#glad weed is legal here
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Got a pre rolled delta 8 joint and I’m feeling good rn
#yeah I paid for the convienence#I’ve had a bad pain week I’m not rolling my own joint#I’m crossed rn#so glad delta 8 and 9 are legal here#drug mention#weed mention#delta 8
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peer pressure ii || lucy bronze x reader ||
the aftermath of you sneaking out to go to a party.
you were pissed as you made your way to the locker room. your fists were clenched, knocking into every corner as you rounded it. most of the team had already arrived, but you had been held up by a fight with your parents. your last fight with your parents if you had anything to do with it. from the way things had been, you doubted that they'd let you back in even if you tried to come back.
"morning kiddo," frido greeted you happily. you didn't even look up at her as you made your way over to your cubby. everybody's eyes were on you, and alexia looked like she was about ready to tell you off about your attitude when frido and ingrid pulled her back. "it's okay, i can talk to her myself."
"bon dia (y/n)," patri said loudly. she made a show of speaking loud enough to make it impossible to ignore without validating a lecture from alexia. lucy smacked the back of patri's head as she walked past, stopping right in front of you.
"let's go for a walk," lucy said. she waited for you to get your boots on before she pulled you up and out of the locker room. everybody was watching the two of you, but not all with the same expression. the team had all heard about you sneaking out to the party, but not all of them knew what had actually happened. alexia seemed to be hung up on the fact that you had drank and smoked weed, even though it was all out of your system by the time that you had been tested.
"are you going to yell at me?" you asked. lucy shook her head as she led you outside of the facility. "what did you want to talk about?"
"when's the last time you went home?" lucy asked you. you shrugged, not really sure where home was anymore. it had been a few days since your parents kicked you out of the house, but you hadn't told anybody yet. all they needed to know right now was that you were fighting with your parents. "where have you been sleeping at night?"
"my car," you mumbled. lucy's eyes widened as the realization of what you said settled in. legally, you weren't allowed to drive for another two years. the fact that you had purchased a car was really just so that you would have something when your driving lessons started next year.
"did you drive it here?" lucy asked you. you nodded, suddenly feeling like you were about to get in major trouble. "when we get back inside, give me your keys. i'll have mapi or someone take it to their place. you can't drive around, especially not here! what if you got in a wreck or something?"
"i've been careful," you mumbled. lucy sighed as she put her arm around your shoulders. "i didn't know what else to do, they told me to leave, so i did. they kicked me out, lucy, and honestly, i don't want to go back. it was one party, one fucking party!"
"hey, it's okay," lucy said as she held you in her arms. you started crying, and she immediately started to soothe you. "you can stay with me, okay?"
"yeah, not like you'd take no for an answer," you chuckled. lucy hummed in agreement, glad that you weren't fighting her on this.
…
living with lucy proved to be the best thing for you. the stress of living with your parents was lifted off of your shoulders. they hadn't wanted you as their daughter, they wanted alexia. lucy was more than content for you to be yourself. she even went as far as to tell you whenever you'd been doing well in practice, and reassuring you whenever you had an off day. it was like night and day, as was your overall attitude.
for the first time in nearly a year, you were back to being the happy kid you had been whenever you first signed with the senior team. things were great, even if you still had a lot of tension with alexia. that wasn't something that would be fixed easily, if it ever would. other than that, everything was going great, which was why you weren't surprised when it suddenly went back again.
you had never gotten a start in an el classico match before. your teammates had warned you that real liked to play it aggressively against barcelona, so you were prepared. lucy had been taking you to the gym with her, which meant that you had really built up a lot of strength in the few months that you'd been living together. their players could knock into you all that they wanted, but it didn't do much to deter you.
"hey, there's someone in the stands waiting for you," ona said as she grabbed onto your elbow. you were scared for a moment that it would be your parents. the group of spanish players at the barrier crowded around jenni helped you to relax. your parents were nowhere in sight, and jenni sent you a questioning look. she remembered meeting your parents before, and they had been huge fans of the team, never missing a game.
"jenni!" you hopped up over the barrier and straight into her arms. she hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i didn't know you were visiting."
"well, that would ruin the surprise. where are your parents? i wanted to say hi." jenni looked around the friends and family section. you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, unsure of what you should say to her. "they're usually always here."
"i wouldn't know, we don't talk anymore," you muttered under your breath. you were standing close enough to jenni for her to hear you, but alexia should have been too far away. however, you could tell by the way that her face contorted that she had definitely heard you. "i don't live there anymore."
"what!" alexia exclaimed. you backed up to put some distance between the two of you, using jenni as a human shield as you did. "since when?"
"since they kicked me out. i don't want to talk about it, especially not with you of all people," you said. there was a bite to your voice that alexia hadn't heard in quite some time. you had definitely been distant with her, but it had been a long time since you had been snappy with her like that.
"after this, let's go to dinner, okay?" jenni suggested. you nodded before you raced off to shower and get changed.
…
"you know that alexia only acts like an ass because she cares about you, right?" jenni asked you. she had been trying to get you to talk about what happened, but you very obviously did not want to. "where have you been staying at?"
"lucy let me move in with her," you answered. jenni was relieved that it was someone responsible. alexia was the obvious choice, but there seemed to be some tension there that definitely hadn't been the last time jenni came to visit.
"did alexia have anything to do with you getting kicked out?" jenni asked. she was afraid of the answer, already having invited alexia to dinner. technically, it had always been her, alexia, mapi, and ingrid going out, but she had to invite you when she saw you at the game.
"not directly i guess, but it was hard living there when all they wanted was for me to be just like alexia. they thought i was too focused on things outside of football, so much so that they stopped letting me go to school. by the time i left, they only ever gave me my work whenever i asked to do something else instead," you said. jenni looked pissed as her grip tightened on the steering wheel. "i know that i shouldn't be mad at alexia, but i can't help it."
"i understand," jenni told you. she leaned over as the car came to a stop to press a kiss to your cheek. "come on, everybody's waiting for us."
"is alexia there?" you didn't even really need to ask. you knew that jenni hung out with alexia every single time that she came back to spain.
"alexia, olga, ingrid, and mapi are all there. don't worry though, i won't let alexia start anything," jenni promised. you sighed and followed her into the restaurant. almost immediately, mapi pulled you into a hug, going off about how sorry she was that she didn't know anything was up before. ingrid was quick to follow suit, but alexia stayed back, unsure of whether she was welcome to hug you or not anymore.
dinner was nice, even if it was a bit awkward because of alexia's silence. the woman was usually pretty quiet, but she had never gotten quiet like she was then. jenni, ingrid, and mapi worked on distracting you from the tension, but it didn't work. finally, olga seemed to have had enough and pushed for alexia to talk to you.
"you don't have to tell me where you're staying, but are you safe and happy?" alexia asked. you nodded, smiling a little as thought about all the things lucy now did to make sure of that. you were certain that ona had a big part in a lot of the movie and game nights that you got to frequently enjoy, as well as keeping you on your school work. you'd still graduate late because of all the things your parents let you miss, but because of lucy, you hadn't fallen too terribly behind.
"lucy takes care of me, and ona reminds her to let me have fun," you said. alexia seemed to relax a little at that, a small smile gracing her face. "i won't go back to them, no matter what you or anybody else tells me. i'd quit the team and run away before i went back."
"you are being taken care of, that's what matters. just, next time that something big happens, talk to me. i need to know these things because i'm your captain, but also because i care about you too. if you're hurting or something is bothering you, i want to know so that i can help you," alexia said. you swallowed back some tears, not having felt like alexia was truly in your corner for some time. she seemed to notice this and stood up and walked around the table. "i'm sorry that i haven't been a very good friend to you."
"it's okay, i don't make it easy," you mumbled against her shoulder.
…
you weren't sure which of the girls had texted lucy, but she greeted you at the door with open arms. you were led straight back to her bedroom, where ona was waiting with snacks and a movie loaded up. you let the two of them cuddle you, even if lucy pretended that she didn't want to.
"dinner go okay?" lucy asked as she ran her fingers through your hair.
"it went fine. alexia and i cleared things up," you told her. you knew that was what lucy really wanted to hear about. ona let out a happy hum at your news, glad that maybe things wouldn't be so awkward later on.
"that's good, you've been very mature about this," lucy complimented. you glanced up at her, absolutely beaming. lucy chuckled and shook her head as she wiped a bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth. "now, the two of you keep it down. i'm getting some well deserved rest."
"goodnight granny," you teased. lucy swatted at you, rolling her eyes as ona started laughing.
"don't encourage her," lucy grumbled.
#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso imagine#teen reader#lucy bronze imagine#lucy bronze x reader#platonic fic
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AITA for sleeping with a 20 year old?
tw: mentions of potential grooming, age gap relationships, nsft/nsfw, vague discussions of sex
So, me (38m) and my wife (39f) are in an open relationship. Basically, we’re both bisexual and not quite ready to limit our sex lives to one person yet. So, we decided to allow friends with benefits situations outside of our relationship. No romantic stuff, no dating, just sex.
In January, my wife went to stay at her best friend’s (28f) house and have some fun together. I don’t mind at all, I was kind of glad to have our apartment to myself for a week. Now, there’s this queer bar that me and my wife frequent and it’s a good mix of all age demographics and identities.
There’s this one trans guy, I’ll call him M, that most people in the local community know because he’s very attractive. He reminds me of a very short Eric Draven mixed with Eddie Vedder. (Oddly specific, I know) Like, he has long-ish curly brown hair, big brown eyes, the sweetest smile ever and he dresses very well. A little grunge here, a little rockstar there. Good jewelry. You get it.
I always catch people staring at him when he’s at the bar with his friends. (We live in Europe btw, legal drinking age is 18.) In short, I find him very cute. He’s basically a micro celebrity among the community and he doesn’t even know it.
So, while my wife was away I went down to the bar and his friend group invited me to come sit with them. We started talking, he’s super funny and we began talking about Pearl Jam because of the shirt I was wearing. Found out he’s obsessed with the music scene of the 90s, specifically rock and grunge, and I happen to have a collection of merchandise of the big 4. I invited him to come check it out and he eagerly accepted. None of his friends wanted to come, so it was just us two. Showed him the stuff, he got super excited about it and I even let him keep one of my Soundgarden shirts and some CDs.
I offered to cook dinner, we ate and then had some weed brownies for dessert. We got posted on the couch, talked for a good while and he began confiding in me. I’m not gonna go into detail because that’s shitty, but he basically told me he’d never had a positive sexual experience up to that point. Apparently all of his exes were switches leaning submissive and he’s purely submissive, so things never really worked out and he never finished with any of them.
I told him about me and my wife’s arrangements and some other stuff about our sex life. (Don’t worry, my wife is 100% okay with this. Even in this context.)
