#i just think dick would listen to abba
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Begin Again: Chapter 4/4
Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.
(20k words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)
Note: Tumblr ate my formatting, so AO3 is probably best. 🙃
Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; nightmares; suicidal ideation; smut 18+ only.
AO3 | MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CH
*
Winter 1988/1989
*
He leaves you alone in the coffee shop.
The smell of the coffee brewing grows sour, your stomach churning with the dread seeping into your veins with every throb of your heart.
Your four walls, your space, now empty without him there to fill it.
You never realized how much sound he’s brought into your life, how much color, how much of his light.
And in a moment, Chance had thrown a shade over it. Squashed it just as it had really started to grow.
Chance’s words roll around in your head.
Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.
Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.
Names without faces, people you’ve never met, people you’ll never meet.
Because they’re dead.
All of them.
Gone.
He says it’s Eddie.
It’s not Eddie.
There’s no reality you could ever find yourself in where you believe the lie that Eddie’s done something like this.
Not this man, not the one who consumes fantasy literature like it’s a lifeblood, who talks DnD with his youngest friends animatedly and conjures up new ideas for sprawling campaigns full of high stakes and grandeur, who flips Max upside down in his arms when he greets her until her laughter shakes deep within her bones and a smile lights up her whole face, the man who drinks out of a Garfield mug when he visits his Uncle, who listens to ABBA and Blondie with you and his friends even when he claims to hate it.
Not this man.
Never this man.
But now you need to find Eddie, tell him everything’s okay, that you don’t think he did it.
You know he thinks you do.
Could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way he flinched from your touch.
The title of murderer.
The weight of it.
You can only imagine how crushing that is, how hard it’s been to keep those accusations to himself all this time, to carry it on his back each and every day.
To live near to those who might whisper behind your back, question how you’re free, ponder your innocence.
You decide to close up early, dismissing your customers as nicely as possible, feigning issues with your machines. A patron grumbles that they were working moments ago, but you only offer them free coffees for their next visit and wave as they all bustle down the street.
It’s likely not the most professional thing you’ve done, but it’s necessary, your fingers removing your apron from around your hips before moving to go snatch your keys from behind the counter.
The front door locks with a click behind you, eyes flashing across the parking lot to find Eddie’s van missing. He’s likely skipped work, and you understand why he would, but all it does is curl the guilt further in your gut.
That you hadn’t done more, said more, chased after him—something.
You run upstairs to your apartment, grabbing your things and rummaging about, trying to make it look some semblance of normal before you grab your pocketbook in hand and rush over to your wall phone, dialing one of the first numbers in your phone book.
Max picks up on ring number two.
Your breath shudders out as you ask, “Is Eddie there?”
“He was, but not anymore,” she says honestly. You can hear her shuffle around on the other end, a huff filling the line. “He looked upset. Did something happen?
“He heard Chance and I talking.”
“Okay, and? Chance is a dick, we all know this, so what did he do?”
“He told me about March. Of eighty six.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” you tell her, quickly adding, “but I don’t believe him.”
You hear her huff once more, followed by the rustle of something in the distance. “Good, because whatever he told you isn’t true. He doesn’t know half of what really happened, and I doubt he ever looked into it. Which, you’d think we would have since the idiot works for the police.”
“So you know where Eddie might be?”
“He’s at Steve’s,” she says simply, like she knows, and of course she does.
He’s her brother. Minus the blood and title, of course, but her brother all the same. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“You’re picking me up,” she states plainly, and you almost laugh.
Almost.
But she sounds serious, and you’ve seen Maxine angry and you don’t want to be in the line of fire on the receiving end if she ever explodes.
“I’m picking you up,” you agree, swallowing thickly. “Hey, Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Just…I know you’re my boss, but don’t hurt him, okay?”
“Gosh, Max—no. I…I lo—really care about him.”
“So I’ll see you in fifteen?” She says, as if she knows the exact distance between yours and the Munson’s.
And you suppose she does after all this time.
You nod, even though she can’t see you, and say, “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
You’re there in twelve, the roads zooming on by as you turn and weave through the pathways that are almost second nature now. Muscle memory, because of all the time you’ve spent with them. With his family, who has, in a way, sort of become yours as well.
She’s there as she said she would be, sitting on the front step to the little home, hair billowing around her in the wind.
She drops down into your passenger seat without a word. The sound of her buckle sliding into place greets your ears, her dirty shoes kicking out before her, that delicate profile of hers set into a firm look.
“I heard what you said, you know?” She says after some time.
It’s quiet, a little lilting, her lips curling a bit at the edges. You know that look. It’s the same look she’s given Eddie after catching him in a state of disarray after a night spent making out with you like the two of you are teenagers all over again, and not twenty-three year olds with careers and rent to pay.
“What do you mean?” It’s a trap. You know it is, but you’ll give in just this once.
“I heard you start to say you love him,” she teases, tongue sticking out slightly.
It’s the truth.
It’s not a hard thing to do—falling for Eddie Munson, that is.
And still, your heart thunders away at the thought of it. For years you’ve spent trying to never form lasting connections with others. You’re in and out of places quicker than you can, never getting too close, never making those lasting ties.
And now you’ve gone and tied yourself to him, a single strand, an invisible string that tethers you to him.
It’s terrifying, and still there’s this sense of peace that fills your blood. Cool it before it can sizzle and burn.
“You definitely said it,” she says once more, as if you didn’t hear her the first time.
But you did. You said the words and you heard her, but she’s not the first person you want to say them to.
The person who deserves them the most is currently hiding out at Steve Harrington’s home, likely reliving the pain of the events of two years ago, exposed like a nerve by someone who only wants the worst for you.
You suppose you can’t fault Chance, either. You saw the pain in his eyes. The grief over the loss of his friends.
Three.
Three in a lifetime is already too much, but three in one week is a tragedy.
There’s no denying that fact.
‘He doesn’t know half of it…’
Max’s words swirl in your mind. Over and over again on an endless loop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but there’s a slow smirk sliding across your lips, fingers curling around the steering wheel as you peel out of the Munson’s driveway, heading in the direction of Steve Harrington’s family home.
It’s on the way that Max starts to talk, warning you in a sense, of what you’re about to hear.
“It’s…a lot to take in,” she says, and there’s a seriousness in her tone unfamiliar to you.
She’s usually always meddling with the kids, the rowdier and more hot headed one of the bunch. You’ve seen her interact with her friends, always just as fiery and explosive as her friends. You’ve seen her get angry with Eddie till her face turns red. But there’s always this sense of ease that accompanies it.
A laugh at the end of a snide remark, a smirk, a gentle tilt of the lips.
It’s not present this time, and an uneasiness settles into your blood.
“Just…when they tell you, promise me you’ll keep an open mind. You’re going to hear things that sound impossible, and that’s because honestly even we thought they were, but it’s…the truth. It���s the truth that the media swallowed up, the truth the government hid. But it doesn’t make it not real—it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And it’s crap because the world moved on, and yet we were left to deal with it.”
She means your friends.
You know that.
The fact that this ‘they’ she speaks of telling you this tale is the same group of kids that you’ve grown to know, your friends you’ve flourished with all these months, the man you’re falling in love with.
“Max, I just want to know the truth. So whatever you all say, I’m here to listen. I want to know. It’s important that I know,” you tell her seriously, pulling into the driveway to the sprawling home.
Your head slams against the headrest of your driver’s seat, hands coming up to cup over your eyes. Your breath draws right in your lungs, eyes burning from the prick of tears. A new fear dawns, unwanted and unbidden.
You voice it, a quiet strain of your voice that comes out as a broken sob. A fearful questioning of, “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me?”
“He couldn’t,” she tells you, voice stern.
“What if he does, though? You didn’t see the way he looked at me. He was there, but he wasn’t. It’s like he went away in his mind and he didn’t want me there.”
She chuckles. “Have you seen the way that idiot looks at you? It’s honestly disgusting. All puppy dog eyes and goo.” You break out into a watery laugh and, satisfied, she continues, “Look—Chance’s friends…well, not Chrissy, but Chance’s friends are assholes. I’m not saying they got what they deserved, because no one deserves to die. But they were terrible to him. He probably saw Chance and saw you and thought he’d turned you against him. Just like they turned the whole town against him in eighty six.”
There are no words that come to mind after what she says. After the truth she reveals. You’re not sure of what it even means, and yet you think of your customers in your early days or the shop opening. The way some, however rarely, would look at him and mutter amongst themselves when he happened to stop by. You remember the woman at the supermarket with her blonde hair and haunting eyes. The depth of her warning as she stood beside you on line at the register, telling you Eddie wasn’t a good man, telling him he should have never come back.
You think of the fact Eddie moved out of his own childhood home to make room for Max. But you also recall how much freer he is when he’s out of town. His smiles come easier, he seems lighter…brighter, without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.
The pieces start to slide into place, a push here, a click there. You think of your puzzle he’d brought you both for your first date, now finished and tucked away. How the image became clearer and clearer with each passing moment.
It’s the same now.
That clarity that takes shape.
The reasons why Eddie’s open in some regards, and keeps others very close to his chest. The evasions he’s had to create in his backstory with you, to protect you from the truth of it all.
To protect you from the danger of it, if what Max claims is true.
“Are you ready?” Max’s voice stirs you from your silent reverie. A quiet beckon. A soft lilt that drags you from your thoughts.
You’re not.
There’s nothing that can ever prepare you for what you are about to hear, and yet you twist the key in the ignition all the same. You tug your keys free and toss them into your pocketbook, opening your car door without another word. Max tips her head over the roof of your vehicle, looking to you for reassurance…or merely to see how you’re doing—you’re not really sure. But you dip your head all the same, shutting the door into place, fingers trailing along metal and window, heart racing in your chest at what you are about to enter into.
The walk to the front door is harrowing. You don’t really know what to expect. Max gives you a warning, sure, but nothing compares to reality. Especially not as you knock on the front door and Robin is there to greet you. She offers a kind smile and a hug, her voice quiet as she mutters she’s happy you’re both there. Max glances over her shoulder as you enter the home, your eyes trailing the insides. You’ve been here multiple times, but it feels different now. There’s a whole world you’re not privy to—a world that Eddie’s been a part of, Max and Robin, Steve and the others. The world that those who warned you of this town only spoke of as if they were conspiracies. The gates of hell, satanic cults, gruesome deaths. The fact there are some truths there weighs heavily on your mind, hands shaking a bit as you enter the kitchen and Steve is there to greet you with a warm hug.
You wonder briefly if Charlotte knows. If she’s privy to the world outside of your own that your friends have dealt with. This unshakeable strength they all seem to hold. But you hug him all the same, heart hammering away against his as your arms come to wrap around his neck, his breath a comforting puff against your ear. He steps back momentarily to look at you, all long dark hair, wrinkles high against his forehead. He’s too young for those, but they linger all the same, written into his features alongside the pain you see so clearly there now. The pain of the unknown swirling in your gut, the unknown that has Max reaching across the space between you to curl her hand in your own, squeezing tight.
You squeeze her hand back and look at both your friends as they stand before you, merely basking in silence, all your minds a swirling mass of chaos. Robin speaks first, voice wobbly, words fast and disconcerting in your ears. “He’s…he’s not doing well, babe. He came here a wreck. He never intended for you to find out this way.”
You know that. You do.
It’s why you’ve always been respectful. It’s why you’ve always been weary of what Eddie wants, why you’ve made it a mission to always have an open heart and open mind toward him. And in a few moments Chance had thrown it all into the wind. Obliterated the safety net you were forging, the space you wanted Eddie to live in—to thrive in.
“Max…she warned you, right?” It’s Steve who asks next. The boy with the loud and boisterous personality, always a little piqued, and yet he’s serious now. Guarded toward his best friend. Your heart swells because Eddie has people like these; people who will defend him tooth and nail, even from you.
Even from the woman who has spent nearly every day with him for the past few months.
And still, you nod all the same, your hand still entwined with Max’s. “Max…she warned me.”
Steve and Robin pass one another a look, and you’re brought into the living room. It’s dark there, the lights dimmer than you remember, your friends settling down in different areas about the room. Steve and Robin to the couch. Max on the floor. There are two seats brought out into the living area, set there like they were expected to be there all along. Separated by a few inches sure, but placed there with intent. You glance down at the one, wondering if it’s meant for you, and catch the stiff nod from Steve as you eye the wood carefully.
You drop down into it and hear the slow slide of a door in the distance, the tall form of Eddie catching your eye.
He’s as beautiful as you saw him last. A picture of black, red and white before your eyes. His eyes dark, his shoulders hard, body lithe and lean. You think of those moments from early this morning, his arms around your waist, chest against your back. Lips at your ear as he whispered what you meant to him, as he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in his life. Unbreakable, like he meant to keep you. Like he meant to hold you safe for the rest of his days. You know he means it now, can see it in the way his eyes flicker as they meet yours, as water clouds those swirling depths of chocolate brown.
There’s love there.
It’s not lost on you as he scans the room and lands on yours, holding for a moment, whispering those unspoken words into the space between you.
Unmistakable and yours alone.
You will the same into your eyes as he settles down beside you, legs spread wide, cup of whatever he’s drinking poised at the ready in his hand.
He says nothing. Remains stoic as Steve and Robin straighten in their seats, cushions of the couch forgotten as their elbows lean onto thighs, ready to regale their tales of this world outside their own.
The part of you that’s grown to love him over these months wishes to reach out to him. You want to stretch your hand into the space between you and curl your fingers within his own. To comfort him in the way you know only you can—body, mind and soul. But he remains in the gap between you, separated by inches that feel like miles. There’s a moment, however brief, when his fingers twitch against his thigh and you wonder if he intends to reach across and touch you.
But he never does.
He never does, and you suppose you cannot be upset with him for that.
He’s hard lines, harsh beauty, and adamant walls.
Impenetrable.
Fierce.
You pray they don’t remain that way—that your months of progress don't reverse in a moment's time.
Steve glances about the room, between his best friend Robin beside him, down to where Max sits staring at Eddie on the floor, Eddie with his grim expression as his eyes meet hers, and then lastly on you when he exhales and says, “What we’re about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. It stays a secret, it stays within the group.”
“It stays within the party,” Max adds, shifting away from Eddie’s stare enough to look at you. “It’ll mean you’re part of it.”
“One of the family.” Robin laughs weakly, passing you a sympathetic smile. “Part of our dysfunctional family.”
Your eyes shift amongst them with a swallow, and then slide briefly to Eddie’s. There’s…there's something there. A softness, a quiet whisper behind his gaze, but you don’t know what it means. Can’t decipher the meaning behind how he looks at you; you just know it curls deep within the pit of your belly, makes you warm, reminds you it’ll be okay.
Everything will be okay.
“I’ll take it with me to the grave,” you tell Steve.
His hand cards through those long strands of dark hair and he stands up from the couch, walking across the room to tend to the fire churning in the fireplace. Once he’s happy with the flames sparking and dancing within, his hand comes to rest on the ledge, his other hand resting on his hip as he glances down at a dirty spot on the carpet.
“I guess we’ll start from the beginning then…”
And it begins.
*
They start from the beginning. With the missing boy Will. With Will, who you know and works at your shop. Kind, sweet Will with the world on his shoulders and nothing but love inside his heart.
Steve recounts the loss of Barbara Holland, a friend of Nancy’s. You learn about the gate that opened in Hawkins to another world. This Upside Down that sounds as harrowing as it truly is.
You learn early on that El has superpowers. She has psionic capabilities, can lift things with her mind, step into alternate dimensions when she goes away in her mind.
El, with her dark hair and bright soul. That innocence that always seems to burn bright behind her gaze.
El, who you learn has fought monsters bigger than her.
Steve walks you through that first encounter with the Upside Down, the demogorgon he faced, his words careful as he explains the appearance to you. A standing, hulking monster, with endless rows of teeth, intent to bring death to those that encounter it.
You’re told about their next encounters.
Max moves to town with her family. Her crappy step-father, her late step-brother, and her late mother move in and immediately she’s thrown into this world she’s never planned for. Apparently Dustin finds some sort of tadpole creature that eventually grows into a demodog. Another monster like the one Steve explained earlier, but this time there are multiple, and they move in what seem to be packs. You learn about Will’s possession by the Mind Flayer, the loss of their friend Bob, their first experience with the ‘hive mind.’
“It all sort of…works in tandem,” Max clarifies. “All tied to one power source.”
El closes the gate this time, they tell you, and for a while it seems everything is okay again. They start to heal, the kids begin to go back to their normal lives, Steve and Robin start working at the Starcourt Mall.
“That parking lot that’s still empty?” It’s your first question in a while, you’ve simply been taking in everything they have to say, trying to be respectful of their experience.
“Yes,” Robin says, frowning as Max glances down at her shoelaces.
Eddie watches the younger girl like a hawk. His face is tight and drawn as Max says, “My brother didn’t die in a fire.”
It’s July and the kids are on summer break. All is well in Hawkins. They’re having fun, being kids, living for the first time in a long time. And then there’s the issue of Billy. Billy, who has always been rough around the edges. Not a good person at all, from what you’ve been told, but he had been alive and had been well one day, and then the next it was like he was different.
Max recalls him being a lot of blank stares in his room, a lot more standoffish. But there becomes this issue around Hawkins, of people becoming aggressive, something to do with kitchen chemicals? And a girl at the pool Billy worked at had gone missing.
Heather, Max explains.
As this is all going on, Steve and Robin explain their encounters with Russian code and their involvement with a secret organization taking place quite literally inside the belly of the mall.
There’s a Mind Flayer building an army, some gigantic beast of a thing, that towers over the building. The same thing that had put itself inside of Will, the same thing that also puts itself inside of Billy.
Your head spins with it all, from the explanation of how Robin and Steve were tortured for information inside the Russian base, to Max and the other kids fighting this monster inside of their friend Hopper’s home. There’s the battle at the Starcourt Mall, when they’re all later reunited, where Max watched her brother die after laying his life down to protect her and her friends.
It’s overwhelming.
Your chest aches, and you’re grateful when Eddie calls the meeting to a halt, catching the glittery tears on Max’s cheeks that she tries to swipe away when no one is looking.
Eddie slips out of the room with the younger girl in tow. There’s a brief moment he makes eye contact with you, his mouth working slowly like he anticipates saying something before thinking better of it.
It’s been only hours and yet you feel like he’s been gone longer, the sting of the emotional distance between you two burning deep in your chest.
*
“Babe, don’t take it personally, okay?” Robin runs a hand up and down your arm, pouring you a glass of something strong and full of ice.
Your face pinches as you take a sip, throat burning from the harsh bite of whatever she’s put into the concoction. “What is this? Battery acid?”
“Very likely,” Steve muses from the doorway, coming to loop an arm around your shoulders. You lean into his side, seeking out the comfort of a friend in the moment. His fingers curl around your skin, giving you a squeeze. “They went for a walk. Eddie said they’ll be back in five. The next part…it’s Eddie’s bit. It’s what happened back in March and…it’s a lot. He’s never really shared it outside of the group. He wanted to tell you before…you know, before Chance. He told me he wanted to. He was finally ready.”
Your heart clenches at the thought. Here Eddie was, ready to open up to you fully and bare his soul to you, and Chance came along to throw a wrench into the whole thing. Robbed Eddie of the opportunity that was meant for him all along.
“I just…a whole world underneath Hawkins?” Your throat swells around the words, around the reality of what you’ve been told the past few hours.
Before you came here, you heard all these ludicrous rumors about the happenings of the small town you were running to. To know they’re fact, to know they’ve been hidden behind lies and government workings—it’s a crazy reality to swallow. A world where monsters exist and walk the earth, a world where gates to new dimensions exist.
It’s your world now.
“And El—having powers?”
Robin comes forward to join you on your other side, sliding a hand into the center of your back. “I felt the same when I found out.”
You feel the need to sit. To really soak in the words swirling around in your brain like little specks of confetti twirling to the ground. Dozens of strands of thoughts in an endless funnel of wind and disarray. But you lean into the warmth of your friends instead, relishing in their closeness, when the glass door to the outside slides open and Eddie and Max reappear.
She’s a little red in the face. Bitten and kissed by the wind, but the rims around her eyes catch your attention next. The telltale sign she’s been crying, paired with that of her sleeve dragging along the bottom of her nose, bumping her glasses that always sit a little too loosely on her face.
Eddie’s dark eyes scan your face, like he’s shocked you’re still there, and you pass him a weak smile. There’s the barest of twitches in his face, and most would miss it, but he offers you that.
A slight smile.
You’ll take it.
“Are we good to keep going?” Robin asks, glancing about the room.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Eddie says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak in hours. It jolts you, drawing a wince out of him.
Robin turns back to you, eying your drink in your hand as the others head back into the living area. “You might want to keep that close.”
She’s not wrong.
