yeah.” He smiled, standing by the trash can with his hands at his hips, watching your eyes circle around living space. Again, no judgment in sight.

“You guys have a lot of mugs.” You giggled, taking a minor step forward to peer at the array of colorful ceramics displayed by the handles with proudness.

“Yeah, Wayne used to hit the interstates as a trucker, had a thing for hats and mugs. Used to take the piss out of him by just getting him more.” Eddie chuckles. “But then he started expecting them, so now the old man’s got a lifetime supply comin’.”

Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “Which is his favorite? Yours?”

Eddie’s heart warmed at the question. “I gotta Garfield cup. He’s got an Odie one.” You wanted to learn about his uncle’s favorite. Eddie would one day eventually tell you over breakfast that he actually hates the taste of coffee, but doesn’t start his day without a cup full of that Garfield mug. Something about drinking coffee made him feel like an actual adult. Granted, he was still consuming it out of a cartoon character mug, but the irony is what made Eddie Munson so special. Because he still hadn’t catched on, and asked why that was so funny. A grown man wanting to feel like an adult by drinking coffee out of a Garfield mug.

“Aw, like the bobblehead in your car! You guys must really like Garfield.” God, you remembered.

“It’s the one thing I would watch when I first moved in with him.” Eddie laughed at the memories. A lazy cat who was enthused about hot lasagna was wonderfully able to ease the pain of his life circumstances. Of course, Uncle Wayne would continue to put it on.

You slowly walked up to Eddie with an endearing smile. “That’s really cute. I’m glad your uncle is a good guy.” Not a lot of people were in either of your lives. It was an unfortunate thing to be grateful for. But you were. And so was he.

“He is.” Eddie nodded with a gentle smile. “Gave up his room for me.” He jerked his head to signal down the hall.

And gave him that sweet giggle that melted his worries away. “Is that an invitation?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He ardently agreed, as his hand entwined with yours and led you to his bedroom.

And if Eddie Munson could be objectified as an element of interior design, his room would be the most fitting aesthetic for the Munson persona he loved to flaunt around. Though, if you ever told him that, he’d just laugh and say it was a standard metalhead’s room. But you liked the way you thought of it. How every poster—the ones you would admit were kinda scary, and he’d tease you about it—or clutter of amps and wires amongst the heaps of dirty or clean clothes were personalized to Eddie Munson and unique to his taste, even if it was typical in company with the scene he followed.

And then you saw it. “Ooh!”

“Wait! Don’t touch her- it.”

Fingers mid air, you stopped and turned around to face Eddie, who stood with a cringed face that was heavily targeted at himself. “Her?” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Eddie caught up to where you stood in front of his desk, taking the hand you were about to use to touch his precious guitar, and holding it firmly within his grasp. “No one touches the guitar unless it’s me- or unless you’re worthy.” He declared.

“Worthy? Who are you, Thor?” You teased right in his face, that had him scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“No.” Eddie childishly snided in your face. “It’s just that- wait, you read Marvel Comics?” His head tilted back, face churning with suspicion, as he eyed you.

Now, it was your turn to snide at him, “No.”

Eddie laughed in your face unabashedly. “Oh, you so totally do, sweetheart.” He giggled. “Nerd.”

“Oh, whatever.” You crossed your arms with sass. “It was a long time ago, and they were my dad’s collection. It’s not like I roleplay practicing alchemy with my little gaggle of friends.”

Eddie Munson winced for you. “At least I have friends.” Your mouth dropped in disbelief, and Eddie guffawed loudly in your face. He was kinda right. But he was also kinda the reason why you lost them in the first place.

Though, you had to hand it to him, you walked right into that one. “You are mean, Eddie Munson!” You joined in on his laughter. “So, so mean. I-” You stopped mid sentence, well, actually it was the faint thud you heard outside that stopped you mid sentence. A thud? Slam? Pound? You don’t know, but you heard it.

“What?” Eddie questioned your sudden confusion.

“You didn’t hear that?” You hit him back. “The noise outside?”

“There’s lots of noise outside. It’s outside, babe.” He could only giggle at the incredulous look you threw him. “Probably just the neighbors, or Cronkers. It’s night, gets her zoomies n’ all.” But before the question of who Cronkers was could leave your mouth, the front door to Eddie Munson’s trailer pushed open, and that, you both surely heard. Eddie’s head snapped to the door of the bedroom, concealing either of you from the incoming sound of the living room. Eddie had surely made a hand signal to stay, but as if you would, you blatantly ignored his unspoken declaration, and followed right behind, fitting your hand within his with a tight grip. “Hold on, sweetheart.” He quietly whispered, as opened his bedroom door and entered the long hallway of the trailer.

“Ed, how many times do I have to tell ya to fix those damn hinges-” Wayne Munson had stopped.

You and Eddie Munson had stopped. Hand in hand. In the kitchen. Fully seen.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie hadn’t meant for it to sound so disrespectful.

“Last I checked, it’s my house.” Wayne huffed back, watching his nephew nod his head in an apology. “What are you doin’, son?” And though the simple question had been directed at Eddie, Wayne Munson’s eyes had fallen on you. Standing shyly behind Eddie, his hand in yours.

“I, um- after my campaign, I just went on, uh- Wayne, this is Y/N.” Eddie simply cut straight to the point. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Wayne Munson had surely remembered that name. “The girl that nearly got you arrested?”

Your eyes had doubled in size. “What?”

“No!” Eddie immediately blurted out upon seeing your worried face. “No, you didn’t, I promise.” He directed to you before turning to Wayne. “She didn’t, none of that was her fault. That was all Jason’s bullshit- and mine. Not hers, Wayne.”

A pregnant pause linger amongst the three of you. It was painfully awkward. Eddie watched Wayne watch you, while you couldn’t muster a stare back, merely peered at your dirty sneakers where your toes were uncomfortably tensing inside, thanking god you hadn’t chosen the heels you proffered to Chrissy Cunningham.

“So, uh,” Wayne had cleared his throat, “what are you two doing at this hour? Did I, uh, interrupt-”

“No, sir.” You interjected politely. Your hands had worked fast to peel off Eddie’s jacket, as it somehow felt incriminating, feeling as though it could have possibly alluded to anything inappropriate. It hadn’t in Wayne’s eyes, though as precautionary measures, you still shoved it back into Eddie’s hands.

“Look, Wayne, um, why are you home so early?” Eddie managed to ask.

“Well, some incident at the plant occurred, just sent us all home until it cleared up.” Wayne shrugged off his work coat to hang along the rack of hooks by the door. The older gentleman had sauntered his way into the kitchen, standing directly in front you. “It’s awfully late, hon, you eat anything, yet?”

“Um-”

“We ate at the Hideout.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing the attention of his uncle.

“Well, that surely ain’t food, is it?” He rhetorically asked, making himself chuckle with gruff, before turning back to you. “Ya like pancakes?”

“It’s two in the morning.” Eddie chided.

“I wasn’t askin’ you, boy.” Wayne tsked back. And like clockwork, he once again directed his attention to you, humming as a way to ask again.

“Yeah, um, I do, sir.” You meekly answered, attempting to conjure a nice smile that didn’t reveal how awkward you felt.

“Great, let’s have us some breakfast, then.”

Wayne Munson had lost his intimidation in a matter of ten minutes. Much amusement came about witnessing the atrocity that was Eddie Munson attempting to crack eggs without stray eggshells, then complaining about the icky sensation of gooey egg whites when the inevitable occurred, and he searched for shells within the unmixed batter. You and Uncle Wayne had stood back to watch it play out, whispering teasing comments about the boy, as though he couldn’t hear. He did. Then proceeded to complain about that. Then the toppings debacle came about, one that had you reeling with laughter, as you played along with Wayne. You said “maybe blueberries.” He suggested “a little cinnamon.” And in the background, Eddie’s small voice offered “chocolate chips.” But in the grand scheme of things, the joke came when poor Eddie was blatantly ignored for you and Uncle Wayne’s entertainment, so when you piqued “ooh, chocolate chips.” Wayne had smiled “that’s a great idea, you should come over more often.” Eddie’s mouth dropped to the floor with disbelief. But he loved it. Eddie Munson loved seeing you with his only family so much.

“You sure your folks won’t mind you being out this late?” Breakfast had been served in the early hour of 2:27 a.m, and the small kitchen table within their residence had been bombarded with a stack of pancakes with all the fixings.

“No, sir, they don’t mind.” You lied with a smile on your face, as Eddie watched you from across the table intently.

“Good.” Wayne stuffed himself with a bite. “I’m not lookin’ to have the police roundin’ us up.” He laughed. “‘Specially not when my boy’s almost graduatin’ this year.” And watched as Wayne smiled at Eddie, providing a firm pat to his shoulder that had his nephew feeling gratified.

“Y/N’s the real star.” Eddie pointed his fork at you. “Valedictorian and she’s finishing on her first try.” You giggled with a heated face from the sweet attention.

“Really?!” Wayne turned to you. “That’s incredible, darlin’, I’m real proud of ya!” That felt nice. Too nice, to the point where your heart had suddenly stopped for a brief second to recuperate. “Folks must be real proud, too, huh?” No. They weren’t. Your father nearly screamed at you to tears the day you were suspended because the daughter he raised was becoming a failure. And your mother never cared to stay long enough to learn of the fear you were enduring.

You could only extend a tight-lipped smile with a small nod, and Eddie’s face dropped seeing you seethe in the uncomfortableness of the reality of your life. Every passing minute that Wayne Munson spoke, your smile grew faker and faker, and Eddie watched it transform every time. But Eddie was helpless. Every diversion of conversation amounted to nothing, as the fact of the matter was that Wayne Munson was a good guy- a genuine one who shamelessly showed his support for nephew in every topic of conversation. Wayne cared for Eddie like a son. Wayne loved Eddie like a son. He showed it when he spoke. So clearly. And it cemented in you deeper that your father couldn’t bear to do the same with his own daughter.

Eddie couldn’t handle the pain behind your smiling eyes. He called it the second you took the last bite of your pancakes. It was the first time Eddie Munson hadn't finished a meal. His priorities too focused on you to satiate his appetit. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late, I wanna get her home, Wayne, she’s had a long day.” He’d politely interrupted his uncle's question of wanting more orange juice.

“Yeah, go on, and let her get some rest.” Wayne smiled at you, as you stood from the table. “I’ll take care of the dishes, hon, don’t worry.”

“Thank you for everything, sir.” You sincerely beamed back. “Really, I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Lovely meetin’ you, too, darlin’.” Wayne gathered the litter of plates and cups. “Hope to have you back soon.”

“Hopefully.” Hopefully.

You hadn’t even been able to process the breath of fresh air you inhaled from the humid outdoors before Eddie began rushing out his apologies.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, was that too much?” He rushed. “I swear I didn’t know he was coming back home early. And the conversation- if anything made you uncomfortable, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“No, Eddie, stop, don’t- don’t ever be sorry about that.” You smiled. A small one, but an authentic one. “I’m sorry that I worried you. You didn’t even get to finish your food.” Eddie sighed, shaking his head to refuse your apology that he felt was unnecessary. “The breakfast was nice- you guys were nice. I loved spending the day with you and your uncle. It made me really happy, Eddie.”

“Really?” He came out so strained with disbelief. But your fervent nod cleared all his worries. You loved it just as much as he did.

“Your uncle is really kind.” You smiled. “I’m happy you have someone like him, Eddie.” Before he could respond, you took it upon yourself to throw Eddie into a secure hug that had him immediately snaking his arms around your waist tightly. “This has been the greatest night ever. Thank you for letting me learn about you.” Your lips brushed his ears in quiet whispers.

Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling a sweet smell of your perfume, enclosing his arms stronger.

Eddie Munson had just gone on his first date.

“Sweetheart?”

Just as it occurred last Tuesday, when Eddie Munson had gone into his drunken hysterics of guilt about who he was as a person, where you once cradled him into a peaceful sleep to mitigate the pain of realizing who he had become, Eddie Munson was now doing for you. Your eyes had given up when stinging tears finally put them to rest in the comfort of Eddie’s neck. Your breath was steady. Where your lips gently grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, Eddie turned to softly place a delicate kiss to your hot temple. You were finally getting your rest. A sense of what stability could be like. With Eddie Munson.

“Honey?” It was quiet as a mouse in Eddie’s room, the only sound to be accounted for was the whirring of the air conditioner that was working overtime. It would surely break by the end of the week.

In truth, Eddie was hungry. You would probably complain of hunger, too, had you been awake. Dinner had been long forgotten. But even if the rumble of his tummy did place some discomfort, Eddie didn’t want to move. But what he did do was ever so slightly shimmy his body down his sheeted bed, until his back was finally within comfort, aligned to the mattress, and Eddie simply rested. With you clinging to his body like a lost child, Eddie laid back, and closed his eyes with rest. His hand had mindlessly found its way beneath his shirt that you wore, letting his fingertips graze upon your back with dainty touches that had you stirring against him.

“Shh, baby, just go to sleep.” He whispered against your ear. “So proud of you for getting it all out.” His hushed voice felt like tiny kisses against your warm skin. “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. Don’t ever think that you’re not.”

Wavering between the boundaries of sleep and awake, you could hear Eddie loud and clear. Failure, the feeling that consumed you and sent you spiraling had all been wrong. All of it. You weren’t a failure for experiencing the inevitable setbacks of life. Though it may not be the explicit goal, one of the best accomplishments can be as simple as refining naivety. It was okay to profess. You’d become fixated on the achievement of results, that you blinded yourself to the repercussions of a grand high, believing it to be the end goal. Just like the great pioneers of science, physicists to biologists, the ones whose intelligence you aspiringly admired, they knew to recognize the failures of a hypothesis as discovery not a mishap. Because learning what didn’t work for yourself was a profound revelation of merit. Indulging yourself into a state of purgatory—eating three meals, decluttering your room, working your body to a purifying sweat—was great, and an admirable start, because it may have worked for the moment, but not in the long run. And you were learning it the hard way. But that was okay.

That night, Eddie Munson wrapped a soft blanket around your clinging bodies, and for once, a restful night of sleep was casted upon you two, because two hearts of lonely children were experiencing the strength of love and recovery, and you two were healing.

Two Hours Prior

It was the turning of locks and an abrasive single knock to your door that you had become accustomed to for the past week that told you dinner was here. It had also been the only form of communication your father ever cared to give you now-a-days. On either ends of the kitchen island, you both stand. You watch him intently, and like usual, he’s in a rush to leave, pulling styrofoam plates of hefty take-out from wet plastic bags of condensation. The question’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe for once, things can change. Things can be like Eddie and Wayne.

“Hey, um, dad?” Not a word of acknowledgement. He didn’t even look at you. “D-Do you, uh, maybe want to eat together? Like, at the table?” That. That was all you were asking for. “Please?”

It was supposed to be simple. All you wanted was simple. Your father slammed his plastic utensils to the counter. “Do you really think someone like you deserves that?” Your face dropped.

“I-I just wanted to have dinner with y-”

“After everything you put our name through, you think I’d want to have dinner with you?” It was supposed to be simple. “I’ve got men in my office, their kids who go to school with you, asking me what kind of nutcase I’m raising. Do you know what they think of you? What they think of me?! How you’ve ruined our reputation in this town?! Are you that inconsiderate?!” Your tears started welling. It was supposed to be simple. “Do you not realize how humiliating it is having a daughter like you?! I’ve done everything to give all that you need in life, and this is how you repay me-”

“You left me, dad!”

The tense atmosphere fell silent with nothing but huffing breaths.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Left. Me.” This it was. You were saying it. You were going to say everything. “I- Being around you s-scares me, because it feels like you don’t care- I know you don’t care. You don’t care about me, dad.” Maybe it was something you’ve known all along, but simply refused to accept it. Downplaying the emotional hurt, because others had it worse. Who were you to complain? And your father even spoke it. Titling himself Father of the Year for never laying a hand on you. Some dads did that. But he was the villain for wanting what’s best for you. For the family. He was disgusted with you. “I-I just want you to care! Why? Why don’t you care about me?”

“I never left!” He heaved. “Your mother is the one that left us- gave up on us! Not me! I stayed when I didn’t have to! Don’t tell me that I don’t care when I fucking stayed!”

“You were never there, dad!” You cried. Anger, you wanted to be angry, show him how angry you were, but you were crying like a child, reflecting the one that had been abandoned for years. “When mom left, so did you! You were never here for me! You’re fucking gone to me, dad.” You whimpered the last words out, immediately hiding behind the comfort of your hot hands, as burning tears smeared against your face.

“Don’t-” Your father scoffed with disbelief. He turned away, because facing the reality of neglectful actions would have put him at fault. Something he did wrong. He couldn’t be wrong. He just couldn’t. But his daughter was pleading with tears in her eyes, that poured out years of hurt by the hands of everyone. By the hands of him. So, of course, he couldn’t look at you. Not when his face began to strain with stress to control the stinging of his eyes. “I- You don’t know how much I gave up to give you everything! Everything I do is for you!”

“Locking me in my room was for me?! Never congratulating me for anything was for me?! Forgetting my birthday every year was for me?! Stop- I- you know, dad. You know that you were never here.” Your voice constricted with the agony of loss. “Y-You’re supposed to be here. For me. And I just want to tell you things, I want to tell you everything, but-but I can’t because I know you don’t care. And I just want you to. Even if it’s just a little, please, dad, please just care about me.” Everything had become horrifically pathetic. The desperation. The yearning. You hated the way you sounded. But it was how you truly felt. “I just want you to be okay. I just want you to get help- help me get help, so we can be okay together.”

Had your eyes given you a second of peace from the blurring pricks, you would have seen it. The slightest sight of a quivering chin from your father that could have maybe- just maybe given you the infinitesimal chance of hope for the best. Because it showed that he felt something. Even if it was minute to the onslaught of your escaping feelings, at the very least, it was something. Something to show that he might care. Deep down. Just might.

But then he spoke. So calmly. So earnestly. And it made you want to vomit from the sickening impalement. “I was perfectly okay until you became my problem.” You were no longer a person to him. He cleared his throat, his reddening eyes penetrating you with the utmost frightening look of disconnection. He was gone. “I hope someday you realize your mother didn’t just leave me, she left you, too. And she didn’t care to come back, Y/N. Not even for you. So, go ahead and yell about how I don’t care, when she clearly didn’t care about you, either. Make me out to be the bad guy, Y/N. But when you do, I want you to stop and think for a second about how much of a problem you were to make her leave. But I fucking stayed.” That was the irreconcilable wound that burned into your skin. Changed everything forever. “If you think you have it so bad with me, leave. Nothing’s stopping you. In fact, I want you to. Let’s see how willing mommy is to open up her arms for you. Just don’t come back when she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t care.”

Your father was thirty-four when your mother left. A decade later, his daughter was taking the same steps through the front door. The slam of the heavy door finally ignited the single tear to stream down his face, before his fingers swiped away the vulnerability. Perhaps somewhere in the back of your mind, your dad had long died, alongside the dream of amends. And maybe you had known it all along, but refused to accept the ugliness of it all. But you didn’t regret it. You couldn’t find yourself too. Though, you couldn’t believe you finally said. Everything. You hated him. You hated everything about him. As each thought cemented, your legs took you closer to him. Eddie. Without thought. Without warning. Your mind knew where to take you. Your body trusted to follow. Because just as you saw him once, you knew he could see you.

It was why his gentle words opened the busted seams of your heart, “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?” It was why his arms held no hesitation to bring you to him. It was why he provided you the necessities to be comfortable. It was why he was making it up to you.

It was why you woke up in the arms of Eddie Munson that Sunday morning. Because Eddie Munson saw you.

You hadn’t blinked for three minutes.

The stained linoleum of the kitchen floor were all your eyes could focus on, as the morning sun attempted to bleed through the curtained windows of the hot trailer. You had sat so stiff in the wooden chair. Where you once nearly choked on the tooth-achingly sweet bite of pancakes from a comforted laugh, you had now been stuck quiet in the depths of loneliness, attempting to find the right words to say.

Eddie’s eyes had bleared open, despite the resistance of dryness, when his hand had clutched around air. Heavy hand patting around, all that caressed his palms were the wrinkles of his sheets, now cold where the warmth of your body had now rested. Eddie had felt gross to admit it given the circumstances, but it felt nice- so fucking nice to hold you so dearly. To have his nose be invaded by the smell of you. To have his hands squeeze the curves of your body for comfort. To have your breath fan him with warmth even if it was boiling outside. Eddie would gladly burn to death if it was at the hands of your calm breathing, so steady and tranquil, so angelic and beautiful.

Rushing out of the containment of his strewn blankets, his knees had popped with the abrasive movements as his feet steadied themselves among the scratchy frills of the lining carpet. Had he given himself a second to ease the tiredness of his body, Eddie Munson would have had an alert mind, and wouldn’t have startled you with the deafening creaking of his bedroom swinging open. But he did, and he would soon apologize. But not before he showered you with the needed support for the conversation you were carrying.

Phone tightened in the small grasp of your hand, you locked eyes with Eddie from down the hall. And he heard you speak, so soft and frail, closely into the receiver. “Something bad happened, Chrissy.” Eddie rushed to your side, once your face contorted to the pained scrunch that killed his soul to witness. Had you looked at the ticking clock on the wall, you would have known time was breaching seven in the morning. Chrissy Cunningham’s voice sounded so groggy with fatigue. You felt even more awful. But Eddie’s hand had landed on the small of your back, his rough finger maneuvering gently against your tense body to mollify the ache of tensity. You stared at him with big eyes, as you spoke weakly into the phone. “I can’t go home, something bad will-” Your breath hitched. “I just- can I please stay with you for a little bit, Chris, I’m so sorry.”

Eddie had pulled you in until your head landed peacefully against his chest. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispered against your head.

When Chrissy Cunningham had her first argument with Jason Carver, she was spending the night at his house, when she suddenly turned up at your doorstep. It was trivial. Teenagers arguing over the discomfort of one’s lab partner being of the opposite sex. Despite its inconsequentiality, Chrissy had wanted to cut her sleepover short after the petty bickering. You had let her take up the other half of your bed for the entirety of the Memorial Day weekend with no complaints. Chrissy Cunningham would be damned to not provide you the same safety. Of course, she said yes. No questions asked. When the last goodbye was spoken, you’d lazily dropped the phone back onto the hook, before collapsing into Eddie’s tight embrace for security.

“Let me make you some breakfast.” He pulled back to see your face. “Wayne should be home soon. I’m sure he’d like to have breakfast with you again. Couldn’t stop ravin’ about you last time.” But the short chortle that fell out of Eddie’s lips was short lived, as you suddenly began shaking your head in refusal.

“No, I don’t want him to see me, Eddie. Not like this.” You sighed. “I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t want to be a problem. This is twice in a row that I’ve been here without his-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His hands drew down the length of your arms. “Relax, sweetheart, you’re not a problem, I promise. It’s my place, too. I want you here, Y/N.” Your heart could barely handle the words Eddie spoke, how much they contradicted the torment your father instilled. “Let’s just sit for a minute, yeah?”