Here’s where I might be the asshole, if not the creep:
Now, I was pretty high at that point and I joked about how I could give him a positive experience. To my surprise, he actually eagerly accepted. I was a bit hesitant because we were both buzzed, but he kept reiterating that he’s consenting and that he’s sure he wants this. So, I made sure he had a good night and he actually ended up sleeping over and we cuddled. It was super nice and he seemed genuinely ecstatic about it the next morning, it was adorable. I was honestly just happy that I was able to give him a positive sexual encounter.
We exchanged numbers, kept texting for two days and he ended up coming over again. Had some more fun together and he went to go sleep over at a friend’s place. At that point, I sort of realized that I may be catching feelings for him. Which is against me and my wife’s rules and also just a horrible idea, especially considering the age gap. So, I let him know that I need some distance and he was super understanding. He was understandably a bit disappointed but didn’t complain or anything.
Once my wife came back, I told her about everything. This is just a thing we do because it helps avoid speculation and unnecessary jealousy. We always tell each other about what happens with our other sexual partners, but only if they consent to it. Which most of them do because they’re our friends. She seemed a bit unnerved by it, not because of the fact that I had feelings for him, but because of the age difference. She said it’s weird and predatory and told me she needed some time to think.
Apparently, she went to go check in on M and asked him if I pressured him into anything. He said it was a 100% mutual thing and he’s very much into older guys, so he enjoyed it quite a lot.
This put her mind at ease but I’m still quite shaken by it. I never stopped to consider the fact that the age difference is quite concerning. I can’t help but feel like a nasty creep that bribed some poor 20 year with old band shirts to come sleep with him. I don’t like that I didn’t even think about it. Talking with M came so easy and we share a lot of interests. I’m not about to go and say he’s 'mature for his age' because he isn’t, he acts like any other 20 year old.
I was just so focused on how attractive and interesting he is to me, I fear I might’ve acted extremely selfish and should’ve stopped to take his lack of experience and his naivety into account. Of course he’d sleep with me, he’s 20 and doesn’t know any better. It should’ve been my job, as the older adult, to put a stop to it. Please don’t hesitate to give it to me straight.
AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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Warning: underage smoking, 15!chuuya, Chuuya is a stupid loser in love, reader and Chuuya are VERY a tiiiiny bit emo/scene. Dazai and Chuuya are roomies!!! Shotgunning, Chuuya and reader do kiss a little O,o
Do‼️not‼️smoke‼️nor‼️drink‼️unless‼️you‼️are‼️the‼️legal‼️age‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ I cannot stress that enough!!!! This is pure fiction. Not real at all. Smoking kills!! Not cool!! (Is it working guys am I the next DARE)
Reqs open btw!!! :3
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎
Chuuya didn’t know how long he had been looking in the mirror for. He wanted to make sure his eyeliner was perfectly smudged, his hair was perfectly messy, and his room was fit to match your liking. Posters were hung all over his wall, his laundry was (mostly) neatly put in a basket minus the few shirts and pants that were scattered around. His Millionares, My Chemical Romance and Pierce the Veil cds were “coincidentally” the ones on display because he knows you like them.
A knock on his bedroom door made him stop dead in his tracks. Were you here? He rushed to the door excitedly like a puppy when its owner comes home. “He- oh ew it’s just you.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one he expected, but his stupid roommate Dazai. “Were you expecting someone else, Chuuya~?” He flashed Chuuya a grin “it’s none of your business, brace face. What do you want?” “Not too much about my braces, pepperoni pizza. Have you seen my nail polish? You were the last one to use it” “I put it in the bathroom you idiot”
“Oh! Chuuya! Hey!” before their banter could grow further, a head popped out from behind the wall “[name]. Hi.” His voice was breathy. “Wait. How’d you get in here without keys?” Dazai questioned, peeking behind Chuuya to make eye contact with you “oh! The door was wide open.” “Fuck!” The brown haired man rushed down the stairs. “Cool bandages!” You yelled from afar.
Chuuya closed the door and put on music. You immediately recognized the song and hummed along, swaying while idly sitting criss-cross on his bed. “So… what’s in the bag?” The boy questioned. You grinned at him and shoved your hand in the bag making an annoying crinkling noise “I’m so glad you asked!” You pulled out a box of splat hair dye and a baggie of pre-rolled weed.
“Which one d’ya wanna do first?”
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎
“Okay. First I gotta light it. Then you put it to your lips and inhale. Juuust like a cigarette. ”
It was embarrassing for the the male to admit to his crush that he had never gotten high. Of course he had smoked before, but only nicotine-infused products. not anything that would get him too fucked up. Luckily, you didn’t tease him about it like a certain suicidal maniac would. If anything, you seemed excited to show him the ropes. “Cigarettes are just the less fun version of joints. When you smoke it so often the headrush just wares off and it’s no fun anymore” your rambling fell to deaf ears because all he could focus on was you. Your plump lips, adorned with piercings, the worn-out skunk stripes matched his freshly done ones from the previous activities together, your black-painted nails went with the black stained tips of your fingers from the hair dye... He could spend every hour studying everything about you.
He finally snapped out of his trance when you lit the plant. “Open your mouth for me, chuu.” what? You had just explained how it was like a cigarette, so why did you want him to open his mouth? He complied anyway and made eye contact with you as you took a looong drag. Grabbing his face, you exhaled smoke into his mouth and he immediately inhaled all the smoke you gave him. His cheeks blossomed into a fiery red from how intimate the moment was. The eye contact between the two teens in love was a gaze as intense as the piercing rays of the sun.
Oh my god. holy shit. That was so fucking hot. Oh my god. is she gonna pull away? His head was racing. You gave him a toothy grin and put the joint right up to his lips, not daring to pull away. He inhaled the weed. a harsh taste hit his mouth immediately. He shakily exhaled and you leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around your lower back as you crawled ontop of him. Pulling away as a string of saliva clung onto the both of your mouths, you exhaled the smoke that was previously in chuuyas mouth.
Mind clouded with lust and the high hitting him at the same time had his whole world spinning. You sat up, straddling his waist and taking a hit. “You feeling it yet, baby?” You exhaled. He giggled drowsily and nodded “Cmere. Wanna kiss you again.” He pushed your back down so your lips could touch again.
🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎
GRRRR I LOVE CHUUYA. LOBE LOBE LOBE HIM.
Reqs open btw!!! :3
#bsd x reader#chuuya nakahara#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x you#i love him your honor#emo Chuuya for the win#angels secrets!🍎
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I haven't been on Tumblr in a while. And I hadn't changed my username in years and I don't remember the reason I chose it lol. But I hopped on here to feel something. I saw the announcement and couldn't believe it. I still really can't. But it feels nice that I'm not alone. That these feelings aren't just mine to bear. I always wanted to be Reita. To capture his essence. I'm rambling. After spending all day having to not think about it (was at work) it's all coming out. I'm glad we all loved him. I'm glad we're all here
I hope you have a good day
sounds to me like a reference to reita's constant attention from the cops or his discovery of legal weed fgjhg anyway
it's impossible to believe because it is a shock and it doesn't feel real. Like I said, every sorrow is lighter when it's shared. It's comforting to see others feel the way you do... I understand it. Reita was a very radiant man, and a caring person, he's a part of all of us.
We loved him and that's why it hurts. May you heal from this as easily as possible <3 My arms (inbox) are always open and will welcome you all
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⚠cleaned out🧼
“We’re going to clean you out now” are maybe the last words you typically wanna hear from someone holding a bottle of drain cleaner in one hand and a funnel steady inside your asshole rectum in the other, but here we are I guess.
I guess a bit of explanation is in order. I work in a law office and the main guy, the one whose name is on the building and everything, everything he says goes, and if it doesn’t, he has the laws of physics rewritten to make it go, and the time he spends waiting he bills directly to god.
He’s also really conservative, at least in terms of language and formalities and such. I don’t know about his politics, but I’ve seen other people wear rainbow things at office parties and stuff, so I think he might actually be pretty cool on that front at least.
But it probably was not the best idea to send me to deliver him a bunch of really big important fancy legal documents regarding the Fuchs case, mere minutes after my hardcore bong sesh in the company restroom to make my job as a human file explorer manageable for another 20 minutes, and expect me to NOT say something kinda regrettable.
But what do I know? I just used to work there.
Anyway this dude has this weird, almost like, S&M-ritual type way of doing things going on, because after I said my dumb shit and we got into a bit of a yelling match about whose orfices would be receiving elements of the “Fuchs” and how, exactly, he frowned and said he’d had enough of my filthy tongue, and had one of his private security guys grab me hold me down and another one unbuckle my belt and remove my pants and comical weed leaf print boxer shorts, and then he said something about cleaning my mouth out end to end and that’s when the funnel entered the equation (of my asshole).
So now we’re all caught up, and there they go, tipping an entire jug of drain cleaner into my bowels. Bottoms up!
I kinda don’t feel anything at first and I’m about to say that this whole bit kind of sucks, but then I feel an urge to burp, so I do, and it’s the worst most burning sensation I’ve ever felt rising all up along my throat, and then there’s another, and another, and another and another and another and the pain starts to get really bad and tears start coming outta my face and I start kicking my legs around to say “hey cmon man this isnt funny anymore” because my actual vocal cords are too busy panicking, and then he shoves (well, more like has one of his goons shove) a finger into my asshole right beside the nozzle and pull the rim out a bit to let more air in, so the cleaner drains into me faster and now I’m really starting to feel it mapping my guts out inside me in tunnels of fire, passages of hell snaking densely through my thorax region, everything is awash in burning agony and I start throwing up all sorts of things (mostly liquids) in an entire rainbow of colors that I didn’t even know I had inside of me, but again, here I am.
I’m really glad I took that bong hit because I’d probably be freaking out way more right now, otherwise.
Another mouthful of liquids, some of which used to be solids and also inside me just a moment ago, floods from my mouth onto the cold marble floor, sizzling and popping on the clean white stone as I cough and sputter and try to beg for mercy (still in a funny endearing stoner kind of way) but my entire throat and vocal cord area seems to be offline now so all I can make are wheezy gurgling wet sounds before I throw up another mouthful of #00ff00 tinted gut soup and GOD, godgodgod no fuck please no joke it hurts it reallyreallyreally hurts it huts real bad, it feels like there’s a hole a foot wide going all the way through all the parts of me that have all the important lifegiving bits and through the radiant glow of unending suffering and I guess they’re out of cleaner because they take the funnel out and let go of me and I fall on the floor where I will soon die, drowning and gasping in all the filth that’s draining out of me.
I actually last quite a while like that; the guy just sits back at his fancy mahogany desk and even puts his feet up on it like some asshole, his private baliffs or guards or whatever those goons are called return to his side like well-heeled dogs, and they all watch me in silence, flopping around in the caustic fluids trying to speak, trying to breathe, like a stupid dying fish, my insides melting out at each end, leaving me hollow.