Eddie’s fingers toy with the silver of his rings, twirling them round and round low against his knuckles. “So, uh, it’s March…of eighty six and, you know, I’m still the Freak around town. So you can imagine I’m just a tad confused when Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen of Hawkins High, comes to me for a deal.” His eyes flash to yours, a grimace pulling at his mouth. “Used to deal. Don’t anymore, but—I, ah, yeah, sorry sweetheart. But Chrissy is not herself. I didn’t really know her much, but she’s just perpetually happy. I mean, I guess she had to be. Cheerleading captain, about to be valedictorian, friends with everyone. So I meet her in the woods behind the school and she looks scared as shit. Like—maybe I should have paid more attention to it, maybe that was my mistake, but…she asks me for ketamine.”
You train your eyes on Eddie as he speaks. He’s a shadow before you, hollows of his features glowing from the orange hue spilling from the mouth of the fireplace. He’s all long limbs spread out, legs before him, slender and spidery, bent as his back rests against the wooden chair. His hands rest against his thighs, where he continues to twirl the metal around his digits, head bent low and mind seemingly back in the forest that day in eighty six.
“I…brought her back to my trailer that night and I couldn't find the ketamine. So I leave her in the damn living room and when I come back she’s just standing there. Blank face, nothing behind her eyes, just gone. And I’m yelling at her over and over and over again, but whatever this thing is that’s pulling at her just…she never hears me. I wonder if she did, even now. Like if she knew I was trying to save her and—” He pauses as your hand curls around his kneecap, and you worry for a moment he’s going to push you away, to reject this comfort, but his hand slides over your own and squeezes lightly.
He doesn’t let go.
What he explains next has your throat closing around the truth of it. Chance’s words swirl in your ears. The fact Jason Carver, fueled by jealousy over being cuckolded by Eddie Munson, killed his girlfriend. But the reality is that much more horrifying. Because Eddie recounts the moments with ultra clarity, the memory of them burned into his retinas for the rest of his life, of the girl levitating above the ground. The way her body stretched across the ceiling as her bones snapped one by one in her body, before she died right before his eyes.
“We all met…that next day,” Max says with a bitter laugh, gesturing between Eddie and the rest of the group, including herself.
So they were bound by the untimely death of Chrissy, Steve explains, recalling how they all went looking for Eddie with Dustin’s help, because Max had seen flickering lights coming from Eddie’s trailer and disrupting her own, just before he had run.
A sign of the Upside Down. Their first sign that Eddie had been innocent in all of it.
“Held a glass bottle to my throat,” Steve laughs as he explains those tense few moments of their ‘friendship.’
“You kind of deserved it. Jabbed me right in the ribs with that oar,” Eddie says, but there’s a lightness to his tone reserved for his loved ones. “His name was Vecna. This…thing, this person, responsible for cursing Chrissy. And…Fred, Patrick, and Max.”
Your eyes flicker up to Max at Eddie’s admission, blue eyes flashing with your own. “Max.”
“The asshole cursed me,” she says simply. “So what happened to Chrissy, what happened to Fred, we knew was likely coming my way. And it did—but we found a solution.”
“Thank goodness for that Walkman,” Robin exhales. “We found that music could bring people out of Vecna’s…soupy mind trance. Happy memories, favorite moments, your favorite song.”
“The song you could listen to over and over again on repeat…” You mutter the words out, feeling your eyes burn at the memory of Eddie asking you for yours so many weeks ago in your apartment.
“What’s your favorite song? If you had to pick one, what would it be? The one you can play over and over again and never get bored of?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, the words meant only for you. Your stomach twists painfully. “That one.”
Proof he cared, even then.
It’s a race against a clock.
It’s not long before Eddie’s a suspect in the murders he never committed, and it’s paired with the looming threat over Max’s life. One night in particular, Robin tells you, Jason Carver and his friends find Eddie at the boathouse and come with weapons in hand. You know their intention, from the way Eddie’s breath catches, was never to merely talk about the situation.
Hunt the Freak, he tells you bitterly, recalling those moments out on Lover’s Lake, just before Patrick suffered the same fate as Chrissy.
Two.
Eddie watches two people die that week.
You shudder out a breath as they tell you about the Upside Down. As Steve tugs the neck of his sweater down enough to show you the lines around his throat, and then slips up the side of his sweater enough to show you the scarring on his side that looks like a splash of sun against his skin. It reminds you of the ones that litter Eddie’s arms, the smaller ones on his face and neck, the ridges of his abdomen you barely felt before he pulled away from you.
“We’re, like, the most screwed up blood brothers to exist,” Steve says bitterly, his shirt dropping down into place. “Matching scars and all.”
“Demobats,” Robin explains, shuddering at the end. “Scary little shitheads.”
It paints a picture for you—clearer now than ever before.
Fills the gaps in your understanding over these nine months.
Yet another memory flashing behind your eyes of Eddie in your kitchen. Of wings and claws and the sound of skittering against your window. The choked breath from Eddie’s lungs that suddenly stopped working. The panic attack he suffers in your kitchen.
You think you start to grasp an understanding as they talk about how a plan began to form. They gathered a bunch of weapons with the intention of using Max and Eddie and Dustin to create distractions for Vecna. To give enough time for the others to try and kill him. But even the best laid plans go to hell—and it’s proven correct in both aspects.
Eddie and Max, to make things simpler, both die that night.
Max, with her limbs broken and mangled, blood dripping from her eyes. And Eddie, with his flesh torn into over and over again, countless rows of teeth sinking into skin, taking pieces of him, ripping him into ribbons, robbing him of life.
It chokes you. Chokes Eddie as Steve explains the parts of the story Eddie’s mouth can’t work around. The gaps are still too raw to fill in by himself. You don’t blame him.
You press the heel of your palm into your eyes, feeling Eddie’s fingers tighten around your own, the severity in his gaze making the room come crashing around you.
“Eddie never…he never murdered any of those people,” Max says, but you know that.
You’ve known that.
In the end, Eddie spends a few weeks in the hospital.
Max spends months there.
His name is cleared relatively swiftly. Steve is a bit cagey as to how they manage to get Eddie’s name pulled from any further headlines, but you know it’s because there was nothing to hold together a case against him.
Jason is suddenly the blame for the events that occurred, and laid to rest on that March day.
It’s a lot to process.
The room feels heavy with it, thick in a way that reminds you of honey. Sticky, yet missing all that sweetness.
Steve suggests you all stay for the night. Get some rest. Recount the stories in the morning.
It’s been hours and every inch of your body aches from work and your eyes feel tired, burning with the unshed tears lingering on your lash line.
Steve lets you borrow some of his things, an oversized sweatshirt, some pants you need to roll up multiple times, and leads you and Eddie down the hall of the second story to the home, pausing in front of a bedroom.
“It’s a guest room,” he says, gesturing inside. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Goodnight, you two.”
It’s normal for you to expect mirth or a deeper scheme behind Steve’s eyes. The sense of teasing there that you’ve grown to know and love, and yet standing before that bedroom in the lonely hall has you unsure of where to look, Steve only whistles and shifts awkwardly before leaving you to your solitude. Neither of you speaks for a time, bodies shifting in the darkness, not touching and awkward.
This morning you had been curled as tight as two could be, your spine to his chest, your thighs to his, those strong arms of his wrapped around your waist, his chin over your shoulder, lips to your ear.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered.
Your heart stuttered. Faltered from the weight of what he was saying. Your fingers slid up to curl into his hair, his face leaning into your touch. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before either, Eddie.”
It was the truth then, it’s still the truth now, and yet there’s a chasm that grows wider by the second in that hallway, and for fear of watching it grow anymore, you take the initiative and push past the man to slip inside the guest room.
Neither of you speaks as you move about the room and take in your surroundings. There’s a simple dresser in one corner, a lamp on a stand that sits in another, and there’s only one bed.
One.
It’s a thought that might have thrilled you some other time, and now it only fills you with a maelstrom of emotions. In the past few hours your conversations have been reduced to sparing words, your touches to brushes of fingers. And now there’s a silence that screams between you, those murky depths curling and lapping at your ankles.
You drop your borrowed clothes onto the bed, glancing over your shoulder to where Eddie stands awkwardly in the doorway. The fullness of his form is outlined in golden light emanating from the hall, those dark eyes of his searching.
“You can take the bathroom,” you tell him, “I’ll tell you when I’m done and you can come out.”
He’s seen you in nothing but a pair of jeans before, yet somehow changing around him feels more intimate. Especially with the disquiet between you two. So there’s no protests on his part as he reaches into the side dresser, as if he’s done this before, and snatches a pair of pants and a shirt from within. He opens his mouth to speak and you feel your soul soar for a moment, before he’s snapping it shut again and slipping inside.
When the door clicks shut, you let out a shaky breath and change in silence.
*
Eddie knocks on the bathroom door moments later, your voice beckoning him out when you’re finally and fully dressed again. You’re moving about and folding your original clothes up onto the dresser when he moves to go sit down on the bed and you maneuver around him to get ready for sleep.
He watches you in silence as you wash your face and brush your teeth, wiping down the countertops after, a habit from working at Sunshine Coffee for so long now. You know why you’re really doing it, though. It’s a temporary distraction from the deeper issue at hand: the rift between the two of you.
Sighing, you slip back into the bedroom and walk around to the opposite side of the bed closest to the lamp and slide underneath the covers. Eddie watches, still upright, as you turn onto your side and reach over, asking if you can shut the light.
“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s fine,” he says softly from behind you, and the room drowns in darkness.
You pinch your eyes shut to try and get some rest, chest aching, heart clanging like a damn cymbal, but your mind only spins. You’re certain you’ll find no rest tonight, only the dizzying free fall of your wandering thoughts.
That is, until the bed dips beside you and you feel Eddie pull back the covers, sliding down against the mattress to rest a head on the pillow beside you. You feel his hand accidentally brush your hip and from behind you a following, “Sorry,” that spills through his lips.
You laugh, because it just feels so silly.
You’re not mad at him, but there’s still this disturbance hanging in the air. The worry to push him beyond his boundaries, beyond what he feels comfortable with now after sharing his past with you. If he wants to remain in silence, you want him to remain in silence. You want whatever he wants—whatever he needs at the moment.
“What’s that?” Eddie asks, his voice tight.
“Nothing…I just—nothing.”
He doesn’t speak for a bit. Only settles down far enough on the other side of the bed you can feel the heat radiating from him, but not even the ghost of touch from his form.
A beat of silence passes.
And then—
“Sweetheart, I hate this.”
Your head nuzzles further into your pillow, voice a little shaky as you whisper back, “What do you mean?”
“I left earlier because I thought the worst. I thought—I thought you believed him. Wouldn’t be the first time someone was turned against me,” he says a little breathlessly. Jason. Jason did that. And the ramifications of it are still present to this day; you’ve seen it first hand. “That was dumb as shit for me to think. I…I wanted to tell you. I was going to, he just beat me to it first. Should have come from me, should have been sooner, should have—”
“Eddie, it’s okay.”
“It’s not, though.”
“Seriously it’s—”
“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry,” he says, and you shatter.
Eyes flush against your cheeks, lashes dancing along the topmost points of your cheekbones, you mutter, “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. At all. I need you to understand that.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to me? You’re all the way on the other side of the bed. You won’t even look at me.”
“Because I know how hard tonight was and I didnt want to push you. Eddie, what you told me tonight…it’s important and it’s huge and the fact you’ve trusted me with it means everything to me. But I also want you to take the time you need. Process what you’re feeling and all of that.”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you’re too nice,” he says. “I just want to hold you.”
“Then hold me, Eddie. You never need permission to hold me,” you whisper back, sighing as his arm comes to loop around your waist and tug you flush against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Your fingers drag slowly around his bare forearm, feeling gooseflesh pimple the surface of his skin. “For what happened. For what Chance did. For eighty six. For all the people who have been unkind to you. I wish they could all see what I see.”
You roll over then, seeking his face in the dark. His eyes are molten honey, soft in a way that has your fingers seeking the warmth of his chest over his tee shirt, feeling the divots and lines of his abdomen against fingertips. He’s lean and lithe and perfectly yours, with a heart that melts yours.
He just never sees it that way. But you suppose that’s what loving someone means. It's choosing them, even when they don’t choose themselves. It’s the good and bad days, not just the ones that are bright shades of orange, pinks and reds behind rose-colored glasses. It’s standing by them no matter the circumstances, supporting them fully. It’s the whole hearted acceptance that resides in your heart for him.
For who he was, who he is now, and who he will be.
“I’m happy you know now,” he says, rubbing a thumb along the bump of your chin affectionately. “I’m tired of being nervous. I’m tired of the constant looking over my shoulder and running. It’s been almost three years.”
“It takes time, Eddie.”
Your fingers reach up to cup the curve of his jaw, dancing along the scarring there. It still kills you to know he’d been broken and on the brink of death in the middle of this other world that resides beneath your own.
That he had been inches from death and still held on, only to find the world outside just as cruel as the one that nearly killed him.
“What you’ve been through—what you’ve all been through,” you start, exhaling as his forehead drops closer to your own, pressing there to linger. “It changes you. There’s no way it couldn’t. And yet you’re all still living, you’re all still loving and showing your past that it can’t rule you. You’re so brave. I don’t think you’re running anymore.”
“I don’t want to,” his fingers slide down along the slope of your face, the line of your throat, skipping along your collarbone. “You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time. I’m afraid I’m going to fuck it up.”
“You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time.” His hand slides down the slope of your shoulder, along your bicep. “We’re bound to make mistakes. But we get to make them together. It’s a learning process.”
“I’ve never been good at that,” he teases, chuckling lightly.
“It might be a steep learning curve, but I think we’ve got it.”
His fingers trail down your forearm, before tangling in the space between the two of you on the mattress. He lifts your hand and brings the center of your palm to his lips, presses a kiss to the center there, eyes lingering on your face.
“We’re good?” He asks against your skin, his eyes practically molten in the night.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He sighs in relief, biting softly at the skin at the heel of your palm, earning a laugh from you. You’re about to protest when his face pushes into your collar bone and he practically drapes himself over you, his long limbs tangling with your own.
“What would your friends think knowing you’re basically a koala bear in bed?”
“I’ll deny it,” he mumbles against your skin, the outline of his smile making your stomach tumble.
Your fingers come to curl in the tangle of his dark mass of hair at the back of his head and hold him as close as he can possibly be to your frame. “I’m glad you stopped running, Eddie. I don’t think we’d have met if you didn’t. And I’m really glad we met. Really, really glad.”
His head lifts at your words, those dark eyes of his searching your face in the barely lit room. He brushes the bump of your chin again with his thumb, resting it in the dip below your lip. His eyes flicker southward, and you lean forward a bit, just as he presses his mouth to yours, silencing all other thoughts from your mind.
There’s only this moment, this bedroom sequestered away from the world, these hands holding you, this boy kissing you, whispering how much he cares for you, and your hearts full to the brim because the world lies ahead and it’s yours for the taking.
There is no more running.
*
The next morning dawns bright for a winter day.
The first official day, really.
It’s all pearlescent skies, overcast, pale clouds stretched in what looks like a blanket across it. It looks like it’ll snow, the news forecasting a foot of it just before the holidays.
It’s how you wake up beside Eddie that next morning. His arms slung low about your hips, his breath at your ear, the curtains parted enough to allow you the view of the backyard.
Your fingers dance along the tops of his hands, along the hair along his forearm.
Today feels different somehow.
Your relationship has taken a new turn. A hurdle overcome. Now there’s only a blank canvas—open spaces to fill with new memories.
Eddie also sleeps easily. The few times you’ve slept beside him he’s either not slept at all and waited for the sun to rise and you to head off to work to finally allow himself rest once the night bled into day, or has fallen asleep and woken up in the throes of a nightmare or tossed and turned in his restlessness.
Now his chest rises and falls steadily at your back, his mind quieting enough for him to do so. You shift slowly, gently enough so as to not wake him, onto your side to look up at him. He’s all smooth edges now. The wrinkle between his brows is gone, face unmarked by any thoughts warring in his mind, those pillowy lips of his parted slightly. He looks younger than his twenty three years. Your fingers trail up to touch his cheek, fingertips running along smooth pale skin, earning a sigh from the man.
A hand at your back presses you closer to him, a little ‘oof’ spilling from your lips as your face meets his chest and his head comes to rest at the top of yours.
“What day is it?” He mumbles against your head.
“Saturday. We’re both off.”
“Oh,” he hums thoughtfully. “So we have the day to do nothing.”
“No, we have the day to go shopping. You haven’t gotten any Christmas presents and we have four days until the big day,” you remind him. “We’re spending it at the Wheeler’s, remember?”
You’d anticipated spending the holidays with Eddie at the very least. Your own family was traveling to Florida to seek out warmer weather instead of the bitter cold of Hawkins. Had brushed off your invitation with a simple, “Next time, honey.”
Nancy’s invitation came later. She’d cornered you at a get together over at Steve’s and said she’d really like you to come. That her house was more than large enough and that her parents were looking to have everyone get together. The more the merrier.
You were over the moon about it. Your first real “family” holiday season.
He only groans.
“It’ll be fun. We’ll spend the whole day together wrapping gifts and watching movies.”
“With Max.” He says it like he doesn’t enjoy her company, but you know he doesn’t mean it.
“Yes, with Max. She has shopping to do as well.”
He huffs out a laugh that warms your skin. “We have vastly different ideas of fun.” He pushes back just enough to drop a kiss to your forehead, before shifting up onto his elbows. “We should probably head downstairs soon. I hear them moving around in the kitchen. They’ll be looking for us.” He leans down to press his lips into the curve of your neck, sighing. “Just wanna stay here instead.”
For emphasis, he drops back down and hugs you tight, resting his head against your collar bone.
In the end, you win out, managing to extricate Eddie long enough to dress and ready for the new day. In the kitchen, Steve stands over the stove, working up some breakfast, while Max and Robin sit at the kitchen table, faces impassive as the two of you slip back into the room. When they notice the way his hand brushes your back as he slides a chair out and you move to take a seat, the mild discomfort fizzles and conversation resumes.
“Did you two sleep well last night?” Steve asks, waving his spatula like a sword for emphasis. “It’s almost ten.”
“Like a baby, Harrington.”
You snort at Eddie’s words, thanking Max as she hands you and Eddie steaming cups of coffee just as she knows you like them. You thank her, smiling warmly.
“You two kiss and make up? Because I’m not about to spend the day with you two pouring at each other non stop,” Max asks, nonplussed.
You choke a little on your coffee.
Eddie’s face hardens.
“Red.”
“What?”
She shrugs, biting into a strawberry as Steve starts shoveling breakfast onto everyone’s plates.
Your chest warms.
*
In the end you manage to get all the shopping you need to do finished.
It’s not without its struggles, however.
Max and Eddie separate are two different storms.
Max with her fiery, sometimes explosive energy. Not to mention that deadpan that endears you to her, her open opinions, the brashness in which she lives her life.
And then there’s Eddie. Charismatic and explosive like her, all frenetic energy as he moves in and out of stores, looking for the perfect gifts for those he cares about most.
She urges him to hurry up, he barks back at her to let him think.
It’s a constant back and forth that has you both amused and frightened, because you’re never quite sure if they’re seconds away from fighting in the mall. Onlookers question if the two of them are okay, to which you mutter back “siblings” and they nod in understanding, like they know exactly what that implies.
And later, as the three of you return to his dimly lit apartment, illuminated only by the Christmas tree the two of you lovingly decorated together, you bask in the warmth of their familial bond. The way the two of them curl up together on the couch watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas as you work on putting together something to eat for dinner. Every so often you glance over your shoulder, catching the way Eddie’s arm curls around the younger teen, how she seeks out his warmth.
It dawns on you—the depth of this moment. These two souls are so willingly open to allow you into their lives. Into their hearts. It’s taken time, months really, and the fact they trust you wholeheartedly now is not lost on you. You’ve never had a close family. Always absent, leaving you to your own devices.
You understand Max and Eddie are a family now, bound by unexplainable trauma, and yet they are family all the same. And in a way, though you wouldn’t voice it to them right now, watching them from afar like this…them allowing you into the safety of this moment…it almost feels like family for you, too.
This overwhelming sense of belonging that curls around your insides, makes them warm, brings a wave of tears to your eyes. Eddie catches the glitter on your lashes, untangling himself from Max just as you dip your head into your shoulder, ladle spinning through your freshly made sauce, trying to hide yourself from his sight.
“Hey, hey. Don’t you hide from me,” he urges, tapping at your cheek, earning a watery laugh from you.
“‘M fine,” you mumble, sniffling noisily. The tears recede and lift your gaze to his to prove it to him, but Eddie remains at your side, curling an arm around your hip to drag you close. “Really, I promise.”
He presses his forehead into your cheek. “Let me see that smile.” You snort as his lips smack a kiss there, loud enough to draw Max’s attention.