“I-I can’t, I have to get my stuff, I need to head over to Chrissy’s, I still have so much work to catch up for school, I can’t- Eddie, I can’t.” Your hands pulled around the skin of your forehead, believing it to be the only remedy to ease the aching throb of your head.

“Okay, stop, honey, you’re going to drive yourself insane thinking like that.” His fingers took a firm hold of your wrist to pull them away from your harsh touch. “I know it’s a lot, baby, and I’m so sorry for this bullshit that’s being thrown at you, but please just take a second to breathe. We’ll figure this out, I promise. Just one thing at a time, we’ll take it one thing at a time.” You nodded your head with a heavy exhale to regulate the needed alleviation throughout your body. “I’ll take you to grab everything you need, I can drop you off at Chris’, and you’ll eat there- promise me you will, because you haven’t eaten anything in a while Y/N, and once you finally rest, you can catch up on a bit of work. I’m sure Chrissy will like to help. And I promise, Y/N, I’ll be home, near this damn phone, so if you call, I’ll be here to talk to you. For anything you need, I’ll be here.”

Eddie Munson’s designation brought you to quiet tears. How could you ever see yourself as a problem, when Eddie Munson wanted to be there for you?

Begrudgingly, you’d lost the comfort of Eddie’s pajamas when you retrieved your folded clothes from the washing machine, having to be tainted by the outfit that reminded you of the haunting memories of last night. Eddie hadn’t realized the severity of you truly wanting to leave his house before his uncle arrived, until he trudged out of the bathroom with decent clothes, and found you nowhere, until he peeked outside to the foggy morning where you rested against his van within the mist. In all honesty, the humiliation of having to face someone as nice as his uncle was the only driving point to leave so urgently. Bombarding his home when nothing had even been concisely established between you and his nephew. That was another lingering issue that twisted your mind to mush. Surely the events following up to today had pushed you both beyond the heavy definition of a friendship, or maybe it hadn’t, and this was simply the newfound experience of gaining a friend who was genuine in comparison to the ones you once had.

“You ready to go?” His hand stationed upon your shoulder, where you turned to meet his sweet eyes that couldn’t keep away from your face. The ones that fluttered to every feature with precise dedication to each one; your eyes, your nose, your lips.

How could he ever be just a friend when he looked at you like that?

The ride over had been nothing but a palpitating heartbeat drumming in your ear, as the contents of your belly stirred rambunctiously. Eddie noticed it every time he looked over. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Lips mouthing the words like a command to be followed, as you stared at the passing landscape as a distraction to the fear bubbling inside. Eddie’s hand snaked over to yours, stealing your attention, as his fingers interlocked with yours to never be let go. He smiled at you, a reassuring one, one that dissipated the heat that was consuming your body to a suffocating degree. Eddie was here. Your empty driveway had been the first sight your eyes landed on. Dead. You thought he was dead to you. But a gnawing persistence of disappointment crashed over you when you saw he was gone. Just a little bit. Because maybe on the off chance of believing he could change, you would have seen your father’s car parked in the same position it once had been when you left, because who would genuinely go to work the next day after their only child left them for good? But that was the ego of a man. That was the reality of your father.

“Take all the time you need, or be as fast as you want.” Eddie squeezed your hand, as you stayed seated in his van. “Your choice, sweetheart, okay?”

You nodded your head surely.

The third stone to the left that lined the large bush of pink rhododendrons had housed the spare key to your house. Imprinted into the wet dirt, the key had embarked you into the coldness of your house, where Eddie followed closely behind. In the case of not being hounded with the threats of murder by your father, Eddie had taken the moment to really stare. Stare at the whiteness. The blandness. The minimal decorations. The large staircase. Uninventing as a house could be, Eddie felt unnerving about the thoughts of being stuck in such a lifeless place for years, proffering much needed appreciation to the cozy trailer he called home.

“I just, um, I’m only going to get clothes, and some important papers. I won’t be long.” Your fingers curled around the cracked door of your bedroom, still opened from when you stepped out to have dinner. Still opened from when you just wanted to be together. When it was supposed to be simple.

Your room looked different. Drastically different from the drunken eyes Eddie once scanned of your room. Gone were the miniscule details that defined the person you were. Eddie didn’t like it. At all. “Everything’s gone?” He hadn’t meant it to be perceived as a question, but the implications of confusion had taken over, and Eddie surely was looking for answers.

You were quiet with your speech. “I was just trying to get better.” Given you had reached within the depths of your closet to recover a beloved suitcase, Eddie hadn’t seen the pain of admission to your wrongdoing. Just like your father, the reality of acknowledging where you had gone wrong burned your throat as you spoke. But you weren’t like him. Just like Eddie wasn’t like his. And you were strong enough to recognize your wrongs. “But, um, I don’t think it was enough… to actually help.” You weren’t like him.

“You did something.” Eddie chimed in sincerely. “That’s more than most people do. You’re really fucking incredible to try something without having a shrink tell ya.” His finger circled to himself. And that’s what he wanted. A laugh, even if it was small, the corner of your lips were tugging to the sky. Even if he had to take a jab at himself.

“Ms. Kelly is not a shrink. She’s a counselor. Genuinely a vast difference.” And even if it was stated with a little sass, he’d take your rebutting comments with ease, because Eddie Munson truly loved it coming out of your mouth.

The offering of a hand had fervently been rejected by you, feeling as though you’ve sacrificed enough of Eddie’s time with the rampancy of your life. So, he sat back. With you by his side on the floor of your bedroom, Eddie quietly watched you fold items of clothes, each tailored to the style that suited you best. Shirts; small, large, short-sleeve, long-sleeve, of all patterns and colors. But you softly told him green was your favorite. And sweaters, my god, did it appear you love them most. While you ransacked your dresser, the very least Eddie insisted on was retrieving all that hung in your closet. Tight dresses, sun dresses. You’d briefly went on a tangent explaining how you loved the look of strapless ones, but the lack practicality really peeved you off. Eddie laughed when he heard you say peeve with all seriousness. And the shoes were the easiest. Sneakers, and, well, just mostly sneakers, they were the most important. Not very often will you find yourself sporting any form of stilettos while living at Hawkins. If those had to stay to be forgotten, it’d be okay. And ever the gentleman, Eddie noticed your hesitant approach to the last drawer, and quickly turned his head away to appear as if to be occupied by the minimalistic flower patterns of your wallpaper. Whether you realized his actions, or merely thought it was perfect timing, it didn’t matter, because Eddie Munson saved you the awkwardness, and you freely were able to stuff the last of your suitcase with the needed bras and underwear of your life.

A moment of quietness rested upon you, as Eddie momentarily left your house to follow the back and forth momentum of loading his van with your personal belongings. Books. You had a lot of books, special ones that once lined your bookcase with perfect clutter. Eddie had seen the small lingering smile etched to your face, as your finger traced the spines of novels, big and small. So hearing you disheartenedly admit donation or selling to be the best options stung his chest with a residing ache. He mumbled with a small smile. “You should keep ‘em, sweetheart. They belong with you. And when you get your own place, they’ll be the first thing I’ll help you put up.” Eddie Munson had a delicate way of evanescing the affliction of reality.

You had told him you’d be just a minute. And you had been. Sitting in the driver seat of his van, cool air blasting through the dusty vents of the AC, Eddie wondered what you did for that minute. Following the cliches of just about every coming of age movie where the main character leaves a childhood home, Eddie would have imagined you reminiscing through the various rooms you once stepped in throughout the stages of your life. But surely, that would take more than a minute. And you were out quickly. Because the reality of the matter was that you simply did not want to reminisce. Anything good of remembrance had been taken away from you by the tainted realization of what you meant to the people you cared about the most.

It was cold. It was blank. It was lifeless.

So, all you needed was a minute, and as promised, Eddie watched you close the door to leave that life behind. This was your beginning. Even if it wasn’t ideal, you wanted it- needed it. You let go of the deep breath that resided in your lungs the second your bottom met the cushioned seat of Eddie’s van. It was the first words he spoke, the only words he needed to say, “Are you okay?” You looked at Eddie solemnly. It was such a disgustingly polarizing question. One that had been haunting you for a lifetime. One that brought you to the precipice of collapse. One that felt as if you’d been driving yourself to delirium just to dissect.

A small smile appeared on your face, as you softly answered. “I will be.” And for once, you could be sure of that.

As a student of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham had been all too familiar with the rampant yells of metal music that emanated from the grumling car of Eddie Munson. The student parking lot had been no different than her neighborhood street. So, Chrissy emerged on cue. It didn’t take you two seconds to jump out of Eddie’s car the second he parked along the curb of Chrissy’s house. Pacing off her porch, Chrissy met you halfway down her driveway before you crashed into her arms. Your arms had smushed into the straight strands of her hair around her neck, as she secured you firmly in a hug. It became helpless to try to fight the bombarding tears, and they came quickly, sinking into the cashmere collar of her sweater. Not a word was said between the two of you, as she merely held you in a tight embrace that provided the comfort you needed to relinquish the torment of your home life. “I told my parents.” Chrissy mumbled into your body. “Of course, you can stay with us.”

A choked sob escaped your throat. It was acceptance.

Chrissy’s eyes opened to land on the man standing back. Leaning against his rustic van that was on its last leg, but he paid no mind, as long as it got you to the places you needed. To the places you’d be okay at. To the places you could run away and be together. Eddie’s heart lurched at the sight. Seeing you understand that you were cared for. No matter your parents, you had people. Even if it was just two. Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson loved you.

Shit, Eddie Munson genuinely, authentically, certainly, absolutely loves…

He swallowed the large lump in his throat. “Just hold her.” His lips mouthed, as Chrissy watched him. And she listened. Arms tightening around to safety.

Stability.

Monday. Following in the footsteps of the lazy, pessimistic cat that Eddie and his uncle loved, you were beginning to revel in the same sentiment of despising the first day of the school week. Sunday had you were drained of all emotions. You wished you could put blame on sore muscles after having to move your items into the spare bedroom, though Eddie took that away from you when he told you to sit down, and did the dirty work himself. And Chrissy, of course, did the due diligence of multitasking between the playing chef and best friend. French toast was fried and topped with syrup and powdered sugar with a side of strawberries, while providing a shoulder to cry on, because it dawned on you that you had never been taken care of like you had been during the mere twenty minutes of that particular Sunday morning than you had been during the last eighteen years of your life with your own parents.

The notion had solidified when all of that sunny Sunday, you received no call from a worried father about their gone daughter’s whereabouts, as one would expect. Nothing. Not even a knock at the doorstep just to make sure of your security. Absolutely nothing.

And surely, a tumultuous home life would be reason enough to garner someone a day off from school to prolong the chaotic weekend, but most weren’t returning from a suspension due to insubordination, so that Monday you were playing catch-up. Exhaustingly.

The myriad of conversations surrounding you within the main hall of Hawkins High was becoming discordant to your tired state. Your eyes blinked harshly to try to mitigate the drowsiness of the day. The clunking of your stubborn locker finally opening was enough to bring you just a sliver of energy to switch out a history textbook that truly looked the historical part for an agonizing book about calculus that was becoming your sworn enemy.

“You tired?”

Your eyes turned to lock with his brown ones you’d grown heavily fond of. Eddie had sported a sly smile that played into his bravado, as he leaned against the lockers next to you.

You winced at him. “Is it that obvious?”

“I woke up to your pretty, little, tired face yesterday morning, sweetheart. I’ve burned it into my mind forever. Of course, I’m going to notice.” Eddie liked that small shy face you pulled, attempting to hide your heated face away from his stare. But with your face peering away from him, you caught a glimpse of what reality was for you in school. Eddie followed your eyes to the sight that made your smile fall. Across the hall, Blake Decker had eyed you with a flagrant smirk after whispering to his buddy that if the freak could get you, so could he- the whole baseball team could. You were up for grabs. It was just a matter of who could score first. Three lockers down, Stevie Martinez had laughed at the question of how much substance the freak was supplying you after getting in your pants. Would enduring a little flirting with him get her a discount? He had to be desperate. And pointing at you from the water fountain was Carmen Mitchell, identifying you to her posse of youth group kids that were ready to snitch to Hawkins’ local pastor of someone needing Jesus. In a couple days, your father would be receiving advertising mail of encouragement to join the church. Luckily, you didn’t live there to countenance the proselytism from evangelical Christians. Eddie despondently sighed. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Your head snapped at his contemplative face. So somber, but a tight-lipped smile was attempting to cover it. So, you smiled at him. Dignified. “No.” You told him firmly. “I want you right here… with me.”

His teeth found his bottom lip, as his cheeks became flooded with blood that rosied his pale skin. “I, uh-” Your giggling did nothing to satisfy the coughing he had to conjure to compensate for his dry mouth. Because you… you were squeezing his heart without realizing the severity of it. This was dangerous. Dangerous territory Eddie Munson was crossing into. But running away would be worse. He did it once, and it killed him. “Um, w-would you want to be with me Saturday night? Like, another date? A second one? I promise I’ll plan it way better than the first one.” He chuckled. “No more skeezy bars, I swear! And it’ll be the weekend, so I’ll obviously not be doing my homework, and I know you’ll be done with yours…” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “You should really be doing your homework, Eddie.”

“I will, I will.” His conspicuous stare to the far right let the fact be known that he was blatantly lying without a care. “If I do it, can this potential date be my little treat?” He perked.

“Depends, what does this little treat entail?” You interrogated with a smile on your face.

“Ah, well, unfortunately, sweetheart, details will not be disclosed for anticipation purposes.” He smirked. “Y’know, surprises n’ all.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Mm, the last time you concealed such details I almost wore heels to a rundown bar full of old men.”

Eddie blenched. “Sorry ‘bout that again, sweet girl, but I promise this time is different.” He assured. “I may be a sulking asshole who can’t handle my emotions and lash out at people because I’m too pathetic to deal with my own problems, but I definitely keep my promises.” My god, how far you and Eddie have come was mind blowing. Had you told your past self that the man you had a screaming match with just outside of school a couple weeks prior was asking you on a second date, you would’ve laughed in your own face.

“Are you still hanging that over my head?” You giggled. “Because if I remember correctly you said far worse-”

“No, no, I know, sweetheart!” He adamantly agreed. “You’re wholeheartedly correct. And are you kidding me? That one-liner was the second greatest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I’m genuinely considering getting it tattooed right across my chest with no regrets.” He laughed. “That one sentence set me straight, honey.”

“Wait,” you invigorated, “if that’s the second greatest thing I’ve ever said, what’s the first?” Your head tilted with curiosity.

“Agreeing to go out with me. Twice.” He simpered.

“‘Twice?’” You tittered. “I don’t remember saying yes to the second date.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie laughed. “I’m totally finishing my homework for this week, that’s a guaranteed yes from your part, trouble.”

You pointed a stern finger at him with squinted eyes of skepticism. “Only if you finish your homework.”

Thursday. Amidst the bustling thirty minute break from class, the cafeteria had flooded with an amass amount of students that proffered the freneticism that was Hawkins High’s lunch period. Chrissy Cunningham had been persistent to encourage your prospective application to Claire’s after Hannah Walsh was set for a nine month leave—whatever that meant. And Chrissy was resolute on the fact that working at the Starcourt Mall had far more perks than babysitting the Johnson’s circus of kids, especially after popping out their fifth. Insisted on the matter that it was aging you. Lovingly, though. And it happened to fall during her harangue about the employee discount that a book report was slapped in the middle of the table that stole your attention away from your friend. “The Last of Mohicans.”

“Wear something casual.” Eddie smiled, as you peeled your eyes from his homework and looked up to meet his satisfied grin. “I don’t recommend heels, but wear as you please. You’ll look perfect regardless.” But before you could get a word to even formulate, Eddie had turned his attention to an equally stunned—more so confused—Chrissy. “Will your folks mind if I pick her up at your doorstep Saturday night?”

“Oh.” Chrissy blinked. “Uh, no, they have a dinner party that night.” She smiled, and looked at you.

“Perfect.” Eddie beamed. “I’ll see you Saturday night at seven?” Taken aback by his charm, you made the right decision to save yourself the embarrassment of trying to speak, and settled on a firm nod and beguiling smile that had Eddie flushed with giddiness. “Perfect.”

Saturday. It was the locker room scene all over again. Yes, being taken in by the Cunninghams had been something of extemporized means, but a week of residing in their guest bedroom—something they encouraged to just call yours—surely would have given you enough time to settle, right? No. Very much, an extremely hard no. Clothes of all sorts had been strewn about in a chaotic mess, made only worse, when you flung about shirts, pants, and shorts to find the perfect outfit. Chrissy had been defeated in a pile of cotton, cashmere, and silk as you dwindled your choices to two shirts that in Chrissy’s words “looked great, just choose one, he won’t care.” And she’d been right. Upon opening the door to his meticulous knocking, his eyes had brightened just as it occurred on the night of your first date. Your face- your everything had been magnetized to the golden rays of the setting sun, that just highlighted everything beautiful about you. And that was… everything.

“Are you going to finally tell me where we’re going?” You elated, as you settled into the front seat of Eddie’s van.

“Patience is a virtue, my darling.” Eddie smiled, as he took peeks to his right side. “Trust me, it’ll be better than the Hideout.”

“Benny’s?”

“Not Benny’s, but I’ll consider it for the third date.” He smirked.

“If you make it that far.” You joked, as your soft giggles infiltrated his ears lovingly.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I have firm plans of completing all of my homework for the rest of the school year. So, hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re kinda stuck with me.”

“Mm, wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that idea.” You teased. “Ooh, wait! Enzo’s?” You were beginning to catechize him, but were only met with a barking laugh from Eddie.

“Sweet girl, I’m still terribly broke, but I appreciate your guessing.” He chortled. “Now, no more questions. Just sit back and relax, and let me handle things, okay?”

And you did just that. Attempting to adjust to the loud music Eddie’s ears had already been accustomed to, he had taken it upon himself to provide you all the formation of said bands that played. Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath once bit a bat’s head off on stage. Eddie claimed it was the most metal thing he’s ever seen. Oh, and Derek Riggs, the dude who made the album cover for Powerslave—declared the best album by Eddie, himself—for Iron Maiden liked to stick silly messages into the artwork. Eddie affirmed to show you whenever it would be the next you came over. Which then segwayed into a conversation of how Wayne Munson had been insisting on having you over again. He liked meeting one of Eddie’s “friends” as he put it. Eddie would never tell you, but all of Sunday, he had been teased relentlessly for having a pretty girlfriend. And despite his inexorable shield of “we’re just friends, she’s not my girlfriend,” Wayne Munson’s old ears were able to pick up on the mumbled “yet” that his nephew so hopefully spoke to himself. And thankfully, before any interrogation could progress from your part, you both had reached the outskirts of Mulberry street, and neared the woods.

“Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock?” You asked, as Eddie’s van tracked over tire trails from previous cars who took the familiar succession. “Because one would show you have sentiment.” You smiled. “The other would show you definitely have a motive.”

“Definitely the first one.” Eddie laughed. He parked his trusty van at a small clearing, where twenty steps south, Lover’s Lake glistened under the illuminating sunset. “Because- well, last time we were here we cried like babies over ice cream.” He sniggered quietly. “And, uh, even though it was… heavy, it was still one of my favorite times with you.” Eddie had shyly began to play with the rings on his fingers, as he felt your eyes dawn on him. “Y’know, it was the first time I got to talk to you- actually talk to you. Explain everything to you. So, um, as part of making it up to you, you deserve to be taken out. Properly. Not a bar. No tears. Just you and me. Where we can just clear our minds together.”

When he finished, Eddie finally found the courage to peer his round eyes at you that searched for any validation that this was okay- that he was okay- okay to be with. And he found you smiling sincerely at him with devoted eyes that gave him all the tender care of the world. “I love it, Eddie.”

He smiled. You, you, you, you. How great would it be to hear the word “you” instead of “it” in that sentence?

Eddie whispered. “I packed a totally metal picnic.” He nodded to the basket that resided in the back of his van.

And packed a totally metal picnic he did. Three feet away from the cooling waters of Lover’s Lake, a small patch of grass and dandelions had been covered by the soft blanket that lived in Eddie Munson’s van, as it’d been the only clearing that wasn’t smeared with muddy clay infused with dirt—an hour prior, Eddie had played landscaper to get rid of the dirt and sticks that claimed the best spot he found. Though, he had kept that part a secret from you. Something about hearing you gush about fate giving you the perfect area was too innocent to kill in his eyes.

“Okay, so we have some totally cool beers, and by that, I mean one for me.” He pulled out. “And for you, sweetheart, a nice cold soda, because I care about your liver and taste buds.”

“Why thank you so much, kind sir.” You laughed, as you grabbed the drink.

“No problem, princess.” He winked, before continuing his ministration. “Oh, and, uh, I saved you the future food poisoning I would have given you if I cooked anything, so Mrs. Latrowski kindly offered to make us some Fettuccine Alfredo.” Not kindly. He was now stuck fixing her hunk of junk excuse of a car for the next week. Without pay. “Don’t know if it’s really picnic-y, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Of course, really, thank you so much, Eddie.” You scooted closer to have his thigh touching yours. He licked his lips, and focused his attention to the basket to conceal his reddening cheeks.

“But Mrs. Latrowski doesn't get all the credit, because I packed pretzels.” Two bags. Two comically large bags full of pretzels. “And, uh, Pringles, sour cream n’ onion, because that’s the only acceptable flavor. Oh, don’t worry, I balanced it out with some of Wayne’s watermelon that I stole. Don’t tell him.” He laughed, pulling out the tupperware of the uniquely cut fruit. “And I made us some PB&Js. And to top it off, some chocolate chips.” The half filled bag of Nestle's chocolate chips that were once used to make pancakes with you and his uncle were now being pulled out of his basket as an appetizer for your date.

And you loved it all.

The obnoxious door bell had rung for the second time that night.

“Ugh.” Chrissy Cunningham groaned, as her plans of taking advantage of her newly single night were now being disturbed. Pausing in the middle of Sandy Olssen’s hopelessly devoted number to Danny Zuko, Chrissy begrudgingly removed the bowl of popcorn from her lap to wake her legs from being sunken into the couch. And then, some knocking. “Alright, I’m coming!” Her socked feet slid her across the glossy wood of the floor, as she dragged herself to the front door. “Yes-”

It was strange how much you looked just like your father.

Chrissy’s face had been drained of all the blood in her system, and she closed the door to lessen the gap between her and the house. “Chrissy.” Your father cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting your night so late. Are your parents home?”

“N-No.” She softly answered. “But, uh, my b-boyfriend is.” Her heart beated out of her chest. For safety.

“Well, um, is my daughter here? I’d imagine Y/N would most likely run away to your home than anywhere else- well, at least I would hope.” His mind reeled back to the morning he chased Eddie Munson out.

“She’s not here, sir.”

“Right, well, if you’re ever in contact with her, please give her this.” He handed over an envelope that stuck to a folded piece of paper with tape. This was it. This was his goodbye. Chrissy cautiously took the hefty envelope, and nodded her head, speechless to it all. “Have a good night. Tell your parents I said hello.”