I think at one point a secretary or another file clerk or someone walks in, and I stare up at them with my big pleading eyes, begging them to remove the stuff that’s melting me out, but they don’t even make eye contact, their dress shoes just step carefully around the puddles and rivers of gore I’m leaving all over this nice room as they attend to their business in a professional manner.
My dying gaze fixates on a hole in the ground right by my head. All those times I’d been up here before, I’d never asked why there was a drain in the middle of this office, but now I’m finally starting to understand.
It’s for cleaning up after people like me.
[AO3]
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publishing gay romance novels really unreasonably often for so many years completely warped my view of like... what is fun and funny and hot. like i am decent at writing a life-affirming, largely unproblematic romance that won't get me hate reviews and that's valid. and i think that's a pretty reasonable reaction, as a creator, to the bizarre takes on my fiction that i've dealt with (I'm sure everyone in my field deals with it) and vitriol that exists on the internet and goodreads and whatever platform for anyone who dares to present gay stories that aren't stock standard, ready to be produced by the hallmark channel and distributed to a chikfila audience.
but like. hm. to be writing that MESSY shit again. incredible. give me those goblins making bad choices. i cannot wait to ponder over how to write their setpiece Incidents in the most exquisitely uncomfortable ways. i love to watch them chew the scenery in my imagination. cannot say the same for my sweet, sweet lovingly rendered mass-appeal characters whose most compelling aspirations are to get me lots of nice reviews where nobody is calling me a [redacted lol] writing a "guide for [REDACTED FOR LEGAL REAONS WHY DO PEOPLE SAY THIS SHIT HOLY FUCK!!!!!]" i was really shaken by some of the horrific shit that people put out about my absurd books and it's taken me a long time to understand how to ignore it and--even harder--digest what i had already internalized and believed about myself as a human being based on book reviews. reading reviews is NOT the same as having an editor, and hater input was poison to my confidence in a way that i wasn't actually secure enough to acknowledge until the last few years.
im having a lot of emotions around writing again. im having a lot of emotions around most aspects of my life presently, and that of course channels nicely into creating some thinly-veiled fiction.
i'm glad i was allowed the luxury of taking some years off from publishing. i had completely stopped thinking of myself as a writer, despite the fact that i have 17 titles under my belt including a dozen hugely overlong novels written just by me. the last five years have been a pretty consistent ego death--not that i'm complaining, the vibe is now immaculate--but it is of course a lot to deal with. At the same time, the past DECADE of... trauma and growth and death and growth and total fuck ups and growth... has also casually wrought a sort of ingrained queer fury and strength in me that won't be quenched until my body kicks the bucket. I'm finally as old as I've always felt and I've got nothing to lose in writing some incredibly indulgent and polarizing fiction
anyway i don't really know how to blog anymore. i stopped sharing for so long, edited my sharing, overshared, undershared, begged for input, ignored all input. i'm making all of this shit up as i go along at this point. i'm excited about the way that my life experience is currently guiding my fiction. i think that's the essence here. but also 420 smoke weed every day jesse pinkman was right all along
#yall i wish i understood where i was going with this when i started pecking at it an hour ago#i'm gonna wake up tomorrow and barf about being vulnerable
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New Kid
gif credit
Chapter IV: The Freaks
MASTERLIST || chapter III || playlist
summary: It’s the day after your run in with Jason, and you fill your Saturday hanging out with the Hellfire Club… and the thought of Eddie joining you for family dinner.
tags: eddie munson x reader, nb!gn!reader, angst, fluff, teasing, flirty eddie, mutual pining, keep forgetting to mention reader is 18-19 (we don’t know really but they’re legal)
a/n: i hope the three ppl reading are enjoying it! i’m having a lot of fun writing it, and will continue writing it until my obsession dies probably. Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.
Eddie’s POV
Eddie wakes up first, to you in his arms, your head on his chest fast asleep. He takes you in, your face calm, a drastic contrast to this morning’s episode. He takes in your scent, a mixture of weed and his own shampoo from your shower, and he lets himself swim in it for a minute. He doesn’t want to, but he eventually shifts under your weight, moving slowly so as not to wake you up. The TV is still on, the screen buzzing with black and white static. You stretch as Eddie rises to his feet, letting out a massive yawn. “Good morning, sunshine.” You say groggily, squinting in the light as you look up at him.
Eddie can’t help but smile looking at you, wearing his t-shirt and tucked under his comforter on the floor. “Good morning, beautiful.” He says it so naturally, and you can’t stop the elated smile from spreading across your face. Eddie glances at the clock on the stove, reading 12:30PM. “Well, I hope you feel rested. We slept all morning.”
“I think I do.” You pause, and then remember, “Oh fuck. I need to call my parents!” You scramble to your feet, Eddie’s shirt riding up your back leaving your underwear exposed. Eddie looks away quickly, busying himself by looking in the fridge while you fix yourself. You rush to the phone on the wall, dialing your new home from memory.
Your mom picks up immediately. “Y/N! Where have you been?! I know it’s a weekend, but you told me you’d call if you stayed out!” She sounds like she hasn’t slept, and the guilt washes over you.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” you use the cadence you used to as a child. “I’m okay. The party was fun, but we had a little run in with some guys from school. I stayed at a friend’s, I’ll be home later today. Tell Dad I love him.” Eddie’s heart stutters when you call him a friend, wondering if there’s a better term for what you two seem to be.
“Okay, thank you for calling. I’m glad you’re alright, but please don’t scare us like that again.”
“I won’t, I promise.” You hang up the phone, and walk to find Eddie in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice.
“Your parents okay?” He asks as you walk in. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your head between his shoulder blades. “They’re okay, definitely a little pissed at me, rightfully. Thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For last night. I’m sorry about the episode, really. I can’t imagine how badly I must have freaked you out. And for letting me stay in the first place. For comforting me. I felt safe. I feel safe with you.”
Eddie turns around and wraps his arms around your waist while you hug him closely. “Stop apologizing. You can always stay here. Seriously, though I may not agree that hanging out with me is the safest thing for you, I’d be happy to have you here.”
—
Your POV
You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, his head resting on top of yours. “I have never cared about what other people think is ‘best’ for me, I'm not about to start now.” Your response is muffled by his shirt, and you feel his grip on you tighten. You pull your head back and look up at him. “I’m gonna go smoke a butt real quick, care to join?” Eddie nods, grabbing his pack of cigarettes from on top of the microwave. He pulls one out and hands it to you, then another for himself, and follows you out the door.
You both exit onto the front porch, greeted by a middle aged man with graying hair. “Oh, hey Ed, I didn’t see your van. I didn’t think you were home. Hello,” he greets you, “I’m Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.”
“I’m Y/N.” You reach for his extended hand and shake it briefly.
“You’re Y/N! Nice to meet you, Eddie’s told me so much—“ Wayne stops short, making eye contact with his nephew. You turn to look at Eddie, who’s doing the “stop it” gesture, a hand slicing across his throat. “Well anyway, nice to meet you. Let me know if you kids need anything, I’ll be sleeping inside.” He walks by you, and you give him a small wave goodbye.
“You talk about me to your uncle?” You ask, a shit eating smirk on your face.
“You caught that, huh? Yeah, a little bit. He likes to know what’s going on with me.” Eddie shrugs, bringing his cigarette to his lips. “So, I have to get my van at Gareth’s, if you’re interested in a walk.”
You nod, eager to spend as much time with Eddie outside of school as possible. “Can we stop at my place? I have to change.” You look down at yourself, legs exposed, butt barely covered by Eddie’s t-shirt.
—
The walk from Eddie’s trailer to your house is quick. You’re wearing your pants from last night that are still covered in dirt, Eddie’s shirt, his jacket, and a knit hat he said you could keep. You smell more like him than yourself, his shampoo wafting from your hair in the wind. The two of you stop at your door. “I can wait out here.” Eddie offers as you pull your key from your belt loop.
“Oh please, my parents are harmless and I just met your uncle in my underwear.” He laughs with you, and follows you inside.
“Hi, Dad. This is Eddie, from school.” Your dad looks up from his book, and his face goes from neutral to ecstatic. “Is this the friend you spent the night with?” He teases, rising from his chair at the dining table to greet you both.
“Yeah, he let me crash. Don’t worry though, he was a perfect gentleman.”
Your father extends a hand to Eddie. “I’m David, wonderful to meet you, Eddie!”
Eddie shakes his hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Mom’s out grocery shopping, but there are snacks in the fridge. Are you staying here?” Your dad asks you, taking your appearance in.
“No, we have some errands to run actually, I'm here to change.” You gesture to your muddy pants.
“Okay! Well, we’re making lasagna for dinner. Eddie, you’re more than welcome to join us.” He sends a wink in your direction.
“It’s a date!” Eddie responds before you can cut in, and you bite your lip to hide your excitement.
“Fantastic! I’ll see you guys later. Be good!” He returns to his chair, and you make your way upstairs.
—
Eddie’s POV
“You sure you don’t mind me coming in?” Eddie asks as you reach the top of the stairs. He doesn’t want to pry into your personal effects so soon, despite wanting so badly to know you better.
“Nah, I’ve got nothing interesting hiding in here.” You open your door, letting Eddie in first.
He walks in front of you, taking everything in as he walks along the perimeter. The dull white walls are accented with a pink trim, and covered in movie posters of Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday The 13th, and Naked Vengeance, along with tour posters from Joan Jett, Blondie, and Bad Brains. He migrates to the shelf next to your unmade bed, investigating your record collection closely. On your bedside table sits a diary he’s tempted by, and a worm copy of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar.
“You have a lot of good stuff here.” He pulls out your copy of Autoamerican. “Blondie?” He already knows you’re a fan, having seen the Debbie Harry pin on your backpack in English yesterday.
“I love Blondie!” You walk to him and snatch the record from his hands. “And I’m not ashamed of it.” You kid, putting the record back in its place.
Eddie sits on your bed, his back turned. “You can change, I promise I won’t look.” He covers his eyes as if to make his point.
You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen me without pants already, Munson. And anyway, I have a bathroom..” He still doesn’t turn around, so you change from your dirty jeans into a long black skirt, keeping Eddie’s shirt over top. “Alright, I’m decent.”
Eddie pivots toward you, peeking through his fingers before removing his hands from his face. “You’re still wearing my shirt.”
“I told you, I’m keeping it.” You smile, and he doesn’t push the subject. He’d let you have all the clothes off his back if you wanted. “Let’s go get your van, pretty boy.” You say, pulling on your boots and grabbing your jean jacket off the hook on your door.
Eddie follows, closing your door behind him, his heart practically in his throat after you call him that.
—
Your POV
“Bye, Dad!” You call, closing your front door behind you. You and Eddie continue down the walk way, and you find yourself reaching for his hand. He lets you take it, entwining your fingers like it’s the most natural act in the world.