You hear her scoff, her drawl of distaste, but there’s a smile on her face all the same.
“Just feeling really happy is all,” you reassure him, a smile sliding onto your face.
He slides a hand down your arm and curls his fingers into your own, squeezing your tangled digits. “I know what you mean.”
The three of you eat your chicken parmigiana in comfortable silence, Eddie only groaning every so often in enthusiasm over the fact he’s being fed. You snort, knowing very early on in your friendship that the best way to Eddie Munson’s heart was through his stomach.
Later, it’s Max and you sitting at the kitchen table wrapping gifts as you walk Eddie through baking a tray of cookies. You’ve already successfully wrapped the gifts you all got for Wayne, as well as the smaller gifts for the kids and your friends. Eddie had told you he’s terrible at wrapping gifts, at which you had told him it’s not about the wrapping but the fact love was put into the package. But he reassures you all the same he’ll be better put to use doing something else. So you’d set him up with some baking supplies in his small kitchen, and gathered things for you and Max to get started with.
“Small round circles,” you tell him, watching his fingers hesitantly roll dough within his palms, now bare from their usual rings.
“He’s really got the easier job,” Max grumbles.
She’s been…struggling, to say the least. Every so often she curses under her breath when a tab of tape gets stuck to her fingers instead of the package, or she doesn’t have enough paper to cover a box because she underestimated. You try to assist her as much as she’ll allow, but she reassures you over and over again she’s fine (she’s not) and that she doesn’t need help (she does).
“Why is that, Red?” Eddie asks, the line of flour on his cheek a slash of white against his face.
And there on the table, in a mess of crinkly red paper and endless tabs of tape keeping things positioned in place, lies one of Lucas’ gifts.
She holds it up with an uneasy laugh and Eddie tries to hide his own chuckles into the lip of his coffee cup.
It’s not perfect, no, but this moment is.
*
The Wheeler’s truly go all out for the holidays. Upon entering their home, Eddie’s palm in your own, your eyes are drawn to the endless holiday decorations. Their tree is dressed to the nines, all wide and fluffy branches, glowing lights, endless ornaments that twinkle against green branches.
There are lights twined around all the railways and banisters, illuminating the room in a pale glow. There are centerpieces on all their tables, little candles with tiny wreaths around the bases, the smell of pine filling your nostrils as you take a turn about the place.
Karen Wheeler is there in a flurry, ready to take your jackets. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad, sweetie,” she says to Eddie, brushing the snow from his shoulders.
It’s been snowing all afternoon. A few inches now blanket the streets of Hawkins, and though it did provide for a harder drive, you find that it only adds to your experience in town with the people you love. A true white holiday season.
Last year you’d been somewhere tropical, in a bathing suit on the beach, sipping a margarita funded by your parents. Now Karen moves about you and helps you slip out of your jacket, coming around front to look at you, a giant smile blooming across her face.
“You’re a doll! Eddie, she’s so beautiful.” She turns to him, then glances your way. “Come on in. Be a dear and help me with the table, would you? Nancy, your friend is here!”
It’s not long before you’re put to work, setting up table placements, smiling and waving every time another arrival comes through the front door.
Dinner is warm and bright. Full of laughter, full of quiet conversation and guests asking to pass the pasta, a roll, the chicken. It’s memories told about the kids through the years, Hopper regaling you with moments that make El flush deep scarlet in embarrassment. It’s Max leaning into Eddie when she grows a little morose, and him curling an arm around her shoulder to whisper against her ear because he knows what she’s feeling. It’s Wayne crying later when Eddie gives him a new mug that says “World’s Best Dad” and Max rushing over to tackle you and Eddie when you give her the tickets to a concert she’d been talking about taking Lucas to.
All around the room people pass around gifts, room full, hearts fuller.
Charlotte and Steve slip away after a while to go kiss beneath the mistletoe, Nancy and Jonathan hold one another close on the couch, Robin and Vickie glance lovingly at one another as Vickie holds a new sweater up to her chest.
The kids thank Karen for their new socks, knitted hats, and warm mittens.
You smile as Eddie slides your new necklace around your neck, a locket with a picture of the two of you on one side, and a picture of him on the other, just so you’ll always have him close.
He kisses you and tells you his thanks over the new cassette tapes and guitar strings you'd gotten him, the new fantasy books he’s been meaning to read, and a couple of things for his new campaigns he’s been dreaming up.
“Hey, Eddie,” you tell him, as people retreat to the dessert table and dining area, leaving the living room mostly unattended.
He brushes your hair back into place and trails his finger over the locket. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I have another gift for you—and before you get upset, it’s little. It’s…well, here.” You slide the little pouch into his hand, the drawstrings pulled tight.
Tentative fingers move to open the little bag, dropping the item inside into his open palm. His head tilts to the side, shifting the key with a fingertip. “What’s this?”
“It’s a key. To my apartment. So you always know you’re welcome. And also because…all my life I’ve been running from reality. Bouncing between place to place so I don’t have to really get to know people. Trying to protect my heart because I didn’t want to get hurt. Never really allowing anyone to get all that close. Until I came here…and met you.”
“I’m not understanding.”
You shift closer to him where you sit on the floor, your knee brushing his own as you lift the key and dangle it in the air between you two. “I thought about it. About the shop, about the friends I’ve made here, and how I feel about you and I want to stay. I’m going to stay in Hawkins.”
Home.
You’re finally home.
And the slow smile that starts to spread across Eddie’s lips as he finally understands is all you need to see to know you’ve made the right choice.
His eyes shine with the reflection of Christmas tree lights, and swim with affection for you.
Home.
You’re staying here in Hawkins, staying with him, choosing this.
So if his voice wobbles a little, you say nothing of it, because he’s glowing. “That’s…that’s the best gift you could have given me.”
You curl the key into both your hands and squeeze tight, the imprint of it cool against your skin.
But it’s the easiest decision you’ve made in a long time.
“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”
*
Hawkins feels even more like home the next afternoon.
It comes unexpectedly, as most things do, with the door blowing open from the cold winter air, bringing Eddie along with it. His head is bent down, looking at something within his jacket. You’re worried he’s hurt from the way he’s cradling his side, but what you find instead makes you pause.
Hidden within the side of his jacket is a silvery ball of fur, with a tiny button nose, two dark eyes, and a set of ears that look funny on its small head.
“Eddie, what is that?” You ask, already knowing your answer, but wanting to hear your boyfriend fess up all the same.
He tucks it closer to his side and mutters, “Nothing.” The kitten gives a tiny meow and Eddie melts, his dark eyes growing softer by the moment as one of those ringed fingers comes to rub along the furry head.
You take a step closer, glancing into his jacket to see the little one. It peers out curiously, leaning into Eddie’s side as if it knows that he’s his protector already. “It’s not nothing because it looks like a kitten. A living, breathing kitten.”
Eddie rubs the tiny head again. “That’s because itisakitten.”
“What was that?”
“It is a kitten,” he says simply, pulling the jacket away to hold the baby in front of him.
“Why is there a kitten in my apartment?” You step closer, stroking a finger along one of the too-big ears. The kitten purrs and leans into the touch.
He rubs a thumb along the tiny little spine and says, “Well, you see, I was walking over here from work and I heard this tiny little thing meowing by the dumpster. And I had to pick it up. It was calling my name.”
You pause in your gentle stroking, and the kitten's eyes pop open. “It was saying Eddie?”
He nods, and you move to rub underneath its chin. “Yes, so clearly, you should have heard it.”
“Eddie…” you warn, just as a tiny, sandpaper tongue drags along your fingertip.
You melt a little bit, and Eddie takes note.
“My apartment doesn’t allow pets. But this apartment is yours. Fully and completely yours.”
“Eddie no.” And as much as your mind screams no, the kitten stares at you and your resolve crumbles all the more.
“Look at it. How can you deny this face?” He holds the kitten up beside his face.
And you know he’s talking about denying the kitten, but the look on Eddie’s face is just as hard to say no to. All pouty lips, bit doe eyes, lashes batting at you obnoxiously.
So it really should come as no surprise to you when the two of you spend the next day at the vet with the kitten (a boy, they tell you) and then the pet store after (Eddie tells you he needs toys, though you tell him food is more important) with a very giddy Eddie who spends way more money than he really needs to to spoil his new “son.”
Later that evening, after you’ve all eaten (kitten included) you sit around on the floor as Eddie rolls a ball toward the little one and grins widely as it pats a tiny little paw against the surface until the bell inside jingles.
You’ve been like this for hours, taking turns showing the little one new things, figuring out which toys he likes best, getting him used to the two of you and his new home.
“It is really cute,” you say as it comes to curl up in Eddie’s lap, sound asleep.
“He’s really cute,” Eddie agrees, running a gentle hand along its back.
“What do we name him?”
“He was chewing on my buttons in the car. How about Chewbacca? Get it?”
You laugh, incredulous. “Chewbacca? Eddie, this is our son.”
He snorts at that. But you suppose this is your fur-child now. Both of yours.
“Yes, I understand that, and I happen to think Chewbacca is a wonderful name,” he says plainly, not quite getting the issue here.
“He doesn’t even look like Chewbacca. He’s silver.” You rub at the little head, leaning over to kiss the tiny nose.
“How about Chewy for short? Chewbacca is his full government name, though. Chewbacca Munson.”
“What if I wanted him to have my last name?”
“We can hyphen.”
“Wow, I’m surprised you compromised that quickly.”
He shrugs, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. “It doesn’t slip my mind you’re keeping him here. Thank you for indulging a childhood wish of mine to have a pet.”
You snort, but your grin is megawatt. “You’re lucky I l—like you so much.”
*
Your friends are inside, the sound of music and chatter drifting from the opened patio door. The countdown to the new year is set to start soon, but you’re staring up at the sky, Eddie’s arms low around your waist, his chin against your shoulder as the two of you stargaze. He reminds you of the constellations he’s already shown you, then starts to point out the newer ones you’re not familiar with.
You’ve been like this for a while now. Him holding you close, keeping you warm, your breaths curling in the winter air. There’s a whole party happening just feet away, and yet you’re exactly where you want to be the most.
“They’re going to be looking for us soon,” you whisper, though you find you don’t really care.
A particularly loud laugh echoes from inside, the outline of Steve and Charlotte’s forms illuminated across from you as Robin tells them a story with a wide smile on her pretty features.
She waves and you wave back, returning your eyes to the stars, to the boy who you’d believe hung them if he told you so.
“Hey, sweetheart?” His voice is quiet. Timid.
You turn around in his arms to face him, his lips a little chapped from the cold, that too-big jacket of his becoming your blanket as he cradles you in the circle of his arms.
“Yeah?”
“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Something kind of serious,” he says, and you feel your lips tug southward. At the furrow of your brows, he shakes his head, cupping the side of your cheek with his hand. “Wait—maybe not the best wording. I, uh, it’s serious in a good way.”
“In a good way…” you repeat slowly, chewing idly at your bottom lip.
Now his brow furrows, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not…I’m messing this up. Okay, I’m going to just come out and say it…”
“You’re worrying me,” you mutter, a little breathless, hand coming to rest over his hand comfortingly.
“I…”
“Hey lovebirds, wanna stop sucking face? The countdown starts in five minutes!” Steve shouts outside, Charlotte shushing him with a hand on his shoulder. Her giggly apology reaches your ears and the two of you turn to find them staring your way.
“Can we get some privacy?” Eddie calls back, face pinching in his frustration.
“Come on, Stevie. Leave them alone,” Charlotte agrees, tugging at his arm. “We’ll catch up later. Sorry, guys.”
The patio door slides shut once more and you’re left alone with your favorite boy. He huffs out a sigh, sliding his arms back around your form, breathing a cloud between the two of you.
You’re not expecting him to just blurt out his next sentence. Not expecting the words at all, and yet they’re the same words you’ve been holding to yourself for safe keeping, for that perfect moment like this one. The moment where it’s the two of you, overwhelmed in one another, hidden away in a stolen moment captured in time.
Because it’s New Years Eve and Eddie’s just said, “I’m in love with you.”
Because it’s New Year’s Eve and your tears prick, voice a broken sob as you whisper back, “I’m in love with you, too.”
It’s New Year’s Eve and you’re spending it with the person you want to go make countless memories with in the next three hundred and sixty five days. You want all his days, good and bad. To brave the storms should they come, to chase away his nightmares, to rejoice in the happy times. You want to wake to him in the morning and kiss him goodnight before bed. You want to dance in the kitchen as you cook together, to taste his sugar sweet lips on those days you try something new to bake. You want those new adventures, dinners with Wayne and Max, play time with Chewbacca. You want the game nights with your friends, to listen to him play Dungeons and Dragons with the kids, to go on that camping trip Steve, Robin and the others talked about come summer time.
You wanted it all, want it all, with the boy standing before you with all the love in the world behind his eyes.
“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, just as the sound of the countdown spills from inside.
Ten…
He curls a hand around your face once more.
Nine…
You brush at the hair near his shoulders, feeling him warm beneath your skin.
Eight…
He tugs you closer, always closer.
Seven…
You slide your hands into his jacket, hands resting against his back.
Six…
He tells you he’s in love with you once more.
Five…
You press your forehead to his, smiling up at him.
Four…
He glances down at you through those dark lashes.
Three…
You feel his breath dance along your bottom lip.
Two…
You wish him a Happy New Year.
One…
He kisses you as party poppers explode showers of confetti inside. Kisses you as shouts fill your ears. Kisses you until butterflies dance to life in your belly, until fireworks dance behind your eyes, and the rest of the world falls away.
It all dissolves around you, and you’re just standing there in the arms of the man you love.
Nothing else matters.
All that matters is this moment, this boy, this love.
*
It starts, you suppose, in the car ride. The atmosphere has a new heaviness, a thrill that boils in the cabin. Your fingers slide through Eddie’s, toying with the rings resting cool from the winter air against your thigh. You’re not sure what possesses you. Not sure if it’s the happiness from the evening, the weight of his confession, the way your heart feels full to burst—but it has you feeling bolder, has you slowly trailing your fingers along your opposite thigh. A slow path, a gentle up and down, over and over again.
His eyes flash to yours, linger briefly on your exposed flesh, the warmth of your skin. You catch the way his tongue dips to his lip, the pinch of his teeth against skin, before flashing back to the road. You’re almost home, only minutes now, but you’re itching for touch. For his touch in particular, warm against your skin, along the outline of your leg muscle, inside your thigh, at your center where you want him most.
You feel the first little brush of his fingers as they slip free from yours, the tantalizing trail of them, along the thigh nearest to him. A gentle drag of skin against skin, venturing higher every time. His fingertips tease the hem of your ruched satin dress, now bunched near your hip, leaving only inches between where he lingers now and your clothed center. There is a question in his eyes, a pass of chocolate brown eyes in the night as he looks your way, and you dip your head, understanding his meaning.
His fingers start a new exploration, a curious slide along your inner thigh, a gentle sweep that leaves gooseflesh in its wake. It’s unfamiliar to him and you, and yet it elicits a soft sigh from your lips, head falling back against the headrest. Taking this as all the coaxing he needs, he pushes up higher, halting at the edge of your panties. There is a brief moment where he pauses, and you wonder if he’s about to freeze up and end this before you’ve even had a chance to begin the night, but he dissuades those fears when he shifts and presses his middle finger against the spot of slick already forming against the gray material.
He curses, his eyes sliding up to the ceiling in a silent prayer, hand tightening in a white knuckle grip against the steering wheel. “Wanna touch you.”
“Then touch me, Eddie,” you breathe out, shuddering as he pushes the material to the side and slides a finger through your folds, dragging in a curious line.
It's a wonky, unpracticed pattern that he tries once…then twice, and pulls back.
“Show me. Show me what you like.”
It sounds choked.
A little gasp, a soft plea.
Understanding what he means, you reach down to join him, dragging a line down your center, swirling in the pool of slick at your entrance before circling the bead of your clit. His eyes dart from the road to where your finger starts to move in small circles, toes already curling within your heels.
He watches like that for a few moments. Captures the way your chest rises and falls with each sweep of your finger, the heaviness of your breath, the shudder of each pass of air through lungs. And it doesn’t take long before he’s replacing your fingers with his own, following the same path you’d taken. Dragging those thicker digits from your entrance up to your clit, starting the slow slide of his fingers along hot flesh, murmuring, “You look so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”
Your answer is a hum, a broken whisper of, “Right there, Eddie. Just like that.”
You’re already close.
You feel the beginnings of your orgasm beckoning, dragged closer by your own ministrations, and swifter now with Eddie’s fuller fingers, your hand coming out to grab at his thigh. You can’t help the whine that spills from you as that heat coils higher in your belly, the rubber band pulling taut, ready to snap as he moves faster under your guidance.
Your fingers dig down where they rest against his flesh. His eyes sweep back over to you, molten and dark in the moonlight, stuttering along where he’s touching you in a way he’s never done so before. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, mesmerized by the way you look in this moment. It’s terrifying and exciting, eyes shut against the feeling. Flames lick at you as he pulls into the back of your coffee shop and parks the van. You barely register the click of his key pulling from the ignition before his mouth is on yours, face crashing into you from over the center console. You’re immediately moaning into his mouth and driving your hips up further into his hand to seek more friction as the rubber band snaps and sweet release spills into your system.
“Oh shit,” he breathes against your lips, brushing kiss after kiss along your face as your hips fall back against the seat, your eyes heavy as you try to catch your breath, looking up at him with a little laugh. “Was that good? I—”
You silence him with a kiss, whispering, “Inside,” against his skin.
He barely has a moment to lock the door before you’re grasping his hand and rushing him up the stairs, humming as the door locks close behind the two of you and you’re finally and blessedly alone. You both toe off your shoes as you maneuver your way over to the bed, connected at the mouth, hands reaching to grab at clothes, a clash of lips, tongues and teeth.
“Chewy, stay in your room. Your parents are busy!” Eddie scolds, the kitten in question already sound asleep in his little makeshift bed.
You giggle airily as the backs of your thighs hit your mattress, back falling into plush comforters as he crawls over you, walking you backward up the bed until your head rests upon your mountain of pillows.
“Say it again?” He asks, marking a path down your cheek, along your neck, pulling a whimper from you as he sucks a hickey into your collarbone.
“I’m in love with you, Eddie.”
He’s kissing you again, your head swimming with the ecstasy of the moment. It’s slower this time. Not like in the car where it’s a frantic, wild thing. There’s all the time now in the world to taste, tease and explore. His tongue sweeping low against your lip, sliding along yours, licking into your mouth with slow, languid kisses.
He moans into your mouth, a sweet thing you swallow as his body slides closer to yours, the beat of his heart a tattoo against your sternum. A frantic flutter you slide your palm up between the two of you to feel, tethering yourself to this moment—to this man.
His guitar string callused fingers drag a familiar path along your thigh, sliding your dress up higher over your hips, baring you to him once more. His fingers come to slide between your folds, still puffy from your orgasm, making you shudder and mewl against his skin. Hips move upward at the sensation, seeking friction, seeking him.
In your impatience, you fist both sides of your dress in your hands, Eddie’s hands falling away from you long enough to let you sit up and pull the material up and over your body. You feel bared to him, already nearly naked against your mattress because the dress had called for no bra lines, and a forearm moves to drape across your chest.
“Hey, hey,” Eddie coos, cupping the side of your cheek. “You’re so beautiful. There’s no need to hide with me. I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart.”
Your arm drops away and he replaces it with his lips.
This part he knows.
This part he’s practiced on you already.
One hand comes up to knead one breast, while he pastes wet kiss after wet kiss to the other, tongue laving over your flesh, sucking into supple skin until you’re bucking up against his clothed thigh, rubbing your center against the fullness of it—seeking something, anything, to satisfy the need swirling in your gut.
“Come here,” you nearly beg, curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, tugging him back upward to your lips. You kiss him soundly, mewling as his thigh shifts and his hips roll forward, the hardness of him rubbing just right against your core, robbing you of all air. “Missed you.”
“I’m right here,” he chuckles, fingers dancing along your thigh. “Not going anywhere.”
“Want to touch you, Eds. But only if you’re ready.”
He leans back onto his haunches above you, hair a wild mess, chest rising and falling swiftly. He looks beautiful like this, just as he always does, all dark eyes and swirling heat living in them. They’re blown out now in his desire, in a way you’ve not seen him before. Heat flares at the thought it’s meant only for you, reserved only for you at this moment, just as his fingers reach for the hem of his shirt and hesitate.
“I can shut the light,” you whisper, hand coming to smooth up and down his thigh.
You want him to be comfortable. Fully at ease in a moment you know is already nerve wracking for him. It’s his first time with you, but it’s also his first time baring himself fully to another human after what transpired two years ago. His eyes shift to the left, to a faraway spot on the wall, like he’s mulling it over.