Not even a hello to you.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have eaten all those chocolate chips!”

The dramatics of Eddie Munson truly played their part, as he laid back with his arms stretched out, and a groan to accompany his complaints. “I told you to slow down on those.” You laughed, placing a delicate slap to his bloated belly that simply elicited more moans. “Don’t die on me, you're my ride.” You joined him on the ground, where he turned his head to meet the tip of your nose.

“Wow, nice to know how much I mean to you.” He playfully scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? You mean the world to me, Eddie. Best chauffeur in town!” You laughed, as he rolled his eyes. “Even better since you can’t complain. You know, since you’re making it up to me?”

Eddie guffawed. “I asked you to let me make it up to you, not exploit me.”

When the giggles had simmered down, you and Eddie were left simply staring into each other's eyes. You could see his stare soak up your features, following the contours of your face, and stationing at your lips. “You know you mean more to me than just a chauffeur, right?”

Eddie nodded his head, his hair getting smushed in the space between his head and the blanket. “I know, sweet girl.” You both could feel it in your bellies, that stirring feeling of sparks igniting whenever you looked at each other. The excitement, sure, it was incredible to revel in, but the security, the security of when that spark would slowly die out, but not to a point of resentment, to a point where the nerves were gone, and you could be comfortable. Comfortable with the piece of mind that you had him and he had you. His shoulders scooted closer, nose rubbing against yours, and his breath fanned warmly across your mouth. “Y/N…?” Whispered into the air, the question didn’t have to be verbalized. You shook your head to give him permission. And Eddie leaned in.

That is until you screamed.

“Ah!” You shrieked, jumping up to your feet.

Eddie sat up with urgency. “What?! WHAT?!”

“There’s a worm by your head!”

“WHERE?!”

Your second date with Eddie Munson was ended by a stray earthworm that managed to squirm its way onto the blanket. But it’s okay. In the future, it would be a cute story to tell. And the car ride home was made even more entertaining when your jabs at Eddie became endless. The humidity of the night had frizzed his hair far more than usual, and watching his hands swat the strands crazily in fear of a worm creating a nest in there had your stomach cramping from laughter. Eddie would allow the teasing to continue if it meant hearing your laugh for just another minute. But he vehemently countered that you screamed just as loud in the first place, so you were in no place to poke fun. Arriving at the familiar doorstep of the Cunningham house, Eddie had sighed realizing another perfect night was ending far sooner than he wanted. But it had also been a reminder. The biggest sign of that two story suburban wet dream of a house was your newfound freedom. No longer were you shackled to the barbaric severeness of perfection that your vile father had subjected you to. You were liberated to live your life. Make your own decision. Be your true self.

So dropping you off at your new home wasn’t exactly the worst thing for Eddie to endure, because he knew you were safe. He knew you were going to be okay. Eddie held your hand up the stairs to the porch, where the small, yellow light bloomed your features in the night. Staring down into your face was the single greatest thing Eddie felt privileged to experience. God, he loved it. He loved y-

“Thank you for another perfect date.” You beamed up at him.

“Anything for you, princess.” He sighed a breath of relief, as he felt at ease in your presence. Preparing to have you leave was another thing to handle. “I’ll be sure to finish my chemistry homework to get you on a third.”

“It would be quite nice to see you walking for graduation.” You squeezed his hand. “Maybe your uncle and I can celebrate you with a late night breakfast.”

“God, you really are the sweetest.” Eddie bit his lip, as he peered down at you. “I really hate that worm for ruining our moment.”

“Poor guy, we were probably crushing his home with our picnic.” You giggled. “Can’t blame him for seizing it back.”

“I can if he stopped me from kissing you.” Eddie allured you, as his large hand found your cheek to cradle in his palm tenderly. Thumb swiping your supple face, he had dragged you close against his chest. “But the bastard’s not here to stop me again.”

“No, he’s not.” You softly laughed.

Eddie smiled, as he whispered to your face. “So, can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You delicately nodded. “You can kiss me, handsome.”

Nose brushing, your lips were colli-

“Y/N!” You jumped back with a squeal, as Chrissy Cunningham had abruptly opened the front door with exigency that caused you to separate from Eddie’s incoming face. Eddie knew what this was. This was the universe testing him. Seeing how fast he would resort back to his asshole ways, and yell at Chrissy Cunningham to fuck off for interrupting his kiss with the one girl he’s ever wanted to be with. But he bit his tongue, and fought the anger to subside, and simply chose to sigh dejectedly. “Sorry to barge in, but I really need Y/N.”

“Is everything alrig-”

“Yes, just come on!” She grabbed your hand. “Sandy just caught Danny dancing with Cha-Cha DiGregorio, come on! Eddie, you have our number, just call Y/N tomorrow, okay? Bye!”

“Wait, can’t we just get a minute-” Eddie attempted.

“No!” Chrissy Cunningham was using that cheer strength to hall you into the house.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly looked back. “Call me later, I had so much fu-” The door was slammed right on your sentence, and Eddie’s head fell against it utterly crushed. “Chrissy, what the hell? I was literally about to have my first kiss with Eddie-”

“Y/N, your dad came by.”

Your face had fallen like a sad child. “What?”

Chrissy had respected your wishes to leave you alone in your room. Alone with his envelope. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the note attached to the delivered mail. Your fingers had a tight grip on the paper, your heat causing the thin material to crumple from the clamminess. Eventually, your shaky hands managed to attentively tear the taped letter away from the envelope. Just a folded notebook paper. The unusuality of the situation came about as the paper had been torn. Your father once yelled at you for not tearing a sheet by the imprinted seam. This was rushed, a message written with urgency. For once, not prioritized on perfectionism. You unfolded the frail paper.

“I know you’re angry, but everything I’ve ever done for you was exactly for this moment. I did all I could. Your mistakes determine your success.” - From, Dad

Your brows cinched with confusion. Setting his note aside, you harshly reached for the thick envelope, turning it around to read the address. Your heart sank to your stomach. Written in its bolden letters, there it was, the determining factor to your future: 116th and Broadway, New York, NY, 10027 Columbia University Undergraduates Admission Office. Far, far away. You wanted to go far, far away. Frantically tearing the sealed envelope open, your hands worked absentmindedly quick to unfold the professional letter. It was there. Right in your hands. But your eyes couldn’t fathom moving past the formal greeting that simply stated your name, and possibly seeing the rejection of your life. You knew how your mind worked. You knew how you were conditioned. A rejection is a failure. You would be a failure. And your father would be right.

Columbia University

Office of Admission

Dear, Y/N Y/L/N,

No matter how close Chrissy Cunningham smushed her ear to the door, it was dead silent. Nothing. She was beginning to worry you may not have even been breathing. She may have respected your privacy, but she wasn’t oblivious. She knew better than to read your father’s personal note, but she very clearly read the return address of the envelope, and she knew what was about to unfold. Three years ago, sitting in the comfort of her bed with you by her side, you both stared at the ceiling with smiles on your face, and talks of the future. At the time, a young Chrissy Cunningham had gushed about going to Indiana State, because that’s where Jason Carver had prioritized to attend, after frequenting all their college basketball games with his dad as a kid. It’s where Jason Carver took Chrissy Cunningham on their first date. In the moment, she laid out the plans of her life: attend college, study pharmaceutical medicine, and graduate with a ring on her finger. Specifically his great grandmother’s. An heirloom so beautiful and of high value. And Chrissy Cunnginham would have wished it to occur on the night of their graduation, where both families met to celebrate the young adults on a new chapter of their life, and Jason Carver would have declared his chapter to begin with his wife. Chrissy had turned to you and asked “What about you?” And you answered honestly. “I just want to go far away.” You’d asked her if it would be possible. And she smiled and nodded her head. “I see you being successful. Somewhere big. Like New York. Where you can be you. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here.” And you had hugged your best friend tightly that night. Far away. That’s where you’d go.

Chrissy flinched, as the door to your bedroom slowly opened. And there you were. She stared at you with big, wandering eyes. Yours had been stinging. Stinging with tears, and Chrissy's mouth was beginning to open to try to formulate a word. But then you spoke. Quietly.

“I got in.”

Chrissy gasped, as she brought you into a tight hug, arms securing you in place, as she began screaming in cheers and jumping up and down, forcing you to follow suit. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” You released your tears of joy, crying in laughter, as you began your intimate celebration with your endearing friend. “That’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I can’t believe I actually did.” You muffled into her embrace. “My suspension-”

Chrissy pulled you away. “Hey, forget about that! You did! What Principal Higgins did holds nothing to how incredible you are! And they see that!” She effused loudly. “I’m so proud of you!”

This was you. This was your accomplishment. Not your father’s. This was all entirely you.

“I’m proud of myself.” You giggled through the sniffles of a stuffy nose, as you wiped your eyes.

“We have to tell everyone- my parents, they’ll be so happy for you! Oh, Eddie! You have to tell Eddie!”

Your smile became small at the realization.

Eddie…

You sucked in your lips, and simply nodded along to the rambling cheers she shot out a mile a minute. Eddie. That night, despite Chrissy's encouragement, you hadn’t told Eddie of your acceptance when he called you at 10:43 p.m. You just relished in his voice, humming along to the stories and thoughts he excitedly shared with you, as you savored his over-the-phone company. Because in a couple months, you would be gone. And the budding relationship that you and Eddie had worked so hard to come to terms would be gone alongside your presence. And that made your eyes well with tears as Eddie sweetly confided how much he loved spending time with you. Eddie claimed that night he couldn’t wait to do it for as long as you’ll have him. What he didn’t know was how quick that reality would come shattering in. So you just let him speak. Because no one had ever given Eddie Munson a chance to talk. And the one person who did would be gone soon.

So, you smiled through the ache and told Chrissy that Eddie was happy for you.

And you softly cried that night. Alone. Both happy and sad tears that wet your pillow before you fell asleep for the day.

The next morning, Eddie had followed the sound of the patterned clink of his uncle’s spoon hitting against his valued Odie mug, as the older man stirred his morning cup of coffee to accompany the scrambled eggs and toast he’d just served himself. “Mornin’.” Though his back was turned, his nephew’s feet patting their way against the tile of the kitchen had become all too familiar. And like clockwork, a tired groan was the greeting in return. “What’s got you up this early?” He asked, as he turned around to see Eddie’s slumped body lean against the cold counter, as he did little to fight off the weariness.

A single sock with a hole that let his toe peek out, while his other foot stayed completely exposed. But in Eddie’s defense, he was in no control of the insanity that was his sleep state, and that left sock was most likely tangled into his rumpled blankets. But the boxer briefs were entirely his fault. If he’d only learn how to properly use the dryer, his plaid underwear wouldn’t be constricting his thick thighs right now. But as much as Eddie didn’t know how to correctly do laundry, he also hated attempting, and he was down to his last clean pair. So, unlike his pajamas, he actually had to wear the shrunken boxers after scavenging for them in the back of his dresser. And for once, Wayne could see his nephew’s large forehead, as his bangs had lost the battle of Eddie’s sleeping movement.

Examining his nephew’s look wasn’t something Wayne partook in on a regular basis, but seeing his state, and thinking of you- well, you liked Eddie. You liked Eddie like this. In the most abominable condition Eddie could be in, Wayne Munson could still picture you crooning so lovingly at him like the early morning of your communal breakfast. You liked Eddie for Eddie.

“You.” Eddie’s voice cracked with dryness. “Why are you so loud?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t know it was a crime for me to make breakfast in my own home after workin’ the graveyard shift.” Wayne gruffed. “And what were you doin’ last night? Oh, yeah, havin’ fun with your little girlfriend, while your poor uncle worked.”

Eddie shot him a tired glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I like you better when she’s around.” Wayne chuckled quietly. “Far less grumpy.” And a small smile managed to crack through Eddie’s fatigued face, as the home phone began to ring from the wall. Setting his breakfast onto the small kitchen table, Wayne sighed before picking up the call with a strong “Hello?” And then a hum. And then another. And then he turned to Eddie. “It’s for you, boy.”

Slapping the sleepiness from his cheeks, Eddie meandered his way over to the phone, where he took over for his uncle. Sporting the same fashion, Eddie could only give a hoarse “Yeah?”

“Hey! Good morning, Eddie!” Chrissy Cunningham. He had suddenly flinched the phone away, as her effused voice startled him awake.

“Jesus, yeah, hi, Chris.” Eddie managed to grumble politely. “What’s up, everything alright?”

“Absolutely!” The bubbly cheerleader being a morning person? Oh, how Eddie envied her. “I just wanted to call you, because I think it’ll be a fun idea to plan a surprise party for Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah, sounds totally fun.” He sarcastically spoke. “But is it a normal thing to give Y/N a random heart attack in the middle of the year, or are we actually celebrating something for her?”

“Duh! It’s for her acceptance to Columbia.” She stated matter-of-factly. “She’s always dreamed of going to New York, and now she finally is! It’s incredible! And given everything that’s happened to her, I think she really deserves it, you know?”

Eddie Munson stayed quiet for a moment. “New York…?”

“Uh huh! Isn’t it great that she finally has a chance to leave this town! Really, I think a party is in need.” She laughed so casually. You were leaving? “Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to call you about, Eddie. See, when I thought about it, I realized she really only has me and you, so it can’t technically be a party. But maybe you could bring your friends around. You know, your club members? Is she also friends with them? I remember one of them came up to our lunch table one time. So, do you think-”

Eddie’s head began to pound, as Chrissy’s words were pacing through his mind. “Okay, okay, stop for a second, Chris.” He heaved out to rashly interrupt.

“Is everything alright, Eddie? Do you not think it’s a good idea? Maybe it’s too early?”

“I, um-” His throat felt heavy with constriction. “We’ll just talk about this later, I gotta go.”

Chrissy Cunningham stood no chance to Eddie’s rapid movements, and the phone was hung up before she could mutter another word. His hand had stayed tightly clutched to the phone, as he placed it on the wall. He was frozen. His eyes blinked oppressively, as he attempted to digest Chrissy’s words. Eddie’s heart pounded. You were leaving him. Oh, no. This is where the spiraling began. Ms. Kelly warned him of the possible triggers. He hadn’t expected one to occur so suddenly. Like everyone, you were leaving him. Suddenly, Eddie Munson was an eight-year-old hearing his father’s threats of abandonment because to his dad, he and his mother were no good and not worthy of anything. Then he was a nine-year-old walking in on his mother quickly packing a bag of her clothes. Her clothes. Not his. But his father came back before she could finish. And Eddie was stuck with the realization that his mother was ready to leave him behind for safety.

“You alright, son?” Wayne’s voice brought him back to reality. “Want some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

And that slam of his nephew’s door was all Wayne Munson got from Eddie for the rest of the day.

Monday, you’d received the same fate. Hopping out of Mr. Cunningham’s car in the early hour of the school day, you peered around the bustling parking lot in search for a particular van alongside a particular metalhead. But your efforts came up empty, and the commencing bell stole you away from further prodding. By lunch, your neck was beginning to cramp with how many times you turned around to take a peek at the Hellfire lunch table. But the head seat was empty. And the rest of the boys continued their conversations. Perhaps he was sick. You managed to convince yourself of the idea to ease the disappointment of not seeing him today. But that became short lived when a call to his trailer after practice went unanswered, and the other line rang and rang until it cut you off.

Tuesday, you followed the same routine. And you were left with the same nauseating feeling. Accompanying Chrissy Cunningham to her locker, you had carelessly interrupted her diatribe against Jessica Lewis’ ploy to turn the rest of the cheer squad to voting her captain. It’s almost the end of the school year, did she really think that would work? Ugh. But you had cut her off to ask if she’d talk to Eddie recently. Two absences in a row wasn’t particularly unusual for Eddie Munson, but your overthinking brain could ameliorate the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. You’d just gone on your second date with him, had he suddenly had a change of heart about his feelings for you? But Chrissy was useless. When interrogated, she quickly brushed it off as part of his usual antics of being against the school agenda.

But Wednesday, you put your foot down. Three days absent. Four calls unanswered. And you were ready to panic. Marching past students, unwavering to their bumping shoulders and looks of disgust, you sat yourself in the chair in which Eddie Munson’s ghost was residing. The boys stared at you wide eyed. “Where’s Eddie? Why hasn’t he been here?” You had cut straight to the point. Mike Wheeler had reminded you of the fact that your boy toy wasn’t exactly fond of attending school, so it probably wasn’t a big deal. You rolled your eyes at him. Grant Goodman had suggested the idea that maybe his time was being taken up by the work of Reefer Rick to move sales. Ever since he’d been in jail, someone had to replace his position. And while plausible, the idea didn’t exactly satiate that agonizing fear. Then, Dustin Henderson proffered the idea that maybe he was just sleeping the days away. That’s when you realized the boys were just as useless as Chrissy Cunningham.

That afternoon, your fifth call was finally answered.

Right before the start of practice, you wasted any lingering quarters from your bookbag to dial the numbers of the Munson household with the payphone provided by the courtyard of Hawkins High. When it picked up, you gasped of relief. When it was Wayne Munson, you felt awful for wanting it to be Eddie. You could only answer with a disheartened greeting when his uncle asked who was calling.

“Oh, hey, darlin’.” He was so sweet. Wayne Munson was dwindling down to your last hope. “Nice hearin’ from you again, been pesterin’ my boy of when we can have you over again.” He smiled. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Hello, sir.” You attempted to pick up your tone of voice to not sound so crestfallen. “Um, yeah, everything’s okay with me, but, um, I’m more so calling for Eddie. I just- I haven’t heard from him or-or seen him, and, well, I just want to make sure he was okay. Is he?”

Wayne’s long sigh did nothing to aid your concerns. “Uh, yeah, kid, not entirely sure what’s up with my boy.”

“Is he sick?” You questioned. “Like, did he come down with something?”

“Nah, nah.” Wayne quietly confirmed. “Not that kinda sick, but he sure ain’t feelin good. Been in his room most of the time. This isn’t somethin’ new. Not the first time he’s gone through this cycle.”

“What do you mean?” You softly asked.

“Every once in a while, sweetheart,” he began, “Eddie gets these moments… these feelings that he locks himself in his room. It’s hard to speak to him. He doesn’t wanna talk. Most of the time, I can figure out that somethin’ is bothering him, but other times, these moments just happen. And, well, I just gotta wait for him to speak on his own terms.”

You swallowed thickly. Were you the thing that was bothering him? Did you send him into a depressive cycle? “Is he- is he okay?” In retrospect, it felt quite a redundant question to even bother with.

“I think things are gettin’ better, kid.” Wayne earnestly answered. “He left his room today. Went to get some fresh air. It’s a start.”

“Wait, where did he go, sir?”

“Not sure, didn’t say. Just told me he’d be back after clearing his mind.”

Clearing his mind.

Your brain perked with realization. “Uh, th-thank you for telling me, Mr. Munson.” You quickly thanked. “I’ll try my best to make sure he’s okay if I see him. Just thank you so much.”

Wayne released a breath of consolation. “Thank you for carin’ for my boy, darlin’. It really means a lot. To the both of us. To him especially.”

Lover’s Lake. Cheer practice had been entirely lost of care the second you hung up your conversation with Wayne Munson, and your mind had prioritized a journey to Lover’s Lake. Chrissy Cunningham would eventually tell Coach Hannigan that you were feeling sick when fifteen minutes passed, and you hadn’t shown up for practice. Because car-less and quickly exhausted, your trek to the sentimental location had become a near hour and a half long trip. One once thirty minutes with the most below average car became to feel like an eternity on tired legs. Having to run laps for practice tomorrow would become your death. Skipping through the center of town had proven to be easier, as sidewalks were provided for the entire purpose of walking. But turning into Mulberry street, a lack of pavement that wasn’t a cracked road made the experience worse. Your sneakers crushed the overgrown grass that met the street, as you willed all strength to persevere through the ache of sore legs. Not to mention, the slight ping of fear that would shoot through you whenever a single car would drive by. The scary decade of the 70s was enough to instill a precautionary guard. Eventually, the wooded trail that Eddie Munson once took you down came into sight, and your legs managed to exert underlying energy to guide you through the wooded path. About five hundred steps north, Eddie’s van became unconcealed through a horde of trees.

Conscientiously stepping away from branches and newly sprouting weeds of tiny flowers, you quietly walked alongside Eddie’s van to approach the back doors that had been shoved open to let in the spring zephyr of the lake into his vehicle.

And then, you delicately made your presence known.

“Hi.” Laying back against the shag carpeting of the back space of his van, arms crossed behind his head with eyes closed in peace, Eddie had automatically shot up at the diaphanous sound of your sweet voice.

And he hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but he did, and your brows creased sadly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You reiterated back with concern.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but his voice could speak up. But you could visibly see his urge to tell you all. One cautious step forward, Eddie hadn’t protested, so you continued your slow movements until you took a seat next to him. An evident gap purposely placed between the both of you. “I- um, how did you know I was here?”

“Kinda got the idea when I talked to your uncle.” You answered.

“My uncle? You called my- wait, how the hell did you even get here?” Eddie attempted to wrap his head around.

“I walked-”

“You walked?!” Eddie abruptly interrupted, perturbed by the endangerment of your safety that was put at stake just for him.

“Well, you scared me, Eddie!” You hit back, and Eddie had quickly quieted. No, no, no. Eddie promised himself- promised you that he’d never put you in a position to be scared again. And here he was screwing everything up, because his emotions were becoming too much to handle. It was so easy to resort to his old ways. So comforting to do something he was familiar with. And he hated it. Hated everything he was doing, because it was such an easy outlet to write his progress off as bullshit, and affirm the fact that he was an asshole, because he deserved nothing good in life. Before he could apologize, you began speaking softly. “You haven’t spoken to me since Saturday. Since our date. Why- what did I-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He knew where you were about to spiral. “Don’t blame yourself, this is all me, please don’t- just please don’t think you did anything.”

You eyed him worriedly. “Then what’s wrong, Eddie? Can you just talk to me?”

Eddie took a deep breath, and his hand found his way toward yours, where he squeezed it tenderly. And then he looked at you. So longingly. “Y/N, I will always, always be so thankful that I met you and had you in my life.” Your heart began beating rapidly out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it. “Genuinely, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking kind. And you care- you care so much that for once in my life I actually feel wanted. You make me feel so good, Y/N.”

“Of course, Eddie, of course, I want you-”

“But that’s what’s so scary, sweetheart.” Eddie stopped you. “When you leave me, I’ll feel fucking destroyed. And I- it wouldn’t be good to depend my happiness solely on you, because I’ll be so awful.” His eyes stung.

“No, Eds, I wouldn’t leave-”

“I know about Columbia, Y/N.” He simply inputted, that had your face scrunching with confusion. “Chrissy accidentally told me, she hadn’t meant to. But I know. And I know you deserve to leave this fucking town and go live your special life in a place where these bullshit people can’t hurt you. Leave me, sweetheart. You need to leave me.” He tried to smile through his tears, but it was ultimately failing. And you dropped your head to hide your hot face from seeing the man that was tearing your heart. “Before any of this gets serious, you need to leave me. I-I won’t have the balls to leave you, so just end this right here, sweet girl. Please.”