“I never actually got to tell you,” you start once you’ve reached the street, “You’re incredibly talented. I'd go as far as to say you guys have a shot at really making it.”
Eddie snorts in response. “I appreciate that, seriously. I don’t know if that’s our end goal though.”
“Why not? It’ll get you out of this shithole.”
“Maybe I like this shithole.”
It’s your turn to laugh. “Why would you? What do you have for yourself here?”
Eddie stops walking, causing you to stumble as you come to a halt. “I have you, don’t I?”
You feel your face blush, unsure how to respond. Of course, he has you. But you’d go anywhere with him, regardless of the consequences. “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking your train of thought. “I don’t mean to assume.”
“It’s okay. You do have me.” You squeeze his band, and he squeezes yours back.
—-
Eddie’s POV
“Oh, no.” The two of you reach Gareth’s house, his car one of three still parked in front of it. “What did they do to you?!” Eddie rushes to his van, which is now covered in spray paint that reads “THE FREAK LIVES HERE.” in angry red spray paint. Eddie groans, scratching at the paint to no avail.
“It looks kinda sick.” You say from behind him.
“What?”
“I dunno, it’s kinda badass. Something you can kinda lay claim on, embrace maybe.” You shrug, approaching the van. “Add some nice big flames and she’ll be good as new.”
Eddie thinks about it. Painting the van over would cost too much, and there’s no way one car wash would get it all off. “Maybe you’re right.” He says finally, patting the side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you hop in as he climbs into the driver seat. “Let’s just hope they didn’t siphon my gas too.” He turns the key that had been abandoned in the ignition. To both of your relief, the car starts with a mechanical groan. “There she is!” Eddie exclaims as the radio, cranked to full volume, blasts through his tinny speakers. “I wanna show you something.” Eddie puts the car in drive, and peels out of Gareth’s driveway.
—
Your POV
You end up at a nice house about ten minutes away. Eddie opens your door for you, helping you down from the van. “What I’m about to show you is the most important part of me. I totally understand if it makes you flee and never come back, but for some reason I don’t think you’re gonna do that.” Eddie raps on the front door, and you’re greeted by a lanky kid with wild black hair, a strong jaw, and bony knees. “Holy shit, Y/N! Uh. I mean. Hey, guys! You’re early.”
What the fuck. “Uh, hey.” Why does this child know your name?
“We were in the neighborhood, Mike,” Eddie is speaking through clenched teeth. “this is—Y/N. Y/N, Mike Wheeler.” Wheeler. OH! “Are you Nancy’s brother?” You ask, remembering something Nancy had said last night about her brother starting high school this year. Mike nods, welcoming you into his house. “Game’s not set up yet, but we have snacks downstairs.” Mike gestures to the kitchen, where a little blonde girl in pigtails scribbles in a coloring book. “Holly, say hi to our guests.”
“Hi to our guests!” The girl, Holly to be reasonably assumed, responds giggling. Mike rolls his eyes, opening the door to his basement and heading down.
“Welcome to Hellfire.” Eddie gestures to the basement, a room with a low ceiling held up by a few wooden beams. In the center of the room sys a table cluttered with Dungeons and Dragons figures, character sheets, and dice, surrounded by some old couches. “We usually play at school, but with vacation coming up we’ve started our winter campaign down here. Is it totally lame or what?”
You shake your head, approaching the table. You take in the display of creativity in front of you. “Did you do all this?” You ask, turning back to Eddie. Mike chimes in, “He’s one of the best Dungeon Masters I’ve ever played with. Next to my friend, Will.” Will Byers. You’d heard that name whispered in the halls, attached to phrases like Zombie Boy, and slurs you’d rather not repeat. “You gonna play with us?”
You look at Mike, then at Eddie with the same question in your eyes. “We’d love to have you.” He says, so you agree. You’ll play your first game of DnD since you were thirteen.
—
Eddie’s POV
His heart races when you nod your head, agreeing to play with Hellfire. He hasn’t expected you to even consider it, but he can’t help being taken with your excitement. He watches as you grab a blank character sheet, scrawling your character stats from memory as you wait for the rest of the club to show up. He tries looking over your shoulder, but you catch him and cover the sheet with your hand. “No peeking!”
“Hey,” Mike walks up to Eddie, pulling him out of your earshot. “What is going on with you guys?” He whispers, a glow of teenage boy curiosity on his face.
“If you must know, which you mustn’t, nothing. Nothing is going on. We had a bad night, we’re making up for it.”
“The party go south?” Mike frowns, watching Eddie consider what was appropriate to share with a fifteen year old.
“Yeah, you could say that. We’re okay, though.”
“Your eye says otherwise.”
Eddie gives Mike a playful shove, and Mike responds with a weak punch to Eddie’s shoulder.
—
Your POV
In about an hour, the doorbell rings and a cacophony of footsteps tread from the front door to the basement. The curly haired boy from Eddie’s lunch table leads the group, followed by a tall boy with a flat top, and Gareth, Jeff, and the third guy from Corroded Coffin. Behind all of them, a walkman clasped to her jeans and headphones stuck in her ears, is a young red headed girl wearing a scowl on her face. When she looks at you, her face twists into a confused glare.
“Welcome, players!” Eddie exclaims from behind you. “And Max,” he gestures to the redhead. “Today we have a very special addition to our team. I’d like you all to welcome Y/N.” He extends a hand to you, queueing you to continue. “Hi, everyone. I’m Y/N. Level three chaotic neutral elf.”
“Eddie! Is this the person you keep talking about?” The question comes from the curly headed boy, who is immediately met with a smack upside the head from Mike. You stretch your face, trying not to smile at the display of immaturity in front of you. You’re flattered, in fact, to learn that you’ve become a household name.
“Ow! What?!”
“Don’t embarrass him, he’ll make the campaign even more impossible.”
“Whatever. I’m Dustin,” he holds his hand out and you shake it firmly. “This is Lucas,” he gestures to the boy with the flat top, “And I assume you know Gareth, Jeff, and Roger.” He gestures to the members of Corroded Coffin. “We’re happy to have you. This asshole makes these campaigns almost impossible.” Dustin sets his binder down on the crowded table. “You ready to kick some ass?”
You nod, taking a seat next to Eddie, who’s at the head of the table behind his binder.
—
Eddie’s POV
“To the death!” The chanting is loud and clear, they’ve made their choices. Eddie’s eyes are glued to you almost hungrily as you stand taking your place at the end of the table. You hold the die to Dustin, who gives it a stiff blow for good luck. You shake the D20, then release it across the board. You cover your face with your hands, not ready to look at your roll. Mike, Dustin, and everyone else lean further in, even Max is on her feet.
This whole time, Eddie’s staring at you. He watches your every move, memorizing the way you pull your hair back when you’re stressed, or clench your left fist when you’re angry, bite your lip when you’re scared or shy. He’s very much infatuated, unable to deny that any longer.
You look up from the D20, meeting his gaze, and keep your eyes on him as you shout, “CRIT HIT, BABY!” Slapping the hands of your teammates. They crowd around you, lifting you up with them as they jump, arms flailing to high five and hug each other.
“That’s why we play!” Eddie slaps his hands together. Even though he loves being the asshole with impossible campaigns, he prefers watching his friends celebrate a well earned victory. Of course, it’s a small one, the campaign has only just begun. This boss was awfully weak compared to the ones he’s cooking up for spring. But it’s a victory nonetheless.
He’s especially proud of you, someone that hasn’t played in six years, rolling 20 your first time back. The panic in his chest returns when he realizes what he’s starting to feel. It’s been four days, he needs to chill out.
—
Your POV
Your heart bangs against your chest as you catch your breath. You had so dearly missed the feeling of a campaign well run. It feels incredible to be surrounded by people like you, and you let yourself find comfort in Hellfire.
You pull yourself from the rest of the boys, making your way over to your new Dungeon Master.
“Good game,” You hold your hand out, and Eddie shakes it stiffly, as if you two had never met. “Great game. One of the best.” He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the bruises on your knuckles. You could melt, right there, like the Wicked Witch of the (West? East? You never remember which one was crushed by the house and which one melted), and you’d accept your fate. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. I hear there’s lasagna somewhere?”
He holds his arm out for you, and you link yours around it as you make your way to Eddie’s freak mobile. Eddie opens the door for you, but before you step up, you lift yourself onto your toes, and place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Unbelievable.” You whisper.
“What is?”
“Just. You.” You gesture less than gracefully. “You’re so kind. It makes me so sad to watch how people treat you. Everyone that knows you, loves you. It’s incredible.” You don’t know why this is spilling out of you, possibly the adrenaline from the campaign win.
“Everyone, huh?” He deadpans, and you frown. “Jason and his bitches don’t count. They’re not worth it.”
Eddie shrugs. “No, you’re right. Still, though, I can’t say it doesn’t suck to get jumped with precious cargo.”
“Your precious cargo is in good hands.” You desperately want to kiss him for real. Something in you wants him to make the first move, though. Fear of rejection has always gnawed at you, and unfortunately this circumstance is no different.
Eddie does not sweep you up in a passionate cheesy romantic kiss only meant for blockbuster movies and your mom’s dirty romance novels, though, to your absolute devastation. So you climb into the van, fasten your seatbelt, and begin digging through Eddie’s tapes.
—
Eddie’s POV
Could I have kissed them? Shit. Shit! Eddie punches the air on his way around the van, taking a deep, frustrated breath before entering. When the engine starts, the speakers blare, and it takes a second for Eddie to gather what’s happening.
You're gonna say you miss me
And you're gonna say you'll kiss me
And you're gonna say you love me
'Cause I'm gonna love you too
I don't care what you told me
You're gonna say you'll hold me
And you're gonna say you love me
'Cause I'm gonna love you too
Eddie turns to you, and you just shrug. You shrug! “You have a Blondie tape in your van.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“My Blondie tape is resting securely at the bottom of my backpack, in my room, at home. This one was in the glove compartment. You like Blondie!” You accuse, a finger jutting out to point right between his eyes. Eddie grabs your wrist suddenly, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to keep.”
You cackle, and he joins you, his heart warming with the sound of your laugh. You have no idea he bought that tape when he saw the Blondie pin on your backpack. He’s got it bad.
—
Your POV
You absolutely cannot believe he didn’t say anything about the song you chose. Nothing! I’m Gonna Love You Too?! One of the least subtle love songs of the century?! Unbelievable, how dense some people are. So why do you find it so fucking cute?
The two of you continue jamming to Blondie, and Eddie sings every word until you reach your house, entering to the smell of sauce cooking on the stove. In the den, you spot your grandmother, and yank Eddie out of her sight line. “Shit.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“No! No, I’m sorry. That's my grandmother. I don’t know why they didn’t tell me she was coming, I wouldn’t subject you to her on purpose. Stay right here.” You leave him behind the doorway, entering the kitchen to pull your dad aside. “What the hell is Grammy doing here?”