You stretch your arm out toward your lamp when a hand curls around your wrist like a bracelet. Eddie’s voice breaks into the silence with a soft, “No, leave it.”
He reaches behind his back and tugs the shirt up and over himself, slipping it off to toss it into the far corner somewhere. He waits. Waits for you to scream and run, to push him away you’re sure, what with the way his mouth settles into a firm line, his hands shaking where they rest at his thighs.
You’re familiar with his scars. At least the ones on his face, his neck, the spattering of them along his arms. The ones that litter his torso break your heart all over again for the boy on the floor of the Upside Down. The boy who had been close to death, and lived to tell the tale. The boy with the biggest heart you’ve ever known.
You lift yourself up to sit, hand coming up to hover over his abdomen, gaze flashing up to his momentarily. “Can I?”
He dips his head once, releasing a shaky exhale as your fingers trail along the first scar along his abdominal muscles, then further up along the two smaller ones to your left.
“Do they hurt?” You feel his stomach jolt as you drift back southward again, the softness of his abdomen dancing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“No, not anymore. Not for a while now,” he manages to get out, watching your fingers where they linger against him, one of his hands sliding along the crown of your head comfortingly.
His left side, just over his heart, is the worst. A ridge of patchwork done by the plastic surgeons at the hospital, all puckered flesh, hills, bumps and divots. The demobats had tried to take him from you, tried to rob you of ever knowing this man, and your eyes water as you curl your palm over his ribcage, catching the soft shudder of his breath as his eyes fall closed.
You love him.
You love him fully and completely. Even in this body he resents, because it houses his soul. And it’s his soul you long for, want to entwine yourself to, want to cherish for as long as he’ll allow you. Even in this body that he rejects because it no longer looks as it used to, because it’s this body that has held you, has loved you, respected you.
It’s him.
You’ve never loved another person like this before, this feeling of fullness that makes your head swim. It drives you to lean forward, brushing a kiss over his heart, feeling him warm beneath your touch. His hand comes up to curl against the back of your head, your head turning so your ear rests over his sternum, arms looping around his back.
“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, as those ringed fingers curl around your chin and tip your head enough for him to kiss you sweetly.
When you pull away, you hear the first whimper fall from him. A choked garble that threatens to cleave you in two. Tears slide down his cheeks, along the bump of his cheek, salty tracks you brush away with your hands.
“I’m crying during sex and we haven’t even had sex yet,” he says pitifully, sniffling loudly.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, thumbing at his scarred cheek. “It’s okay. If you want to stop, we stop. We don’t have to do this now.”
“I want to. I really want to.”
After that it’s a swirl of movement. You slide your underwear down and kick them off as he moves to clamber off the bed, fumbling with his belt buckle and struggling in the process. You jump up to help him, his hands falling to his sides, as you unhook the belt and tug it free from his jeans, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. You toy with the button on his jeans next, earning a sharp hiss from him as the zipper slides down and you accidentally brush him beneath his boxers, heart thudding when you find him hot and hard already. Swallowing, you watch as he wiggles the jeans down his thighs and stands there in nothing more than a pair of boxers, leaning across the space to kiss you once more.
You can feel the way he trembles, nervousness bubbling as he lowers you back against the mattress, elbows on either side of your head so he can cradle you. Your fingers trail along the hem of his boxers, eliciting a sigh from him, before they slip further within and wrap around silky hot flesh. He’s thick, thicker than anyone you’ve been with. You wonder for a moment if he’ll fit as you drag your thumb along his slit, collecting the bead of precum there. The curse he lets out has you slowly moving your palm up and down his length, watching him pinch his bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering above you.
His eyes flash open then, head shaking as he reaches to grip your hand where it rests against the base of him. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m gonna blow if you do that. I’m already scared I’m only going to last ten seconds. That’ll have me tapped out in five, baby.”
You snort as he leans forward to brush a kiss against your breast, your hand falling away from him to curl instead in the comforter beneath you. Emboldened, Eddie reaches down and slides his boxers off, kicking them into one of the various piles strewn about your floor now. He pops out stiff and ready, your eyes barely having time to take in the sight of him before he’s kneeling back down onto the bed, stealing a soft kiss that has you feeling warm like honey, all sticky sweet and languid.
“Do you have a condom? I didn’t think to bring one. I wasn’t…I didn’t know we’d be doing this, not that I’m sad about it. I’m actually really happy and—”
“I’m on the pill,” you explain, and the furrow between his brows softens, head slowly nodding. “But I have some right here.”
You reach over into your bedside table and he reaches over to pull a foil from the box. You watch him open it with shaky hands, chuckling to himself as it almost falls out of the packaging.
You reach out to see if he needs assistance sliding it on, muttering as you watch him roll the condom down himself. “I got them at the store the other day.”
“Oh—well that’s good. Safety first and all of that,” he says, chuckling nervously. You shift a bit beneath him, moving up further, making room for both your bodies, as his hand marks a slow path along your ribcage. “This is where my experience stops.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I’ve got you. Just remember we have nothing but time.”
“Okay,” he says, voice a little wobbly as he lowers himself against you, grabbing himself in hand. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready since we were in the car,” you laugh, making him smile as he slowly drags himself up and down through your slick, bumping your clit in a way that has your eyes clamping shut, voice hitching in a whine. “Eddie.”
He understands your breathy plea, sliding lower until his tip rests at your entrance, full and warm as he presses in slowly. You both shudder out a moan, your fingers coming up to grip his shoulder at the slight burn of the unexpected fullness of him.
He’s babbling your name into your throat, gasping at the feel of you fluttering around him, muttering how much he loves you into your neck. And you’re rolling your hips up further into him, wanting to be full of him, wanting to be as close as you’ve ever been until he’s cursing against your skin and burying himself to the hilt.
“Oh, hell. Okay. I’m inside of you.”
You snort, shoving playfully at his side as you adjust to him. “That’s typically how this works.”
He swallows thickly, hips rocking shallowly against yours. “Can I move?”
“Yeah, hon. Please.”
He starts off uneasily. Moving a little too swiftly against you as his human instinct takes its time to kick in. You grip at his shoulder, trying to steady him, gasping into his neck at the still delicious drag of him along your walls.
“Hey, Eddie,” you whimper, and his eyes pop open to look down at you.
“Oh no. Baby, I’m not hurting you, am I?” He stills inside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your face, those dark eyes round with fear.
“No…no. I just wanted to say go slow,” you whisper, mewling into his mouth as he does exactly that. Pulls back gently and rolls his hips forward in a way that has your eyes rolling back a bit, shuddering out a breath. “Y-yeah. Like that—just like that.”
“Is this good? Want it to be good for you, because—” He groans into your shoulder as your hips rise up from the bed to meet him, hands sliding up and over his back, thigh curling around his hip to keep him closer. “Shit. You feel so good. Like you were…like you were made for me.”
“You are.” You whine as he palms your breast, kissing the corner of your mouth, rocking against you in a way that has you seeing stars. If he kept going, if he kept hitting that spot over and over again—“Doing so good, Eddie. Making me feel so good, so full of you—mmmm—”
But it’s all over soon after your praises fill the room. You clamp your nails down as his shoulder as his hips move more erratically, sweat on his forehead pooling, his teeth pinching at his lip as his eyes slam shut.
“I’m close. I’m so close, I’m sorry baby—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just let go, I got you.”
His thrusting grows erratic as his chest falls forward and presses you down into the mattress. You feel him give one more final snap of his hips before he comes to a halt, trembling against your form with a curse. He’s gasping as he spasms inside, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.
He remains against you like that for a moment, panting heavily against your skin, pasting kiss after kiss into your sternum before he finally pulls out of you with a low whine.
You gasp out a breath and slide a palm over your racing heart, watching him walk over to your bathroom to discard the condom. When he returns, he loops an arm over your waist, fingers wandering against your belly, the curve of your hip, the tops of your thighs.
You shudder out a breath as he grazes your center, asking, “What are you doing?”
“You didn’t…finish, right?”
He leans down to press the softest of kisses to your lips, the answering shake of your head all he needs before he runs a finger along your slit, a gentle drag from your entrance before following the pattern against your sensitive clit you showed him in the car.
“Eddie…” Your heel shifts to press against the mattress, thigh falling open, baring yourself fully to him. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Wanna kiss you there, sweetheart.”
You chuckle heartily at his brazenness as he starts dropping kiss after kiss along your breasts, down the line of your sternum, across your belly where he sucks a little hickey into the skin below your belly button until your chuckling against his smiling mouth, his hand coming up to curl with yours resting by your hip. He gives you a little squeeze and laces your fingers with his as he starts kissing along the tops of your hip bones, the span of skin between them that makes you gasp against your pillow, head rolling back.
He doesn’t stop the slow torture there. You’re not sure where he’s learned this, but you’re silently thanking them with a plea as his lips mark a scorching path along the insides of your thighs, his other hand curling around the meat of your leg to open you further to him, nose tickling your sensitive flesh until you’re shifting your hips against the mattress, earning a nip against the inside of your thigh.
“Eddie, please,” you whimper, breath robbed from your lungs as he finally slides the flat of his tongue from your center up to your clit, drawing a tentative circle there.
“Tell me what to do. What you like. Wanna make it good.”
“To the left. And just like that, keep doing that.”
You’re a shaking mess as his ringed hand leaves yours and joins his tongue, prodding where you want him most, and you practically cry out your “yes” as he slips a finger inside.
“Like that, like that,” you babble, hand dropping down to rest at his full head of curls. When his second finger eases in, you feel your walls clamp down around him, his answering chuckle vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “If you curl your fingers like that—ah, yeah, just like that—”
You break off into a sob as he mimics your ‘come hither’ motion, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue in a way that has your legs shaking on either side of his head, fingers twisting tight into his curls. You’re afraid you’ve hurt him at first, whipping your hand back, but he reaches up and slides it back into place, pressing your open palm against his hair so you can tug as you teeter closer and closer toward the edge.
“I’m so close, Eddie. You’re doing so good,” you pant, white flashing behind your eyes as he crooks those fingers against the part of you that has the flame flickering in your gut burning brighter and brighter, coil growing tighter as his tongue works you, his own sighs after a particularly hard tug of his hair against your center vibrating down to the tips of your toes.
The flames dance higher.
Burn brighter.
Become all consuming as tears prick in the corner of your eyes.
Because it’s Eddie.
Eddie Munson, the man who walked into your coffee shop all those months ago. The man with the quiet soul and loud mind. The man who cracked into a smile at your silly factoids and your ridiculous jokes. The man who had first been your friend and became so much more. Who tended to you when you were sick, helped make your house a home, created a little family with you by adding Chewy into the mix.
The man who became a safe place to land. A shoulder to rest your head. A door to walk into at the end of the day, to seek shelter from a storm with, to love endlessly and be loved in return.
It’s him, and in a way you think it’s always been him.
You snap with a low keen, trembling as your orgasm rushes over you, Eddie’s head peeking up just enough to watch it roll over you as his fingers continue their gentle slide.
You writhe beneath him as pleasure hits a peak and settles back into a low simmer, his head coming up to kiss you on the lips when he finally pulls out and joins you near your pillow. Your hand comes up to rest at the back of his neck, holding him to you, your mouths moving slowly over one another, tongues licking into mouths, neither one of you wanting to part from the other.
You’re not sure how long you lay like that in the circle of his embrace, his arm around your waist, your bare chests pressed to one another, ankles tangled beneath bedsheets. All you know is you hate to see him go as he slips out from the bed once more, sliding on his discarded boxers, into your bathroom. You hear the water run momentarily before shutting off, his frame reappearing with a washcloth in hand.
He helps you clean in silence. His fingers gentle along your still sensitive flesh, punctuating each slide of damp cloth with a kiss against your temple, before tossing it into the heap of clothing strewn about your floor. After that is a slide of hands as he helps you up and off of your bed, slipping his sweater over your head and letting it fall into place at your thighs. Your fingers skirt his side, along his bare chest, as he leads you into your bathroom and the two of you get ready for bed in silence.
He’s just been inside you, wholly and fully, but all you can think of is how these moments are your favorites. The ones only you’re privy to. The way Eddie slides lotion over his scars to maintain the elasticity of his skin, the care he takes in washing his face thanks to Steve’s incessant urging, the snap of his hair tie as he pulls his hair away from his face.
You stand before him as you brush, his larger form swallowing yours, fingers coming to toy with the hairs at the nape of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against skin. And as you spit into the sink and flush water down the drain, he spins you in his arms and presses your backside against the counter, drawing you to your tippy toes as he kisses you soundly, swallowing your sigh of happiness.
“Ready for bed?” You ask, running your hands down his chest, curling along his sides.
And he is. You find as much as the two of you slip back into your blankets, him drawing you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the slope of your shoulder. You barely have a chance to whisper goodnight before he’s shutting his eyes and slipping off into a deep sleep.
You bury yourself closer to him and follow him into rest.
*
Eddie’s sure he’s dead.
Has to be.
It’s the only explanation for the way he wakes with you resting against his chest, your mouth slightly parted, little sighs filling the air.
He has to be dead, because last night Eddie Munson was Hawkin’s resident twenty-three year old virgin, and now he’s no longer a virgin and in bed with the love of his life.
Only he’s not dead. He feels the throb of his heart in his ribcage, the sound of it rattling in his ears thanks to your otherwise silent apartment.
Last night feels like a wispy dream he made up in his mind. Your hands in his hair, your body closer than ever before to his, the way you gasped and moaned in his ear. The feeling of you wrapped around him, hips rising to meet him, driving him further and further over the edge. He pictures the look on your face in utter bliss, watching you writhe for him, bringing you to that peak and watching it rush over you, leaving you shaking in his arms with him as your anchor.
All his life he’d thought himself unworthy of love. His father hadn’t been around much—always in and out of jail, and when he was around his way of showing love was teaching him how to shotgun a beer and hot wire a car. His mother, god he loved his mother, but when his father fell deeper and deeper into his poor habits, she retreated to other things to fill her heart.
Wayne had been the one to give him a home, to give him shelter, to let him know what a family looked like. A real family, at least. And then there was Max. The rough and tumble girl from across the street, with a personality that matched the fiery hue of her hair. She showed him what it was like to love someone like your own kin. Like blood. To want to cover them, protect them from the world, keep them safe.
And then there was you. The girl who had walked into his life and changed the course of it. For two years he retreated into his shadows. Craved the darkness they provided, the safety of drawing away from others. Hiding, because it seemed easier than facing the world. For a while, he was content with his core group; the same kids who had been with him during the worst week of his life, stood by him when he needed it the most, loved him when he lay broken and battered in the hospital. When the town turned on him, even after he’d been exonerated, they were there to protect his name. To try and fight back the rumors that threatened to swallow him whole. They never saw him as a murderer, never saw him as anything but Eddie Munson, loved him beyond the whispers of those who wanted to see him fall.
Loved him beyond those who wanted to run him out of town, wanted to believe the lie that he had the heart to kill all those kids, wanted to put a blame on the fact half of Hawkins had been ripped apart and sunk into the hell that lingered beneath.
You walked in and changed all of that.
Loved him despite his shadows, coaxed him out of them, wanted to see the parts of him he desired to keep hidden. You called to him, a gentle whisper, those small gestures that slowly broke away at the walls he erected to keep others out. You were patient, a constant beam of light in his world, a gentle smile on the days where he hated himself more than words could ever say.
You loved him in the light.
Loved him proudly in public, despite the way people might have looked onward in stores. Loved him even after knowing what he had gone through in eighty six, loved him despite the scar ravaged body that lingered beneath his clothes.
You’d given him a home to place his heart within. A roof to keep it covered. Your hands are there to cradle it and hold it close. And he trusts you. Whole heartedly trusts you.
Smiles against the crown of your head as he recalls telling you he loved you the night before, the way tears like stars glittered on your lower lashes, the choked hiccup of your breath as you whispered back in a broken voice you loved him, too.
“Are you awake?” You mumble beside him, humming softly as your arms come to stretch above you. He aches at the feel of your chest pressing further into his, cock stirring to life at your hip when you lean over and kiss him soundly. “Oh, good morning to you too.”
“Shut up,” he laughs, feeling his cheeks warm. Only you’re pressing further into him, hips flush against him, making him shudder. “Too early.”
“Is it?” You practically simper the words and his chest tightens further, gasping at the feel of your fingers along his chest, down his abdomen, dancing along the thatch of hair at the base of him before curling your palm around him fully. “We have no plans, it’s just us…”
He reaches down to grab your hand, already missing the heat of you around him, and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Sighing, he leans up onto his elbows and stares down at your face. Beautiful, even freshly washed for bed, you’re so beautiful it stirs an ache deep within his chest.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”
You lean up and brush your lips against his. Tentative at first, and then coaxing as you slip your tongue along his, breaking apart long enough to rasp out, “I love you, too.”
Soon it’s a flurry of movement. He slips out of his boxers, kicks them down around his ankles, and moves to shift between your thighs. He remembers you’re on the pill and grabs himself in hand, feeling you beckon him forward with a swivel of your hips as he dips himself to the slick already pooling at your center. This time, as he sheathes himself fully, he languishes in the mutual gasp that fills the spaces between the two of you. Nearly chokes on a sob as he rolls his hips forward and back and feels you shifting to meet him thrust for thrust. You chase your end together, a slow ebb and flow, a quiet that wraps around your hearts save for your mingling breaths and moans.
You mewl into his skin that you love him.
To keep going.
Right there, you gasp out, when he hits that spot that has your eyes rolling back in your skull. Hits it over and over again as you start to shake beneath him, your impending orgasm drawing closer and closer.
It’s not like last night. The nervous, awkward feeling of exploring new lovers for the first time. Today he relishes the feeling of you around him, of rocking his hips into yours, of drawing out your pleasure, watching your face pinch, listening to your sounds. He wants to memorize every one. Every look that passes along your features as he moves against you, pushing your head further and further into your pillow.
With every movement he tries to show you his love. Tries to kiss you in a way that pours every bit of him into you.
He wants you to know that you’re it, this is it, this moment and this girl.
He’s done running.
He’s found home.
He’s found you.
Today feels like making love. Up until this moment he thought it was a cheesy thing people said about sex. But now he knows it’s real, feels the severity of it as he holds you in his arms, safe and sound from the rest of the world.
“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful you are.”
You only gasp his name in reply. Hands come to slide up along his back as he picks up his pace. Rolls his hips down into yours, hitting that spongy part of you that has your thighs trembling where they curl around his hips.
His forehead drops against yours, your eyes coming up to meet him as he tells you he loves you over and over again, hand curling tight with yours against the pillow beneath your head.
Forever.
For the first time, he wants that.
You shatter around him. Walls clamping down as you practically sob his name.
He’s not long after, moaning low and heavy into your skin, heart pounding in his ears. You whimper and writhe against him, as he slows in you, coming down from his own high.
He flops down onto his back and feels you shift beside him in the bed, coming to rest along his chest, hand trailing along his abdomen.
“Better?” He laughs, curling his arm beneath your head.
“Last night was perfect. Stop that.”
“Yes…yes it was. But this was better, no?”
You level him with a stare and he bursts out into laughter, waking Chewy who scampers over to hop in the bed with the two of you.
Your little family.
“Happy New Year, Eddie,” you whisper, reaching across to lace your fingers with his. “I have a feeling it’ll be a good one.”
“Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
*
Spring, 1991
*
“Baby showers are so weird,” Steve mutters, bringing the lip of his beer bottle to his mouth to take a sip.
The two of them stand near the door leading to the patio, glancing out to where Steve’s wife, Charlotte, sits in a circle of her closest friends who are all ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over the dozens of new little girl outfits she’s received.
Steve continues, “Bunch of girls sitting around opening gifts for someone who isn’t even here yet.”
“Also kind of weird because it’s sort of like a ‘congratulations, your dick works’ celebration.”
“You two are disgusting,” Robin says. “Neanderthals. Babe, you live with this man?”
You’re at Robin’s side, wearing that dress that flutters around your thighs when you walk, looking pretty as ever. You still rob him of his breath even after the past two years.
“That I do,” you laugh, kissing him as you brush by to go grab more desserts from the countertop. “Have fun, boys!”
The two of you slip back out from where you came, Steve waiting until the door slides shut fully when he asks, “So when are you going to ask her? That ring has been burning a hole in your closet for weeks now.”
“Soon…” he says, watching as you walk around with a tray filled with cookies in your arms, passing them out to greedy guests. “I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”
*
His first attempt has him sweating. Literal sweat dripping from his pores as the two of you sit at that too-ritzy restaurant Steve suggested you try. It’s not his scene, and it’s not yours. You prefer eating indoors, within the comfort of your now shared apartment, with Chewy always nearby to beg for table scraps (you always yell at him not to give him people food, but he’s quick to remind you he’s a growing boy).
This—the candles on the table, the multiple forks and spoons he’s not sure what to do with, the intricately folded napkins. He feels so out of place.