And maybe this is simply where the story of you and Eddie Munson was meant to end. In a matter of weeks, both of your lives and perspectives were altered for the better, as you navigated the heartbreaking moments of learning to be strong. Learning to seek help. Learning to listen. Learning to accept. Learning to love. Because when Eddie received that monumental call from Chrissy Cunningham, he felt as though his world came crashing down, because the thought of losing you became too severe to imagine, and he couldn’t feel that for someone he didn’t love. Experiencing the privilege of learning how to love you was the single greatest thing Eddie Munson had ever felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, he could feel it. He could feel it in the tight squeeze of your hand. And he’ll pay the price of having this moment with you even if he knew it would end far sooner than he wanted. Because it was for the best. You would get to live your life free from restraints, and Eddie Munson could look back at the incredible girl who endured hell with him and shaped him to be the better man he was today. Everything great about Eddie was only amplified ten times more because of your appreciation to his authentic self. You were so unfathomably beautiful, Eddie would forever hate himself to be the man that held you back from blossoming into the real world. Eddie never wanted a thousand admirers, he just wanted you.

Pulling his hands from your hold, they moved their way upward to cradle the cheeks of your head, and he pulled your hiding face to expose itself right in front of his. Your wet tears burned the pads of his thumbs, because it hurt so badly to make you hurt. No, Eddie Munson never wanted to experience the pain of seeing you leave him, but for once in his life, he would just like the control of choosing who hurt him. And he liked his choice of it being you. You would do it so kindly. Eddie Munson willed himself to picture a world where you weren’t in his life, and what a worthless world it would be. But you were leaving regardless. And that worthless world would be an inevitable reality, so Eddie was choosing it on his own terms. As much as it killed him, you were meant to leave. And he wouldn’t place himself into a position to stop you.

His forehead landed against yours, and he shakingly smiled down at you through his tears. “You’re so beautiful, god you’re so fucking beautiful. I could never get tired of looking at you.” Oh, my god he loved you, he loved you so much, Eddie felt so lucky to love you. “You deserve greater things than me, Y/N. Everything’s going to be okay.” He whispered. “Leave me, and go get what you deserve, sweetheart.”

But your head began to softly shake no in the hold of his hands. “You don’t get to decide that, Eddie.” His faltering smile fell in an instant. “I know you’re doing what’s best. I know you’re making your own decision, but it’s my life, too, and no one- not even you can get a say as to what I deserve or what I should do.” Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. He knew who you were. He knew the perseverance you harbored. He knew the intelligence of your incredible mind. “How could you ever think me going to college would ever equate to me leaving you? How could you ever think I’d do that?” You asked. “You’ll still have me, Eddie, you’ll always have me. Even when I’m away.”

It was this time Eddie began fervently shaking his head against yours. “No, no, please don’t give me hope.”

“I’m not giving you hope, Eddie, I’m giving you my word.” A heavy breath released itself from his quivering lips, and pressed his nose against yours. “Make it up to me, and give me your word.”

He nodded vehemently. “I give you my word. I’ll never hurt you, just please don’t leave me.” A nine-year-old Eddie Munson cried out to you.

You smashed your lips into his wet ones, tasting the coating saltiness of his raw emotions becoming embedded into your body, as he firmly pressed your face into his to happily suffocate into. The spark, it had blown up into a blaring firework that screeched its way into the night sky and glowed its vibrant colors like the sun that once set. That was the excitement. But then the remnants of the sparks cascaded down tranquilly into the warm waters of a lake named after couples like you and Eddie, and had sizzled into peaceful nothingness. That was the stability.

That was Eddie Munson. That was you.

His lips had so tenderly massaged yours, as his nostrils opened up to breathe you in heavily. His thumbs had pressed into the plushness of your heated cheeks to keep you like this forever. Just in his arms. In his hold. Where you were safe to be yourself. Safe to make mistakes. Safe to be that mesmerizingly beautiful human being you were. The one Eddie Munson loved so much.

Though much to his dismay, you were a human that needed to breathe, and Eddie had gut punched all the wind out of your lungs when his devotion poured into your mouth. You needed the tiniest bit of air. And gently pulling away, you and Eddie were left heaving against each other’s lips.

“Eds.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, voice too congested with snotty tears, it made you giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, baby, I just had the greatest kiss of my life.” Eddie whined, which truly prompted more soft fits of titters. “Y’know, I’ve always thought New York was a cool place? Diverse city. Great job opportunities. Pretty gnarly bars to get my music some exposure. Wouldn’t be such a bad place to visit and stay periodically.”

Your sinking teeth did nothing to suppress the ever growing smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “But, I mean, it totally has nothing to do with you. I’m not even your boyfrie-” Your giggling mouth fell onto his once more, lips molding against his with such synchronicity, it felt like second nature to have his mouth on yours so lovingly. When you pulled away, Eddie groaned with a deep setted breath. “Mm, please let me be your boyfriend, sweet girl?”

You spoke against his lips with a smile. “Of course. Make it up to me, Eddie.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

One Week Later

“Um, what about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” will that take your attention away from math?”

Chrissy Cunningham had playfully smacked your swinging feet, as they moved absentmindedly to distract you from the dulling ache of your elbows sinking into her mattress and the headache that was AP Calculus. “Uh huh.” So distracted. Chrissy rolled her eyes, as she sat against the headboard of her bed, thumbing through movies.

It was a never-ending sleepover.

“Weren’t your exams a week ago? Shouldn’t you be done with classwork? Or has this become your new definition of fun? Wouldn’t be surprised.” She laughed.

“My exams may be done, but I was still gone for a week, and Mr. Fitzgerald was persistent with work during that time. Almost done making it up.” Your hand wrote and wrote, as the indent on your ring finger became deeper with every stroke of your pencil.

“Okay, well, will you just take one break for a second.” She pleaded with a mewl you knew would only get louder.

You looked back at her with a knowing smile, before slamming your textbook shut. “Fine.” In true Chrissy Cunningham fashion, she offered you a small cheer. “Gonna go pee, be right back.”

Your friend nodded, as she watched you make your trip from her bed and out the bedroom door. And the second it clicked shut behind you, Chrissy was springing from her bed, and toeing to her window. Popping the latch, the night’s breeze flooded inside her room, and choosing to stick her head out of the window became a terrible idea, when Eddie’s face shoved its way into view, scaring the poor girl to death.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” She whispered-yelled at the metalhead, as his sneakers secured him onto the tiles of her roof. The man was beginning to have a thing for roofs.

“What the hell took so long?” He complained. It had felt like an eternity just waiting for the signal to arrive. Eddie Munson just hadn’t anticipated the signal to take over forty-five minutes to come. “The food’s going to get cold.”

“Well, sorry, but your girlfriend has a freakish obsession with schoolwork.” She protested.

And Eddie flashed a love sick smile. “She’s real smart, isn’t she?”

“Just give me my food.” Chrissy insisted.

“Give me a blanket.”

And the muscle of her arms had harshly hurled the balled blanket from her bed into Eddie’s face that had him stumbling on his kneeled legs with a huff from the impact of the hit. Eddie met her deal, and reached into the grease spotted Benny’s bag to pull out a double cheeseburger with extra pickles ordered directly by the cheerleader herself. Satisfied with her dinner, Chrissy ran back to her bed, allowing Eddie a moment to lay the blanket onto the roof and station the hefty bag of fast food alongside. Within a couple seconds, Chrissy could hear your incoming footsteps from the hall.

“Okay, I’m back.” You strutted in, heading straight to her bed. “Ready for some-”

“Wait, wait.” Chrissy abruptly halted your movements, leaving you frozen mid climb. “Actually I have a change of plans for you.” She smiled.

You peered down to her lap. “Where’d you get a cheeseburger from?”

“Alongside being a chauffeur, I’m also a great delivery man.”

Turning around, Eddie stood confidently—hands on his hips, with a shit-eating grin shining from his face—with your impromptu date awaiting you. You smiled, and made your way to him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured a pretty girl needed the experience of a third date.” He gave your chin an endearing pinch. “Greasy food from our first, picnic setting from our second, perfect combination for our third. And most notably, no worms around.” He climbed out of the window, and stood perched with a proffered hand out to whisk you away. Of course, you gladly took it, and Eddie helped you over the window ledge, and guided you onto the roof, where the moonlight descended like a mystical spotlight.

“You know, some day, I’m going to have to plan one of our dates.” You teased, as you took a seat next to him. “Can’t have you do all the work.”

“Oh, no, I’ll absolutely do all the work, sweetheart.” He beamed a radiant smile at you. “Got a lifetime supply of dates set just for you.”

Your arms circled around his neck, as you placed doting kisses to his cheek. “Thank you so much, I love it all.” Eddie had turned his head to meet your lips to enable his newfound addiction of kissing you deeply. It was tooth-achingly sweet seeing you both smile into your kisses. Your hand had managed to snake its way down his broad neck, getting caught in the chain of necklace, where you fingers toyed with guitar pick that accessorized his entourage of leather and chains. It was then, you felt it. Pulling away from his chasing lips, you took a better hold of his necklace, turning it to the side that stayed concealed against his chest, where your thumb rubbed your senior picture. Torn by the hands of Eddie Munson from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook, and meticulously cut to fit the backside of his guitar pick and stuck on with the tackiest of all glues for security.

“You still have this?” You crooned, as you peered into his eyes.

His had never left yours. “Of course, baby.” He kissed your tilted chin. “Too corny?” He smiled.

“Absolutely not.” You laughed. “But I’m becoming quite jealous of the fact that I don’t have a photo of you- oh, wait, Chris has a polaroid camera!”

He groaned dramatically. “No, no! I’m not modelesque like you, pretty girl. It wouldn’t serve you any good.” He laughed, as he pinned you down to keep you from attempting to flee away for a photo opportunity.

“Well, I still have the yearbook Nancy gave me, so should I use your senior picture or your club picture?” You giggled.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had weaponized a young girl’s kindness to dehumanize the body that worked so hard to keep her full of life. A decade ago, you were running topless on the white sands of the beach, so liberated from the world’s retributionist opinion of what it meant to be a woman. But the bumps, curves, and expansion of your own growing body had been pitted against yourself forcefully by the nastiestness of society that reminded you you were a sexual thing, as you dealt with the first moments of womanhood at thirteen alone in your bathroom with an aching belly and a confused mind that couldn’t understand what changed so suddenly that you had to cover up the body that connected you to nature. Why was being a teenage girl something so terrible that other’s of all ages demeaned you? Why were you told to be so kind to everyone, but have it twisted to make you out to be something you weren’t? Why when you voiced your anger of being lied to by the world were people so freely allowed to label you with the dramatics of “being a woman?” Why were you left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

Eddie kissed the creasing of your furrowed brows.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had denigrated a young boy searching for acceptance, and villainized the enthralling qualities that gave him beautiful uniqueness of what it meant to be human. He was uncomfortable. He was nervous. He was ashamed of his own feelings, unable to not see the grossness of society that made him feel embarrassed to be alive. To show character. Forced into a dangerous pipeline to destruction, because horrid people—one’s meant to love him the most—enabled the environment where vile words of unworthiness were encouraged upon a growing boy who was being attacked by the cruelty of the world when he just seeked to be loved. So low in the hierarchy, it became so easy for the town to discard a living body to the ruins of society with no mercy. How horrible could his differences be for everyone to hate him? How terrible of a child could he have been to be left with bruises that never healed and tainted him to be a lost cause? Why when he played the part of a no good freak that they casted over him did everyone become disgusted with him? Why when he chose to seek help from the destructive patterns of his life was his worthiness still stepped on by his peers. Why was he left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

But as noted, you and Eddie had rescued yourselves. Your time was not devoted to force the world to see you both as you truly were. That was not your labor. They saw you both for how they wanted to see you. But it wasn’t in your concern to care.

Not when he looked at you like that. Not when you looked at him like that.

“I’m okay.”

"...𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡..."

- 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If you are someone who has followed along with my series and you'd love to place your input, please feel free to! Any critiques, comments, suggests are all heavily appreciated! Again, thank you so much!

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#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #the yearbook: club pictures

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mochiwrites · 23 days

Note

I would also like to see you put scarian in situations:

51. Meet ugly/awkward first meetings please?

51. Meet ugly/awkward first meetings (put that guy in situations!)

reblogs do more than likes!

“You tricked me!” Grian’s voice lifts in pitch as he yells. He’s spent all day hunting for that scarred merchant who sold him that ‘wooden cutting board.’ Grian’s not the sort to get so easily scammed, but the merchant had been… very nice looking. He managed to find him after practically running through the Hypixel hub all day.

For his part, the man looks startled by Grian’s arrival, green eyes nervously flicking around their surroundings. No one bats an eye at them. He looks at Grian, “Ah! You’re the red sweater guy from a few days ago! How’s that cutting board treating you?” He smiles, all smooth and polite.

It makes Grian growl with frustration. “You said it was wooden, but the second I went to use it, the whole thing crumbled to dust!” The scarred man blinks at him, feigning some kind of concern. It makes Grian want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him around. “You scammed me out of my diamonds.”

“Why I’d never scam! Everything I have to sell,” he gestures to the large pouch at his feet, “is completely authentic! If you want another cutting board I could—”

“I want my diamonds back,” Grian interrupts him, not even giving him another chance to smooth talk his way into Grian’s wallet. Not again. He’s not letting this handsome guy have his way with him again!

The merchant winces in return, quickly covering it up with a smile, “I’m afraid it was non-refundable! I’d be happy to give you another product in exchange?” He tilts his head before his eyes light up. “How about a couple of rare magic crystals? Or an enchanted book? I have a one of a kind fishing rod with so much luck, a fisherman once found Atlantis because of it!”

Grian’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance, “How in Void’s name did I let you talk your way into making me buy anything from you, dude. It’s so obvious you’re a scam.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re so blunt it hurts?” the scarred man quips, the smile never leaving his face. “Does that scare off the ladies?”

Grian snorts, “It’s sent plenty of men running.”

He pretends not to notice how the man’s eyes light up. “You sure have a sharp wit about you. I like that.” The smile on his face softens into something a bit more real, and Grian sees the way it reaches his eyes. It makes his heart skip a beat.

“You’re not smooth talking your way out of repaying me.” He crosses his arms, squinting at the man. “I’m expecting to be repaid — I gave you ten diamonds for a piece of junk!”

The man laughs, and oh if isn’t the nicest sound Grian has ever heard. “May I interest you in a different deal instead, my good sir?” he inquires, taking a step closer.

“Depends on if it involves getting my diamonds back or not.” Grian lifts a brow.

“While I can’t make your diamonds magically reappear, I can make it up to you. If you’ll allow me too.” That stupidly soft smile is still on his face.

Grian’s nose scrunches up and he scoffs. “Thanks but no thanks. I have rent to pay so if you can’t pay me back, I have to go find a different way.” He knew it was a bad idea to begin with! What the heck did he need a cutting board for anyway?! He doesn’t even cook for crying out loud! The man really had just… charmed him with words alone. Well, his looks certainly had something to do with it. It’s not Grian’s fault he’s weak for a guy with fluffy brown hair and nice green eyes!

He frowns and steps back, turning around. He starts walking away with hurried steps.

“W-Wait!” the man cries out, hurrying after him. Grian’s pace doesn’t slow, determined. They fall into step together, walking side by side. “Just hear me out!”

“No thanks!” Grian starts walking faster, hoping to shake him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

“I promise it’ll be worth your time! Your while even! I’ll knock your socks off!”

“Not interested!”

“Please! Let me take you out to dinner!”

Grian stops short, eyes going wide. His cheeks go red, and he whirls on the merchant to look at him. “What?!”

“Let me take you out to dinner!” he repeats, and Grian continues to stare at him, jaw dropping. “While I can’t give you back your diamonds, I can at least treat you to some Goodtimes.” He winks, and oh Void is he flirting right now?!

“I— you— what—” Grian stammers out, heart thundering in his chest. The man’s smile is doing terrible things to his critical thinking skills.

“You won’t have to pay for a thing! I can talk our way into the best restaurant of your choosing,” he continues on.

Now that… is a curious thing. And Grian feels like he’s about to make another bad decision.

“…if it’s a date, you should at least tell me your name.”

“It’s Scar! Scar Goodtimes,” Scar replies, green eyes bright and pleased. There’s a little smirk on his face. “And you are?”

“Grian.” Is he really doing this? “So… where and when am I meeting you, Scar?” He’s really doing this.

“Let’s say… tomorrow afternoon? Meet me here?” Scar questions, and Grian takes in a breath.

“I expect my socks to be blown off,” he teases.

(It turns out to be the best decision he’s ever made. Even if the first choice was a bad financial investment.)

#mochi speaks #mochi writes #secret husbands au #scarian #hermitshipping #ask game

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bluecollarmcandtf · 4 months

Text

Humiliating the Cop

The University Officer at my college is always riding my ass for "bullying." Apparently some wimps went crying to him after I teased them around. Now he's constantly watching me. The dude needs to chill, and I'm gonna make him!

All it'll take is a confrontation with my handy hypnotic pendant. One look at the gem dripping down my neck and his mind will be ripe the picking!

"Yo, Officer!" I call his attention and march right up to the goody-two-shoes. He looks just as high-and-mighty as ever.

"Something going on?" he gives me a disapproving glare, "You causing trouble again?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, big guy," I pull the pendant out of my shirt, "Just wanted to show my favorite piggy something."

He grimaces and opens his mouth, but before he can deliver his comeback, his eyes catch sight of the glowing jewel on my neck. The tension in his body relaxes while his jaw drops open. He looks like a brain dead idiot, but that just means he's ready for some instructions.

I start to explain his new job to him. Things are going to be different around here. This cop's not going to be the high-and-mighty enforcer of justice he used to be, and there's nothing he can do but nod his head dumbly and agree!

A week later I catch sight of the cop carrying a bucket of soapy water down the hall. Some nerd I'm intimidating squeals for his help.

The officer just shakes his head, "Sorry, I'm busy right now. I have to go scrub graffiti off a stall in the men's room."

"That's my art, piggy. You like what I spray painted in there?" I chuckle.

"Oh, it was very well done," he answered quickly, searching my eyes for approval, "I didn't realize it was yours, sir. I'll just leave it alone."

The dweeb I have pinned against the wall is dumbfounded and asks again for some help before I interrupt, "Jesus, tell this kid to just shut up and hand over his lunch."

The cop nods and turns a stern face to my victim, "Son, be quiet and give him what he wants, now."

After handing over his packed meal, the student scurries away. I obviously had the officer wrapped around my mean finger. I used him to help me bully a few other kids throughout the rest of the week. I even had him vandalize the principal's car for me, but I wanted him to fall a little further from grace..

Most of the cafeteria snickered quietly behind the officer's back. I put him in another trance that morning, telling him that his new responsibilities as campus security was to "Mop up the messes before anyone else can."

He spent all day running around the hallways with a mop and bucket. During lunch, I knocked the food out of everyone's hands and enjoyed watching him crawl behind as he struggled to keep up with each new mess.

By the end of the day, a few of the more outgoing football jocks had joined in on teasing the man.

"Yo, officer," the athlete chuckled, as he poured a soda out onto the floor.

"Yes, sir?"

I have him calling everyone 'sir,' now. He's basically lower than everyone on the totem pole now. Even still, I thought he could drop lower...

After a quick discussion with the police chief, I had him fired from the department. Don't worry though! I got him a job as a janitor at the school. He works for free, but at least he's got something to do all day.

Using the hypnotic pendant, I essentially took over his life. I had the police chief hire me in the cop's place. I moved into the man's lovely home, and acquainted myself with his beautiful wife. After, introducing her to my glowing necklace, she quickly realized that I was a million times better than her disgusting husband.

He still sees her every once in awhile when he comes over to clean the place, but he's not allowed to speak to women anymore. She only talks to him when she's criticizing his janitorial capabilities, anyway.

I've got to say that I'm a much better officer than that annoying prick ever was. At least, I have a lot more fun using the uniform than he ever did. Call me sadistic, but I'm still thinking of ways to bring the guy down a peg...

#hypno story #humiliated slave #mind control

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bytez4life · 1 year

Note

Aomine, Kise, and Murasakibara god they are just amazing but you know whats even more amazing about them when they refuse to admit they're a little spoon/sub its adorable and i love them so much omg

aomine, kise + murasakibara

tw; none

a/n; OH WOW YES </3 GREAT IDEA ANON + u didn't specify pronouns so i used gn, hope ur ok with that!

(+ i didn't want to include the sub part in this request, you can submit another one asking that if you want!)

aomine

- oh my god this one is the most stubborn one

- he 100% tries to put up the "im an alpha male >:(" front

- *gags internally*

- he finds comfort in your hugs, and he's yet to find out about your cuddles

- anyways, this man loves naps way too much

- (probably stayed up all night beating his me-)

- invites you over one day thinking you guys could just chill

- so how did he get into this situation?

"y/n, why are you like this?"

aomine grumbled, face tucked into your chest. he had mentioned once, only once, and now he was on his bed forced into this too-comfortable position.

"mm, you mentioned wanting to take a nap, so that's what we're doing."

"arg, yeah, but why are you the one holding me?!"

"because i can."

aomine let out a frustrated grunt, attempting to push himself up. he was soon pulled back down when you hooked an arm around his neck, making him lose his balance.

"stop whining like a baby, you're making the bed cold!"

accepting his fate, he allowed you to wrap your arms around him. despite his constant whining, both of you knew deep down he wanted this.

he's a tsundere, but he's your tsundere.

kise

- this mf would be too energetic man

- he's so talkative you'd probably have to tape his mouth shut to have a full night of sleep

- well i headcanon as someone who had to be that manly person because of his fangirls

- (yeah ik he hates them but who doesn't like praise + attention?)

- and he wants to impress you and keep you happy

- so one day after he got hit particularly hard by kasamatsu

- he came crying to you, so you did the only thing that made sense

"come here kise, why are you just standing there? didn't you say you wanted to cuddle?"

he looked at your expression for any sign of trickery, yes he did want to cuddle you but were you sure you wanted to hold him?

"like that? don't you want me to- AAAH!"

tired of his rambling, you had promptly picked him up and thrown him on the bed, flopping next to him. before he could protest, you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his neck.

"shut up already, just relax alright? i don't know whats going on in that pretty brain of yours, but you can let it go for now."

oh yeah, he's definitely getting you flowers tomorrow.

murasakibara

- dude, the least concerned about what position he's in

- he just wants snacks and sweet candy

- unfortunately, that constant snacking finally caught up to him

- when his mom texted you if you would take your big baby of a boyfriend to get some cavities removed

- 😀⁉️

- you agreed nonetheless

- waiting outside of the room was a little stressful

- very funny when he finally came out, a sleepy giant of a man just allowing you to pull him along to the car

- when you got home you made him change the cotton pads in his mouth and rinse his mouth

- unbeknownst to you, you were about to deal with THE biggest baby in the world

"but y/n-chin i want candy!"