“I’m so sorry, kid, I had no idea. She just showed up.” Your mom joins you two, huddling in a corner. “If it makes you feel better, she’s only staying for dinner.” She offers, and it does little to calm your nerves.
“Eddie doesn’t have anything to wear, I don’t want her making more comments about him than I already know she will.”
“Let him borrow some of my work clothes, you guys can go upstairs and change.”
“Alright. You owe me, though.”
“Trust me, I know!” He calls to your back, and you snatch Eddie by his arm and drag him upstairs. In your parents room, you pick out a pair of black dress pants and a long sleeve blue button down shirt. “I’m so sorry about this, my grandmother’s crazy. Put these on.” You toss him the clothes, then go digging in your own closet for your emergency Grammy Visit dress.
“Are you sure I can stay?”
“Please, you’re the one person I want to be here with right now. Unless you wanna go, then please by all means. I would leave too, if I could”
“Oh, hell no. I’ll be right back.” He makes his way into your bathroom, and you change out of your clothes into a short sleeve dress that falls just above your knees, exchange the hoop in your nose for a diamond stud, and swap the spikes in your ears for small silver hoops. Your hair is harder to tame, but you flatten it with an iron, tucking the flyaways behind your ears. You knock on your bathroom door, and Eddie pulls it open forcefully. “Tada.” As much as you prefer his grungy look, he cleans up quite nicely. The clothes are almost perfect, a little loose around his arms and legs, but overall he looks like a respectable young man.
“God, we look lame.” You laugh, and Eddie joins you. ”Here, turn around.” You take an elastic off your wrist, tying Eddie’s hair in a low ponytail. “She’ll still give you shit, but at least we can say we tried.” You shrug, dropping your hands back to your sides.
“Pretty dress.” Eddie chuckles at your clear discomfort. “You somehow manage to pull this look off just as well as your preferred one.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking you up and down, and you squirm under his stare.
—
Eddie’s POV
He can’t help it, he is absolutely checking you out in that dress. It’s a good dress, fitting you just right. It definitely isn’t your style, a flowy, lily patterned mid length, falling right above your knees, exposing your bruised and scratched up legs. But you’re still as breathtaking as he finds you in your everyday clothes.
You catch him staring, and he averts his eyes. “Shall we?” You ask, opening the bedroom door for him.
“Anything for lasagna!”
The two of you make your way to the small dining room, Eddie’s place set up next to yours. You walk to your grandmother, arm hooked around Eddie’s. “Hi, Gram! Nice to see you. This is my friend, Eddie.” Eddie isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but hearing you call him a friend stings a little. He guesses you can’t really say “Hey, Gram, this is the guy I got beat up with that also gave me drugs.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Eddie holds his hand out, and your grandmother gives it a stern shake. She’s a short, round woman, with a tuft of white hair on her head, and deeply set frown lines. “Hello, Eddie.” She says dryly, taking her seat next to your father.
“What brings you to Hawkins, Mom?” Your dad asks, cutting into his dinner.
“We’ll, I figured I’d check in, see how you’re getting along. Looks like I may have interrupted the move-in process.” She inspects the room, still cluttered with half empty boxes, bubble wrap, and a mess of different knick knacks sitting without a place.
“We’ve only been here four days, you know.” David jokes with his mother, who only rolls her eyes.
“Y/N, how is school going?” Eddie watches you as you respond, trying to read your mood.
“It’s okay, classes are pretty easy so far.” You're being vague, leaving even Eddie to wonder if what you say is true.
“And how did you meet Eddie here?”
“We’re in English together, he was the only one to introduce himself to me.” You meet his eyes, giving him a gentle smile that he returns.
“This man is in high school?!” Grammy barks, causing you to jump in your seat. He doesn’t mind the outburst, he’s well aware old people don’t have the social filters to realize they’re being rude. Eddie looks from you to your grandmother, before volunteering. “I’ve been held back a few times.”
Grammy gives him a glare before turning to you. “Y/N, you can’t just hang around delinquents if you expect to make anything valuable of yourself.” Your grandmother points her fork at you as she says this. “Also, I can see those awful tattoos under his sleeve. You’re going to regret those when you’re older, you know.” She says in Eddie's direction before turning back to you. “What happened to you? You used to be such a beautiful, intelligent girl.” The old woman shakes her head, her eyes on her plate. Eddie is stunned into silence, hearing you referred to as a girl for the first time since meeting you. “You should cut your hair, son.” She adds, flinging her knife in his direction.
You let loose a long, angry growl from the depths of your throat. This has been the longest two days of your life, and you are not in the mood to play passive aggressive Grammy games right now. “You know what, Grandmother? I couldn't care less for what you have to say about Eddie, or about me for that matter. He is the nicest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming into contact with, and you wouldn’t know what nice was if it slapped you in the face!” You shove yourself from the table, throwing down your silverware before stomping up to your room, the door slamming behind you. Eddie looks from your empty seat, to your grandmother, to your parents who are silent, completely dumbfounded.
“I’m gonna…” He trails off, excusing himself from the table to follow you upstairs.
—
Your POV
There’s a knock on your door. You figure it’s Eddie. Though he’s the only one you can see yourself confiding in right now, you don’t want to face him. He wasn't supposed to see you like that, weak against the words of your elder. “Go away!” You shout.
“Stop with the melodramatics.” Eddie opens the door despite your warning, softly closing it behind him. You stuff your face into your pillow, refusing to look at him, but you feel your bed shake as he flops down next to you. “It wasn’t that bad.” Eddie settles a hand on your back, and you feel yourself relax. You roll onto your side to look at him, propped on his elbow, patiently waiting for you to speak.
“It would’ve gotten worse. You’re lucky she didn’t mention the black eye.”
“What’s with that, by the way? Your parents didn’t say anything either.”
“My dad had a rough childhood. He did a lot worse than I have, and he still survived.” You shrug.
“Would that have anything to do with the wretched woman out there?”
He manages to coax a grin from you. “Yeah, I guess it might. But she did the whole homemaker, ‘obey the husband’ thing. She thinks it works for everyone. She gave my dad hell when he started dating my mom. Thinks she made him a satanist.” You roll your eyes.
—
Eddie’s POV
He’s focused on your every word, grateful to hear you talk so comfortably to him about your family. “My mom was a huge hippie, I guess. She took my dad to Woodstock for their anniversary. They never told me what to wear, who to hang out with. Every time my grandmother visits I’m reminded how good I have it. I feel kind of guilty, I guess?” You pause, and Eddie waits, showing you he's listening with every fiber of his being. “No matter how much they show me they love me, there are always going to be those who don’t. Who refuse to. Usually they’re pretty vocal about it, too. None of this is new to you, obviously. I'm preaching to the choir here.”
“You left the biggest part out, though.” Eddie finally gains the courage to respond. You raise an eyebrow, so he explains, “You're still strong enough to do it. To wear, listen to, talk to whomever the fuck you feel like, despite knowing people are gonna hate you for it. I guess we both do.” He looks down at the two of you, very out of place in your dinner garb. “Except for right now, apparently.”
There’s a knock at the door then. “Hey, guys.” Your mother peeks her head in the room, making sure the two of you are decent, and Eddie can’t help but smile at her kindness. “Grammy’s gone, you two are free to go, stay, whatever you want. Dinner’s in the fridge for later. Your father and I are going out for some much needed drinks.”
“Okay, Mom. Thank you, drive safe, call me if you need a ride home.”
“Of course, sweet pea. Eddie, we’re so sorry for tonight, we’d love to have you again, sans the decrepit grandmother. It’s been lovely to meet one of Y/N’s friends.”
“No worries, ma’am, Thank you for having me. Have a good night.” She gives you both a small wave before closing the door again.
“I should probably get going.” Eddie suggests, rising to his feet. He doesn’t want to. He wants to make sure you sleep tonight, free of nightmares, screaming, and whatever else haunts your brain. But he can’t keep doing this to himself. You barely know each other, and he doesn’t trust that fact enough to slow him down. He’s about to open your bedroom door again when he hears you.
“Please don’t go.” He’s ninety percent sure it’s what you say, but it’s muffled by your pillow. He turns around to see you on your stomach, hands by your side, a kind of dead man’s float pose. He’s still looking at you as you push your head off the bed, craning your neck to see if he’s left.
“You should sleep.” He frowns, aching to crawl back into your bed, wrap his arms around your waist, feel your breathing even out as you fall into a deep, hopefully peaceful sleep. There is no appeal to leaving you right now.
“That’s the plan.” You say, and Eddie swears he can hear your disappointment.
Fuck it.
—
Your POV
Eddie turns on his heel, entering your bathroom instead of exiting. Mere moments later, He emerges, wearing only his boxers and his Metallica shirt that you’d left on the bathroom floor.
“Hey! You robbed me!”
“It’s my shirt!” Eddie flings himself on top of you, pinning you to the bed with his weight. You screech with laughter as you wriggle under him, struggling to get the upper hand. You stop moving after minutes of no progress made, the abrupt pause causing your face to line up with Eddie’s above you, inches away.
“Are you gonna let me change out of this piece of shit?” You say between heavy breaths, the air from your mouth moving the hair around Eddie’s face.
“I dunno, you look kinda cute like this.”
You know he doesn’t mean to, but the comment hurts your feelings. You’re used to people saying you’d be prettier if you’d just wear a dress, wear a little makeup, stop chopping your hair off. You never expected to hear anything like that from Eddie.
Eddie senses your change in demeanor, and doesn’t move as you more forcefully shove at him, a real attempt to get away from him.
“Hey, hold on, I didn’t mean that. I mean, of course I meant it, you look good! But you always look good. I don’t prefer this, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that it matters what I prefer, you can obviously do whatever you want, but-“
“Oh my god can you just shut the fuck up for a second?” You fling your arms around Eddie’s neck, bringing his face down into the pillow next to you. You could have kissed him, pulled his face into yours instead. Something inside of you holds you back, afraid to scare Eddie away. You keep your arms wrapped around his neck as he turns his face to the side to look at you. “There are better ways to get me to stop talking, y’know.”
“I can’t wait to try them all.” You joke, finally sliding out from under him, making your way to the bathroom to change.
chapter V
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#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things#stranger things fan fiction#st4#new kid fic#willow writes sins#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#lucas sinclair
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Still working on the Murder Mystery stuff, so decided to go with a scene where they discuss poison.
Rogue & Gambit Week 2023: Murder Mystery
The poison garden was hidden amongst the larger gardens of the property. It was small, but beautiful and elegant.
“Hmm, not as big as the Assassin’s poison garden, but a lot more refined,” Gambit said as he and Rogue walked around. “The huge signs spoil things a bit though.”