But the plan is as follows for the evening: the music will change to something soft and romantic just as the waiter walks out with your glasses of champagne and dessert. He’s requested a little note to be written in scrawling letters, set to read “will you marry me?” As you’re reading (and hopefully crying) he plans on dropping onto one knee and popping the ring box open.
It’s foolproof, Steve and Robin have reassured him only about fifty times now.
He just knows it needs to be perfect.
You deserve nothing less.
However, nothing ever goes quite as planned. You’re holding his hand, talking about the shop, when a table near you starts to shift. A trio of men start singing, actually singing, to the woman staring up wide-eyed at them, clearly enjoying a moment she’s been dreaming about. She’s a hysterical crying mess, Eddie’s horrified, and you look ready to sink into the ground from second hand embarrassment as one of the men steps forward and asks her to marry him in front of the whole room.
“Shit,” Eddie curses, and you pry your attention away long enough from the now frantically kissing couple to look over to him.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” he says, glancing up to where the waiter is standing with a tray holding your dessert and glasses.
He’s waiting for him, he realizes, to give the go ahead.
But now his head is spinning, because he’s definitely not singing to you, he’s not prepared any fancy speeches or grand gestures, and definitely won’t be topping that display.
He just wanted to get down on one knee and let the words pour out of him in the moment.
The plan comes to a halt even further when you huff out, “I understand the whole public engagement idea, but I don’t think that’s for me. I feel like…I don’t know, I’d want it to be more intimate. Just you and me. Us.”
It’s like a record scratch in his ears, lungs relieved of all air as he tugs on his collar because he’s choking now too.
Is the room getting hotter?
The waiter glances over and Eddie shakes his head stiffly, reassuring you he’s fine when your hand reaches out to cup his forearm.
“Check,” Eddie mouths to the man when you’re not looking.
So no, it didn't happen that day.
*
The second attempt fares worse than the first. You’re cooking beside him in the kitchen and he’s about to get down on one knee when the phone blares from the far wall.
The two of you stand close to the receiver when the familiar voice of Dustin fills Eddie’s ears, grating and frantic, like he’s recently run a marathon or something.
“Dustin Henderson, resident butthead, what do you want?” Eddie drawls, earning a soft shove from you where you stand beside him.
“Aren’t you twenty-five?”
“Some things never change,” he says, and he can practically hear the kids' eyes rolling in his skull on the other end. “Is someone dying, because I was kind of in the middle of something.”
“That’s disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Dustin groans.
“Not that kind of thing, you perv.”
“Look, I need help not being single and miserable…”
“That doesn’t sound like someone dying.”
“It might be soon if I don’t fix things with Suzie.”
“Okay, so how do you suppose—”
“Not from you! You’re not romantic,” Dustin continues, leaving Eddie a spluttering mess because he was, in fact, about to be romantic. Probably the most romantic he’s ever been in his life. So fuck him, he thinks. “I need your girlfriend.”
It didn't happen that day either.
*
The third attempt has you in the hospital, Eddie nearly wearing a hole into the ground as he asks the doctors a million and one questions. Is she going to be okay? What kind of medicine can she take? How long will she need to be on crutches for? Do they have to amputate? (He knows that one is a little dramatic, and he’s only asking because his brain is practically shaking in his skull, but he has to know).
You were taking a walk through your favorite park, following along a trail you’ve walked many times now, his sights set on the little lake in the middle of it that is viewable from a small bridge that sits beneath a canopy of leaves.
The only different thing about that day was the way you stepped funny and rolled your ankle, falling to the ground clutching at the offended limb with tears in your eyes. He’d been a mess, an absolute mess even though you told him over and over again you were okay, that it’s likely nothing serious, even though you were the one hurt in the first place.
But he drives like a bat out of hell to the hospital, only to sit in a waiting room for hours, before you’re taken for x-rays.
You have a broken ankle, and his heart aches when they cover your limb in a cast.
That afternoon it’s all dinner in bed and cuddling with Chewy and him as he props your foot up on a mountain of pillows, refusing to let you lift a finger for anything.
Not even the remote, he tells you when you grumble that you’re fine.
Definitely not the right time to propose, he decides, and shelves it for another.
*
He finds you a few days later sitting on the floor with your injured ankle resting in front of you and your palm upturned. He catches the sight of the velvet box next, the way your eyes behold the box like you’ve never seen anything like it before in your life.
“Oh no,” he cries out, rushing over to where you sit on the ground. “No, no, no. I had it all planned out. Well not planned out; I’ve had to change the plans a few times now, actually. But I wanted to make it special, take you somewhere or do something we like to do and ask you—”
“Eddie.”
It’s ruined.
The whole thing is ruined. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and groans.
“Eddie,” you try again, and he lifts his head to see you turning to look at him.
There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t seem sad. He’s just ruined your proposal and you’re not upset?
“Eddie, ask me now.”
He feels himself stumble a bit. Stutters out, “W-what?”
“Ask me now.”
You swallow thickly, handing him the ring box as he settles down on the ground in front of you. Chewy pokes his head up from the top of the couch, tail swishing at his two humans.
“A few years ago a new girl moved to town. There’s this idiot that works across the street from her shop at the bar, and he’s kind of a dick to her at first. You can laugh, it’s true. But it’s funny because she’s never deterred by it. She starts writing these little facts on his cups, and these corny little jokes that make her laugh and make it really hard for him not to laugh too because she’s just so pretty. They become friends…sort of. You see, he doesn’t really like to let many people in, and here she is with this big personality. Everyone falls in love with her, I mean—how wouldn’t they. Except for him. Or so he thinks.”
You’ve moved closer, your knees against his, one of his hands in your lap, curled in your own.
“He starts helping out with her apartment and realizes the more he hangs out with her, the more he likes her. He starts to feel less like a monster, and more like someone capable of love. She peels back those little layers and is so patient with it, never pushes him, always puts his feelings first. And then, he realizes he’d be a complete dingus to not tell her he likes her. And then the most surprising thing happens.”
You’re laughing through your tears, but laughing all the same and asking, “What is that?”
“They fall in love. Him for the first time ever, and he realizes…he wants that person every day for the rest of his life.”
He pops the box open and watches your hand come up to press against your lips, taking in the single diamond on a slender gold band.
“I love you so much, sweetheart. Every day more than the one that came before it. And I want that, I want this…us, for the rest of my life,” he says thickly, trying to hold back his own tears. “If you say yes, of course.”
“Yes, Eddie, yes,” you whisper, holding out your hand so he can slide it onto your ring finger.
It’s a perfect fit.
Then again, you’ve always been.
*
Eddie Munson marries the girl of his dreams six months later.
It’s a small ceremony, surrounded by your closest friends in the Wheeler’s backyard. You share personal vows with one another, words that encompass the years you’ve known one another, the love you share, the dreams for the future.
He promises to love you for the rest of his life as Steve—newly officiated for this occasion—instructs him to slide your wedding band onto your finger. And you do the same, standing there in a pretty white dress, your own words falling around him and filling his heart as you push the solid gold ring onto his own hand.
You dance under twinkling lights the kids have twined around the trees, hearts full to burst.
Wayne tells him he’s proud to call him son and wishes you well as you part for the night, Max joining soon after to hug the two of you and remind you she’ll be by the apartment often to check up on Chewy (her favorite and only nephew).
You slip into your hotel room in a flurry of kisses, a sea of white tulle around you, your hands in his suit and his working on undoing the line of buttons down your back.
You fall into one another as you always do, his lips against yours, bodies burning, sighs mingling into one as he slides home for the first time with his new wife.
He holds you close, one arm low around your back, the backs of his knuckles against your cheek. Tells you he loves you as the two of you creep closer and closer to mutual bliss.
Later, after you’re both cleaned up and spent, he tucks you close to his chest and hums the song you danced to at your wedding.
He’s happy.
Happier than he’s ever been in his life.
“Fun fact: Becoming your husband made this the best day of my life.”
You press your head further into his chest, finger toying with the new ring on his finger. “Fun fact: Becoming your wife is mine.”
*
Tag List: @clinicallyonline17, @sidthedollface2, @lazywillow6748, @idkidknemore, @blue-eyed-lion , @emma77645 , @bambipowerblueaddition , @aysheashea , @lezzy-bennet @yeehawbitchs
#eddie munson x you#Eddie munson fanfic#Eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x afab!reader#eddie munson fluff
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What kind of music do you think each of the Batfam members listen to? (Besides Jason who is obviously a Mitski stan)
OH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!!!!!! i'm gonna tryyyyy and take this seriously
starting off i think alfred's music taste influences just about everyone in the manor to some degree. lots of classical music flowing through the hallways at most hours of the day, the music reminds everyone of home. i think it's a general rule of thumb in the family that if you want to locate alfred, just follow the sound of mozart.
drawing off a bit of canon, i think dick listens to a lot of popular 80s stuff. the cure, joy division, the b-52s, billy joel, abba etc. that one panel of him humming 'here comes the sun' also comes to mind, i think he'd enjoy the beatles. however i do think he'd also be into some soft rock, maybe just a little bit of more intense stuff too. fleetwood mac's a big one i think he'd like. i've mentioned in a post before how i think dick would enjoy foo fighters in his post-robin rebellion phase, and i stand by that.
i do also enjoy his insane love for david bowie in the live-action titans adaption... very dear to me. i take that as gospel. also have a slight feeling he's a bit of a jazz guy once in a blue moon.
however i don't think he'd be overly into music, (the artists though, that's a whole other thing), i think he's also just happy to flick on the radio to some random dated station... or, don't crucify me... the top hits of the day.
i think jason's taste is a bit more refined. he's the #1 victim of alfred's classical music agenda, sitting in the library he's got something like 'lacrimosa' looping endlessly.
unlike dick who's got a happy-go-lucky approach to music, i think jason feels into it a bit more. he's joyriding through the city and listening to slipknot, sleeping with sirens, misfits etc etc. he's just looking for background music, maybe he's playing dashboard confessional, or... hear me out... lana del rey. he's out on patrol and is playing 90's rap through his helmet's bluetooth.
i think he'd also enjoy amy winehouse, the boys next door, no doubt, alice in chains, and maybe a bit of lorde. he's definitely into more indie bands too, local stuff. makes his own mixtapes and you'd only be able to recognise like 20% of the bands by name. he's also the one batfam member who i think would go to war to defend the songs he feels deeply about.
tim's a bit more difficult to narrow down, but i'll throw 90s alternative out there; jimmy eat world, oasis, radiohead, weezer, pearl jam type stuff. i'm also very set in my ways about femme-pop tim, which is definitely more out there and harder to justify. in terms of that i think beyonce, rihanna, and britney spears are the big three he'd enjoy.
i just think he likes anything with a beat tbh, it's not so much about genre or the actual song, as it is about the mood. similarly to dick, i don't think he's typically meticulous with defining his taste or anything, just happy to listen to whatever's making him feel good.
as for damian, i think anything with soothing instruments entices him. mainly classical, but not just limited to european stuff, i'm thinking of tyagaraja, toru takemitsu etc just off the top of my head. he'd also like elton john, queen, and other older artists with a polished vocal and avantgarde nature. i'm also going to put cartoon soundtrack music into the mix, specifically songs from adventure time. for whatever reason i'm also super drawn into the idea of him being big on kpop, although i don't know enough about the genre to make specific assumptions.
steph (ik she's not exactly batfam but i'm including her anyways) listens to predominantly female artists, and oscillates between very uplifting pop stuff, and.. societal hatred. so i think on one hand she's very into marina and the diamonds, kesha, and olivia rodrigo, but also paramore, hole, fiona apple, lorde etc. in contrast to all of that though she's also a huge fan of the beatles' solo careers, particularly paul mccartney.
cass is into a lot of the music she's done for ballet performances. the music for the snow queen instantly comes to mind as something that would be a favourite of hers. this might be a bit out there, but i think she'd enjoy grimes a lot, mostly because of how enriching it is to just listen to the sounds of, without having to pay much mind to the words she's speaking (grimes never really makes a lot of sense anyways). apart from that i don't think she really listens to all that much music, maybe some 2000s pop she hears on the radio driving around with steph.. i did enjoy the all star gag in batgirls (2022).
babs has a pretty similar taste to steph i think (i believe steph may have gotten some of her taste from her). she's a big fan of stevie nicks, gwen stefani, maybe the cranberries, hole, dolly parton, janet jackson, lauryn hill, and lesley gore. i'd like to say she enjoys a bit of 70s eccentric too, the doors, blondie, bowie etc. i don't think she's overly fussed with what she's listening to, as long as it doesn't sound too watered down and modern-pop like.
and i don't really know enough about duke to make assumptions, so i'm just going to let him sit out of this one. i also don't think bruce has any time for music, except for a bit of classical to help him concentrate every so often.
#i KNOW how we feel about suggesting that big buff guys listen to lana del rey but you've gotta hear me out#asks#anon#!!!!#batfam#batfamily#dick grayson#jason todd#dc#dcu#dc comics#robin#tim drake#damian wayne#cass cain#steph brown#barbara gordon#red hood#nightwing#red robin#batgirl#dc spoiler#dc orphan#dc batman#batkids#batboys#the robins#gothihop speaks
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Genuine Question but is Dick’s love for ABBA a real thing or is it just fanon. Also, what music WOULD Dick listen to?
I don't think it's a canon-canon thing solely based on the fact that ABBA isn't specifically named but he most definitely listens and loves it based on his music preferences!
His music taste is a combination of 80's boy bands, pop rock, post-punk, acoustic pop, alternative rock, rock and roll, and pop.
I can't remember the issue but somewhere in the comics he talks about how he loves post-punk music. Post-punk is when artists took orthodox punk music and started to explore dynamics, dance beats, electronics, and to push the boundaries of the pop rock of the time. Source
It's slower than punk rock but more lyrically defined with meaningful messages about politics, world issues, etc as many artists were into.
Nightwing (2016) Annual #1
80's boy bands were considered upbeat pop which falls right in line with ABBA's music style.
Teen Titans: The Silver Age (Part 1)
He loves Rock and Roll too. Actually all of the OG Titans-Dick, Wally, Donna, Roy, and Garth do.
Titans Hunt Issue #2
Also a whole heck of these songs on his playlist are from filipino rock and pop bands which is super interesting. Introvoys (pop rock from 1980s), M.Y.M.P. (2000s acoustic pop band), Rivermaya (1990s alternative rock band), Chicosci (rock band from late 1990s), Ariel Rivera (romantic ballads), Nina (pop and R&B).
He seems to like music that has an intensity to it which makes sense because people who like rock music like it for its focus on personal expression and authenticity.
Going by his music choices, I'd say he most definitely also loves bands such as:
Nirvana
Mother Mother
Queen
Arctic Monkeys
AC/DC
Interpol
Imagine Dragons
Fall Out boy
The Cure
Coldplay
Radio Head
The Killers
Paramore
New Kids on the Block
Vampire Weekend
Twenty One Pilots
Guns N' Roses
The Beatles
Metallica
Bon Iver
The Offspring
Led Zepplin
#thanks for the ask!#dick grayson#nightwing#i love dick grayson's music taste so much#these bands make up like half my playlist#also include Filipino all types of rock bands since he's so into them I just didn't know any#cl anon asks
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Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU
another short update but I wanted to switch POVs and it made more sense to split the update in two. I hope y’all don’t mind.
I Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Also on AO3!
***
Steve and Robin had settled into their routine at the new studio fairly quickly. They’d worked a lot of odd jobs together growing up so being in each other’s space in a work setting was nothing new. Sure, running a tattoo studio required a little more business acumen than working at an ice cream shop but the customer service smile and ease of interacting with near strangers came just as easily to the duo in either type of parlor.
It’d been a few weeks since Steve had started picking up bouquets from Eddie. In this time he had learned three things. First, Eddie only listened to heavy metal at volumes that could almost be heard across the busy street. Second, Eddie only had the shittiest of stick and poke tattoos. Third, Steve only had eyes for Eddie and was developing an incredibly embarrassing crush on the guy. Robin teased him relentlessly. Steve refused to show Robin his sketches of a tattoo series based solely on the bouquets he’d gotten from Eddie. She’d caught him staring at an arrangement wistfully and had tried to wrench the iPad out of his hand when she realized what he was sketching. If he drew little hearts around Eddie’s flowers that was nobody’s business but his own.
“First month drinks?” Robin asked as she returned from picking up lunch for her and Steve. They would probably close up early since today was a sketching and office admin day without any client appointments.
“Has it been a month already?” Steve mumbled through his first bites of sandwich.
“Stop talking with your mouth full, you absolute dingus. How I have survived this month with only you and your pining is anyone’s guess.”
“I’m not pining,” Steve argued.
“You are literally looking out the window to figure out if Eddie is back from deliveries yet,” Robin shot back.
“I am people watching and it’s not my fault that his shop is across the street,” Steve shrugged.
“If by people you mean Eddie and watching you mean stalking.”
“Leave me alone or I play ABBA on repeat for a week,” Steve threatened. It was mostly an empty threat because as much as Robin teased Steve for liking the band Steve knew Robin was as much of a dancing queen fan as he was.
“Fine, fine. I’ll lay off,” Robin relented. “Drinks tonight, though? You could ask Eddie and Chrissy to join?” Robin asked as the beat up De Lucas’ Flowers van puttered its way to a stop in front of the flower shop.
“If I ask will you be on your best behavior? Seriously, Buckley. You can’t be a dick about this in front of him.”
“Cross my heart and swear to die,” Robin held out her pinky which Steve took and shook solemnly.
“The things I do for you, Robs.” Steve shook his head but started out the door to pick up this week’s flowers.
“Munson!” Steve called over whatever loud music Eddie had playing through the speakers.
“Harrington! I’m almost done. Someone apparently did not appreciate the gesture of being sent flowers and threw them back at me so I have some fancy stems to add into your arrangement this week.”
“Careful, Eddie. People will start to think you like me,” Steve teased. Over the weeks they’ve been getting to know each other, Eddie and Steve had settled into something resembling a friendship or at least not active antagonism. Steve still wasn’t sure if Eddie actually didn’t mind Steve stopping by once a week or if Chrissy had threatened Eddie into being nicer to him. They ran into each other every once in a while picking up coffee or lunch in the neighborhood but their interactions were pretty limited outside of the flower shop.
“Only you would twist me giving you tossed flowers into a romantic gesture, hun” Eddie said with a wink. Steve could admit their teasing erred on the side of flirting but Eddie seemed to be the type of guy that flirted with everything in his path. Steve had overheard Eddie coaxing his van into starting enough times to no longer be shocked when he threw out pet names as easily as breathing.
“Not what I said, man.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically. Steve watched as Eddie held up different flowers and measured their heights against the arrangement. Steve watched until he was worried Eddie would catch him staring so he decided to strike up conversation again. “Oh, hey, so Robin and I were thinking about grabbing drinks after work since we made it a month if you and Chrissy want to join. No pressure or anything, just if you happen to be free we could hang out in a non-flower shop location. Only if you want though, totally chill either way.” Perfect, Harrington, really casual and normal way to ask someone to after work drinks, Steve chided himself internally.
“A whole month! Woah, bring out the confetti cannons,” Eddie joked.
“Jerk. Sometimes you gotta celebrate the little things,” Steve said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean it’s not like a huge deal or anything. We were just going to grab drinks around the corner.”
“You absolutely cannot go to Murray’s,” Eddie cautioned.
“What’s wrong with it? It seems fairly normal from the outside.”
“I dunno, man. Murray is just like super strange,” Eddie said.
“Pot, Kettle,” Steve snickered.
“No, dude, seriously he’s like weirdly intuitive. You can’t get a drink there without learning something you did not want to know about yourself,” Eddie added.
“Alright, then, you pick the place. Pick me and Robin up when you and Chrissy finish up here.”
“Fine. This is done by the way,” Eddie said as held out this week’s offering to Steve. “Get out of my hair.”
“Eddie! This is way too nice.”
“Happy one month, dude. I’ll come grab you when Chrissy and I wrap up.” Eddie ran his hands through his hair and Steve didn’t think about how soft it looked, not even one bit. Steve left the flower shop as Chrissy popped out of the back room to tell Eddie he had a customer on the phone.
***
Part 5 now out here!
Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @azreadytodie @goodolefashionedloverboi @steve-the-hairrington
I think I caught everyone but please please reach out if I missed someone! Seriously I cannot thank you enough for all the positive feedback and I hope y’all enjoy the boys starting to get closer! c:
#my fic#steddie#steddie fic#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#tattoo artist steve harrington#florist eddie munson#tattoo parlor / flower shop AU#steve x eddie
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Hola hola
If ur comfortable I’m currently in desperate need for headcannons for pothead!reader with either batfam or young Justice? Maybe both..??? OH ALSO They/them for reader who just so happens to be dating dick?