"atsushi, no. the dentist said you could only eat solid food in 24 hours, which includes candy." you scolded, trying your hardest to push him back into your shared room. surprisingly, he was compliant when he was under anesthesia, allowing you to guide him to the large bed.

he sat on the edge while watching you with dazed eyes as you rushed around trying to get him prepared for bed.

"y/n-chin looks pretty."

that definitely threw you for a loop, choking on air as you fumbled with the clothes in your arms,

"uh, thank you you do too. now, lift your arms so i can change your clothes."

after you finished the tiring task, you flopped on the bed with a sigh ready to take a nap. you soon felt a hand grip your waist, and before you could look up murasakibara had already placed his head on your stomach and fell fast asleep.

"i did not do that."

"you totally did."

murasakibara narrowed his eyes at your form, reluctantly sipping on a smoothie you made him.

"i did not, you're making it up."

"then explain this."

you whipped out your phone, holding it up with a satisfied smirk. there on the screen was the purple-haired giant snuggled up on your midsection as you held him in your arms.

"why did you take pictures?"

"atsushi stop dodging the obvious and admit that you did do it."

"no."

"well i guess you arent getting any snacks from me-"

"im sorry."

"that's better."

@BYTEZ4LIFE - do not plagerize/copy

a/n: someone asked me this, but if you get ideas from me please tag me! its not really for credit but i want to see what you guys make <3

#knb #knb fluff #knb x reader #aomine #aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader #kise ryouta #kise x reader #murasakibara #murasakibara x reader #bytez4life works #knb x male reader

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dilfguzzler · 8 months

Text

john price nsfw headcanons!

i'm currently hyperfixated on john price and want to write more for him. i always like to do an nsfw alphabet to get a feel for the character in my little bird brain

enjoy! open to requests (price and ghost only atm)

f!reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

his form of aftercare is definitely quality time. he will have just obliterated you, your mind is in outer fucking space. he'll pull you on top of him, not even cleaning you up yet, just wanting to give you time to come back to yourself.

sometimes the feelings are so much and you'll be crying, just feeling the feels and he'll stroke your back, murmuring how good you were for him, how you're his best girl. once you're fully back to your right mind, he'll get you some water, clean you up and cuddle you until you have a sleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

john price is an ass man. nothing else to be said.

he likes his hands. out in the field they cause damage and destruction. but they also keep you safe. they're also the hands that can make you scream and cry in pleasure. he also knows that you have a slight hand kink, so that's a bonus.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

INSIDE. the only time mr. breeding kink will ever not cum in your cunt is if he's coming in your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to share you. wants to watch you be fucked by his boys while he watches. wants to place you in any position he wants like he's conducting his own porn shoot. he doesn't know if his possessive streak would ever actually let this happen though.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

this man has been around. hoowee he knows exactly what he's doing, knows things about your body that you didn't even now

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

honestly, he's up for pretty much anything. he likes to be in control so even if you're riding him, be sure he's the one really in control.

he loves missionary, seeing your face, and command you to keep your eyes open and on him. he can get some real power behind his thrusts in missionary too, so much that you're limping a bit for a few days after.

also, doggy. see B, ass-man

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

definitely more serious. like he might crack a dry-ass dad joke, but he takes his fucking seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

this man is HAIRY. he keeps it under control but he's a very hairy dude

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

this one is a tricky one because i definitely think he has two sides.

one side is the feral, dominant man who just wants to FUCK.

the other is this old-fashioned guy, definitely still dominant, who wants to be romantic and charm the pants off you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

over his years in the army and the SAS, he has gotten pretty close with his hand. the only difference now when he's away, he has some abso-fucking-lutely delightful polaroids of you. he particularly loves the ones you sneak into his pockets before he leaves. those are always a nice surprise.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

this man is a kinky old boy. as mentioned before he is mr. breeding kink. defo daddy kink vibes although i cant decide if he likes to be called daddy or sir more. i think he has certain moods for each.

like sometimes he's in the mood to wreck you and wants your total obedience, this is when he likes to be sir.

sometimes he feels a little bit softer and wants you to be his good girl, and is willing to allow you a little bit of leeway and let you mess around a bit more or whatever

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he's a traditional guy. he likes to take you in bed as it's easiest (and god, does he hate to admit it, but his back can't really take anywhere else anymore)

he loves to take you soft and slow on the couch though.

oh, and he'll never forget you sitting on his lap for 2 hours straight, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. he was so proud of you for your minimal squirming and whining.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

simply, you. you literally just wake up in the morning beside him and he wants to fuck you into the middle of next week.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don't think he'd ever want to hurt you. like he's not against a bit of slapping, bruising you and being rough but he's always very controlled and knows what he's doing. he would never want to genuinely, seriously hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he's a certified pussy eater, i know it. the beard adds so much. but when he eats you out, he's running on his time, he won't stop after one, two, three times. he goes until his jaw hurts.

and while he loves eating you out. fuck it if he doesn't love your mouth on his cock. sometimes he'll just leave you there while he watches the match and smokes a cigar. it's his favourite way to relax.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

as i said above, i think he definitely has two moods. so it depends

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he's a busy chap, so yeah he's up for quickies. it's not his favourite of course but sometimes he just needs to be inside you, and he'll take what he can get.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's up for experimenting. but he will never put your safety at risk. also, his job requires a certain level of discretion so he can't be doing anything that could jeopardise that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he hates to think about it, but he can't go like he could in his 20s. he can last ages but he needs a bit more time between rounds. but that doesn't mean there's no time for fun in while he's regrouping himself.

if he's feeling mean, he'll pull out your toy collection and use all sorts of fun stuff on you, not giving you a chance to recover

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yes. you have a toy box full of all sorts of goodies. he loves scouring the internet looking for different things he can use on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he does NOT like to be teased. but he will tease you omg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's grunter lol. he'll say some nasty, sweet things to you.

although, you'll never forget the time you made him almost squeal when you did something with your hips while riding him. that was fun

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he's kind of a meanie sometimes and he's so glad you love it and love his grumpy side. he never thought he'd find someone he'd align with so well, not only sexually, but in every other way too.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5in, uncut, thick but not too thick y'know, kind of curves upwards

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

not as high as it once was. he loves to fuck but he's also 100% content to sit and watch some shite tv with you or watch you make dinner or some other domestic stuff

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

won't fall asleep until he knows you're happy and fully back to yourself. he's also gotten into the habit of needing a cigar after sex. he can't sleep until he ticks certain boxes

#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x fem reader #captain john price #cod mw x reader #captain price #john price smut #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #price x reader

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moodymisty · 8 days

Note

The words “blood hungry Sanguinius” in your announcement post activated all of my neurons at once. Anyway request time, lemme lay the scene. Sanguinius is in an established relationship, she’s a diplomat or his seneschal, somebody of great importance to him both personally and professionally. The planet they’re currently Crusading™ has put up enough of a fight to be troublesome but peace talks are finally happening, which our dear angel’s beloved is the head of. Except not everybody wants peace. Sanguinius has been waging war on this planet, not everybody is gonna be a fan but people also aren’t stupid enough to just pick a direct fight with the 10ft tall dude who could chuck a spear into space. So they aim smaller, where they know it’ll still hurt. An assassination attempt is made on his beloved. It fails, mind you, but it was too close for comfort. She was hurt and suddenly the great angel isn’t feeling so angelic. He wants cathartic visceral payback and his sons couldn’t agree more. Now that kind of adrenaline-fueled murder rampage will get anybody’s blood pumping so once he gets back he’s headed straight for their room. Obviously he’s relieved that she’s fine, patched up and everything at this point but she still smells like blood and sweat and he just desperately needs to know she’s okay. Needs to hear her voice crying out for him rather than in pain, feel her pulse against his lips. Needs to lick the blood off her. It’s precious after all, he’d hate for it to go to waste (and crucially of course he has to erase the traces of that attack, only he is allowed to draw blood from his beloved, nobody else gets to do that and live)

Do with these brain worms what you will, Misty. Go nuts ❤️

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Thank you for the fucking FOOD, friend. I hope you enjoy it, I tweaked a tiny bit just to make it flow better in my head because it was going to keep getting longer if I didn’t stop send help

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, semi-graphic depictions of violence in the beginning, Blood drinking/licking/vampirey stuff, fingering, If you squinted you could consider this dubious consent because making out after a near death experience probably isn’t the best trauma response but it’s 40k so whatever, Slightly Yandere Sanguinus also to be honest

Sanguinus lets his perfect veneer fade for a moment, as he drifts off into thought. Tactical planning and logistics fade into the background, but Sanguinus can still comprehend it all and join back in a moment without anyone noticing.

She’s asleep right now, oh how I wish I could join her.

After a tense few weeks of failed diplomacy and eventual war, you needed rest; While Sanguinus needs such a thing much more rarely, he still wishes to join you. This whole debacle has been little more than aggravating to him.

While he is used to waging war like this, he knows you took this failed diplomacy as a failure for yourself. You’re still new to this, he knows it’ll fade with time but he wishes he could at least comfort you for a little while.

Though, this whole crusade has been less than what you all expected. Fierce electrical storms have made teleporting or even using Thunderhawks or smaller landers from the Red Tear to planet-side dangerous, so they’ve set up temporary base on solid ground while the war effort continues.

He hates the feeling of it; The nature of it being less secure. He knows you’re surrounded by Astartes, but these walls are old and they don’t know the landscape, or if this old fortress has anywhere to hide. This isn't their home territory, the safety of the cold, metal walls of the Red Tear and it's sister ship-

The door suddenly barges open, and in rush two blood Angels who's armor screeches as they freeze to a halt. It manages to startle Sanguinius somewhat, as his wings shift close to his body.

“Lord Sanguinus! Someone is attacking Our Lady!”

The sentence brings him to high alert even before they finish speaking and he’s already pushing past them to make his way towards you. He barely even notices the title they used for you, one that has only been said a handful of times as they slowly became used to your presence beside him.

Sanguinus is out of his armor at the moment, a rare time for him to stretch his wings and back after being in it for nearly a week straight, and the lessened weight makes his strides even faster as he races to you. His wings are tight to his body to avoid hitting anything or catching drag, and he hears the sound of bolters and ceramite plates crashing into weaker armor. He had them guarding the room at all hours, and as such was able to get alerted to the assassins- he assumes by their dark regalia and deftness- instantly.

“I want at least one alive! I want to know how they got past our perimeter!”

The first intruder he catches sight of has their shoulder blown away by a bolter shell before they could comprehend Sanguinus’ orders, and the second gets grabbed by an Astartes and yells in pain at the audible crack of bone. The third Sanguinus notices behind him and he batters him with the end of his wing, and an Astartes manages to obtain him by grabbing his neck. No matter how skilled they were, they stand absolutely no match to his sons. Even their advantage of surprise offered them nothing in the end.

Sanguinius eventually snags the last one and hands the wretch to his sons, and the lot are carried away.

They might be alive now, but once Sanguinus gets what he wants from them, they’ll wish they weren’t. Especially after he looks towards you.

Your sitting on the floor leaned against the wall, arms tight to yourself. He can see your thin nightdress is stained with blood at the neckline, and your arms also have small bits of blood. Your cheek has a small gash that’s growing a bruise around it, like it’s from a punch or slap.

You have an Astartes combat knife in your hands, blood soaking the blade. He knows you put up a fight despite the odds. It was probably you that alerted his sons.

He can hear them communicating amongst themselves, making sure the room and perimeter are clear. The assassins are removed and will probably get prodded around in by a curious techpriest in the future. He knew that a forward base such as this was a dangerous idea, and this only further cements it. Despite the meteorological issues.

Though his thoughts are on less immediate things, now that he knows you’re safe. His clears his throat slightly but the motion does nothing to distract him.

Something Sanguinius had learned in his younger years was that all blood is different; In taste, smell. Some of it is superior to others in those ways.

As while the room is soaked in blood, he can only smell yours.

“All of you check everywhere for any others. Leave us alone unless I call.”

The Blood Angels present hesitate to move, and their lieutenant speaks why. His helmet rests in his hands.

“Should we not stay to keep you both-“ Sanguinus turns to him and his voice is firm and unwavering.

“Go.”

The captain almost seems surprised, before placing his helmet back on. His men dip their heads for a moment and leave, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.

The Primarch comes closer, lowering to his knee in front of you.

“You’re not hurt?” His hands grasp your shoulders, and you shake your head.

“No. Not badly enough to complain about at least.” Sanguinus lets out an audible sigh of relief.

He moves to let you stand, offering a hand you take for a moment. You move away to look into a mirror and splash some water on your face, wiping the blood away from it. It does nothing to cut the scent overwhelming the air that only he can parse.

“I’ve sent them to figure out how those men got in, and if there’s more.” You look up at him, before bending down to pick up one of his fallen feathers. He lost a few in the battle, as he does all the time. The Red Tear also has many strewn about in the places he frequents. You hold it in your hand and brush along the quill shaft, smoothing it. It’s a habit you’ve developed.

“Shouldn’t you go with them?” Sanguinus furrows his brow, confused.

“I want to stay with you, so I know you’re safe. And that you feel safe.”

The way you look up at him is worried; What could you possibly be worried about right now besides yourself? You were the one who was almost killed, because he was ignorant enough to bring you here, selfish because of his desire to keep you at his side. He kneels close to you, and tries to hold his breath as his mouth waters.

“What is it, my love?”

You look at him and continue holding his feather, seeing the way his eyes leer at you. You’ve seen it before, and it’s obvious why.

“Sanguinus, you’re hungry.”

How well you already know him, even after such a short period of time.

He gently cups a hand to the side of your face, before leaning inward.

“I’m sorry my love, I can’t help it, you’re like my own personal wine.”

His lips brush across your own, and he can suddenly taste the tiny droplet of blood from where your lip had split. You eagerly return his kiss and the desperation has you gripping him like a lifeline, as if your mind is finally catching up with what’s happened. He eagerly holds you back, his massive hands cupping your waist and swallowing most of it.

Before you know it, he has you in his arms, and he gently drops you onto the bed. It creaks and groans under the weight of him, but you’re little more than a feather to it.

He can see the cut across your collarbone; They must’ve tried to put a knife to your throat, and cut along below it instead. Your heart beat rushes just underneath it.

“Let me help you forget all of this ever happened,”

He whispers, half lost on the smell of your blood. You still feel almost stunned, like everything is a dream, but you’d never refuse him with how safe you always feel in his arms.

Sanguinus’ hands drift up your nightdress until it’s off of you, the stained fabric getting tossed aside.

He leans down to drag his lips along the cut of your collarbone, tongue sweeping away any traces of blood. The droplets that ran down your sternum get wisked away as well, his tongue traveling between your breasts.

He would hate to see it be wasted. The ones who spilled it and attempted to do worse will spill their secrets, and suffer for what they’ve done.

He’ll keep his head turned if they end up bloodless as well. His sons can sate their appetites on them and he’ll mind little.

Meanwhile you writhe underneath him, a hand on your shoulder holding you down while the other presses down close to your hip. Your free hand grasps at him, nails digging into his skin. He hears you saying his name, whispering it like a prayer, but he can barely hear it over the sound of your heart in his ears.

He can stay under control, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t test his willpower.

He loves to call you his wine; Though in some ways it’s almost as if you’re a drug he can never allow himself to have too much of, lest he get lost in it.

His left hand drifts closer and brushes over your hip, his massive palm dwarfing your smaller body. His fingers push between your thighs with ease, and he slips his fingers into your folds and hears the way you whimper at the soft touch. It isn’t long before they press against your entrance and slowly he teases one inside, before slipping in another once he’s readied you enough for it.

He feels the heat of your body as he presses his hand against you, all the while his face never leaves your neck. It’s an awkward angle for him at his overwhelming height, but he makes it work. His teeth ever so gently scrape across the pulsing vein of your neck where old scars from him lie, and he feels the way you shiver.

His fingers curl inside of you as his lips press hard against your neck, tasting every last little bit of blood until your skin is clear apart from the thin sliver of red.

He leans away and presses his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his own. The cut on your lip had just stopped bleeding but his rougher kiss aggregates it enough to make it bleed just a tiny bit more, and you moan into his mouth as he tastes it.

Your hand desperately grasps at his own pressing against your shoulder, trying to grip his fingers and keep you grounded. He loves the way you writhe underneath him, earlier events completely forgotten.

He pulls way from your lips with a soft pop and his hot breath returns to your neck.

He wants to bite it so badly. It’s tormenting him, eating at him. But then he feels when he finally reach your peak, tightening around him and crying out to him in pleasure and not pain. It’s like music to his ears, after hearing your heart race so much in fear barely hours ago. To hear you call his name not to save you but to have him make you feel like this.

He pulls his lips away from your neck as you catch your breath. Another time.

His wings droop slightly, though even folded they take up so much space, shadowing so much more than just your body. They drop even more, and it almost feels like he’s trying to surround you with them and his body.

He gently pulls his hand from your folds but you feel his finger brush against your inner thigh, and the corners of his mouth twitch as you shiver and tense.

“I will never allow your life to ever be threatened again,”

He says, a part inside of him fuming at the fact it happened to begin with. He shouldn’t have been so presumptuous, careless, though deeper down he knows he did everything he could. He’ll do more now. His sons are becoming used to you, accepting of you, they’ll do it with no complaints.

You look up at him with soft, shining skin; Lips swollen. He wishes he could stay for longer, and take advantage of his time without his armor.

“Just don’t worry yourself into dropping feathers,” You joke and smile, voice slightly hoarse. He can still hear your heartbeat racing in his ears, but it’s calming down as you lay underneath him.

Sanguinus laughs and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. He swallows down his only partly sated hunger for another time.

“I’ll try not to.”

#Sanguinus x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months

Text

Not My Brother

Summary: What happens when two guys looking exactly like you show up in your world yet no one bats an eye except the three of you? A whole lot of confusion. Especially when everyone keeps calling those guys you've never met before your brothers...

Pairing: None (features Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen & Ben/Soldiery Boy)

Word count: 8,600ish

Warnings: language, Soldier Boy's language, mention of torture, spoilers for Supernatural, The Boys & Big Sky

A/N: Here's the triplet fic! I wrote this basically a year ago and finally finished! Told from all 3 guys POV's. Enjoy!

_______

Beau

“I’ll be heading out in five,” I said, turning the corner with my eyes locked down onto a file. And smacking straight into a body. Poppernak bounced back, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, boss.”

“It’s fine Pop. What’s…” I trailed off.

Sat in the two chairs in front of my desk were what appeared to be my fucking twins. One had shorter hair and a days worth of scruff on his jaw while the other’s hair was a tad longer than mine, a beard on display. He was a bit more muscular than the other one, which was saying something since they were both strong. The one with short hair was more of my body type, his green eyes flashing with a flicker of surprise at the sight of me but then nothing more. He shifted in his seat, his flannel shirt riding up in the back.

Meanwhile the other one looked pissed as all hell, jaw clearly clenched. Unlike the other one in jeans and workboots, the angry one was in a pair of sweatpants and a zip up, his sneakers absolutely filthy.

None of this would have been alarming if not for the fact that I was not a fucking identical triplet.

“Nollins found your brothers fighting again,” said Poppernak as I noticed the little scrapes on their cheeks and knuckles. “We brought ‘em to you per instructions.”

“Right…” I said, Poppernak staring at me. Was I hallucinating or something?

“You want to charge them?” he asked just as Hoyt walked into the doorway with a file in hand.

“I need a signature…well if it ain’t the Arlen boys,” she grinned, looking at my clones sat in the chairs. “Let me guess, Ben started it.”

“I did not!” said the angry one. The short haired one quickly argued against that, Jenny giving me an apologetic smile.

“I thought Ben and Dean were getting along better lately?” she whispered as she held out a file and pen to me.

“Uh, guess not?” I said, quickly scribbling on the form she wanted me to sign. “I need to deal with this.”

“Night guys! Behave for your brother for once,” she said, giving them a quick wave. Poppernak left behind her, allowing me to shut the door and lock it after them. I closed my eyes and spun around, the two men still sat there. Oh god, I was losing it.

“What the fuck is going on!” I said. Dean and Ben shared a look as I held up a finger. “Ah. I know what’s happening. I’m having a stroke. Oh! I bet I slipped on that damn front step that’s been wet all day. I slipped and hit my head and now I’m dying on the ground somewhere. Huh. That’s sad. I never got to get Emily that motorcycle like I wanted. Is she going to cry at my funeral? Stupid question. Of course she’s going to cry. God, I hope she’s not too upset. Poor baby doesn’t deserve-”

My face was suddenly tingling, Ben standing there with his hand clenched as I cupped my cheek.

“You punched me!” I said, the pain feeling way too much like a real hit. “What kind of near-death hallucination is this!”

“Stop being a fucking pussy and man up. You think I’m happy about losing my powers? You don’t see me being a bitch and crying about it,” said Ben. Dean yanked him back, pointing a finger at him. “You want to go again?”

“Shut up and sit your ass down!” Dean growled. He rolled his eyes, turning to me with a friendly enough smile. “Relax dude. You’re not dying, okay? I have a good idea of what’s going on and if I’m right, me and jackass over here will be out of your hair really soon.” He slapped my arm, dropping his smile when I stared at where he’d touched me.

These guys were real. Like in the flesh real.

“Before you freak out on me, let’s take this conversation somewhere more private, hm? Maybe not a police station? Okay, Chief?” said Dean.

“I’m the Sheriff,” I mumbled, closing my eyes.

“It’s just a nickname, buddy. You got a house? Let’s go to your house okay, Sheriff?” I nodded in what felt like slow motion, grabbing my jacket as Dean convinced Ben to come with us.

If I was going to have a mental breakdown, at least the Dean one seemed nice.

“Where’s my airstreamer!” I said twenty minutes later when I pulled up to where my home should have been. Instead, a large, beautiful wood cabin sat in it’s place, nestled in the trees. “That’s not my house!”

“According to google it is,” said Dean. I glanced to my right, glaring at him as he scrolled through my phone.

“How did you get that!” I said, trying to snatch it away.

“You tossed it in the cupholder, dumbass,” scoffed Ben from the backseat. “Is this numbnuts house or not, cocksucker?” Dean turned in his seat, his features tight.

“First off, dickwad, I screw women. Second, there’s nothing wrong with sucking cock, got it?” he rolled his eyes and scrolled the phone more. “We totally would have a homophobic alter ego out there in some universe. We’re just that damn lucky. Even you with your Sheriff job and seemingly normal life, I bet it’s fucked up to a degree huh?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, Dean humming as he stopped his finger on the phone.

“I’m not homo whatever you called me,” said Ben, leaning forward in his seat. “I know what that means. I don’t care if a dude fucks a dude. You just look the type.”

“That’s still a problem, jackass. People don’t look-”

“Guys,” I said, swallowing thickly. “Can we just agree we shouldn’t judge other people, for anything besides their character and focus on more important things like what the fuck is happening?”