Rogue grinned. “Well, some of these are poison to the touch. They have to be careful.”
“I’m surprised it’s legal.”
“It’s Heritage listed or something.”
“Ah. Explains it.”
“Oooh Foxglove,” Gambit said. “I haven’t seen this one before.”
“The Assassins don’t have it?” Rogue asked as they wander over to the pink and purple flowered plants.
“No. They used it, but since Digitalis isn’t used in heart medication as much anymore they stopped using it.” Gambit gave her a grin. “If you gave Foxglove to someone on Digitalis-based heart meds, you could get away with murder, because there would already be Digitalis in their system. There’d be no way to tell if it was murder or accidental overdose.”
“I know,” Rogue said. “It got used in an Agatha Christie novel that way.” She didn’t add that Mystique had used that technique once herself.
“I really need to read me some Agatha Christie one of these days.” He frowned as his eyes shifted to another set of plants. “Well, I know Belladonna when I see it.”
“What are you more afraid of, the plant or the ex?” Rogue asked with a smirk.
“Jury’s still out,” he replied with a wink. “Have you heard of Aqua Tofana?”
Rogue nodded. “Invented by Giulia Tofana in the 1600s, which she and her daughter and staff used to sell to women wanting to kill off their husbands. And they did so successfully for decades. It was disguised as a beauty treatment or religious item. And they taught the prospective widow how to behave and say to the police.”
Gambit smirked. “Yeah. I thought you might have. They think Belladonna was one of the ingredients.”
“And arsenic and lead, if I recall correctly. Took a few drops to kill, but it looked like it was the flu or whatever. So they’d get sick and have time to settle their affairs before the poison finally killed them.” Rogue gave him a grin. “Couldn’t work these days. They can test for all that stuff.”
“It’s just getting harder and harder to pull off the perfect murder.”
“Well, aren’t you glad that’s not your line of work?”
“More than I can possible say.” Another group of plants caught his eye, once that looked like wild carrots or parsley. “Ah, Hemlock. Well, if they were growing this, I don’t wonder Marian was called a witch.”
An unexpected voice cut in: “Hemlock is a weed and grows itself just fine.”
Gambit and Rogue looked over to see a skinny, middle aged woman with black hair. She was tanned up to the middle of her forehead where her floppy hat sat. She wore thick leather gardening gloves, a long-sleeved shirt, and overalls.
“Good thing you can’t get poisoned just by touching it, then,” Gambit said cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Remy. And you are?”
“Angela. Nice to meet you,” she replied pleasantly.
“I’m Rogue,” Rogue said. “Have you been working here long? You seem familiar?”
A little too familiar, actually. Rogue couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew this woman.
“Oh, no, I’ve only been here a few months,” Angela replied, and looked back at Gambit. “Most animals are smart enough not to each hemlock, but there are some birds who can eat it, and do if they’re hungry enough. Only probably is, is that even though they survive eating it, anyone who eats the bird after gets poisoned.”
“Ooh nasty,” Gambit said, and his eyes shifted over to the Hemlock sign.
“And there’s no antidote. All they can do if you have Hemlock poisoning is treat the symptoms and hope,” Angela went on.
“Symptoms include vomiting - well, what poison doesn’t? - How do you have excess saliva and dry mouth at the same time?” Gambit said musingly. “Rapid heartbeat, high blood pressure, muscle weakness, tremors…”
“I thought Hemlock caused paralysis?” Rogue asked with a frown.
“It does, that’s in the delayed complications section, along with slow heartbeat, low blood pressure, kidney failure, and muscle breakdown and death,” Gambit said. “Doesn’t say how long the delay is.”
“I believe they can start within 15 minutes,” Rogue said. “If I’m remembering correctly.”
The amount of information she’d picked up from Mystique on how to kill people was staggering.
“Not a lot of time, huh?” Gambit mused. “You’d be screwed if you were alone.”
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So glad weed is legal here,, it is my god given right to enjoy an occasional gummy
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A Behind the Scenes of: Corroded Coffin Pt. 3
Jonathan is out, so Eddie gives insight into the Europe tour he went on with Corroded Coffin in '94 (can be read as a standalone).
Pt. 1 & Pt. 2
On AO3.
Ships: Steddie
Warnings: minor homophobia mention
~~~~~~~~~~
The video opens not to Jonathan in his living room, but to Eddie on his own couch. He grins into the camera and happily says: “Bet y’all didn’t see this one coming.”
“Jonny-boy was a little idiot, who went out and did a photoshoot in the rain for four hours without a coat, so now he’s miserable in bed, getting homemade soup spoon fed to him by Argyle, so truly his life isn’t the worst. Anyway, he’s really invested in this project and he didn’t want to miss an upload, so I offered to make a video and that’s what we’re doing,” Eddie explains.
“I’m gonna talk about the Corroded Coffin Europe tour of ‘94 with my lovely baby, Stevie, here as the peanut gallery,” Eddie introduces.
“Hi,” Steve speaks up, his audio not the best, since Eddie only has one mic.
“We wanted to stay true to Jonathan vibes in these videos,” Eddie winks at the camera, before grabbing his own copy of the book and announcing: “Let’s get into it, people.”
He flips it open, then has to flip a little more, before he finds the right page. He lets out a little ah-ha when he does, then looks up and says: “First one is Corroded Coffin in London, which is embarrassing for me right out of the gate.”
The photo that comes on screen is of Eddie and Jeff glued to the window of a pod of a Ferris wheel. The two are boggled by the view, but Chris next to them isn’t so much. He is too busy lighting a cigarette to watch the view.
“When I gave Nancy this photo, I was completely convinced this was the London Eye, told her that with full confidence,” Eddie explains. “Now, Nancy is a lot smarter than me, because she googled it to check and the London Eye was built in 1998, which is definitely later than ‘94 which is when this was taken. So, uhm, I was talking out of my ass and this is just a random Ferris wheel. Still very cool, but not the same.”
“Me and Jeff had never been out of the state, but Gar had been in Canada once and Chris the fucker had family in England, so he’d already been. As you can see, he was a little less impressed with the view than the rest of us,” Eddie says.
“The next photo is Legal Weed and taken in the Netherlands, shout out,” Eddie grins.
The photo is taken in a hotel room. All of them have joints because weed has been legal in the Netherlands since 1976. Gareth is holding a joint in one hand as he sits cross legged on the bed, stuffing his face with chips with the other. Jeff watching the ring he blew with a lazy smirk as he reclines against the pillows. Eddie is lying with his head off the side of the bed as he takes a drag of his joint.
“This was the only stop on our tour we were allowed to smoke. Our manager would have killed us if we got arrested while abroad,” Eddie pouts.
“I would have come killed you too, Eds,” Steve calls out from behind the camera.
“You wouldn't have come to bail me out?” Eddie asks, pout deepening, though he looks amused too, dimples showing slightly.
“No, of course, I would,” Steve answers, sounding offended. “I would have broken you out if need be. I just also would have had to kill you for being an idiot.”
“Well, ain’t I glad I didn’t get arrested,” Eddie laughs and winks. Then he focuses back on the photo and says: “Getting high with the guys is always fun. We work great under influence, but it also helps us unwind too. Great for between shows.”
“Jeff is totally showing off by the way. He only learned to blow a ring like that in ‘92,” Eddie points out. “I taught him that. And Gareth is totally stealing my chips too. The mooch.”
“The next one is Gareth the Manneken Pis and is taken in Belgian of Gareth being an idiot,” Eddie introduces, his accent throwing the pronunciation of the name off a little.
Gareth the Manneken Piss is of Gareth imitating Manneken Pis as Eddie and Chris loose their shit next to him. A few tourists around them are mean mugging the group.
“Isn’t there one of you doing the exact same on the next page?” Steve asks.
“We’re not talking about that right now, baby,” Eddie says, flushing red. Before he shakes it off and says: “You know what? I’m taking it back. Me and Gar were very correct for our Manneken Pis impersonation. He is an icon and I love him.”
“He’s just a silly little guy, you know. They dress him up holidays with little outfits and have myths about him being a war hero, that’s just iconic,” Eddie defends himself. “I’ve read his Wikipedia page a lot, okay.”
“He has,” Steve confirms from behind the camera. “We went to Brussel on a trip once just to see him in one of his outfits.”
“And it was magical,” Eddie tells the audience definitively.
“It was,” Steve agrees with bemused fondness.
“So, shout out to Gar for being very correct,” Eddie laughs. “Next one is taken by me and is called DnD on the Road.”
The photo is taken from the head of the table, the edge of the DM screen visible. Chris, Gareth and Jeff around a table on the tour bus as the countryside passes them by outside. The three are discussing their next move with grave seriousness.
“We’re all big DnD fans. We made the DnD club at our high school together way back when. I’ve been DMing for these guys since ‘82. We never stopped even on the road,” Eddie recalls fondly. “Our manager loved us for that, because we never broke anything in our hotels, just played our nerdy little game. We still do.”
“The next one is Castle Hill, which is in Budapest if I’m not mistaken. They have this amazing architecture,” Eddie says.
The photo is of Jeff and Eddie from behind. Eddie is practically on Jeff’s back so he can see the Castle Hill of Budapest. It’s a cozy sweet moment, even if the two look slightly ridiculous. They’re in bright colored shirts and cargo shorts, the best disguise they could have found.
Eddie grimaces slightly, before he admits: “Those outfits are my biggest shame.”
“Oi, that’s my shirt,” Steve exclaims.
“Yeah,” Eddie grins. “I love you, baby, but you know our fashion doesn’t mesh.”
“You like stealing my shirts,” Steve pouts.
“I do, I do,” Eddie quickly assures him. “I just don’t like people knowing I like stealing your shirts. I have a bad boy image to maintain, you know.”
“Your image has been ruined ten times over, everyone knows you’re too nice,” Steve rolls his eyes.
Eddie pauses for a second, then makes a ‘fair enough’-face, as he shrugs: “You’re probably right, sweetheart. And you clothes made a great disguise. Somehow no one ever thinks the normie next to them is from Corroded Coffin.”
“Why would they?” Steve laughs. “You guys looked ridiculous.”
“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, but he’s laughing too.
After they calmed down, Steve asks: “Why are you hanging of Jeff anyway?” He already knows the answer, but he has also been keeping Eddie on track for over three decades.
“I was so tired,” Eddie whines as an answer. “Being a tourist is a little fun, but it’s so much walking and I am not athletic, Stevie, not at all. And my beautiful, strong, jock husband wasn’t there to carry me, so I had to lean on Jeff. I love Jeff, but he doesn’t have nice shoulders like you do.”
You can hear Steve giggling in the background as Eddie finishes his lament. Despite his dramatics, Eddie sends a little glance over to Steve, looking proud of the reaction he got.
“Last one on the page is Post-Show Smoke Break,” Eddie moves on after dropping his theatrics again.