THANKS!!:!:
Thank you for the ask! IDK how accurate this fic is but hope y’all enjoy it!
You weren’t the typical vigilante, you weren’t trained by some great thousand year old league, you didn’t have super powers and you smoked pot for fun...
You thought the Young Justice team would mind it but they didn’t, Wally immediately wanted to experiment what it would do to his speed, mega’an accidently ate a joint thinking it was an Earth dish, Kon didn’t particularly care and Roy had already been prescribed some for his anxiety.
You were glad they were so open minded, especially Dick.
You both had chemistry the second you joined the team, and you began dating shortly after.
You loved lighting a blunt with him, listening to ABBA and bitching about the Justice League during your off times.
You also spent your break time with Roy, when he didn’t want to talk to Oliver and when his anxiety and PTSD got the better of him. He trusted you the most because he trusted you not to judge him, and it was true, you never would.
Hey guys! Sorry for the hiatus but i’m back and I hope y’all have more requests! Have a great day/night ahead!
#Young Justice#young justice x reader#young justice x gn reader#x gn reader#roy harper#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#yj dick grayson#dick grayson x gender neutral reader#drugs cw#tw drugs
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Play the Song: Part 6: A Little Quieter
Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.
UPDATED TAGS PLEASE READ
Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, swearing, weapons, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, I can fix him he just needs a hug, warning for an excessively bad taste in music, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV
A/N: Here is the long chapter I promised you! Sorry its so late... I may have indulged in a glass of wine.. or two.. so after I re-edit tomorrow it might be an entirely new chapter. OKAY IM DONE TALKING NOW ENJOY!
Words: 4.2k
Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
★Flash
Flash wakes quietly, eyes blinking open to see a dark expanse of a desert, and she has a blissful few moments of tranquility before her dreams come rushing back.
Her cheeks flush when she turns to Ghost, there was no way he could tell what her dreams had been about, but the thought of him somehow seeing the rated R images her mind conjured up horrifies her. Being so busy at the academy, even with her own room, leaving little time to indulge in more carnal desires. It had been years since Flash had even kissed someone, meaning it took an embarrassingly small amount of action to light the candle nestled between her thighs. In her defense, Ghost wasn’t much better, when he had stood between her knees that first night, Flash could see the way his hands shook with nerves and the uneven rise and fall of his chest. If it hadn’t been for his tense posture when leaving the bathroom, she would have guessed he’d, well, relieved himself. The thought of him getting off to her has Flash pressing her thighs together in embarrassment. Jesus, she needed to get her shit together.
Once she’s collected her thoughts enough to focus on their surroundings, Flash notices the music is playing again, this time at a lower volume. She smiles softly at the image of him turning on her music and flipping through the songs.
“Do you like the music?” She murmurs, stifling a yawn with her hand. Ghost turns quickly to look at her, he must’ve not noticed her earlier fidgeting. He clears his throat before answering. Flash finds his embarrassment endearing.
“I’m usually too busy to think about listening to music,” He drums his fingers against the wheel once before continuing. His voice is softer this time, “Yes I’m enjoying it.”
Flash feels her smile grow at his admittance, giddy at the idea of him opening up, to her no less. She wants to press, to ask him about his favorite genre, if he has one, or if he’s ever listened to ABBA (a personal favorite of hers). But she schools her excitement, knowing pushing would get her nothing. She chooses a safer response.
“I’m glad.” She resists the urge to reach out and touch him, fingers itching to peel the mask up over the cut on his chin and patch it up herself, the blood has soaked through the dark material and wound a path down his neck. She instead settles on resting her head against the seat to watch him as he drives, doing her best to ignore his exposed forearms and the way they flex whenever he makes a turn.
“Me too.” This new side of Ghost has Flash melting into her seat, the gruff man that was shoving her to the side just the day before was peacefully sitting next to her listening to Fleetwood Mac. Oh, the wonders of the world.
_____
Even in the dark, Flash is still able to see the rough outline of the compound. The area is dimly lit with small orange lights glowing around the perimeter of the concrete building, giving it an almost halo effect. It’s a lot smaller than she was expecting, dwarfed by the staggering height of the academy, the compound and its attached airport were pitiful.
When Ghost stops the van in front of the building he’s quick to step out and start towards the compound, leaving Flash scrambling to collect her things and jog after him.
“What’s with the rush big guy?” She says, feeling more at ease after their less than life changing conversation.
“I have things I need to do.” His tone is short and as soon as he finishes, Flash realizes that the sort of comradery that they had going in the van was no longer an option, her smile falters a bit, but she doesn’t let it ruin her entire mood.
While they were still in their friendship arc, Ghost had told her about Gaz. He’d mentioned that they might get along well, as long as she didn’t take his title. It took her a few minutes of pestering and promising to be silent for the rest of the ride to get Ghost to admit that Gaz is the proclaimed baby of the group. Supposedly, Price let him have first dibs on seconds. She made a bet that she’d have his spot in less than three days, and she was ready to get her 20 dollars.
Ghost holds the door open for her and watches as she thumps through the small space with her bag. When she turns to thank him, he’s already made it halfway down a hallway to their left. Flash huffs a breath in his direction and turns back to survey the large room in front of her. It's cozier than she was expecting. Although the room is made entirely of concrete, a handful of mismatched rugs make it feel less industrial. To her right, opposite the hallway of doors, is a small kitchen, separated from the rest of the room with a curved counter space. It has a small stove, fridge, and a table that looks like it's been taken out of an REI magazine with its bench seats. Further into the space, there’s a cobbled together living room, two worn armchairs facing a hideous orange loveseat.
There's three men there now, watching a black and white film on the small tv perched atop a rickety wardrobe. All three turn to look at Flash when the door closes loudly behind her. She gives them a sheepish smile.
“Hi?”
“Flash!” Soap jumps over the arm of the loveseat and walks towards her. “I thought we agreed Ghost was going to leave you with the cargo.” He teases.
When he gets close enough, Flash shoves his shoulder.
“And I here I thought I’d finally found my team.” She retorts and relishes in the pinch of his brow. He opens his mouth but a hand clamps down on his shoulder before he can speak. Vargas, or Alejandro as Ghost had called him in the van, steps around Soap to smile at Flash.
“If it isn’t our little Protector de Fantasmas.” He says slyly.
It takes Flash a moment but when she’s able to decipher what he said her body stiffens.
“Relax Rubia, word spreads fast around here.” Alejandro leans against Soap’s shoulder with an elbow, much to his annoyance. “He told me you had two of his men down before Ghost had recovered. That’s some impressive work.”
“I didn’t end up here by getting lucky.” She says and immediately regrets it. Flash is so used to defending her position that she doesn’t even recognize his words as a compliment, but from the earnest look on his face, she can tell he means it.
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” He says with a half smile and Flash returns it in full, hoping it would smooth over her harsh comment.
Soap clears his throat and shoves Alejandro’s arm off his shoulder, supposedly done with their conversation. He turns away from her to gesture at the third man who is hovering a few feet away from the group.
“Flash, this is Gaz.”
He’s younger than she expected, and cuter too. He looks like a cover model for an airport magazine, bronzed skin and perfectly straight teeth that make her flush when he smiles. A classic case of too handsome to be human. She wants to ask him what position he played on his high school rugby team but decides against it at the last minute. First impressions are important.
“Hi.” She says and sticks a hand out, kicking herself for being so formal.
He takes her hand but instead of shaking it, he pulls her into a hug, clapping her on the back a few times. Flash is so close she can smell the remnants of his cologne, she can’t quite place it, but it brings her back to the Hollister across from her favorite smoothie shop.
When he releases her, the bag hanging from her hand weighs a few more pounds, and her cheeks burn a bit hotter.
“Welcome to the team Flash.” Gaz bumps against Soap’s shoulder a bit rougher than necessary. “I’m excited to have someone to talk to from this century.”
Soap shoves him back and gives him a pointed glare,
“What the fuck do ya’ mean?”
“I mean,” Gaz gets out between his laughter, “I don’t always want to hear about your suffering during the potato famine.”
Flash laughs loudly at this, once again basking in Soap's wounded expression. Maybe she would have to become allies with Gaz instead. Alejandro shakes his head at them before interrupting their squabble.
“I’m heading out if this is what our conversations have divulged.” He grabs his things from the endearingly rustic table and salutes Flash. “See you soon Rubia.”
She salutes back and ignores Soap and Gaz’s offended looks, watching Alejandro leave through the same door she and Ghost had entered through.
“Let me show you to your room,” Gaz says, apparently done with his pestering, and Flash realizes halfway through a yawn, how tired she is.
“That would be amazing.” She says with a sleepy smile.
Gaz leads her and a moping Soap down the same hallway Ghost had disappeared through and stops in front of the second to the last door.
“This will be your room for now,” He gestures to the solid oak door and grimaces before continuing, “The building was not built with the expectation of women so the bathroom is shared between two rooms. I’m sure you and Ghost can figure out a system.”
Flash’s eyes widen at his words. She’d be sharing a bathroom with Ghost? Jesus have mercy on her poor soul.
“Ghost? You mean I can’t share with you? Or Price?” Gaz seems to catch onto her panic and lets out a barking laugh.
“No sadly I have to share a bathroom with this pig of a man,” He says and kicks Soap in the foot. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. “And Price got the only room with an attached bathroom.”
Flash curses and takes a steeling breath. This is far from the worst thing she’s endured. But the idea of sharing such an intimate space with such a private person has her heart racing.
“I’m sure it won't be much different from your dorms.” Soap says and Flash can’t believe she’s gotten both pity and reassurance from the two. She really must have drawn the short straw.
“I had my own rooms at the academy.” She grumbles and both men look at her in disbelief so she awkwardly pieces together an explanation, “When you’re young and better than a lot of men, they like to find ways to keep their ego inflated. Nothing too bad ever happened. It was more of a precaution.”
Flash feels awkward opening up to two people she’s known less than a week, but it gives her a sense of relief to finally tell someone. Soap gives her a sad smile and Gaz rests a warm hand on her shoulder.
“You won't have to worry about that here then. Go in and get settled, we already ate but you’re free to have whatever’s in the fridge.” Gaz gives her another one of his dazzling smiles and turns to leave with Soap.
Flash is quick to shut herself in the room, already blinking back tears. So this is what they meant when the other recruits talked about finding a family. All of her years of training suddenly feel worth it.
She bites her tongue as another wave of emotion rolls over at the sight of her room. It actually looks like a bedroom. A large bed takes up most of the space, framed by two small nightstands, and a plain oak wardrobe rests against the far wall next to a full mirror. It's simple, but the warm light spilling from the bedside lamp ties the room together with a gold bow.
What she see’s next though, has her heart leaping into her throat. Her iPod has been set on the nightstand, next to the carefully wrapped shape of her headphones that she’d so carelessly left in the van. He’d been in here?
Flash sets her bag on the bed before walking carefully through the door to her left, not wanting to risk a creaking board under the carpet. They definitely didn’t hold back this time. A long counter with two porcelain sinks stretches the distance of the bathroom, across from it, there’s not only a standing shower but a large clawfoot bathtub. It's been years since Flash has taken a real bath and she nearly caves at the sight of it. The door at the far side of the room keeps her focused. Still stepping lightly, she stops right in front of the door and raises her fist to knock against it. She hesitates at first, her fist only gliding across the wood surface before she’s knocking harder.
There’s no answer at first, but when she knocks again she hears a muffled come in. Flash falters for a moment, she hadn’t prepared for him to actually answer. She takes a deep breath and turns the handle, pushing the door open.
The breath she’d taken is immediately knocked from her chest when she sees Ghost writing at a desk. He’s dressed down to a tight black shirt and a pair of jeans, an outfit that despite its conservativeness, has Flash feeling like she needs to cover her eyes. The balaclava is crooked at his neck, obviously hastily put on, and the thought of him sitting just a room away without it makes her stomach flip.
“Can I help you?” His rough voice has whatever sad excuse Flash had for interrupting him flying out of her head. She recovers quickly though.
“I wanted to thank you for bringing my things in.” She says quietly and he just shrugs, not looking up from his journal.
Flash hovers for a second, looking around his room in hopes to find another conversation starter. Ghost’s room is nearly identical to hers, sans desk. His bed is rumpled but the rest of his room is in near perfect condition. When her eyes land on the small stack of books on his wardrobe she sees her opportunity.
“Could I borrow a book?” He does look up at this, wordlessly glancing between her and the stack. “I forgot my charger and I have a hard time falling asleep without my music. Maybe if I read I can bore myself to sleep, not that you’re books are boring! I just mean it might be relaxing.” She knows she’s rambling but she’s to distracted by the tilt of his head to care.
“Go ahead.” He says, waving a careless hand toward them and returning to his task
Flash quickly walks to the stack, grabs the first one, and retreats back to the doorway. It’s clear that he’s waiting for her to leave, but she can’t bring herself to shut the door behind her.
“How does your chin feel? That guy hit you pretty hard.” She says hesitantly.
“I cleaned it.” Ghost huffs in an uninterested tone.
“Are you sure? It looked bad from where I was sitting.”
There are a few seconds of silence and during them, Flash watches Ghost relax a bit further into the wooden chair.
“I’m fine Flash” His voice is softer now, and when he says her name, a warm shiver runs up her spine.
“Okay then, well, goodnight?” It comes out as more of a question and she kicks herself for being so easily affected. He doesn’t respond right away and she’s about to close the door when he finally speaks up,
“Goodnight.” She almost misses it, but when she hears his quiet reply she practically slams the door shut, running through the bathroom and throwing herself onto the bed.
It takes a tremendous amount of strength to peel herself from the covers to clean up in the bathroom and it takes even more to not look at every product he has next to the sink and in the shower.
When she's finally settled, old western novel in hand, she doesn't even make it through the first page before nodding off.
______
Their little dance goes on like this for the next two weeks. Despite her constant protesting, Flash is left at the compound to train with Price while Soap, Gaz, and Ghost run through several small busts. None of them memorable enough to recount when she comes barreling into his room upon his return. Her presence has become more bearable. After seeing their team's appointed psychiatrist, he’d been put on a heavier dose of anxiety medication. When Price found out, he insisted that Ghost also make a point to talk to the doctor about his problems. Claiming that their team needed him at his strongest. That's where he is today. Sitting in the conference room, now a makeshift therapy room.
Comforted by the notion of doctor-patient confidentiality, Ghost lets the hard set of his shoulders relax against the green armchair of the psychiatrists office. Opposite of him sitting at a large oak desk, Dr. Marks, a balding eccentric psychiatrist who he’d been becoming more familiar with over the last two weeks. The doctor sighs as he flips through the various medical records in Ghost’s file before closing it entirely and shoving it to the side of his desk.
“And you said that your only side effect has been trouble falling asleep?” He didn’t want to admit it, but the pills have been helping. He’s only taken them a handful of times since having the dosage upped, but they did their job a bit too well. With a clearer mind, Ghost is able to identify his source of panic much quicker, but that also meant that nights spent alone were filled with images that he simultaneously craved and loathed. That had been their topic of conversation this past week, Ghost’s unflinching desire for domestic life.
“Yes.” Ghost mutters.
“I can prescribe you a light sedative, nothing too strong, and in a small amount. You can refill it as you run out.” Dr. Marks leans back in his rather antique looking leather chair and rubs a hand against the silver scruff on his jaw, giving him that same sad smile. “I’m sure you can understand why.”
Ghost gives him a curt nod, not wanting to open up more room for discussion on the subject.
The doctor seems to pick up on it and swiftly changes the topic, already used to Ghost’s aversions to that certain page in his file.
“Have you thought any more about what I told you last session?” Dr. Marks asks softly.
“I’ve thought about it, yes.” Ghost says, avoiding eye contact by picking at the rough linen fabric of his own armchair.
“And?”
“It’s not going to happen.”
When Ghost looks up he can see the pity in the doctor's eyes. It’s seemingly the only way people know how to look at him like he's something that’s needing coddling. Except for her, and that’s his problem.
“There is still an opportunity for happiness, it’s in there Simon. When you’re ready to bear it, it will find its way back to you.”
“How can it find me if I can’t even find myself.” Ghost sags further into the cushion of the armchair, choosing to observe the dark wood grain of the desk rather than the eyes staring straight through him. He already regrets opening his mouth.
“You’re a lot closer to finding yourself than you think. Sometimes we need assistance though, and that’s okay.”
Ghost huffs a quiet laugh at his words and stands, ready to be out of the suddenly stifling atmosphere. Dr. Marks stands with him, reaching a hand across the table. When Ghost takes it, rather than shaking them, the doctor rests his other hand on top and gives their clasping hands a gentle squeeze.
“You’re still young. Don’t let your past control your future, it can be suffocating but you’re stronger than you think.” Dr. Marks gives him a kinder look now, one that has Ghost’s throat tightening. He needs to get out.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. I’ll let you know when the prescription comes in, I don’t have a small enough dose I can give you now but it shouldn’t be too long.” It’s again followed by the same ‘I feel guilty but don’t know what to say' look that he dreads so much.
Ghost gives him another nod and covers the space between his chair and the door in just a few strides, opening and closing it quickly without looking back.
Before he even reaches the doorway he can hear her laugh. A bright sound that warms his chest and leaves him a bit breathless. When he does walk into the room he sees Flash, Soap, and Gaz sitting around the kitchen table arguing over a card game. From the looks of it, Soap is losing, he’s slumped back against the wall glaring daggers at Gaz while drawing cards from the main deck.
Ghost turns to look at Price who is sitting in one of the two armchairs facing the kitchen, watching the three with a smile on his face. He strides over and takes the chair next to him.
“How’d it go?” Price’s eyes don’t leave the group.
“Better. I’m getting something to help with my sleep.” He says with a sigh.
Price does turn to look at him now, brows furrowing.
“We won’t have any problems will we?” Ghost feels the burn of shame on his cheeks.
“No. Small doses.”
“Good.”
They go silent after that. Both turn to focus back on the rowdy group. Ghost finds himself zoning in on Flash. Her laughter has turned the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink and even from across the room he can see the way her eyes shine. That same tingling tightness that has plagued Ghost for the past week returns at the sight, squeezing the breath out of his lungs in a warm embrace.
“She’s a sweet one that girl.” Price says, gesturing towards Flash with the bottle in his hand. “It makes me worry.”
Gaz, taking advantage of Soap’s bathroom break, has started slipping cards into his hand left on the table. Flash is bent at the waist laughing, wiping away tears, and begging Gaz to stop before he returns.
“I wouldn’t.” Ghost says distractedly. Price raises an eyebrow at him.
“You would know?” Price’s gaze softens as he takes in Ghost watching her. “You’ve taken a liking to her then?”
Ghost stiffens at his words but doesn’t bother arguing, Price is the only one he doesn’t bother lying to. He’s able to see through Ghost’s rough exterior wall too easily.
“You know I can’t.” Ghost's voice is a near whisper.
“It’s not against code, young as she is she’s just as much of a Lieutenant as you are.” Price says softly. Ghost turns to look at him, missing Soap’s boisterous reaction to his now deck of a hand.
“We both know it’s not that.” He mutters.
“You can’t shut everyone out forever Ghost.” Price says before taking a sip out of his bottle.
Ghost is about to tell Price that he absolutely can when a voice shouts across the room for him,
“C’mon Ghost! Come play with us!” Flash yells while beaming in his direction and Ghost feels his knees weaken at her excitement over him playing a game, it was usually quite the opposite. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d sat and listened to Soap and Gaz complain about having to be on his team. It was never done on purpose, but it still struck that small chord that rested at the base of his skull. The one that was currently urging him to take the seat next to Flash and forget about the warning sirens going off in every other part of his brain.
“I’m heading off to bed.” He says instead, knowing nothing good would come of it. Flash frowns at him for a moment but then shrugs her shoulders. He stands from the chair and starts towards the hallway of rooms.
“Awe well I’ll just take Soap up on his offer. He said we could go,” Flash scrunches her nose and turns a questioning gaze to Soap, ”what did you say?”
Soap looks at Ghost with a devilish smirk and even though he’s speaking to Flash, Soap keeps his eyes locked with Ghosts.
“I said we could go practice her poker with Alejandro’s boys.” Soap says simply. Ghost freezes and all earlier hesitation evaporates.
“How do you play the game?”