“Yes, Beau, excellent point,” said Dean, slapping my shoulder, giving Ben a glare. “Isn’t it?”

“Sure, whatever,” he said, getting out of the car. Dean slid out too with my phone, leaving me scrambling to put the car in park and follow after. “Oh you’re so a dirty cop to afford this place. I can respect that.”

“I am not a dirty cop!” I snapped, Ben raising his eyebrows as I got in his face.

“Well, well. Maybe our little pussy has a dick after all.” I looked back at Dean, his face in an apologetic smile.

“You can see how we got arrested for getting in a fist fight now, huh?” said Dean. He walked past me, slapping my shoulder before putting a hand on my back, guiding me forward towards the house. “So this isn’t your house, Beau?”

“Like I said, I live in an airstream on this plot of land. There’s an old cabin not too far but my house was right here this morning and now-”

“Fuck!” growled Ben. Dean and I froze, carefully spinning around to watch him fall to the ground on hands and knees. He started to shake, Dean moving fast over to his side. I looked around, this close to going back to my dying theory, when Dean hoisted Ben up, an arm around his body.

“Beau. Inside. Now.” He was moving fast and I jogged up the few front steps to the porch, opening the door and flipping on a light switch. I blinked, catching a framed picture on the wall. It wasn’t one I recalled taking but I could clearly see why.

There was Ben, Dean and I, arms around each, wearing big smiles on what looked like some sort of camping trip.

“Beau!” shouted Dean, already past me and up the stairs, Ben clinging to him for dear life. “Find us a bathroom now!”

“Right, sorry!” I said, jogging up after them. I skirted around them in a hallway, finding a bathroom in the first bedroom I checked. I whistled as I hit the lightswitch, Dean inside with Ben, sitting him down on the floor before he reached inside the shower and turned it on full blast. “What’s-”

“He’s having a panic attack,” said Dean. I glanced down, Ben shaking hard, his eyes staring at the tile floor but not quite seeing anything. I didn’t even notice Dean leave, quickly back in the bathroom and returning to Ben, slapping a pair of noise-canceling headphones over his ears and wrapping a blanket tightly around him.

Ben blinked, staring at Dean with tears in his eyes, anger and shame in every feature of his face.

“Go ahead and call me a cocksucker all you want man, but I ain’t leaving your ass until you’re though this, understand me?” Ben nodded once. Dean sat back next to him, sighing deeply. “Sheriff? Maybe you want to go tell your wonderful neighbors to fuck off with the fireworks? I want this guy with us when I tell you guys what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be back in ten.”

“Are you a cop? Or ex-military?” I asked Dean half an hour later. We were sitting on the large sectional in the family room of the home, big enough for more than three grown men to comfortably lay on at once. Ben glanced at Dean from where he sat by himself way down, steadily nursing his glass of bourbon and refilling it.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You act like it,” said Ben. He said that with certainty, a twinge of remorse in my gut for not realizing he was suffering from PTSD earlier.

“You must have served,” I said to him, Dean sipping from his cold beer. I drank from my own as Ben closed his eyes. “Like Dean said, I think we’ve all had some bad hands dealt to us. Maybe of our own doing, maybe not. I’m still pretty sure this is a fever dream and isn’t actually real-”

“It’s real,” they both said.

“How do you know that?” said Dean with a nod at Ben. Ben smirked, slumping back in his seat.

“Where I come from, I was born in 1918. When I was a young man, I signed up for a secret war effort and then injected me with Compound V. It made me a superhero. Superstrength beyond what you two can even comprehend. Invulnerability. I never aged past my mid-forties. I was a war hero. A movie star. Women, men, everyone wanted to get fucked by me or be me. And then my team betrayed me, I was tortured for forty years by the russians, and they stuck nuclear waste down my gullet. But I was so damn tough it didn’t kill me. No, no. It made me powerful. I could fucking explode. Bring down buildings. Turn other supes human. Kill them.”

Ben knocked back his bourbon and smiled, looking between Dean and I.

“I was born exactly like the two of you. Just a boy. Just a man. And I could do all that before they drugged me up and trapped me back in a box. So if all that was real, then I can believe that life has the ability to throw me into another fucking dimension, or whatever the fuck this is, too.”

My eyes couldn’t have been wider, Ben snickering at me but I couldn’t even try to be mad at him.

He’d been a fucking superhero? A superhero? That was-

“I hunt monsters. And demons and the supernatural and a whole bunch of shit. Even took on the devil and God a few times and won. Technically I died in 2020, even though I did that a bunch too, but I was dead dead last I checked and it was also like 2070 something last I knew and according to the calendar in your office it’s like fifty years earlier so something weird is definitely up,” said Dean.

My head turned slowly to him, eyes still wide, mouth gaping now.

“Also, other worlds totally exist which what I’m pretty sure is happening. We’re all different versions of the same guy in different universes,” said Dean.

“You hunt monsters? What kind of fucked up world do you live in? At least he’s like superman!” I said, pointing at Ben.

“If superman does hard drugs off a hooker’s ass then sure, I’m like that guy,” chuckled Ben. My head whipped back to him, Dean holding up a hand. “Who died and made you the head of this operation in the first place, Deanne weenie? I'm the oldest. I’m in charge.”

“I spent forty years tortured in hell by demons, grandpa,” growled Dean. “I know what the hell I’m talking about so sit down, shut up, and let me figure out a way to get you back to whatever universe you belong in.”

“I spent forty years getting tortured too, cum guzzler. It don’t make you special,” said Ben, getting to his feet. Dean rose fast, the two of them bumping their chests against each other.

“Wait!” I jumped over the ottoman in the center of the couch, forcing them each to take a step back. I took a deep breath, Ben grabbing my arm to yank me backwards.

“Not now, kiddo. I need to finish what I started with this one,” said Ben. I planted my feet but Ben was strong. Maybe not super strong anymore but still, he pulled me back hard and fast. Fast enough to make me trip and hit my head on the way down.

“Ow!” I gasped, wrapping an arm around my head, slowly getting to my knees. When I opened my eyes, Ben was worriedly staring at me, his hand on my head. “Get off-”

“What is going on?” Ben asked Dean, looking over his shoulder. He was wide eyed when he looked back at me, looking me over. “Why the fuck do I feel bad I just did that? I don’t give a shit about you. I don’t know you. I don’t…”

I looked at Dean, his eyes closing.

“When Ben had his panic attack-” I said, Ben growling. I ignored him, looking to Dean still. “When he was scared, you went full blown…you were acting like you cared about him.”

“For some reason, when that happened, something clicked,” said Dean, kneeling down on the floor beside Ben and I. He found Ben’s gaze and nodded. “It felt like you were my brother. Even when you pushed Beau just now, I don’t hate you when I easily could. I just…”

“Care that Beau’s okay,” said Ben. He held out a hand, helping me sit up, a gut punching hitting me in the stomach. I swallowed, the same thick swallow they were sharing. “Dean.”

“You’re using my name. Now I’m concerned,” said Dean. Ben groaned but I understood where he was going with this.

“Dean, I think what Ben’s trying to say is…this isn’t your guy’s universe and it’s not mine either. I have one brother and he’s not you guys so wherever the hell we are-”

“We’re brothers here,” said Dean. He closed his eyes. “This is our house too. There’s too many pictures of us in this house, the bedrooms are too different, the garage outside has my muscle car in it I’m pretty sure. Which means we’re in a completely different universe.”

“Or we’re not,” said Ben. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Ben slapped his hand over it. “We could be dead. Or in purgatory.”

“I was already dead and you two weren’t there,” said Dean. “Besides, it’s 2023. I was dead and Ben was in a box? Or some shit. We couldn’t die twice.”

“I wasn’t dead in the box, moron,” sighed Ben. “I was just in a coma kind of. On ice. For probably the next forty years.”

I stood up, needing something for the splitting headache between my ears. I left them to bicker in the family room, something nagging at me that this was familiar. It couldn’t be though, right?

I wandered into the kitchen and swiped some pills from the cabinet, ducking down the hall to a bathroom and tossing a few down.

“Guys?” Loud footsteps approached as I existed, holding up the bottle. “How did I know where this bottle would be? I’ve never been in this house.”

“I’d assume the medicine would be in the kitchen,” said Dean, Ben shrugging. I shook my head, shaking the bottle.

“No. No I always keep my medicine in the bathroom. I always have my whole life. My parents did, I did, my ex-wife. Always in the bathroom. So why did I know to go to the kitchen?” I asked.

“Because that’s where Dean keeps them, isn’t it?” said Ben, crossing his arms.

“I think I know what’s happening,” said Dean, very slowly holding up a hand. “Ben. You and I woke up on that trail, remember?”

“Obviously,” said Ben. “Get to the fucking point.”

“Beau, did anything weird happen today? Did you…did you have an emergency? Did you black out?”

“No. I was at work, pursued a thief, caught them-” Dean grabbed my wrist, his face tight.

“How did you pursue the thief? Was it dangerous?”

“It was on a motorcycle. It got a little fast but-”

“I know what happened,” said Dean. He dropped my hand and ran his own over his face, eyes wide. “I don’t know how to fix this. Fuck, I think we’re stuck until we die.”

“Fine with me,” said Ben.

“What happened?” I asked, crossing my arms. Dean shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

“We are in a world where the three of us are brothers. Triplets obviously. And the reason the three of us care about each other and get flashes of things, like knowing where the pills were, are because we’re remembering lives that aren’t ours.”

“Uh…” Dean swallowed.

“Today Ben and I died. This version. We fell off a cliff while hiking. Ben fell and I tried to catch him but we both went over. And you Beau, you got hurt on that motorcycle. The versions of us from this world, they all died today. But for some reason, we all got put in the wrong damn bodies and now we’re here.”

“That makes zero fucking sense,” said Ben. He held up a finger. “Actually, it’s fucking stupid. It makes more sense that-”

“Nope, Dean’s right,” said a voice behind us. I spun around, a young man in his twenties smiling back with a wave. “Sorry, paperwork mix up. I’ll pop you guys back where you belong.”

“Hold up shortstack,” said Ben, striding over to the young man. “If-”

The man disappeared, Ben and Dean still close by. The familiar nagging feeling was gone but the three of us were still there.

“Jack! It didn’t fucking work!” said Dean.

“It did! You three are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Beau, I shuffled a few things around in your universe so Dean and Ben can stay. Ben wants to and Sam wants you to have a fair shot at life too so he’ll see you when it’s time, okay? Talk to you guys when you die! Bye!”

“The fuck is going on!” shouted Ben.

“This is why God should not be a child,” groaned Dean. “We’re stuck. We’re fucking stuck as brothers. For real now. All because man-child druggie over here wanted to not go back to being in a coma. I was dead and I was ready to go!”

Ben threw a right hook, Dean barely dodging it. He tried throwing another but I caught his bicep, yanking him away from Dean.

“Enough!” I shouted, holding up a hand in front of each of them, keeping them at arms length from one another. “You fucking calm down, Ben. And Dean, cut the guy a break for not wanting to go back to being captured.”

“He’s clearly a piece of shit. You heard him talking before, Beau,” said Dean. “I-”

“I said enough!” Dean’s jaw snapped shut, both of them huffing, giving each other dirty looks. “Ben, go take the bourbon and hang out on the porch, alright?”

He said nothing and went past, not without forcefully bumping Dean’s shoulder. When the front door slammed shut, Dean wiped a hand over his face again. “Really dude?”

“Beau, I get you want to be the nice guy but he doesn’t belong here and neither do I,” said Dean. I skirted past him, stopping in the main hall of the house, looking out the front door to find Ben sitting on the front porch with his head between his knees. “We don’t know Ben. Maybe he deserves to be locked up. Trust me, I’d love to be alive again but I want that with my real brother, not this place. Ben and I aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Actually you are,” said that young man’s voice again. We both looked around, the young man sighing. “Listen, Dean. This is Beau’s world, the Beau in front of you. Maybe I went ahead and switched things up a bit, made you guys all brothers and yes, you can recall memories when needed. Maybe I did fuck up Beau’s world. But there’s a reason for that. All three of you need each other. You-”

“I was at peace Jack. I-”

“You were bored out of your fucking mind in Heaven. Hey, you want to get back in the game? Consider this your audition. Help your new brothers,” said Jack. “Beau?”

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. “Yes, uh, Jack?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. But I don’t pop into your world often. You guys don’t get into as much trouble as say, the world Dean lived in.”

“Excuse me but who’s fault was that?” argued Dean.

“My point being, Beau, is to be yourself. Your ups and downs are as valid as your brother’s. Your monsters just don’t come with claws or lasers,” said Jack. “Now I really, really need to go. Dean, magic doesn’t exist here so yeah, you guys are stuck until you kick it. I promise I will pop you back to Sam when you do, okay? Just try to be there for each other. And maybe get a stiff drink in Beau. He’s pretty sure he’s lost his mind. Be sure to stay away from rebar!”

“Little shit!” shouted Dean. He grumbled but was quickly going to the liquor cart, grabbing a bottle of tequila and shoving it in my hands. “Drink.”

“Was that…God? Is God a kid in his twenties?” I asked, Dean ripipng the cap off, and pressing the bottle to my lips. I swallowed back two shots worth before he let me up for air, patting my back.

“Yes…technically he’s his grandson. God was a major dickhead. Jack’s cool but hands off which means-”

“Which means this is for real,” I finished. Dean knocked back some tequila himself before throwing an arm over my shoulders and leading me outside.

“We stuck?” grumbled Ben.

“Yup,” said Dean, sitting down on a porch seat, leaving me to lean back against the railing, taking another swig from the bottle. “Happy fucking new universe to us.”

“It’s actually pretty nice,” I hiccuped. Ben groaned and drank down a fifth of the bourbon bottle without so much as a flinch. I blinked, staring at him as I felt flashes of a memory. “You were in special ops. You went to rehab twelve years ago for a drug problem but you’ve been clean since,” I said. Ben narrowed his eyes at me, smirking darkly.

“Your wife divorced you and left you for a rich schmuck. Oh, and your kid potentially wants nothing to do with you. Sheriff.” I turned away from him, Dean closing his eyes in his seat.

“Can we all just agree to shut up and drink tonight?” sighed Dean.

“Agreed,” we both said. No one said a word as we silently passed the bottles between ourselves.

I knew I’d have a killer headache in the morning but I didn’t care. If I was ever going to have an excuse to get blackout drunk in my forties, this was it. But even as the three of us lay on the porch hours later, everyone too far gone to even move, something tickled the back of my mind.

“We used to have sleepovers on our parents porch,” I mumbled.

“Are our parents nice?” breathed out Ben. I hummed. “Is our dad?” His voice was thick, Dean shifting beside me.

“Don’t worry about it man. Look at Beau. I’m sure his…our parents are really nice people, right Beau?” said Dean.

“Good. I don’t want anymore shitty ass parents,” said Ben. I forced my head to the left, finding his back to me. He was soon snoring, Dean relaxing comfortably close by.

Maybe when I woke up, I’d realize this was all a very intense dream that had never actually happened.

Somehow I knew in my gut though that in the morning when the sun rose, Ben and Dean would be exactly where they slept.

And they weren’t going anywhere.

Dean

I groaned as I sat up. Sleeping on the hard wood of the porch had been a mistake. I noticed a blanket had been tossed over myself, Ben snoring loudly off to my side with his own blanket and hugging a pillow to his chest.

The smell of coffee hit me and I hummed, wearily following it inside. Beau was in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of nearly white colored coffee and the thought to tease him hit me.

“You like to drink a lot of cream in the mornings do we Beau?” I said before I could help myself. Beau slurped it back, his annoyed smile letting the tightness in my chest relax.

“Only if he bought me dinner first,” he chuckled. “And yes, I like cream in my coffee. Sue me.”

“Leave some for the rest of us is all,” I said. He poured me a cup as I got out the carton, the two of us working around each other like we’d done it a million times. It was only when I sat at the kitchen island did I realize he was freshly showered and dressed, a badge and gun on his hip. “You going to work?”

“Yup,” he said, pouring more coffee in a travel mug. “I don’t get the most time off in the world and I’d rather save my vacation days for…”

Emily. In my head I saw a clear picture of her, a protective instinct towards her I’d only felt towards Sam before. Glancing at Beau though, I sensed it too and somehow, I knew it’d be there for Ben too.

“I’m so jealous of you,” I said. Beau fixed the cap on his mug while he worked on putting together a ham and turkey sandwich. “I mean…”

“You want to be a dad. I know. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” said Beau. “I get the feeling my daughter adores you and Ben.”

“The bastard has to have a soft spot somewhere,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder towards the front door, a pang of guilt rushing through my veins. “I can keep an eye on him.”

“I appreciate the gesture but Ben’s a big boy. He makes his own choices,” said Beau, sliding his sandwich into a baggie, tucking it away in a soft sided lunch box. “You guys probably have jobs too you ought to get to. Maybe check your rooms?”

“Good idea,” I said. I quietly watched him finish packing his lunch, Beau rinsing out his mug before placing it in the dishwasher. “I guess we’ll see you later today then.”

“Yeah. It’s friday last I knew so maybe we can order some pizzas, try to get to know each other?” I smiled, a small twinge of jealously in my gut again. “Sounds like a plan. Text if you need something.”

“Sure thing,” I said, watching him gather his things and start to head out. He froze halfway down the hall though, spinning around to look at me. His face was curious and bashful at the same time.

“When you say you fought monsters, that include demons?” he asked. I nodded, his eyes widening for a moment. “Does…does salt actually keep them away?”

I chuckled, looking him over. I liked Beau more and more. “It’s actually ghosts the salt works on. Demons you need either an enchanted amulet or something like that or an anti-possession warding.” I peeled down my shirt collar, revealing my tattoo. “Doesn’t seem like an issue in this world.”

“I’d rather not know the answer to that,” he said, smiling softly. “Later Dean.”

I nodded, the house quiet for a beat. I trudged upstairs, finding a bedroom that I instinctively knew was mine. It was the room the three of us had crammed in the night before, the memory of Ben shaking on the bathroom floor forcing an unpleasant ache.

Only Sam had ever elicited that ache.

But something about Beau, even Ben…it rushed in my blood, made me hope Beau got to work safely. Made me wish Ben didn’t have to endure that kind of fear.

“This is what I get for complaining that heaven was too fucking boring,” I mumbled. I opened a closet, eyes darting around for clues when I caught a pair of coveralls with my name stamped on the front. “I’m a mechanic? That tracks.”

My phone on the nightstand rang, an unflattering picture of Beau eating a plate of nachos popping up.

“Hey,” I said, flipping through the closet. “I think I’m a mechanic.”

“Actually it looks like you’re a firefighter. Your work badge is sitting on my passenger seat,” he said. “And uh, you’re probably going to be pissed but your name is Dean Arlen according to it.”

“It’s whatever,” I sighed, resigning myself to that fact I’d be spending the next forty years in this world. At least.

“Any luck on what Ben does?” I slipped out of the room, going to the one across the hall.

“Nope. I just checked…aw, this must be your daughter’s room. It’s so pretty. Will you be my dad?”

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “I might be oldest but-”

“No offense kiddo but I’m pretty sure I’m oldest,” I said, closing the door and heading down the hall.

“Tell you what? I’ll look up our birth records when I get to work. Loser has to make dinner.”

“You’re on, kid.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled. “I’ll drop your ID off at the firehouse, okay? It’s down the block from the station.”

“Ten four, Sheriff.” Beau sighed and hung up as I pushed open a door, this room neat and tidy, a framed children’s drawing on his dresser. I went to the only other room in the hallway, grimacing when I opened the door.

Ben’s room was a disaster. Clothes everywhere. A pungent smell of old spice in the air. There were beer cans and bottles on nearly every surface. I almost decided to give up and assume Ben didn’t have a job when a slip of paper on a covered desk caught my eye. I slipped inside, frowning at it.

“Guessing this one’s mine,” grumbled a voice behind me. I spun around, Ben walking in with a glass of something gross looking. He took a sip and closed his eyes. “We should get a maid.”

“Or you can clean up after yourself,” I said. He chuckled, his features dark. “Is that beneath you?”

“Listen,” he said, putting the glass down and walking up to me, pressing his chest against mine. I was not a small guy but this one…he had twenty pounds of muscle on me easily. He stared me down, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know how they do things in your universe but in mine, people do what I say, understand?”

“We’re in Beau’s universe so tough shit. Here, you can be a damn man and clean up after yourself.” Ben leaned in close, smashing his nose against mine, a threat of violence in the air that reminded me of when I had the mark on my arm.

“Give me a reason to snap your neck, boy,” Ben growled. “Unlike that pussy cop, I don’t give two fucks about you or anyone else here.”

My instinct was to snap back, headbutt this asshole into the next century. But...if I couldn’t shake the feeling of giving a shit about these guys then that meant he couldn’t either.

“Then kill me Ben,” I said, raising my chin. “Go ahead. If you really don’t care, do it. I won’t even make it hard for you. Because I’ve died. I know where I’m going. You though? Something tells me you might end up going downstairs and trust me, you won’t like it one bit.”

Ben’s hand shot to my throat, a threat in the air. There was no pressure though, only his heavy pants in the air.

Suddenly it was gone, Ben storming across the room, throwing most of the things from the dresser onto the floor. Glass smashed against the hardwoods, items bouncing against the carpet before coming down with a hard thud. He kept his back to me, breathing heavily.

“I’ll take that as you aren’t going to kill me then,” I said. Ben mumbled something, shoulders shaking slightly. “Listen, you got crap? I get it. I get whatever the hell this is too. But it’s the twenty first century. You can get help and be a fucking man too. I have work. Can you survive on your own?”

“I don’t need a damn babysitter.” With a roll of my eyes, I left, going down to my own bedroom. After a minute, I wash changed into a fresh pair of jeans and had found a t-shirt with a fire emblem on it, one I assumed matched the fire station I worked for. I quickly grabbed a black flannel and a pair of white and dark olive green sneakers out of my closet, whistling to myself.

“You look new,” I said to myself, pleasantly surprised they fit so well. I jogged downstairs and noticed Beau had made up an extra pair of lunches while we were talking earlier, grabbing one and heading for the door.

“Wait.” I had my hand on the handle as heavy footsteps came downstairs, Ben changed into a baseball jersey and pair of tight jogger sweatpants. He slipped on a pair of sneakers in the tray by the door, staring at me. “Alright, let’s go, jackass.”

“I didn’t realize I was your fucking chaufer.”

“I’m drunk,” he growled. I nodded back at the kitchen.

“Beau made you lunch. Might as well take it before I drop you off wherever it is you’re going.”

“I’ll be back before then,” was all he said. Two minutes later we were on the road, driving in dead silence. For the first time I caught Ben smiling as we rode along in Baby, his hand running over the dash. “Ah. See this is a car I could drive. Don’t get me wrong. That cocksucker of a brother we have-”

“Don’t insult him.” Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The man might not have fought monsters like I did or had super powers like you but he’s divorced with a teenage daughter. And he’s a cop, in charge of all the other ones. In charge of this town. The man is kind but don’t underestimate him. He’s got crap too. He’s us, remember?”