That one is taken behind a venue. Chris, Eddie and Gareth are all in costume with their coats over it, hair sweat slicked. Chris and Gareth are smoking while Eddie sulkily sucks on a lollipop.
“Now this one was just rude. They always were,” Eddie complains. “We quit smoking together at the start of the year – well, not Chris, but the rest of us. Gar was already smoking a month later and Jeff started again on tour. They’d all smoke and I was trying so hard, so I had to stand there like a dumbass with my lollipop.”
“I’m glad you didn’t start again,” Steve says softly.
Immediately the indignation melts of Eddie as he gives Steve a smitten smile. He replies: “I’m glad too, sweetheart.” Then he breaks the moment with a joke: “I can even walk up the stairs without being winded nowadays. A true win.”
Steve snorts: “How did any of you survive those shows?”
“Adrenaline and youth, baby,” Eddie winks. “Also shout out to our costume makers, we looked both ridiculous and epic in the best ways.”
“Ridiculous and epic is kind of your brand,” Steve informs him.
“Should I name my autobiography that?” Eddie asks, looking serious.
“Since when are you writing an autobiography?” Steve asks in return.
“I’m not,” Eddie shrugs casually.
“God, you’re ridiculous,” Steve sighs, sounding incredibly fond as he does so.
“But you love me anyway?” Eddie makes big pleading eyes as he asks.
“Of course I love you.”
“I love you too, Stevie,” Eddie grins in return, then happily flips the page, grin widening as he says: “Okay, so I have no excuse for this whole page. I just missed my baby and I needed to call him, because he couldn't come with me, but he had to experience this with me.”
“Are you at the page with all the photos of you calling me?” Steve asks.
“Jup,” Eddie replies, popping the p. “I think I’m just going through them real quick, saying why I was calling you. Think that’s smart?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Okay, first up Calling Steve from London,” Eddie reads.
The photo that appears is of Eddie in a red phone booth, behind him is the Big Ben. He has sunglasses on and a hat in which he is hiding his hair along with bright tourist-y clothes. He is smiling excitedly.
“I had seen the Big Ben and the phone booths like they have in the movies. Of course I had to tell Stevie about it. He has also never seen it, so I had to report to the best of my ability, no better way to do that then when right there,” Eddie shrugs. “Next up Calling Steve from Dublin.”
It’s of Eddie on the phone in a pub. There is a beer in his hand and behind him is a bar of people drinking and laughing. They had managed to sneak out and not be recognized, since a folk band is playing and drew a different crowd than they do.
“Well, I told him we were gonna try and sneak out, I had to tell him it was successful, you know. Plus, I missed him. Being among a lot of people that aren’t him, always makes me miss him. I wanted to hear his voice,” Eddie says.
“Ahww, baby,” Steve coos as Eddie blushes and hides behind his hair. Steve says: “I love you, Eddie,” and Eddie grins shyly from behind his hair.
“Love you too, darling,” Eddie tells him, dropping hair as he twirls it around his finger. After a beat, he clears his throat and says: “Next one is Calling Steve from Amsterdam.”
Calling Steve from Amsterdam is of Eddie in an airport as he happily talks into the phone. Behind him are Chris and Jeff glaring at the paparazzi that is being held back by security, while Eddie is oblivious.
Sheepishly Eddie admits: “Someone just told me weed was legal in the Netherlands, so I had to tell Steve about it. Also, I always call when we land to say I’m safe, though I must admit that the timing could have been better here.”
“Now the next one, I have already defended myself about,” Eddie introduces. “It’s Calling Steve from Brussels.”
This is the photo of Eddie imitating Manneken Pis even if the person on the other side of the phone can’t see him. He is at a payphone again in disguise as he talks excitedly on the phone.
“I was calling Steve, because I had just met Manneken Pis AKA one of the greatest statues in human history. Of course, I had to tell Steve about that. Here I was telling him about Gareth impersonating the statue. I gesture when I talk,” Eddie shrugs.
“It’s cute,” Steve assures him.
“Thank you, baby,” Eddie grins, before he moves on: “Now the next one is Calling Steve from Paris, which is more subdued. Very artistic, shout out to Gar.”
The photo is of Eddie in a hotel room. He is sitting in the windowsill, leaning against it as he looks over the Paris skyline while chewing on a toothpick. He looks a bit melancholic and wistful as he listens to what is being said to him over the phone.
“Ever tour has a point where the excitement of being on the road dies down and the homesickness overpowers it,” Eddie says softly, looking down at the photo. “I called Steve nightly. He was telling me about how they’d gone to the club and Robs had met a girl.”
“That was the night she met Rose, really?” Steve asks, sounding surprised.
“Sure is,” Eddie nods. “You were so excited about it and you were rambling away and I was just hit by how much I missed you and how much I wanted to be home. To root for Robin, help her pick out an outfit, give her a pep talk, listen to you two go over the wooing plan you made with her. It just sounded so much better than being out there.”
Eddie clears his throat, then plasters on a smile as he jokes: “But as you can see, I did not abandon the tour midway through, I stayed like a good little boy. Just a hazard of the job and I bounce back easily, don’t worry. I don’t have the attention span to keep one mood for too long.”
“Now, next up is Calling Steve from the Road, which Jeff took while we’re on a potty break while driving to Madrid,” Eddie says.
It’s of Eddie at a gas station somewhere in the middle of nowhere, calling from a payphone with the tour bus behind him. The Corroded Coffin logo is splashed across it and a group in the background is pointing at him, but he seems oblivious as he happily talks into the phone.
“For those wondering, yes, I did get recognized shortly after. They were very nice, I told them I was talking to my sweetheart and they were very understanding about it. My manager nearly tore my head off about it, but it was worth it,” Eddie grins. “I signed a few shirts and they let me be to go bug the other guys. Hope they’re doing well.”
“I remember that, you suck at Spanish,” Steve speaks up, “but it was very cute to see you try. Robin had to come over to feed you lines to say to them.”
“And I am very grateful to her for that,” Eddie replies with a smile. Then he goes on: “Alrighty, next one is Calling Steve from Rome.”
Calling Steve from Rome is of Eddie next to the Spanish Steps while on the phone in disguise. A fair of sorts is going on on at the square in the background that Eddie points to, despite not being seen. There is a lollipop in the hand he’s gesturing with, while Chris leans against the wall next to him as he smokes.
“We found this by pure luck, so I had to call Steve to tell him and ask what he wanted as a souvenir or if Robs would like anything,” Eddie explains. “Robin loves markets.”
“She does. She and Rose got a stand next Saturday, did she tell you?” Steve asks.
“Yeah, she’s been telling anyone, who is willing to listen,” Eddie answers with a fond eyeroll.
“She’s excited about it. Their tomatoes have been doing great this year,” Steve says.
“And they’re delicious, I don’t know how she does it. I killed that cactus she got for my birthday and that thing was fake,” Eddie exclaims.
“Knocking it off the dresser and stepping on it, is bad for any object, Eds,” Steve informs him with a little bit of amused judgment.
“Fair enough,” Eddie grins. “Now what’s next? Ah, yes, Calling Steve from Athens.”
The photograph is of Eddie with big eyes as he watches the Acropolis. However, despite his awe, there is a payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. He is describing the sight to the person on the other side.
“Okay, context, I’ve been a little ancient Greece nerd since I was 8 years old,” Eddie confesses. “I love that shit. I built whole homebrew worlds and campaigns of of it and I did actually reading about it, I hate reading. Seeing it in person was amazing and like life shattering, I couldn’t do that without Steve right there.”
“You were all stammering on the phone,” Steve recalls sounding very much in love. “It was very cute.”
“I managed to get myself together and give a kickass description,” Eddie pouts, though his dimples are showing despite his huffiness.
“It was very kickass,” Steve assures him.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles, then he mutters: “I still use that description.” He blinks, then continues: “The next one is Calling Steve from Berlin.”
In the photo you can see Eddie in Berlin. The wall had only fallen a little over three years ago and many remnants are still upright. Eddie is in front of one of those, calling home, as the graffiti behind him asks to be reunited with loved ones, being allowed to go home. Eddie himself looks a little anguished yet relieved as he hears the other person talk over the phone.
“God, it’s hard to describe being there, especially so recently after the fall,” Eddie sighs. “It this combination of a place of mourning and a place of desperate hope that makes you want to check up on everyone I know. I called Stevie first of course, but I also called the other twerps. Jeff called his mom too.”
Eddie’s quiet for a beat, then he says: “But you know, we were all fine. We all made it out just fine,” he is going for his normal cheer, but those who know, can hear the layer in his voice, that ‘thank god, we did’.
“The next one is a little less sad, luckily. They’re in the order of how we traveled, but we have multiple of every location. Jonathan picked the photos to put in and he sure picked ones that make your emotions jojo. Very much like it is on tour” Eddie laughs. “So, onto Calling Steve from Budapest.”
Calling Steve from Budapest is of Eddie in full stage makeup, having big dramatic eyeliner around his eyes and his hair teased to all hell. He is in a leather vest that is hanging open to reveal a mesh shirt through which all his scars and tattoos can be seen, leather pants and high boots with straps and buckles. He looks like he is about to step on the stage, but he is still on the phone, twirling the telephone cord with a shy grin. Gareth in a leather harness is facepalming behind him.
“How do you manage to be cute and hot at the same time?” Steve asks, bordering on complaining.
“Ahw, babe, you think I’m hot and cute?” Eddie replies, batting his lashes.
“Of course, I do,” Steve says, you can’t see him, but you just know he’s rolling his eyes. “I’ve been with you for 31 years by now, bit rude if I didn’t think so.”
Eddie’s joking batting lashes look turns into genuine heart eyes as he coos: “Stevie, I’m gonna have to make out with you now,” as he gets up from the couch.
There is a cut and Eddie is sitting on the couch again, happy grin stretching across his face. He continues on like nothing had happened, saying: “I was calling Steve to tell him Chris accidentally misspelled his own name when signing the wall. It was hilarious and had to be shared and then it kind of spiraled, because I like talking to my baby.”
“Next up is another sad one,” Eddie warns. “Calling Steve from Copenhagen.”
The photo is of of a hotel room, out of the window one can see the colorful houses of Copenhagen, however, the cheery atmosphere does not reach the room. Eddie is on the bed, while on the phone, crying. Chris is next to him on the bed, an arm wrapped around him, so Eddie can get comfort by burrowing into his side. Jeff is sitting on the other side of Eddie, handing him a sweater that belongs to Steve.
“Like I said before, sometimes the missing becomes worse and I had a nightmare and all I wanted was to cuddle up with my baby and I couldn’t. It was all a bit too much,” Eddie explains quietly. “I am glad for the guys. They’ve always been there for me.”