#ghost x reader#Ghost x female oc#simon riley#cod fic#simon ghost riley#Slow burn#family dynamic#modern warefare 2#ghost stories#soap#mw2 headcannons#mw2 smut#ghost likes his hair pulled
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artists the bat kids would listen to
jason todd - midnights by taylor swift. the whole album is about healing and being broken and regret. so many songs on there that jason would feel to his core. also my boys a swiftie and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.
stephanie brown - sour by olivia rodrigo, dove cameron. listen to brutal and tell me steph wouldn’t scream her heart out to that song. you cant.
dick grayson - abba, lady gaga. the boy is dramatic. he sings while dancing and performing like he’s on a stage. also we could never forget discowing. dick def loves abba and he gives off lady gaga vibes.
cassandra cain - girl in red. tell me cass doesn’t just scream the vibes girl in red gives off. this is a girl that loves music. she can take anyone down in seconds but she’s so incredibly soft. i also think she would like the song she by dodie.
babs - marina. burned out gifted kid anthem. it’s filled with anger and refusal to fit into society’s structure. sound like anyone to you? i was also tempted to put this under jason. i think they would listen to it together.
duke thomas - i feel like duke listened to my chemical romance when he was younger and knows all the words to all the songs.
and no i didn’t include the entire batfam, just those i had a solid grasp of something i would fit them. it started with just steph and jason, those are the my two strongest claims.
#batfam#batkids#dc universe#duke thomas#the signal#jason todd#red hood#barbara gordon#oracle#batgirl#stephanie brown#spoiler#black bat#orphan#cassandra cain#babs#dick grayson#richard grayson#nightwing#robin#discowing#abba#taylor swift#midnights#marina#sour#olivia rodrigo#lady gaga#girl in red#my chemical romance
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hello! firstly GREAT taste in music fabulous playlist. id be curious to hear about deep blue somethings breakfast at tiffanys and cruel to be kind (letters to cleo cover) if you dont mind? also thotoughly enjoyed waterloo by abba right at the begining. its very them, even down to the random use of a napoleonic battle as a metaphor! :)
HI THANK YOU!!!! for giving me the opportunity to talk about this! and i feel so gratified by your appreciation of waterloo for them fdfjd i was walking home listening to abba last year and almost fell over. took me like 7 yrs to realize that's Their Song.
was going to put this under a cut before i realized that everyone really is following me with the understanding that i'm going to be insane about jenny and giles sometimes-to-all-the-time. so.
breakfast at tiffany's is a song about a relationship that is on the precipice of dissolution with two people mutually recognizing that they do still have this one flickering thing in common. like --
that specific set of lyrics, man!!! thinking very specifically about jenny and giles directly after angelus, and how this big rift has sprung up directly from jenny's omissions and giles's outrage. how they have this consistent pattern of flinching back when one of them learns just a little too much about their partner, who is desperate to earn back their approval. also "now your eyes see through me" + giles literally refusing to look at jenny, hello.
but this song is really about, like, two fundamentally different people who do not lead compatible lives --
and yet they do still have these things in common that they are both holding onto so hard, and it's ambiguous as to whether that will be enough, but maybe the wanting is going to make it enough, yk? AND the (male) singer is the one persuading his girlfriend by saying "look, we can fit back together, see? we DO have things in common, see? don't give up on this and don't try to talk me out of it." very giles and jenny.
as for cruel to be kind, it's first important that u know i SPECIFICALLY chose the letters to cleo version because that's the one from 10 things i hate about you and sometimes i look at that and go "teenage giles/jenny would go like that."
but also just in general -- the entire song is about this idea of one lover floundering and struggling because the other person is jerking them around and tripping them up, & their honey asserting "no, this is how i love people. i'm being a dick to you BECAUSE i love you so much." which is. like. (gestures very pointedly to jenny lying about spilling coffee on giles's books. and taking him to monster trucks. and making fun of his clothes. and giggling whenever the kids make fun of him. the list goes on and on and on forever.) and it's actually soooo vital to me to adore that aspect of g/j, because so often i have seen in fandom people point to jenny being terrible and go "this is why calendiles doesn't work," OR they downplay her being terrible and go "calendiles is such an adorable twosome of cuteness and she's so supportive of him!!!" no. that woman bites and that man is repeatedly putting his hand in her mouth bc he wants her to draw blood.
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Masterlist of Fandom Playlists
as a neurodivergent person, i literally can’t write if the vibes of what i’m listening to isn’t on point, so i thought i’d share a few of my fandom playlists down below! some of them are specific to fics, others are certain relationships, some are purely vibes. i’ve included links to all of them, just click on the title. welcome to the chaos that is my mind
there was an idea
this one is just vibes tm. songs that i listen to when i’m picturing fights or action. i named it after the avengers because i liked the way it sounded, and i generally like the mcu’s music choices.
it's angst hours baby
these songs just put me in the mood to ruin someone's life.
ethereally eldritch
this one’s still under pretty heavy construction, but when it’s finished i want it to be a Danny Phantom inspired playlist that’s a bit spooky. i’m going for grungy, spooky, punk vibes.
i've learned to love falling
this one is a Dick Grayson character playlist. i just wanted to add some songs that remind me of him/his vibes. think abba, Britney Spears, and a little bit of punk pop.
i'm the most cutest girl in the world
a Paulina Sanchez playlist!!! i love her so much and i realized i didn't have many 'bad bitch' playlists, so it felt fitting. this is a lot of female artists, mostly pop and rap. however, i have thought about adding some 'bubblegrunge.' thoughts?
i’ve been bamboozled (into loving you)
an Anger Management (Jazz Fenton/Jason Todd) playlist <3 basically a lot of the songs that remind me of their relationship or that i think fit their vibes.
👑Space Princess💫
a Space Princess (Dani Phantom/Mar’i Grayson) playlist, because i am so soft for them. it’s a soft sapphic playlist that’s just as lovely as my favorite girls
🏹Trick Shot💘
i will admit, this one started off as Dani Phantom/Lian Harper, but at some point became more of a sapphic modern disco playlist. it still have light, fun vibes that i associate with them though.
👑 Crowns & Clowns 💗
now we’re getting into the fic specific playlists. this playlist is a BIG spoiler for my fic “The Princess and the Outlaws” so listen at your own risk. basically all the chapter titles for that fic are different Taylor Swift songs and they’re on that playlist. past those songs, we get into more vibes territory. this playlist in particular has a few different sections since it deals with the polycule Jazz Fenton/Jason Todd/Roy Harper/Koriand’r. the first section being chapter titles obviously, the next being songs about their relationship, then songs they would sing to/about their partners, then a girl power section because Kori and Jazz kick ass, and lastly non-romantic songs that give off their group vibes.
Blush Bobbin
this playlist is specifically for my fic "hitting pitch black streets with pink clad heart beats." it's mostly Panic at the Disco, Fall Out Boy, and Matt Maeson right now, but i want to add some more to it eventually. fun fact, i named the playlist that because a group of robins can be called a Blush or a Bobbin, among other things.
Bellflower Manor
this playlist goes along with a fic i'm cowriting called "Brides, Birds, and Batshit Family Matters." if you know, you know.
forgotten kids
this is a grungier Dani/Lian playlist for a fic i'm planning "Urban Legends are Warnings from the Dead." it's meant to be a bit spooky, a bit grungy, a bit hopeful---because what is Gotham if not full of hope?
Gotham Academy
this playlist is also specific to my fic “Wisteria” which is a dp/dc dark academia au. it’s a mixture between dark academia, dark forest, investigation, spooky, magical, grungy, gay vibes. it’s doing a lot right now, and i might go back and edit it sometime some.
❤️🔥let me show you power💋♟
this. playlist. okay, so it’s specific to the dp/dc leverage au i’m working on but bare with me. it’s punk, punk pop, angry feminine, anti-hero vibes. it’s about manipulation and being alluring, and falling in love somewhere along the way. i rather like this one as you can tell lol.
alt universe
so, this playlist was actually made for a fic i started a long time ago “See the Light.” i’m not currently working on it, but i really like the concept so i’ll probably revisit it one day. it’s alternative, dark vibes, very much so focusing on the dark parts of the fic. it’s probably one of my favorite playlists i’ve every made, the songs just hit in or out of context.
🕊prettybird🌷
this playlist was made specifically for my very indulgent Batfam/Charmed (1998) au. it’s based on the main pairing of the fic, Dick Grayson/Melinda Halliwell. it’s a lot of love songs, pinning and accidently falling in love vibes, as well as a generous amount of ABBA.
#feel free to let me know what you think!!!#i crave validation#i know my taste in music is very weird#like i will listen to just about anything#but the music they play at cracker barrel#*shutters* bad memories#also shoot me any song suggestions you might have#i love getting new music to listen to#dpxdc#anger management ship#space princess ship#playlists#inspiration#i love making playlists#so therapeutic#kate's rambles#kate's fanfics#actually a surprisingly low amount of taylor swift#believe me#there could have been so much more#trick shot ship#Dick Grayson#paulina sanchez#pink robin au
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your turn to give me your dick & jason songs 🤲
hm, i have some very modest offerings that can’t amount to your impressive collection, but here you are:
only thing by sufjan stevens – a grieving song that along with wake me up when september ends always makes me think of them. in a veil of great disguises; how do i live with your ghost? (and to make it sadder, from post-resurrection confused jay’s pov: in a veil of great surprises, i wonder: did you love me at all?)
brother by gerard way – do i need to explain. on top of the obvious lyrics like and brother, if you have the chance to pick me up and can I sleep on your couch and can you take me home? something the city imagery in the song is just so fitting.
slipping through my fingers by abba – you might think it’s silly but abba is soo dickcore (to me) and this song specifically is like a fond, bitter-sweet memory. it’s equally about watching a child grow, grief and wasted time. (jay is somehow getting girlcoded here again.)
kids by mgmt – this is mostly jay’s pov and i need to bring in some meta and hcs here, because the lyrics that resonate are: control yourself // take only what you need from it // a family of trees wanting // to be haunted. it makes me think of how (in my mind) while jay after a long time have grown to rely on bruce as a child, he never reached that confidence in a relationship with anyone else. with all his childish adoration toward dick, he was still too shy and insecure to openly reach out. and then coming back, (i’m throwing canon out of the window here) dick is the only person who still has his heart open to him. jay craves love so much, and dick is a well of love, but there are also so many other people relying on him that taking up this space feels unfair. and jay is needy, thus control yourself, he has to microdose on brotherly affection and avoid dick otherwise because he doesn’t trust himself not to fall apart with dick there for him. (also: does dick truly care for him or is it just that he is nice to everyone? jay doesn’t know a side of dick that is resentful; he has only seen him like that with bruce, and bruce is an authority figure, so it’s a whole different topic. dick caring for people just seems like a default, a state of things that he should not selfishly abuse. and if dick truly misses him, isn’t that just sentimentality? isn’t he looking for a kid that jay has worked really hard to leave in the past, because he can’t afford this vulnerability anymore?). then there’s the part about family wanting to be haunted, that also makes me think of how dick was the only one with grief so earnest (bruce would rather compartmentalise it and lock it away for self-preservation) that he wanted to be haunted. and for this reason, he is also ready to have jay back; in a way, he has never stopped looking for him in the first place.
(whew that’s just a whole paragraph of me being delusional. a whole fanfic even)
honorary mentions: the scientist by coldplay and show me how by men i trust. while i don’t listen to them, they have some lyrics that make me think of jay and dick whenever i hear them.
thank you for sponsoring my brotherism brain rot, ace. means a lot to me!
#sorry for going insane thinking about 2 sentences. it will happen again#normal about them. i don’t think about them forever and ever and i don’t rotate them in my head like in a microwave / lying#jay.zip#dick.zip#jay.txt#dick.txt#thousand incarnations of closeness and distance#outbox#dc
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Fic idea I got while listening to the winner takes it all by abba.
Sometime after Nancy breaks up with Steve he goes to the music store to get some music to scream cry to. But when he gets in he sees Eddie Munson behind the counter. He’s incredibly tempted to turn tail and run as soon as he walks in the door, he really does not have the emotional capacity to deal with someone he was probably a massive dick to before and who probably hates him. But then Eddie looks up and sees him and Steve figures he can take the blow rather than be even more of an asshole right now.
Ok I tried writing some dialogue but actually I suck and have no creative voice. Eddie teases him a bit and is marginally hostile but mostly they’re both awkward and Steve is like ‘Look man, I’m in a really weird place rn and I’m trying to grow and be a better person and shit because I know I’m an asshole and I’m- I’m bullshit, but I don’t want to be anymore. So can I just apologize for anything and everything I’ve done to you so we can just move on and you can help me find a tape to have a fucking therapeutic cry to?’ And Eddie is fucking gobsmacked and Steve is embarrassed as hell because he really did not mean to say that last bit but he really got on a roll. And then Eddie says smth like ‘Alright. Well good news, I don’t think you’ve ever actually done anything to me personally so we can probably just ignore that. And as for the last part, under any other circumstances, I would never, and I mean NEVER, let you walk out of this store with this tape without putting up a fight… But here.’ And then he hands him ABBA Super Trouper with instructions to come back when he feels better to find some real music.
And then he does and Eddie tries so hard to get Steve to like metal because he thinks nothing would be funnier than turning king Steve into a metal head but Steve tells him that the loud guitar riffs makes his ears ring and his head hurt, so he settles for softer rock and maybe plays a few of his favorite metal songs for him acoustic so he can experience it with him without pain.
Idk this has gotten away from me but Steve starts to do this thing where he categorizes some of his relationships with ABBA songs and stancy is The Winner Takes It All and he thinks steddie is Our Last Summer but they end up being Ive Been Waiting For You.
#I’m sorry but ABBA makes me cry and I’m projecting it onto Steven#not all abba songs are steddie coded but the ones that aren’t are coded for other st characters and relationships#and I have thoughts and feelings about all of them#pls if any part of this inspires you to write then do it#for I cannot#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#shut up grandpa
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My Random RDR2 Headcanons (Mostly Modern but some are regular)
Dutch listens to ABBA and his favourite song is Money, Money, Money need I say more?
Hosea has traveled a lot and would tell young Arthur and John stories about his travels.
Micah would unironically call someone Kitten and would be a Discord Mod.
Kieran and Sean got a 23andMe thing and found out they are somehow related.
Sean listens to Top O’ the Morning to Ya by House of Pain.
Charles is very sensitive to loud noises.
Swanson is shit at cards. (This might be canon, but my memory is shit!)
Dutch denies that he and Hosea have something going on.
Arthur cried at the beginning of Up.
Javier and Karen’s favourite movies are The Bee Movie and Hoodwinked.
Kieran and Tilly have binge watched the Cornetto Trilogy.
Trelawney and Hosea know EVERYTHING!
John and Bill often watch Billy Madison and have a conjoined mental breakdown when they think about how much he reminds them of themselves.
Dutch wanted to be a cool 80’s conman/arcade-owner.
John, Sean, Kieran, Arthur, and Javier frequently reenact movie scenes and music videos together, they also heavily remind me of Tally Hall. (Might further elaborate on this later)
Lenny works at one of those cat bookstores.
Pearson loved reading Moby Dick.
Javier has the most high-pitched scream out of the entire Van der Linde gang.
Sadie, Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Molly, and Abigail started the tradition of hanging out atleast once a month specifically to cry about stuff.
Uncle is Tiktok famous… for all the wrong(?) reasons.
Sadie is fearless… minus heights.
Abigail and Karen have beaten the shit out of Micah once and they might do it again.
Grimmshaw gives the girls motivational speeches and behind closed doors is really sweet to them all.
Jack gained an interesting vocabulary after being around Micah and Bill.
Charles easily befriends animals and they often just walk right up to him.
Trelawney listens to Freddie Mercury and Elton John.
Lenny and Arthur watch all the Highschool Musical movies frequently and know every song by heart.
Once Lenny convinced Arthur to go to a haunted house with him, and halfway through it they started scream-singing Bet On It from Highschool Musical 2.
Javier is extremely good at doing his make-up, thought about making a yt channel for it.
Sean and Javier listen to Mr. Boombastic by Shaggy RELIGIOUSLY.
Charles and Hosea listen to Kate Bush and The Cardigans.
Arthur is a Jurassic Park nerd.
I can see Javier, Sean, Hosea, and Dutch singing and dancing to Barbie Girl, Dutch and Sean will only sing as Barbie.
Sean listens to Who let the dogs out.
Mary-Beth and Bill fight over Kieran 24/7 and the poor man just sits there too scared to defuse it.
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Top five songs on my Playlist that I hope wouldn't pop up if one of my celebrities got into my car and the reasons why.
5) Rasputin by Boney M — I've loved this song since I was a kid, and tiktok brought it back into my life. The only problem is I go TOO hard on it. Way too hard — like even I'm concerned about how happy the song makes me and Noone needs to see that.
4) Call Me Daddy by Peppa DJ — it's not a good song. I don't even remember how I learned this song. All I know is that it makes me feel awesome, and I will play it again and again
3) The entire Mamma Mia soundtrack — the first time someone says, "Why not just listen to Abba?" I will kick them out of my car. It has to be the movie's soundtrack. Period. Done.
2) Deepthroat by Cupcakke- not for the reason some would think. This song is special — it has a value to it and I fear they wouldn't understand
1) Everywhere I Go by Hollywood Undead - Okay, there are way more than these 5 that could be in this list but this one specifically has to be #1. Not for any negative reason but it brings out my inner fourteen year old and I become an entirely different person. I know every word by heart and I don't think I'll be able to explain how I went from George Strait to Hollywood Undead in a single mile without explaining how the lines "My dick does all my thinkin'" brings me to life in a way that should have been a clue that I was not, in fact, cis or straight.
Honorable Mentions because I have a dance routine for them and they need to be done or else I can't listen to the song:
The Git up by Blanco Brown
Laffy Taffy by D4L
Careless Whisper by George Michael
Boot Scootin Boogie by Brooks n Dun (Or as I like to sing it New Boot Goofin')
Two I HOPE pops up:
Fergalicious. It's a test.
Little Einsteins remix. Again it's a test.
#playlist#chris evans#sebastian stan#pedro pascal#jason sudeikis#bill hader#misha collins#and more and more and more
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what paintings and/or posters are on their walls? what is a song they listen to with the windows rolled down, turned all the way up, on the highway?
THE TINIEST DETAILS: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS
What paintings and/or posters are on their walls?
First and foremost, and probably the biggest poster of everything in his room, would be his 'The Flying Graysons' poster. He might even have two posters of it, each in a different print, because there were multiple versions of that poster through the years. However, I would like to believe that he has a version of the poster from the night that changed his life forever.
Second, as Damian is a skilled artist in his own right, I'd like to imagine he probably made a painting for Dick (he probably won't admit it was specially made for him, though), and Dick went ahead and framed it properly. It's either a portrait of Dick, a portrait of him and Dick, or some still life practice painting that Dick fawned over at some point, so Damian finished it for him. Brothers 💕
Although photographs aren't mentioned in the question, I think that Dick went ahead and printed out a couple of photos of himself with his teammates, friends, and family, and they are probably framed and placed on his work desk or hanging above his bed. It's photos of him with the bat family from holiday dinners or family hangouts, him hanging out with teammates in civilian clothing, current or former lovers' shared selfies, etc.
People are a vital part of what makes Dick himself, and so every item hanging on his wall holds a memory from a person in his life. It can be both good and bad, but eventually, it all makes a tapestry of his journey—of who he is and how he evolved.
2. What is a song they listen to with the windows rolled down, turned all the way up, on the highway?
Wow, this is a TOUGH question. We can go ridiculous with this and say Barbie Girl by Aqua or Dancing Queen by Abba, but I don't seriously think that would be the case if he genuinely wanted to enjoy the song.
Well, since I can't pick one, I'll just tell you the top 5 that come to my head:
You Give Love a Bad Name / Bon Jovi
Hot Blooded / Foriegner
Painkiller / DREAMERS
The Nights / Avicii
Everybody Talks / Neon Trees
Thank you for the questions!
@tireironmybeloved
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Top 10 YouTube Videos of 2022
I was asked to provide TV/movie recommendations from 2022, and honestly, I don't have a whole lot to say on traditional media this year. Instead, let's dive into something I'm trying to cut back on in 2023 - my YouTube obsession.
I am subscribed to over 500 creators, and I used to try to keep up with all of them. In the past few years I've realized that was a losing battle, especially with the gradual transition from short-form skit content to hour and a half long think pieces. Doesn't prevent me from trying, however, which has been to the detriment of my sanity and my sleep schedule. But now my debilitating addiction can benefit you! Here's a list of the top 10 videos that were released this year.
#10 SethEverman - metal drummer listens to ABBA for the first time
youtube
Starting off easy, here's Seth Everman playing drums to "Mamma Mia". I've listened to this dozens of times, it hits so hard.
#9 Scene Queen - Pink Hotel
youtube
Scene Queen is the perfect intersection of my musical tastes, blending pop and metal while embodying the antithesis of every pick-me girl. I wish she were around back when I was in college and that asshat Perez Hilton was drawing dicks on Lindsay Lohan's face, then maybe I would have processed my internalized misogyny wayyyy earlier. Also she's unapologetically gay as fuck, which we love to see.