Ben crossed his arms and stared out the window for ten minutes until we hit the edge of town. I wasn’t sure where we were going but I let muscle memory guide me, eventually coming up to a small complex of doctor’s offices. Ben didn’t move when I leaned forward, recognizing the name on the sign from the letter on his desk.

“You’re an asshole,” I said. I saw his lip twitch up in the passenger mirror. “Go on before I kick your ass out. I got work.”

“You’re such a bitch,” said Ben, climbing out of the car and heading inside the building without a second glance. I shook my head, driving down the road for a few minutes, passing by Beau’s truck out front of the police station. I let instinct take over, eventually finding a fire station down the block. I found an empty spot out front and parked, inhaling sharply.

“Here goes nothing.”

Work was amazing. I wasn’t just a firefighter. I had seniority. I worked on arson investigations. I got to teach little kids on field trips all about fire safety. It was like tapping into these untouched parts of my brain. The more I let go, the more memories filled in. One’s about work, about Beau and Ben.

Maybe Sam had a point about forcing me to live a normal life like he’d been able to. I missed the hell out of him but I knew I’d see him again and for him, it wouldn’t be that long. In the meantime, I knew two guys that could do with my help right here.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” I said late in the day as Beau and the pretty female cop my brain told me was named Jenny pulled up to the scene of a small house fire. “We just put out that fire, Beau. What you doin’ bringing more hot things my way?”

Beau’s eyes glared as Jenny laughed, smacking my arm. “Oh, I love you Arlen boys. All of you are such flirts. Except Beau. That some sort of big brother thing?”

It was my turn for my face to fall as Beau threw his arm over my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. “It must be. My little brothers are such flirts. Especially the baby, isn’t that right, Dean?”

“By twelve minutes!” I said, dread filling my veins as a memory popped into my head. I so was not the baby brother. I hadn’t spent a lifetime of being Sam’s big brother to suddenly be thrust into baby brother status.

“Enjoy it, kid,” Beau whispered in my ear, slapping my back as he pulled away. “Everything settled here?”

“Space heater caused the fire. Minimal damage. No injuries,” I said, Jenny looking me up and down, a twinkle in her eye. “Jenny, you want to grab a drink after work?”

“I would but I have a hot date with Cassie. Unless you want to join us?”

“Sorry, Dean’s going to have to take a raincheck. We need a little guy time after the incident yesterday. Plus Dean has oh so graciously offered to make us dinner,” said Beau, narrowing his eyes when Jenny wasn’t looking.

“Right. How is Ben by the way?” she asked. “I thought rehab stuck this time.”

“It did for the drugs,” I said, my mind filling in a gap it didn’t know existed a split second before. “We’re still working on the drinking.”

“He’s cutting down,” said Beau as I found myself nodding along with him. We shared a concerned look, Jenny polite enough to not say anything.

“Well, I know he’s a big softie deep down. He’s making progress which is something,” she said, clearing her throat. “Beau, I’ll do a quick interview and write up the report.”

“Excuse me, are you volunteering to do paperwork? What demon are you being possessed by?” Beau teased. I stared at Jenny, probably too long, Beau grimacing behind her. “Uh, sure. Need a ride back to the station when you’re through?”

“Dean can give me a lift,” she said, a curious smile on her face.

“Alright. Dean, I’m ducking to the grocery store. You’re making me pizza tonight,” he said. He waved as he walked away, Jenny crossing her arms and staring after him.

“Your brother is something else,” she said, dipping her tongue out past her lips.

“Oh,” I said as it clicked. “You’re hot for your boss.” She grabbed my arm, quite hard for how small she was, dragging me around to the end of the fire truck.

“Dean, I told you I don’t know how I feel about Beau. I just…don’t say anything to him. Or Cassie or Ben or anybody, got it?” I held up my hands, Jenny letting out a small exhale.

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Careful, Dean,” she said but nodded anyways.

“Why not me? What’s so different about Beau and me?” I asked. She smiled softly, resting her palm on my bicep.

“You’re sweet, Dean. A good friend. You boys are similar in ways but Beau’s friendship…it lifts me up if that makes sense. There’s a light to him that-”

“I understand,” I said, flashes of memories that weren’t my own but were popping into my head. “Beau’s the good brother, Ben’s the bad one and I’m the one that’s known for sleeping around.”

“You’re known for pushing women away when they start getting to close Dean. I know you boys have only been in town a year but I’d guess that’s who you’ve always been. It’s a shame. You’d really make someone happy if you just let yourself.”

Awesome. I was the same guy in this universe, just without a legitimate reason for being alone.

“Thanks, Jenny,” I said when she pursed her lips. “Honestly.”

“Life’s funny. It doesn’t mean it’s too late for anything,” she said, walking past me. “If you know what I mean.”

“Like you wanting to fuck my brother?”

“Shut up Arlen!” she said with a huff. “All you fucking men…”

I had the feeling Beau was still very much in love with his ex-wife. Yet…something told me Ben and I got on his back about Jenny. One man and two potential women to enjoy?

I’d rather deal with the devil all over again.

Ben

My head was fucking killing me and not just from the hangover. Everything was so fucking confusing. There was too much information in my head. It was too fucking much. I knew what the internet was and bluetooth and all those other fake fucking words Hughie had made up. Or I thought he’d made up.

I’d been gone almost forty years and in that time everything had changed so fucking much.

Funnily enough, I fucking enjoyed therapy. It turns out I wasn’t a complete piece of shit. If you don’t give a shit about everyone equally, you’re just an all around asshole which was a step up in my book.

But apparently my language was “inappropriate” or some shit. It “hurt” those around me. Like my brothers. Yeah right. Those two little shits would get hurt walking to the damn mailbox in my world.

Maybe not Dean. He seemed…angry in a way Beau wasn’t. But they were both still pussies by all standards.

It was getting late in the afternoon as I walked down yet another sidewalk in downtown, the air slightly cool. It must have been early fall based on the few trees starting to turn color.

“Hey Ben,” said a gorgeous woman with a small wave as she struggled to get her keys in the door. Cassie. She was Beau’s friend and by proxy, mine too.

“Hey,” I said, walking over, resisting the urge to comment on her ass as I took a box out of her arms.

“Thanks,” she said, opening up the shop door. “Today’s been a disaster. I can’t believe it’s already after three and I’m only now just getting in.”

“I bet,” I said, following her inside, trying very hard to keep my mouth shut. I mean this woman looked good. The old me from before Russia would probably already be screwing her over the desk by now.

“You’re abnormally quiet,” she said, taking the box from my arms. “And no flirting? I bet your interview didn’t go as bad as you think.”

“Interview?” I asked, Cassie rolling her eyes at me.

“You know, the one you were supposed to have today…the security thing?” Memories flashed in my mind about Beau and Dean pulling strings with a friend of theirs to get me an interview with a private security company. A job I could clearly recall not wanting in the first place.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, catching a clock on the wall. This supposed interview was in less then fifteen minutes. “Doesn’t sound my style.”

She suddenly looked annoyed, setting the box on a counter off to the side. “Well I’m kind of busy so maybe you should go anyways.”

“Baby-”

“I have a boyfriend, Ben,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Go to the interview for your brothers sake.”

“Whatever,” I said, leaving and walking once again. It only took five minutes to find the place I was supposed to go but I didn’t want a fucking job. The only job I’d ever had was being a supe. A movie star. Model. All of those I’d made the rules.

Anyone who tried to make me do anything other than what I wanted could get fucked.

One Hour Later

I took the fucking job. Why oh why did I say yes to that fucking job? Worst of all, they wanted me to start on Monday.

At the fucking daycare. They wanted me to work at a fucking daycare at the front desk. Me.

“Hey,” said Beau, pulling up to a stop on the street as I sat on a bench, a stack of black polos with the security logo stamped on them beside me. “You cool?”

“Just get me the hell home,” I grunted, grabbing the shirts and pilling into the passenger seat, grateful when he kept his mouth shut most of the way there.

“So uh, Cassie texted me.” I glared at Beau, his eyes on the road. “I guess you had a job interview?”

I mumbled the story to him, Beau making a surprised sound when I finished. “What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Means they must like you, must think you have the capacity to deal with an environment full of kids all day,” grinned Beau.

I would have slapped him in the face if he hadn’t been driving.

“If I’m lucky I’ll die snorting coke off a whore’s tits before Monday,” I said, Beau frowning as we pulled up to the house.

“Don’t do that,” he said when I was halfway out the door. I rolled my eyes, Beau’s face so pathetic looking though that I closed the door and sat back in my seat.

“Why not? I don’t want to be here and the world don’t want someone like me in it. I was someone in my universe. Here I’m a mooching scumbag apparently. So who cares if I go out the fun way?”

“I do.” Beau shook his head at me, my annoyance growing. “God, Jack, whatever…that kid put you and Dean in my world for a reason. Dean, I get. He died young and this is a chance to live a normal life. Me? Maybe I do things differently and don’t bottle up my shit and move on from my ex. And you? Maybe you need to get rid of your superiority complex and learn to just be a normal person without superpowers or torture or whatever. So don’t do something stupid cause I will find you in the afterlife and I will kick your ass if you do.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. A minute later I was in my bedroom, frowning at the space. It was pretty fucking filthy. “Why don’t we have a fucking maid again?”

“Because we’re not rich,” said Beau as he walked past my open door. I heard him go into a bedroom and exit a moment later sans his firearm and badge, his shirt untucked. “Dean’s making homemade pizza when he gets in.”

“Good. I’m starving,” I said, following Beau downstairs. “How much to get you to clean my room?”

“What did I say to you not five minutes ago?” asked Beau, spinning around on the stairs, looking up at me. “Find a closet or bathroom. I’m sure there’s cleaning supplies in there.”

“Well I’ve never cleaned shit so how was I supposed to know that?” Beau raised his eyebrows. “What? I grew up rich and then got even richer.”

“Well I seriously doubt mom and dad would let you get away with not cleaning your room. Think and you’ll remember.” I frowned. Of course I knew how to fucking clean something. It didn’t mean I wanted to.

“Still stupid,” I mumbled.

“Ben,” said Beau, raising his voice. “I know you think you’re hot shit but you are a sorry excuse for a man. Start acting like one and maybe every conversation you have won’t be a fight.”

Beau went downstairs, leaving me standing there feeling for the first time in a very long time like maybe my dad had been right.

I really was a fucking disappointment.

I cleared my throat an hour later as I went downstairs to find Beau and Dean laughing in the kitchen. They turned their heads when I walked in, a strange awkwardness settling in my gut.

“I uh, cleaned my room,” I said, glancing at the three ready pizzas. “One of those for me?”

“Come on, man. You can make up your own,” said Dean. I settled next to him, looking at the different topping options. “I heard you got a job today.”

“Yeah,” I said, sprinkling some pepperoni on top of one.

“So what was it like growing up rich?” asked Dean. “Personally we had jack shit after I was four. Nice to know I was well off in one universe.”

“It was alright,” I said, Beau passing me a bowl of peppers and onions. “Actually it sucked. I was never good enough for my dad.”

“Been there, done that,” said Dean. “I mean, I made up with my dad eventually but it wasn’t until after he died.”

“My dad’s nice,” said Beau softly. “Our dad. You guys will like him.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Dean, nudging my ribs. “Hey. Even if he’s not perfect, beats being tortured for forty years, am I right?”

“You have a point.” I put some extra jalapeños on my pizza before I was done, Beau hopping up on the counter. Dean grabbed a few beers from the fridge, handing one to each of us and then putting the first pizza in the oven.

“So,” said Beau, taking a draw from his bottle. “I know this situation is kind of crazy but not gonna lie, I don’t mind having some company at home again. Em stays with her mom a lot lately.”

“I lived with my brother most of my life,” said Dean with a small smile. “It’s not half bad.”

They both glanced at me, waiting for me to share something personal. I resisted the voice at the back of my head screaming for me to snap an insult back at them.

“I’ve kinda always been on my own I guess,” I said, fiddling with the bottle in my hands.

“Well not anymore,” said Beau.

“Just stop calling us pussies all the time?” asked Dean, a smirk on his face.

“No promises,” I said, Dean slapping my back.

“Told ya you’d warm up to us,” he said. I rolled my eyes, Beau chuckling into his beer. “We’ll work on it.”

Beau held up his bottle, raising his chin. “To Ben working on his potty mouth.”

“To living in a world where we can have normal lives,” said Dean, lifting his. I tilted mine up, nodding once.

“To my new, weird as fuck, brothers.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Dean, throwing an arm over my shoulders, a strange warmth filling me up. “Now who’s hungry?”

________

#Dean Winchester #Soldier Boy #Beau Arlen #Spn fanfic #big sky au #the boys au #crossover #fanfic

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waitmyturtles · 6 months

Text

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 11 -- 1 OUTTA 3 AIN'T BAD

Preamble! I had a HELL of a day yesterday, woof. So if this comes out garbled, y'all will know why. I'll try to keep this short, but... I'm likely lying to myself, let's see.

TW: FORCEBOOK -- I'm going to say a few words about ForceBook below, so if words about ForceBook are not your thing, please move along!

I'm gonna start this post with thoughts on the three main pairs, and then get some last little thoughts out at the end.

a) I have a feeling that I don't need to write THAT much, because the lovelies @lurkingshan (here), @neuroticbookworm (here), and @chicademartinica (here) all covered the top points of this episode nicely: this episode was a BostonNick WIN. On Nick, dear Chica nailed it so hard that I will have to link AND screenshot her m'fucker:

And Boston, BOSTON, MY MAN! MY MAN! MY MAN!

(Nick says the first line below, with Boston saying the second:)

Fuckin' a. There are two reasons why I STANNED BostonNick in this episode.

1) First of all, as you see above, Nick still had to be a tiny bit of a shit. Nick was in Atom's shoes once. Nick remembers the feeling of having feelings for someone who didn't have feelings back for him. So Nick took a little passive aggressive dig at Boston by calling Boston's sex and predilections "terrible."

And Boston shot back at Atom -- and maybe indirectly at Nick -- with his perspective on sex: "[h]ow can you love me after sleeping together just once?"

I've written before (and forgive the foggy mom brain, but I believe @emotionallychargedtowel has also written on this), that the hormonal experience of sex can impact people in incredibly different ways. Some people, like Boston, feel no connection with the person he's slept with after sex; other people, like Nick and Atom, catch feelings. All of it is normal.

What happened in the dialogues that we were privy to earlier in the series vis à vis Nick and Atom was that WE, the audience, heard THEIR perspectives, and the narratives allowed US to contemplate sympathizing for them -- by playing off of a general assumption that an audience would JUDGE people like Boston for having casual sex. Boston's positions on sex (heh) pissed off people like Nick and Atom! So Boston got fuckin' wiretapped and smeared by these dudes.

However: BOSTON REMAINED CONSISTENT, CONSTANT, AND ACCOUNTABLE to his position, AT ALL TIMES, that he wasn't someone who caught feelings after casual sex. I am sure for many sectors of the Only Friends audience, that this may not have been easy to parse, especially considering the very early and popular judgements levied against Boston. (For the record, I never took Boston as a predator, and I established my thoughts early in the series run on this as rhetoric about Boston's "badness" around sex was flying around. I'm a Khai girlie. Boys, girls, and non-binary friends can be playas, too, and deserve to enjoy their sex lives without judgement.)

What I UTTERLY admire about the pace of this series vis à vis BostonNick is that it took its TIME in establishing Boston's AGENCY to be able to LEVY his position on sex SO STRONGLY and CLEARLY, with Nick's support. While much of the series allowed the popular and condemning rhetoric to swirl around Boston, this scene put a fuckin' NAIL in that coffin. I believe this scene said: you can't only listen to one side, the crying, sobbing side of a person who wants another person after a one-night stand. You HAVE to listen to both sides. The hormonal aspect of wanting to be close to your sex partner is valid, but also -- if the other side is talking, you MUST listen to what the other side is SAYING.

Boston was always clear about his position -- and Nick and Atom HAD to take responsibility for their unreasonable demands from Boston after their one-night stands with him; unreasonable, because Boston CLEARLY stated to the both of them that he wasn't a relationship guy, and would not be forced into it. And both of them ignored those statements, and all hell broke loose, TWICE.

2) HOWEVER! Boston realized, after spending more time with Nick than with any other sex partner, and after he lost his friends, that he HAD caught feelings for his fave, his Nick! Remember last week, when I got all mewdy that MONOGAMY might be the dramatic device that the show would use to "redeem" Boston? BLECH.

DAMN, did this episode SPIN THAT AROUND for me. GOD, I LOOOOOOOOOOVED THAT CONVO WITH NICK AND BOSTON ABOUT FIGURING OUT THEIR STATUS!!!!!

Paraphrasing! "I want to spend the next few months loving on you," or whatever Boston says?! FUCK, YES! Nick, all OVER this, setting boundaries, allowing himself TIME and SPACE to figure out what's best for him, with both Dan and Boston! SHIT, MARK PAKIN SHOWED UP! Omg, BostonNick for the win.

My head's spinning, because that was seriously one of the BEST conversations I've seen written in a drama about the consideration of a relationship and a status check. That impressed me as much as Pharm asking Dean for a break in UWMA -- and then Pharm straight up LIVING HIS LIFE, BBQ pork grills and all, without Dean for a few months.

And. Boston was cool with Nick's boundaries and thoughtfulness. Boston knows what he wants, but he's not gonna push Nick into anything. Boston knows time is ticking, but will wait for Nick's answer.

It was so cool to see. My heart was full.

So that pairing, the NeoMark/BostonNick pairing -- SOLID.

b) Moving on! Thanks to @lurkingshan, I got clarity on what the fuq was happening with Sand and Boeing. At first, I thought Boeing was a little SHIT for showing up to Sand and stirring unnecessary drama in his ex's life after getting rejected by Mew. (Mond, though. 🤤)

But, as Shan pointed out to me in my insane day yesterday: Sand has a problem saying no to dudes. (Homey, RELATE.) So like, then they all go back to Ray's place, and Ray KNOWS that Sand has trouble setting boundaries and saying no, because that's what Sand's mom said to Ray, but also, that's the way Sand's been engaging with Ray himself, and Ray will DEF know what will be up if Sand gets closer to Boeing again, and Ray's like, uh, come into my pool so we can nip this in the bud?, but no, we know what Jojo's thinking, so.

I mean, have sex already, you three, chop chop. I see the FirstKhao gworls on my dash not happy about not having a complete episode of SandRay peace, which I get, but also, this continues to reiterate my bleh on Sand, which like -- get a backbone, Sand. You have a literal boyfriend now, and you're still not saying no to dudes? What if Mild strolled in for a foursome? (NO, DON'T TURN THAT DOWN, SAND, DON'T.) But I'm just saying -- maybe listen to a person in your life, like your mom, to set some boundaries, like your roommate. I'm throwing my hands up in the air on this one, but at least we may get our threesome, and, Mond.

c) Okay, last pair! TopMew. For a hot second, I was impressed with Top.

I liked this, ::waves index finger in a circle::, this worked.

But I have decided. I'm done with ForceBook. I just -- please remember the TW, FB girls. I'll get back to TopMew in a second as characters, but this was my first ForceBook show, and it might be my last. Watching them is as exciting to me as breaking down Amazon boxes.

We have seen Mew waffle this whole dang series. (WELCOME BACK, THE ONLY FRIENDS VENGEFUL WAFFLE! HEART YOU, @starryalpacasstuff!)

And there was more Mew waffling, more talking to moms, and Top is just like, I'm gonna peace out, DEUCES, and then, OF COURSE, HE COMES BACK INTO THE KITCHEN, LIKE HE NEVER LEFT THE HOUSE AFTER SAYING HE WOULD (I cackled), and then they're together in bed. And now they'll move in together.

This was a BIT of a storyline ride. But -- and I HAVE TO ADMIT, part of this is my tiredness talking -- I'm just kinda bored of ForceBook at this point. Do I actually get the sense that Top is *excited* about Mew moving in? Do I get the sense that Top and Mew *love* each other? I.... don't! Is it the chemistry between ForceBook? I.... I think so? I think so!

And, so... Mew will try to convince Ray to accept Top in the next episode? I dunno. (Episode 12 previews, we've learned to distrust them.) As much as I want to try to sit here to analyze TopMew at this point, I kinda just wanna throw my hands up in the air and be like, I'll leave these characters to fiction. And I think it's because I was unfortunately spoiled by the FANTASTIC chemistry emanating out of Neo, Papang, Mark, First, and Mond in this episode (MARK! MONNND. PAPANGGGG.).

I have to admit it, and I'm sorry to admit it. ForceBook do nothing for me, acting-wise and chemistry-wise, and I am done struggling with analyzing TopMew. I'll let 'em be.

d) Last thoughts! Bye, Cheum. We haven't had enough of Nonnie in this series, and I wanna see Nonnie as April dump Cheum's ass and break shit in episode 12, the way Nonnie's real-life brother goes and breaks shit on social media. Way to hold no one, including yourself, truthfully accountable, Cheum.

(What in the. I would love a Soonvijarn episode on Jojo's thoughts on Cheum one day.)

Anyway, bye, B.

THAT'S ALMOST IT! Ephemerality? I hope Boston makes a whole bunch of righteous new homies in NYC. This whole series has made me sick and tired of proximate friends, lol. We'd better see Mond suck face with Khao and First. Andddd, bleep, bloop, that's all I got!

HOME BASE NEXT WEEK, FAM!

[EPHEMERALITY SQUAD, second-to-last weekend meta for ya! @slayerkitty (SK... I am so tired, lol), @ranchthoughts, @chickenstrangers, @twig-tea, @neuroticbookworm, @lurkingshan, @distant-screaming, @clara-maybe-ontheroad, @thatgirl4815]

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weebsinstash · 10 months

Note

I’m honestly living for the potential Miguel angst in your YouTwo fics, like him realising it’s pretty much entirely his fault that you got so injured/traumatised. Excellent Yandere potential right here lmaoo.

No but really, because like your standard edition default yandere could be like "oh, you're so weak and delicate, only I can protect you, only I deserve to have you, oh you're so wonderful and lovely, you are incapable of actually truly taking care of yourself like i can" and you know all the mushy shit that is varying degrees of truth and delusion

And here you have Miguel, who like, let's look on "the timeline" that we've kind of established here, ok, because, wow does he have some reasons to uh, go feral

-you guys have a cordial, team-up kind of first meeting against an anomaly in your home dimension, you wind up being invited to Spider Society, one day your home universe is JUST GONE while you're out and about in Nueva York or elsewhere

-You're like basically homeless, traumatized, depressed, like what was all of that for, what was all your suffering for, those deaths and tragedies you experienced, you SUFFERED to be a Spider, and now, your home is gone, what does this mean, like, you have the most justifiable existential crisis one can imagine, you had a DESTINY my dude! And it's GONE NOW, POOF

-Spider Society becomes new home, new community, new thing to keep you going and alive and grounded and they all like you and sometimes you think you're actually happier than ever, you feel very loved and supported, even teach your own class, people like you, little do you know how much lol

-but you still have depression and anxiety and self doubts but hey everyone supports you 🥺 part of being a Spider is picking yourself back up right?