“As that photo indicated, I was glad to go home, even if it was pretty cool to go on tour in Europe,” Eddie says. “You can see my enthusiasm in the last one, which is Calling Steve from Stockholm.”
The last photo is of Eddie calling from another airport. This time they haven’t been spotted. He is dressed in sweatpants and his own merch with messy hair. His face is split in two as he talks.
“I was calling him to tell him I was about to board the plane home,” Eddie says, softly grinning. “I was so excited to see him, you have no idea. God, I missed you so much. I love doing tours, but I love it more when I get to see you.”
“Ahww, you’re so cute,” Steve squealed lovingly.
“Look who’s talking,” Eddie smiles back, eyes crinkling in the process.
Then he flips the page as if to check, scanning over it to see what’s on it. His eyes get stuck on it for a second, before he grins: “Let’s add the reunion photo to this as well: Back from Europe.”
The photo is of Eddie hanging off Steve koala style, bags still around their feet, the rest of the band coming up behind them and Robin steadying Steve, so he doesn’t fall over from the sudden weight.
“I always jump Steve when I get home,” Eddie grins. “Well, used to, neither of our bones are strong enough for that now. Getting old rocks, but it has it’s lesser moments.”
“I could still catch you,” Steve pouts.
“Of course, you can, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles at him. “But let’s not test it, just in case. You’ve had enough hits to the head to last you a lifetime, plus Robs would totally murder me if you had but a bruise on you after a stint like that. Which it totally hypocritical, because she has no issue enlisting your help when putting on the Christmas decorations.”
“That’s because, she needs me to hold the ladder, not climb it, Eds,” Steve points out, fond grin obvious in his voice.
“Still,” Eddie pouts. Then he focuses back on the photo and says: “Steve couldn’t come pick me up from the airport, because our label was afraid of paps catching us – total dick move by the way – so that’s why our dramatic reunion is happening in our little hallway.”
Eddie looks a little sad as he says it and Steve softly says: “I still liked our reunions anyway, baby.”
“I know,” Eddie replies, flashing a small smile. “Just- It’s always gonna feel like we missed out on things because of it anyway, you know.”
“I do,” Steve agrees quietly.
The two are silent for a second, then Eddie smiles again and signs off: “Now, I watched Jon do these, so I’m gonna try and do his dorky sign off, so let’s go. That was a behind the scenes of the Corroded Coffin Europe tour, hope that was interesting. Bye!”
#rr writing#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#eddie lives au#st post season 4#robin buckley#jonathan byers#a collection of queer photography by jonathan byers#a behind the scenes by jonathan byers#corroded coffin#gareth stranger things#jeff stranger things#famous eddie munson
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Trigger Warning: substance abuse, internalized arophobia (big time for both, dead dove do not eat etc)
I never used to do any sort of drugs, but then I moved to a country with legal weed, and MAN AM I GLAD. Being able to dope myself into incomprehension is the one thing I’ve found that really stops me from obsessing about how I am aro (I’ve come to the conclusion that this is a Special Interest Thing lol), and therefore inherently lacking a fundamental element of how people connect to one another. Because that’s what drugs do, right? Fill in the gaps in your brain where community and love are supposed to go?
I mean, shit, have you READ the submissions on here from people who feel romantic attraction? How NICE and REWARDING and FULFILLING it sounds? I know people complain about heartbreak but it cannot, CANNOT BE WORSE than how I feel when I’m sober. Every day of my life I’m reminded that I am incomplete and lonely, and that I am completely alienated from everyone else I know. I’ll take normal heartbreak over my sad pathetic life any day of the week.
I am profoundly jealous and bitter towards and resentful towards anyone who GETS TO FEEL romantic attraction, including literal children. So, in order to not spiral into self-mutilation and misery, I consume a ton of THC every night after work.
I know this is unhealthy, dangerous, and a slippery slope. But what else am I supposed to do? There is nothing ahead of me but loneliness and feeling isolated. I’d rather die at 45 of lung cancer, then live to be 65 and stay aro and self-hating and miserable. The thought of accepting that my life is just Like This is so painful I’d rather slowly kill myself Kurt Vonnegut style. There is no peace through acceptance, only pain.
…unless I smoke a shitton of weed and forget I’m even alive at all lol. Then it’s all good baby don’t worry about it.
Obligatory helplines:
I encourage anyone experiencing similar feelings to reach out to someone who can provide you emotional support. The Trevor Project has a hotline, textline, and chatline available. If you’re not in a country where it is available, Befrienders has hotlines for different countries. Additionally, here is a list of various crisis and substance abuse helplines available in the US.
#aro#aromantic#aspec#arospec#internalized arophobia#arophobia#aphobia#substance abuse#drugs#drug use#drug usage#substance use#drug abuse#self medication#self harm#self harm mention#suicide#suicide mention#suicidal ideation
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OKAY I THINK THE NUMBERING IS COOL AND IT FEELS SPOOKY AND I’M GOING TO KEEP DOING IT
Just put in my vacation time request for my trip! Our plane takes off at 7:39am tomorrow from Atlanta, which I’m very glad for bc we’re gonna beat the worst of the morning traffic. I guess we have to be at the airport by 5:30am which means leaving my Scumbag City at like 4:30am. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit. Guess I gotta sleep on the plane! I can’t believe I’m excited for the exhausting commute I have tomorrow!
We’re landing at LaGuardia (first time for me!) and we’re gonna spend the night in NYC with friends before driving to the Hamptons on Thursday. I can’t wait to watch the landscape change from city to countryside. We check into the airbnb at 3pm but we’ll probably get to Sag Harbor around noon since we pick up the car at 10am. We plan to grab lunch and walk around until check-in time, and I am incredibly fucken excited! I’ve found all kinds of shops and restaurants and bars that I wanna check out. Yes yes yes the Hamptons is expensive and we’ve planned for that, but I can’t act like it doesn’t make me nervous. It’s been at least a decade since I spend over $100 on a meal and I’m not looking forward to doing it again!
We’re a few weeks ahead of the tourist season, which means that things shouldn’t be particularly crowded and prices shouldn’t be too gouged just yet. There are some places I wanna eat or drink at that have like $21 cocktails but this is a bucket list vacation, I signed up for this, so I’m doing this! I’m thankful to have this safe space where I can release some of my money anxiety over it all. I should also be getting my tax refund during this trip, too, so that will help too.
Yes, I will be posting pictures here. Fuuuuuuuuuuck I can’t wait. I’m really looking forward to hiking and running all the trails up there, meeting people, having both aquavit and langoustines for the first time, drinking all of the wine, and smoking all of the legal weed.
#tales from scumbag city#I have been packed since Sunday!#it's given me time to go through my luggage and take things out tho#cuz I def overpacked#and right now I'm thinking of more stuff I can take out#which I should so I can bring things back with me!#like wine!#and clothes!#and all kinds of gorgeous little things
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i honestly love watching you enjoy + love life so much. i hope this is okay, but i like to live vicariously through you? im not american and weed isnt legal here, so i like to pretend that i get to be smoking with you when you get stoned at 10 am. adult baby diapers are really expensive here (like $50+USD for the pack that you were able to get for $35), so i also like to pretend that i get to wear your diapers with you!
idk you're just really cute and sweet and i dont do well with online relationships, but i really really really wish that i lived close to you and we could be irl friends
cant stop reading this and feeling such a happy warm glow in my soul ;w; you never know what the future holds, anon! maybe our paths will cross! i hope they do! im glad i can be some sort of.. idk if escape is the word but imma use it SOME SORT of escape for you!! im gonna be thinking about us doin cute stuff together all the time now ehehe... but thank you so much thank you ahhh MY HEART REALLY IS SUPER FUZZY FEELING IDK HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT!!!! but yes i love u i hope one day we can have fun together and stuff and and and yeah.. ;w;
#you've got mail!#Anonymous#IM SO TERRIBLE WITH WORDS BUT YEAH MY HEART IS WARM#THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON ILU
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Steddie SocialWorker/Drug Dealer AU. If that's a thing.
Forgive any spelling or grammar issues pls. I am on spring break and high.
CWs: Eddie's a drug dealer, Steve is a social worker who is willing to ignore the fact that he's letting a drug dealer take care of a kid. So if that's an issue for you, that's totally understandable, I don't know your life, but that's what this is about so if it is an issue for you, you should not read this.
CW: Also for Eddie to be a foster parent Claudia is very sick, and might be dying.
***
Steve stood in the corner of the party, shifting awkwardly and enjoying the admittedly fantastic hors d'oeuvres that Argyle had prepared. Looking around at all the people mingling with one another, he wondered if it was weird for him to attend his drug dealer's going away party, if other people actually knew the couple and were mingling, or if everyone only knew Argyle from his business and were just less awkward than Steve.
Granted he didn't think anyone else here had gotten in a fist fight with Argyle's boyfriend. Or dated Argyle's boyfriend's sometimes? girlfriend.
Johnathan and Nancy were still together. Maybe. But she was dating around and he was moving to California with his boyfriend. Hence the party. Everyone here probably had a less complicated past with Johnathan and Nancy. Or like. Knew Argyle beyond buying from him and occasionally smoking with him.
Steve wished Robin was here.
***
Steve is a social worker.
Eddie teaches guitar lessons, and he's also a drug dealer because teaching guitar doesn't pay quite enough to cover the bills- especially now that he's also taking care of Claudia, the woman who practically raised him, and her son/emotionally but not legally his brother Dustin. Claudia is very sick and so she and so Eddie moved in with her and Dustin to take care of her and Eddie's become an emergency foster parent so Dustin can stay with Eddie while Claudia is in the hospital. And if she doesn't make it.
Argyle is moving and Steve is (kinda jokingly) like aww man where am I gonna get my weed now? and Argyle is like. Well I got this buddy I've worked with who is actually taking over my garden and he has his own clients but I'm sure he'd be glad for more cause he's taking care of his mom and kid brother and that's expensive.
Turns out Eddie, the drug dealer with a family to take care of that Steve met at the party, is the potential foster for Steve's newest kid.
And Eddie's like. You're not gonna take Dustin away right? I know I shouldn't but I needed the extra income to take care of him and Claudia and I keep it all far away from him and his friends and my guitar students and Steve is like. My guy I'm not a hypocrite. I'm here as a professional. Steve-from-the-party, and the people he meets while he's on his personal time are none of the government's business, unless i think a child is in danger. Which I don't.
Anyway they fall in love.
#pls be kind#i am high#steddie#stranger things#Steve Harrington#eddie munson#dustin henderson#argyle#jargyle#but only a little#implied jonancy#drugs cw#social worker Steve
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God I am so glad weed is legal here. I'm still very careful about taking the lowest effective dose (I have a family history of addiction so I'm paranoid about it) but it's really nice to just be able to eat 1/4 of a piece of gummy candy and get all the unnecessarily sharp corners of fear and anxiety knocked off the inside of my brain
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