#8 Ted Nivison - I Drove to Every Rainforest Café in North America
youtube
I haven't been subscribed to Ted long, but this was my gateway drug. This video is exactly as advertised, and it is a literal ride. As someone who didn't go to a Rainforest Café until I was well into my teenage years, I don't really have the nostalgia Ted clearly rode on for 10k miles in a Toyota Tacoma. But honestly, the Rainforest Cafes are the least interesting part of this masterpiece . Instead tune in for a tale of perseverance that tested a friendship to complete a truly innocuous quest.
#7 Pinely - The MrBeast-ification of Youtube
youtube
Onma island is buried a treasure chest.
Orr focuses on how click bait-y spectacle charity videos have overrun the platform, and in the creator's effort to keep high view retention, how they exploit the people they intend to help for internet clout. Its a subject I personally find fascinating as I struggle with consuming true crime content for the same reason - it's hard to shine light on a corrupt organization or violent perpetrator without exploiting the victims in some way.
His follow-up video, The MrBeast-ification of Money, analyzes the influence of these videos on how people perceive wealth and how MrBeast-esque content affects how children consider the value of a dollar. Awesome duo, check out both to get the full picture of Jimmy's influence.
#6 Worthikids - BIGTOP BURGER: DOWN
youtube
Back in 2019 before The Rise of Skywalker killed all the goodwill Star Wars had earned in my mind, I stumbled upon this video on twitter and lost my shit. "I will use the force to heal my broken body" is my inner monologue every time I drink coffee. I immediately found them on YouTube and subscribed.
Worthikids is so unbelievably talented, not only animating in their own art style, but recreating the old school stop motion Rankin/Bass aesthetic. Bigtop Burger is an ongoing series about a clown-themed food truck beefing with a zombie themed food truck, featuring the vocal talents of some of my other favorite creators like Chris Fleming and ProZD. It's completely chaotic and about the best thing I've ever seen. It was this video, however, that had me literally crying with laughter. I'm not going to spoil it because I want you to experience it fresh, but Chris' unhinged voice paired with the elastic animation style just fucking kills me.
#5 Todd in the Shadows - The Top Ten '90s Buses
youtube
Todd in the Shadows is no stranger to top 10 lists - I look forward to his annual Top 10 Worst and Top 10 Best Songs of the Year videos. When I saw this video show up in my subscriptions feed, I, for sure, thought it was a troll. I should have known better. This is legitimately a top 10 list of '90s busses. The Spice World bus makes an appearance. It's a gem.
Todd is one of my comfort youtubers. Sometimes when I'm working on stuff I'll boot up a Trainwreckords, One Hit Wonderland, or Cinemadonna playlist and just let it ride. His disgruntled analysis, while sometimes I don't always agree with cause musical tastes are unique and varied, is strangely soothing. It comes with side effects like knowing more about Cher and Gregg Allman than I ever wanted to know, like that they were married at all, but you take the good with the bad.
#4 Drew Gooden - I took Ninja's Masterclass and it ruined my life
youtube
Drew Gooden is one of the members of the conglomerate of media commentary youtubers that I follow (there are so many, legitimately, I have a problem, so much content, make it stop, I'm sure I'm going to forget some, it's inevitable, I watch too much YouTube, how do I get anything done?), but his analytical nature and sarcastic tone really resonates with me. I particularly enjoyed his retrospective on Lily Singh's talk show that addressed the struggle YouTube creators face when adjusting themselves to fit within the confines of traditional media and expand their audience while trying to keeping their existing fan base. He also has a knack of finding the weirdest movies.
This is one in a series of videos where Drew reviews educational scams provided by content creators. He had previously covered the pains some creators face with maintaining their relatability, and offering online courses seem to be the natural progression of how to transition that online success into corporate dolla dolla billz. It's depressingly hilarious how low-effort these endeavors are, which is only proven when Drew ultimately tries to follow Ninja's expert advice to become a Twitch superstar.
As someone who spent like 450 hours streaming on Twitch this year, Drew's attempt is a great encapsulation of how isolating that experience can be. If you are also a Twitch streamer, this is a must-watch.
#3 münecat - Web3.0: A Libertarian Dystopia
youtube
I found münecat a few years ago through other anti-MLM creators because of her thorough coverage of the LuLaRoe shit show. Her videos have only gotten more detailed since then, culminating in this mammoth summary on Web3.0. I have stayed willfully ignorant of all things blockchain since I was forced to listen to some dude talk about mining bitcoin at a party back in like 2017. Münecat has done all the heavy lifting here to get me up to speed on cryptobros pyramid scheme of their very own. Plus, her work always comes with a bonus music video at the end. Score!
Also, because of this gem of a video on Russell Hartley, I now own a "Gaslight me daddy" t-shirt.
#2 Jenny Nicholson - Evermore: The Theme Park That Wasn't
youtube
Jenny Nicholson has been one of my favorite creators on YouTube since I found a video of her roasting discount Halloween costumes. What her brand has evolved into is truly remarkable, providing commentary on books, movies, theme parks, fanfiction, and random finds like church Easter plays and whatever the fuck the Hallmark channel was doing on YouTube back in 2016. I now know more about The Vampire Diaries and Bronycon than any adult should. "My horny drawing of Twilight Sparkle is presented upon this long pillow with complete neutrality," lives in my head rent-free. Any topic she covers, whether I have any familiarity with it or not, is well-researched and presented in such a captivating manner that it makes you forget how long you've been watching the video. This one is almost 4 hours long and I've watched it in its entirety more than once.
Evermore is a "theme park" located in Utah that has undergone several changes since its initial announcement back in 2014. This video, which has a longer runtime than The Irishman, goes into acute detail about the man who cooked up the concept, the development process, its lackluster implementation, and the park's current operationally neutered state that leaves it with an extremely unstable future.
I don't know if YouTube is Jenny's main gig or not, but she should 100% be a script doctor or creative consultant. Her feedback is thoughtful and presented with purpose, not just for the sake of roasting (although she's also great at that). I'd want her to be my editor if my writing wasn't garbage lmao.
#1 Defunctland - Disney Channel's Theme: A History Mystery
youtube
If you're looking for exceptional quality YouTube content, look no farther than Defunctland. Starting out with videos focused on deprecated theme park rides, over the years they've expanded their repertoire to cover retro television shows, fast-food restaurants, and theme park management. Their series about Jim Henson is legitimately one of my favorite deep-dives on a creative. This documentary, however, may be their best work.
Defunctland has always done a phenomenal job balancing humor, history, and sentimentality in their videos. "Disney Channel's Theme: A History Mystery" is no exception, functioning as a love letter to unsung creatives whose impact is immense, but their identity hidden. By the end of this masterpiece I was crying for the legacy of a person I had no awareness of an hour and a half before. Kevin should be proud of his videos, because in the act of immortalizing the media and experiences that have influenced us the most, what truly stands out is their ability to tell the story in a way that is both effective and emotional.
Keep doing what you're doing, Defunctland. You're the best of the internet.
Also, for shits and giggles, my top-rated traditional media of 2022:
Movie: RRR
Music: Scene Queen - Bimbocore Vol. 1 and 2
Television: Shoresy
Game: The Frog Detective series and Psychonauts 2
Podcast: Ear Hustle
Book: If This Book Exists, You're in the Wrong Universe by Jason Pargin
Disclaimer: I follow a lot of excellent creators that did not make this list. If I posted every single video I liked this year we'd be here forever. If you want specific recommendations for creators in certain spaces, like crafting, beauty, animation, examining religious fundamentalism, etc, go ahead and ask me. But I think this is more than enough content to entertain you for the foreseeable future :)
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A Man After Midnight
Request: can you do a extremely dirty and down right filthy smut with dom spencer and fem/sub reader. like with heavy degradation, overstimulation, dirty talk, slapping, choking. basically just down right smut. if not it’s okay :)
A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! Fun fact: I was listening to Abba’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) slowed+reverb when I made this title because the song was doing something when I was reading this request. Feel free to listen to it while reading, it’s a BANGER! This is a longer than usual fic since all the fics I’ve published recently were shorter, but there was a lot to do here LOL And I’m posting it after midnight, so does that make me a woman after midnight? Anyway, hope you enjoy!!
Couple: Dom!Spencer/Sub Fem!Reader
Category: SMUT (NSFW 18+)
Content warning: Heavy degradation, slapping, spitting, choking, penetrative sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, female masturbation, mention of sex toys
Word count: 3k
--------------
You were laying on your couch mindlessly browsing Amazon to see what you could spend your money on now. You had a bad habit of browsing through every category when you were bored. Since you were on there though you decided to take a peek at any new sex toys they had.
You scrolled down the page filled with vibrators, dildos and other assortments of toys they were newly selling. As you scrolled you found yourself thinking of Spencer. Usually your companion on boring nights, but tonight he warned you not to bother him. He told you he was going to be busy with going through case files since he was a bit behind.
You went over to your text messages to see if he had messaged you anything after you told him you wouldn’t bother him. He hadn’t. You looked at the time and saw it was 11:40 p.m. You opened the text message you were having with Spencer. You were curious if he was still working or if he had time to acknowledge your existence. You asked him how working on the files were going and then went back to Amazon.
You continued to scroll through the sex toys as you waited for him to text back. The more you looked at the dildos on the page the more you wished Spencer was over. You two had seen each other more than usual in the past month, but it never seemed as if there was time to have sex. He had a lot of work to do outside of already working ridiculous hours. You guessed that was the downside of not going on cases frequently. You were grateful he was around to go out and hang out with, but you missed him holding you down and fucking you mindless.
You checked to see if you missed a text from him. He hadn’t texted you back. You sighed and decided to message him again. You asked him if he was busy still and waited to see if he would respond. You waited for two minutes, but didn’t receive anything back. You guessed he was still busy. You found it astonishing that even a genius like him could take so long to do these case files. He was probably flooded by them.
You sighed as you locked your phone and laid it on your chest. You closed your eyes to rest them from staring at your screen light. Your mind started to wander to the last time you and Spencer had sex. He had you bent over your couch begging him to fuck you harder and harder. He had to cover your mouth at one point because you were being so loud that your neighbours were pounding on your wall. Just the thought of his dick pounding in you got you wet.
You opened your eyes and picked back up your phone. If he wasn’t going to text you maybe he’d answer a call from you. You just wanted to hear his voice if that was the only thing he could give you. You dialed his number and put your phone against your ear as you eagerly anticipated his voice. A few rings went by before you heard him answer.
“Yes, Y/N?” He asked.
He sounded slightly annoyed, but his deep, bothered tone made your heart speed up. Hearing his tone directly in your ear was such a sweet sound. You wanted to keep him on the line as long as possible.
“You didn’t answer my text messages, so I just wanted to know if you were alright,” you said.
“I’m fine. I told you I’d be busy, so I wouldn’t be able to talk,” he said.
“I know, I know, but you could have at least texted me back saying you were still busy. Had me out here wondering things,” you said.
“Wondering things?” He questioned.
“Yeah.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know like you coming over.”
“Y/N, you know I can’t tonight.”
“Just for a little. I know you don’t go to bed early anyway. I’d love to see you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Babe, please. I want to see you tonight. I need to see you tonight.”
There was a pause on his end. His silence was killing you, but he didn’t leave you hanging for long. He let out a long sigh. He paused again before finally saying something again.
“You sound desperate. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that I want to be your little whore tonight and you’re not letting me do that for you.”
He paused again. These pauses were indicating to you that he was taking your words into consideration. You knew how much he loved when you acted like his little whore. Doing anything he asked, letting him treat you however he wanted and enjoying every bit of it.
“I don’t know. I’m already behind with-”
“Don’t you want to fuck me?”
He paused.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
“Then come over and you can fuck me however you want.”
He paused again. You sat up as you waited for his response. You could hardly maintain your cool as you licked your lips in excitement. He finally let out a long, draining sigh.
“I’ll be there a bit after midnight. You know how much I hate when you sound overly desperate.”
“You’re coming here regardless though, are you not?”
“Only to help your desperate nature.”
You giggled. “Can’t wait to see you too. I’ll make sure I’m ready for you.”
“You better. See you soon.”
Without another word exchanged, he hung up. You hopped off the couch and let out a thrill fuelled shriek. You ran to your room and went straight to your drawer. You grabbed your favourite matching bra and underwear set before heading to the washroom.
You turned on your shower to let it warm up. You stripped your clothes off and looked at yourself in the mirror. You touched your breasts and then slowly ran your hands down your sides. You couldn’t contain the feeling of ecstasy you were experiencing throughout your whole being. The thought of Spencer was enough to get you feeling like an animal.
You hopped into the shower. You let the water flow over your body as you closed your eyes. The warmth of the water was refreshing. Before you opened your eyes and begin your shower, you let your hand wander down to your clit. You started to circle it as you thought of Spencer watching you do it with concentrated eyes. You stuck two of your fingers inside of you as you continued to recount countless times Spencer had you in his grip and had his way with you.
You pumped your fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. You started moaning louder and louder. Your thoughts alone carried you to your orgasm as you let out a high pitched moan. You pulled your fingers out and let the water clean them of your juices.
After you were done showering, you put your favourite lotion on and your favourite deodorant. You then put on the bra and underwear combo. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You played around with your hair to see how sexy you could make it. Not that it mattered anyway, but you wanted to look as presentable as possible for the first few minutes of his arrival.
You went into your room and went over to your dresser. You picked out your favourite perfume and gave yourself a few sprits of it on your chest. You loved to doll yourself up before getting the shit fucked out of you because you knew how much Spencer loved making you look disheveled. He loved seeing you go from near perfect to his perfect little whore.
You heard a few knocks at your door. You felt chills crawl down your spine as you strolled over to your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing there waiting for you to let him in. You smiled and opened the door enough to let him in.
“Welcome,” you said.
He smiled at you as he walked in. You immediately closed the door and leaned your back against it with your hands placed behind your back. You stared at him as you bit your lip as he stood there all cool and collected. You knew this was the quiet before the storm.
He looked over at you. He beckoned you with a movement of his fingers to come close to him. You slowly walked up to him. You reached out your hands and pressed them against his chest. You looked lustfully into his eyes as he continued to stare intently at you.
“I’ve waited so patiently for you to fuck me, baby,” you said.
He grabbed your hands off of your chest. He held them tightly and close to his lips. He kissed your hands as he continued to look you in your eyes. You couldn’t break eye contact with him. It was as if he was looking into you.
“No, you weren’t. You’re too calm now. Did you masturbate before I came?” He asked.
“No,” you lied.
In one swift motion, he let go of your hands and took his right hand to grab your neck firmly. You let out a gasp as he pulled your face close to him. Just by him doing that you were back to feeling your juices in-between your legs.
“You’re such a lying little whore. Did I teach you to lie to me?” He asked.
“No,” you squeaked.
“Then why did you lie?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” you said.
“On your knees,” he demanded.
You dropped to your knees as he let go of your neck. You already knew the drill, so you opened your mouth wide and waited. He undid his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. The sight of his dick got you revved up and ready to start the night ahead.
He grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head forward, so your mouth could swallow him whole. You choked on his dick as it reached the back of your throat. He kept it there for a while as he listened to you choke on his cock. He pulled you off of him and watched as a string of spit connected your mouth to his dick.
“What happens when you lie to me?” He asked.
“I choke on your dick,” you said.
He responded by shoving your mouth back on his dick. You gagged on it as you felt tears sting your eyes. Saliva dripped from the side of your mouth and went down your chin all the way to your breasts. He soon rocked his hips back and forth so he could fuck your mouth.
“You think you’re smart enough to outwit me? Let this be a reminder of your place as my little whore,” he said.
You moaned around his cock in agreement. You reached your hands towards his thighs for some stability. He pulled you off of his cock and slapped you before grabbing your chin, so you could face him.
“Hands behind your back, whore,” he demanded.
You did as he said and held your hands behind your back. You opened back up your mouth for him and he gladly went back to fucking your mouth. As he kept hitting the back of your throat, you could feel the tears stream down your eyes and it mixed with the saliva dripping down the side of your mouth.
He pulled your head off of him and held your head back, so you could look up at him. He looked at the tears running down your face. He then looked at your saliva running down your chin and running onto your breasts.
“Tell me what you think you look like right now,” he said.
“Like a disgusting whore,” you responded.
“You do,” he said.
He let go of your hair and grabbed your chin. He leaned down and gave you a hot and heavy kiss with his tongue, not shying away from tackling yours. He parted his lips from yours. He didn’t move his face far away from yours though. He squeezed your jaw, so you could keep your mouth open. A stream of his spit went into your mouth and you gladly let it fall on your tongue before swallowing.
“But you’re my disgusting whore. Tell me, what else were you doing before I came and tell me the truth,” he said.
“I was looking at sex toys,” you confessed.
“That’s how desperate you were? You were going to order sex toys instead of waiting for me to satisfy you?” He asked.
“I promise I wasn’t going to buy anything, baby. You’re the only thing that can satisfy me,” you said.
“Is that so?” He asked.
“Yes, I’m only for you. I’m only happy when you fuck me. My little whore pussy is only for you, I swear,” you said.
“Get up,” he demanded.
You shot up from your kneeling position and he immediately pushed you backward until your back hit the wall. He wrapped his big hand around your neck as his other hand went down to your clit and started to circle it. You let out a squeaky moan as he looked at your desperate expression.
“Tell me what you masturbated to,” he demanded.
“I-I…you,” you moaned.
He started to circle your clit faster. “What did the little whore squeak?”
“You,” you shrieked.
“And what about me?”
“I was thinking…a-about how…you f-f-fuck me.”
He slipped two of his long fingers in you. You let out a loud moan as he started to rapidly pump in and out of you. The way he looked at you with desire in his eyes made you soaking wet.
“How do I fuck you?”
“Like a whore. Like the fucking whore I am.”
“What makes you a fucking whore?”
“Because I love getting stuffed with dick. I do anything to get fucked.”
“What makes you my little whore?”
“I love being fucked by you. I do anything you want to just be close to your dick.”
He attacked you with another aggressive kiss as he continued his pace with his fingers in you. You could feel a tingling sensation running through you again. You knew he wasn’t going to stop though. He wanted to be the one to make you cum this time. You were glad to make him be the one to make you cum this time.
He pulled his fingers out prematurely. You let out an unsatisfied groan as he parted his lips from yours. He heard you and that came with repercussions. He gave you another slap on your cheek with the hand he just pulled out of you.
“Keep complaining and I won’t fuck you at all,” he said as he licked off your juices from his fingers.
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” you said.
“You’re lucky I want to fuck the shit out of you. Take off your underwear and bra,” he said as he let go of your neck.
You unhooked your bra and then pulled down your underwear. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in for another quick heavy kiss before leading you over to your kitchen table. You felt your blood pumping through your veins. You could tell you were about to get fucked hard. Whenever it wasn’t in the bedroom it was a sex act of pure, heavy lustful desire.
He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head down on the table. The rest of your torso fell onto the table as he positioned himself behind you. He slapped your butt cheek.
“Open your legs,” he said.
You spread your legs open and felt his dick ram inside of you. You let out a shriek as he continued to pound into you with such a great force you swear the table was moving with every thrust. He lifted your head up from the table, so your neck was bent back. It was bent far enough back so he could look at you desperately letting out your wild shrieks.
“This is how a whore gets fucked,” he said.
“I deserve it. I’ve been such a bad whore,” you said.
You felt his free hand go back to your clit. He rubbed circles around it and watched as you could barely form anything coherent to say. He smirked down at you.
“You can redeem yourself by cumming on the dick you love so much,” he said.
He didn’t even have to circle your clit for long. The look in his eyes mixed with the already lingering feeling of an orgasm from not too long ago sent you to your limit. You let out a scream as he continued to pound into you as you let your orgasm take over your body.
“That’s a good whore. Do you want my cum in you or on you?” He asked
“I-In…” Was all you could muster up to say.
“I knew a whore like you would want all my cum in you.”
“I-I…I love…love your cum.”
He smiled as he leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss. “I know, you usually want to swallow it.”
“I…I want it…I want it to drip…out of my…”
“Shh, I know,” he said.
He planted a few kisses on your neck as he began to pound into you harder. You were screaming at that point from the feeling of his dick destroying you. Your nails were scratching the table as you tried to keep your balance. He let out a loud moan and you could feel his cum release into you.
He let go of your hair and pulled out of you. You felt his cum dripping out of you and you knew he was watching it drip out of you from behind. He then grabbed your arm to turn you around, so you could face him.
He smiled at you. “Is this what you so desperately wanted? This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
You gave him an exhausted smile. “I wanted to be your little whore tonight.”
He leaned down and kissed you. “You were a very good little whore tonight.”
“Does that mean a round two is up for discussion?” You asked.
He chuckled. “How about we get cleaned up and we cuddle instead?”
“Can I be your little cuddle whore at least?”
“Of course.”
—–
MASTERLIST
#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#dr.spencer reid#Spencerreid#Criminal Minds#criminalminds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#mgg#Matthew Gray Gubler#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader
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