-youtwo shows up, you feel weird, somwqhat threatened by their presence but, also some kinship actually, maybe they even feed you some story either genuine or a lie and you allow them to be you once or twice, they get drunk on it, kind of trick you, fans out, starts stealing your identity. Suddenly what purpose you had in your life is at question. If anything and everything you can do can simply be replicated, what use is there for you? Whatever depression and issues you have before are amplified

-members of the community start mistaking you for the replica and treat you varying degrees of disregard to outright disrespect and you wonder what that means, if they were all just nasty liars to "real you" or if you were just never really that special or anything to begin with and they just latched onto "real you" for some random reason

-you get framed for something youtwo does,sabotaging a big society construction project that you saved the day on but got injured for. YouTwo doesn't even need to pretend it wasn't them, you're framed and people believe it, they believe the narrative that you wanted to feel needed and set this up to be the hero and people treat you with either pity or disgust or just coddling "oh, poor them :( they shouldn't have done that though..."

-you just kind of start hating everyone because it's at the point where now YouTwo hasn't just stolen your life but put you in a position where EVEN WHEN your identity was believed, your reputation and relationship with others is tarnished. Like picture with me here, put yourself in the moment, you're crying you're feeling so sad and outraged because you genuinely cannot believe what you're hearing as Miguel stands there forcing himself to be emotionless and saying "the footage doesn't lie and we have a witness" and it's just YouTwo planting bombs and they stole your costume or were manipulating people and spreading lies or something, and you're just, like, feeling literally fucking violated that this is happening to you, you're literally sitting there with like a hip or broken femur because of being injured in the incident, where you also saved other people by the way, and you're being accused of being the perpetrator, after everything you've done for them, with them, after never having done this sort of thing before, you're just. Outraged doesn't begin to describe it. Whether you love or respect him you can't believe someone who was like family to you, not just him but by extension all of them, would do this to you. You're more alone than ever, and stuck in a wheelchair where they try to pitying dote on you while you completely clam up and some of them interpret it as guilt and you eventually just tell all of them to leave you the fuck alone (again, a little interpreted as guilt)

-Miguel like legitimately thinks he's doing what's best for you. The time he finally truly sides with YouTwo and winds up actually hurting you the worst is when he's trying to be like, "see I finally believe you, Im sorry I doubted you, I'll fix this I promise, I'll get rid of the second one" and he's saying it all to. YouTwo. Like imagine how bad that fucking hurts. You're either crying or just laughing at the absurdity of it, either weeping or actively antagonizing him until you blip away from having your bracelet broken/removed when you're "exiled"

-after you're gone, that's when he realizes how BAAAAAAADLY he's fucked up. He's got definitive evidence the you in front of him is the fake, he has no idea where you are, if even that you're alive. really, you glitching away instead of outright dying basically makes you an anomaly, even more than before anyways. Maybe the fact you just vanish instead of have the whole cell death thing gives him hope that you're still out there and he obsessively searches for you, but can never find you

-until one day when he's at his near breaking point, I mean this man is hanging on by THREADS at this point, you just, glitch back into his life. Like a miracle. And you're hungry. And you're cold. And you're hurt. And you need help and he NEEDS you, needs to be the one to help you, to atone for what's happened, especially when he sees your deteoriated state mentally, physically, and emotionally. Like. He latches on to you like a parasite, please please PLEASE let him make this up to you he is like BARELY holding himself together he NEEDS you and needs to help you (oh wow that whole construction disaster "causing a problem to reap the benefits of fixing it" is unintentionally coming back full circle for you ain't it dude, the apollo gift of prophecy levels of projection lmao)

And you know I mentioned in the past "what if you get rescued by another Miguel and latch onto him" but like if Reader is so emotionally and mentally worn down, I think really having "your" Miguel so desperate for your forgiveness and seeming so genuinely attached to you would really sort of activate the Oh God I Just Need Someone To Love Me And Need Me insecurities and traumas. You wake up from a good rest after first coming back and he's apologizing to you profusely and you just kind of break down and immediately accept him back because you just. Need to feel like you matter. Like the toxic codependency of you needing to feel loved and him desperately wanting to make things up to you, giving you any praise or affection or attention he wants to give you and you feeling somehow reassured by the dedication, but also him being in this position of power and authority over you where he, if he wants to, has extreme control over your life. You're just over here barely keeping it together and critically depressed and needing hugs and needing to matter and you have this hulking almost 7 foot behemoth of trauma of grief who has a More Than Unhealthy Attachment to you who does have Intentions is now being fully in control of your care, of your safety, of your environment, with a heightened emotional investment in just. Literally everything about you

Oh yeah, he's all too happy to give you food and shelter after your traumatizing multiverse travels. But he also didn't want to let you leave in the first place. Now he won't let you. He's partially convinced he shouldn't ever let you out of his sight ever again, period. He's just becoming Downright Mentally Unstable because not only have these things happened to you, between you and him, but also, there were people who helped YouTwo, helped the scheme, whether intentionally or not, and now he's more untrusting of his peers and surroundings. He grows colder to the ones he doesn't trust. He programs his own watch to give him notifications on your status on those occasions you're apart like when he has to go fight anomalies, which is suddenly magically Way Too Dangerous for you to do anymore you're basically on house arrest

You really truly become All He Has Left, like borderline his reason for living at this point besides his own motivations and drive as Spiderman 2099 and his mission to protect the multiverse. But you're a big thing keeping him going. Even if you don't love him, he'll make sure to stay by your side and not leave you ever again. He won't make the same mistake twice, he promises. You just have to give him the time to prove it

#yandere spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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emeritus-fuckers · 4 months

Note

I've been debating sharing this, but my pup was diagnosed with cancer on Halloween and put to sleep on the seventh of Dec. I was wondering if you could do a piece with the Papa's/ghouls offering support for their darling?

So sorry for your loss, hope this helps a little x - Nyx

I feel your pain, dude. Lost my cat to cancer and cried hysterically for two days. Take your time to heal. I'm here for ya. - Nosferatu

Ghost characters comforting their s/o after the loss of a pet

Includes: Primo, Secondo. Terzo (drabble), Copia, Old Nihil, Swiss (drabble), Sodo, Mountain and Cumulus.

Primo

He just knows something is wrong before you even get a chance to tell him.

You get home and are instantly greeted by the calming smell of incense mixed in with tea. You smile to yourself when you see the steaming teapot on the table, two cups out beside it.

Primo is sat on the sofa and pats the spot next to him. His expression is one of total understanding. He waits until you are settled before he pours the tea. "You can talk to me caro, whatever you need." He wraps a blanket round you and softly kisses your forehead.

He lets you talk for as long as you need, offering reassurances where he can. You talk about all your happy memories and he also allows you to cry. Holding you close to him. There is something so comofrting about him that it's okay you can let it all out.

That night he holds you close to him and tells you stories about his day in the garden to take your mind off things. His voice is calming and you drift into a peaceful sleep. These tales often involvle the antics of the Ghouls or Terzo sneaking in to try and steal some roses for his latest lover. (Terzo only needs to ask Primo but apparently trying to sneak past his brother is more fun).

Secondo

He takes you into his arms as soon as he sees you. He know something is wrong.

He immediately takes you into his arms and just lets you cry, muttering soft Italians against your head and rocking back and forth softly.

Gently leads you to the bedroom and put's on your favorite movie or show, and just holds you. Making sure you're okay, or as okay as you could be.

Will let you scream or hit his chest, or will hold you so tight that your spine pops.

Makes homemade ice creams and treats, and pulls you closer, even if you cannot get closer. He just wants you to be okay. He hates seeing you cry.

Will get you a hyper realistic plushie of your pet, and makes sure that it's in your arms for the entire time.

Terzo

Terzo greeted you as you walked into his office with a warm smile and affectionate kiss to the cheek. Though when he noticed you seemed upset, they held your jaw tenderly.

“Cara Mia…what’s troubling you so?”

They hold you as long as you need while you talk, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead tenderly. Drying your tears and listening to fond memories of your pup. Sad that you lost such an important companion.

“I am very sorry you lost such an important friend amore. We will make a little remembrance altar when you are up to it. Give such a loyal friend a proper service.”

Once you feel a bit better, he’ll guide you to the bath. Filling it with your favourite scent of bubble bath and lighting your favourite candles. Helping wash your hair and relax you after the stressful day.

Once back in the bed, they’ll give you a massage and let you choose how you both spend the rest of the evening. Holding you close the entire time unless you need anything. Then he’ll spring up and hurry to get it.

You deserve the world, he will strive to give a small part of it to you during this hard time.

Copia

Copia himself is just comforting, you want nothing more than to get home and fall into his arms. You race through the corridors before finally burting into his rooms. He is straight over to you. "Amore, what is wrong, please tell me sì?" When you tell him he pulls you into a tight hug "I am so sorry, but Papa is here for you okay?"

He himself isn't really sure what he can do to help, he wants to help so badly but he is afraid he will do the wrong thing. So he does what used to cheer him up and make him feel safe.

He sits you down and brings you a hot chocolate before sitting next to you and just holding you. The rats also sense something is wrong and they curl up around you two. Some on your lap, your shoulders and one even attempts to sit on your head. Copia catches him when he falls with a squeak, and finally you smile a little.

You can just feel the love from all of them, you are wanted here and you belong. You don't have to pretend to be okay you can just be.

Copia offers to stay up as late as you need, or you can just sleep now in his arms if you want. If you are staying up he'll get his film collection out and put whatever you want on. He'll make popcorn, from scratch. It's literally the most amazing thing you've ever tasted and he can make whatever flavour you want, tonight it's your favourite.

Old Nihil

As oblivious as he often is, he notices you being upset. And he is not fond of that. His sweet darling upset? Absolutely not.

He wants to see you happy! He wants to see you smile!

So he asks you what happened, offering you a shoulder to cry on.

This man has really nice arms, he's gonna hold you in them as love as you need, listening to you weep, rant or even scream if you need.

He doesn't offer solutions, because it doesn't seem like that's what you need at the moment.

Offers you his oxygen machine if you lose breath for whatever reason.

Tries cheering you up with your favorite movie or a private saxophone concert.

Or you can just nap together. Whatever you want.

After you take some time to heal, he might offer to get you a new puppy.

He's gonna be there for you and do the best he can, even at his age.

Swiss

You come home and slowly open the door, Swiss jumps up from the sofa. "Hello my beloved agent of chaos." He can't help but smile at the sight of you, his tail swishing. But then his expression turns more srious, concerned. "what's wrong?" he asks as he runs over to you and picks you up bridal style.

His embrace immediatly makes you feel safe and loved. As you tell him what had happpened, he says softly "Oh...I see, I am so sorry my love." While he tries to think of a solution, he just wants to see you happy again.

Xey carries you through to the bedroom and lays you on the bed. Then xey lies next to you and cuddles you. Xey'll hold you for as long as you need, every now and then xey offers you his vape. The smell of watermelon filling the room, settling over you like a warm comforting blanket.

His first idea is to try and distract you. Xey tell daft jokes and tries to make you smile. But you need so he lies back down holding you and listens, for as long as you need. He does his best to get you to focus on all the happy memories you have with your pup.

His cuddles are just perfect, the most comforting and loving cuddles ever. Xey also kisses you all over, anything it can to help. Once you've cheered up a little he'll start telling dumb jokes or making a fool out of himself just to see you smile. But if that doesn't help just let him know what you need and he will do it.

Sodo

His first reaction is to nuzzle you.

He just sorta lays on top of you for a while and waits for you to speak.

He doesn't want to pressure you, so he just lays there, letting you enjoy your favorite heated blanket.

You open up eventually, telling him about everything that happened.

He offers to let you do absolutely anything you want to his hair.

He pretty much agrees to become your doll for the evening, letting you dress him up, mess with his hair, do his make-up, everything.

You end up having a sleepover, watching shitty horror flicks and eating ice cream together in comfy pjs.

And your warm twink cuddling your worries away.

Somehow you end up with a small hell hound a few weeks later.

Mountain

He refuses to let you go.

Keeps you in his arms and is holding you the entire time, mumbling about how he's here for you.

Wont let you be alone for even one moment, hugging you tight the entire time. Will make you snacks and bake for you.

Offers to braid or brush your hair, and invites you into the garden and green house.

Shitty romance movies and matching pj's.

All the pasrreys you could ever want, and all the forehead kisses. You can cry, scream, or just sit there. Whatever makes you happy.

You end up with a hyper realistic painting of your pet.

Cumulus

She keeps you in her arms the entire time, hugging you tightly.

Sings you lullabies or just hums to help you feel better.

She wants everything to be better for you, no matter what.

She just loves you a lot. And she remembers how happy your pet made you.

Offers to get you a plushie of said pet. Or a tattoo, if you're up for it.

She lets you talk about all the happy moments with your pet. All the cute things.

You're free to use her as a pillow.

She makes you an album with your pet's pictures, with a picture of a new pet on the last page.

"I thought you'd feel good with a new tiny friend."

Primo, Copia and Swiss written by Nyx.

Secondo and Mountain written by Zenith/Jasper.

Terzo written by Death.

Old Nihil, Sodo and Cumulus written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary @thatoddboy @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back @choco-meow69 @mybotanicaldemise @bloodmoon-bites

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thebroccolination · 7 months

Text

SO ABOUT KRIST. \:D/

I'm not sure how many people have seen this photo or know the context behind it.

It was taken by a fan (see watermark) at the final episode premiere for Be My Favorite in August. After we finished watching the episode, Krist and Gawin walked down the aisles of the theater singing their duet, and then they went to the front stage to give their closing speeches. Most of us expected Krist to cry because it doesn't take a lot to make that happen on a normal day. But a fan event for a series that he put his heart and soul into? That he had resting on his shoulders since it was announced in late 2021? Certified, guaranteed, written in stone.

Even expecting it, though, didn't prepare me for seeing Krist cry in person. Especially when it wasn't the crying I'm used to seeing from him. I didn't even need to understand what he was saying to feel affected by it. Being in the theater, hearing him struggle to speak, assuming what he must be talking about, hearing how absolutely earnest every word was, that was enough.

I read the translation later. Krist was talking about Gawin. That he's always wanted the focus of the series to be on Gawin, because it was Gawin's first main role, and Krist felt like he'd taint it. In the past six months, Krist has said more than once that his greatest achievement from Be My Favorite was meeting Gawin. In another interview, he said he didn't care if no one watched the series because he has Gawin in his life now, and that means more to him than the success of his work. He said meeting Gawin changed him and made him grow up.

I always knew that Krist would be good for Gawin's career. From the moment I saw the casting announcement, I knew that Krist would do what he does with all of his friends and colleagues: promote him, hype him, celebrate him. I just had no idea how close they would become. That they would both find strength in each other, and that they would develop the incredibly close friendship they have now.

And, man…ever since I saw that photo up there where Gawin is listening with tears in his eyes as his close friend and admired senior talks about him with such affection and respect, my disappointment in everyone who continues to spread misinformed hate against Krist is so much deeper.

But it's also calmer.

Because it won't last.

Krist is so widely loved by the people in his life and the people he's worked with, and he's so effusively loving in return. And I think more and more people are starting to see that. He cares so intensely all the time and he allows so much of his vulnerability to show, and he listens to people.

So whenever I see people scoffing, "How does he even have fans?" I know they haven't actually looked into who he is. I know they watched a TikTok or a YouTube video with the same five things taken out of context and it just doesn't hold up when you actually see him.

Because this is who he is:

At MUSICON, he and Gawin did a meet and greet, and this fan shared her experience talking to Krist. She had so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't stop crying, and he patted her gently on the shoulder to comfort her. She said he kept kindly looking into her eyes while she spoke, and she finished by hoping more and more people get to know him.

He's one of GMMTV's top stars who makes eye contact with his fans and engages with them. He's popular enough that he could just coast during these fan events, but he wants to listen and interact with his fans. He remembers us.

And, like, I already did a whole thing about how he's not homophobic.

Like, seriously, he isn't. During his solo concert in Cambodia, he made a beeline to this fanboy and giddily danced with him the same as he did with the women in the audience. And he wasn't the only guy he danced with, either.

Krist also got hit on in an airport by a whole European dude years ago and he was delighted. The dimple came out to play and everything.

There comes a point when people who say "he's just pretending he isn't homophobic to make money" start to sound like they just really, really want Krist to be homophobic because otherwise they have been mercilessly tormenting him for years over misinformation they didn't care enough to look into.

The man described his love scene with Gawin in Be My Favorite as a piece of art. Like. I think it's abundantly clear that he's not the monster interfans invented just to throw knives at.

So anyway.

Back to Gawin.

I'm glad Krist has Gawin in his life. Gawin who sees him, who appreciates him, and who gives back just as much affection as Krist gives to him.

And who honest-to-God looks like he wants to protect Krist just as much as any of us do.

So yeah!

I like Krist.

I think he's neat. \:D/

(And I totally hope he'll let Gawin and Singto do a skit making light of all the ship wars during his concert next weekend. GawinSingto jokes, come to me.)

#be my favorite #krist perawat #gawin caskey #gawinkrist

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year

Text

hold on | J.Hughes

summary; just when Jack wants to give in, you tell him to hold on just a little longer

warnings; suicide, talks of death, ambulances, hospitals and substance abuse.

I took a more soft approach than I intended

Read at your own discretion

Jack should feel so blessed.

He has a great family; his two brothers and parents doted on him from day one, he had his dream job that he’d worked on for years and his friends were the very best friends he could’ve ever asked for.

So why did he feel this way?

Why was he allowing a girl to break his heart and make him feel useless.

Jack Hughes. Useless.

Layla had told him over text that she had slept with her roommate while he was away on a road trip to California. Jake. Fucking Jake.

Jack knew he wasn’t gay, like Layla had told him so many times when he brought up their flirting.

Jack didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, not on the road. He didn’t want the pity stares and the second guessing of his game.

So he kept quiet throughout the roadie. His game tanked in San Jose, he heard the comments in the media;

fraud

fake

not good enough

There was a break in games when the devils returned home, leaving Jack to sit with his own thoughts. Layla had attempted to visit but he wouldn’t let her in.

He let the media consume him, the news articles and TikTok videos. All calling him out for not being good enough, he was a bust.

His feelings started almost subconsciously. When he was out at the store he would pick up bottles of painkillers as if he’d not bought bottles the day prior.

He began ‘forgetting’ to call and text his family and friends. His way of preparing them to never hear from him again.

People began to get concerned for him, he wasn’t himself.

A week into his depressive episode Jack tried to get back out there. He ventured to Raya.

He started talking to a model, she seemed nice and they organized a date only for him to show up and she couldn’t stop talking about followers and social media, how being with someone famous like Jack would do good for her.

Jack paid the bill and he left.

Just another girl who saw him as nothing more than just another pretty boy.

The bottles lined up on his bathroom counter, caps off as he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his palms were sure to have cuts from his grip on the marble countertop.

He took them, all of them.

The empty plastic bottles clattered against the floor once he’d tossed them, his chest heaving while they slipped down his windpipe.

He was sobbing and he wasn’t sure why. It felt right. To cry and mourn the life he was taking away.

It didn’t happen all at once. Jack expected it to happen faster but he felt fine.

He found his phone, texting ‘i love you’ to his friends and family. A few replied with similar

Others, his brother Quinn questioned him

what do you mean? what’s wrong?

Quinn called him. He declined.

Quinn called again. He declined again.

Quinn text. And again. And again.

When Jack declined Quinn’s call for a third time, he called 911.

“Hi yes my brother, he’s acting weird and I think — I think he could be hurting himself”

Jack sat on the bathroom floor as the pills slowly worked their way into his body, his fingers began getting numb and he became drowsy.

He didn’t know what was happening but he heard a lot of yelling and the door of the bathroom flew open.

On the other side of the door was you, chest heaving as you stared down at him

“My god, dude your doors are heavy!”

You dropped to your knees next to him, pulling out liquids and needles while you simultaneously turned jack towards the toilet bowl.

“Who?” Jack slurred.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m here to help. My names y/n, I’m a paramedic. I hear you’ve got an awfully concerned big brother” you explained, using the time he was distracted to slip the needle into his arm while held the liquids he was about to need.

“I Just, Go! I want to die!” He demanded, shoving you as much as he could.

You shook your head “I can’t let that happen Jack, You have so much to live for”

“No” he cries “I hate you, stop!”

You turn him towards the toilet bowl once more and you say “You’re about to hate me so much more”

And before he can question you, you shove two of your fingers into his mouth and hit the back of his throat. He gags and tries to pull your hands out but you grab the back of his head and stop him

“I’m sorry Jack, I hope you’ll forgive me at some point”

He’s puking all over your hand and although he’s in no position to, he feels embarrassed.

Once he has vomited a sufficient amount your second paramedic has arrived with the gurney.

“C’mon bud let’s go to the hospital” you mumble, helping him up. He holds onto you, his hands are shaking and you can hear him softly sobbing.

Your heart breaks for him as you watch him, confused, sit on the gurney and be strapped down.

When he’s loaded in, he’s looking around as if he’s looking for someone. You smile as you go to grab the keys from your partner when Jack reaches out and grabs your hand

“Please don’t leave me”

You nod, jumping in the back with him.

You sit in silence for a while, filling out forms and checking his meds until Jack breaks the silence

“You’re not gonna ask why I did it?”

You hum “It’s not my place to question you”

“You’re not curious?” He presses.

You sigh, putting down your clipboard

“Do you want me to ask? Do you want me to question why you, Jack, hate your life so much to want to end it? What, because you’re a hotshot hockey player you think mental health can’t touch you?” You reply.

Jack physically gulps “how did-“

“Jack, you’re worth so much in this world. More than hockey! You’re gonna be a dad one day and get married? You’ll take trips across the world with your friends and you’ll do loads of exciting shit!” You exclaim, the smile on your face put one on Jack’s

He looked down at his hands and you huffed before standing to adjust his saline bag

“It was a girl” he mumbled and you frowned

“Huh?”

“It was a girl that I was getting to depressed over”

You tut and sit back down on the bench

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing! You seem like a great guy Jack and you have a caring family, your brother was really worried about you is what dispatch said”

Jack’s lips created a thin line and he hummed before he said

“Do You do this a lot? You were really calm today”

You chuckled softly “You are the first suicide attempt I’ve ever been to and I am actually having a major panic attack internally right now”

“Oh” Jack’s mouth creates an O shape “Sorry about that”

You brush it off with a soft smile.

“You’ve got so much to live for Jack, I promise”

Once you’re at the hospital and he’s being pulled out of the ambulance he grabs your wrist once more, bringing your attention to him

“What do i have to live for? Tell me”

You give him a smile and hold his hand

“It’ll happen Jack, just hold on”

“C’mon baby, just hold on a couple more-“

“He’s here!”