#might be a beautiful mush but a mush nonetheless
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So, trying to remake HGS is a bit hard cause it's a delicate line between adding some changes and just making a whole different story with different characters that happens to have the same name
I'm trying to let the beginning of the story stay the same for the most part, cause I'm trying to make a reboot not a rewritting or sm, but at the same time if I want to add lore and a conflict I have to change many things and even get rid of few characters
For example, aloe can't exist (at least not in lyngarth) or else she will kind of destroy the lore I'm writing for the elves, and if I were to add her her design will look different to fit in with my image of the snow elves
Also anise too is a bit awkward looking in the show, since she is a punk in a traditional magical world, and she isn't really needed as rosemary and sage have a dorm already, and she might not fit into the lore I have for sages family
With that being said, I may include her, but I really hate making big redesigns for characters (cause they don't feel like themselves if I did anything too big) so I'll have to think of a believable reason so as to why this punk girl is among peasant looking people
And that's just two characters who barely have a role in the show, and I have to try and fit every character to the lore of it's species and to the lore of the character itself and the rules of the world and it's magic (seriously the demon teacher is giving me a bit of a headache ugh) and not to forget to find a conflict (cause the show didn't have the time to show us much about the big bad guy) and I'm still not sure on what to do with slime boy or alastor
(seriously tho the way I will go about with slime boy's past will be the moment the story and it's conflict is set in stone)
Also I just suck at coming up with ideas for episodic adventures lol
#the characters and their relationship will change too#the characteristics will stay the same for the most part#just with more definintion#but the backstories will be played with#and boy do i have something in store for each of them#especially sage#also i dont like adding ocs that much but at some point ill have to if i want the story to work#but not till later on hopefully#the biggest issue is finding the moral i wanna share#cause a story without it is just a bunch of words mushed together#might be a beautiful mush but a mush nonetheless#also im losing my art capabilities#high guardian herbs#high guardian spice#high guardian spice reboot
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The realities of life come hurtling down with no mercy, and the progress you believed to have achieved crashed and burned right before you. But for once, Eddie Munson is there to give you the one thing you’ve been yearning for: stability. Because Eddie Munson loves y...
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, brief alcohol consumption, brief mentions of drugs, depression, bullying, strained parental relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, mentions of parental death, mentions of driving under the influence, and mentions of childhood abuse and neglect.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | And that’s the end! I truly will not be able to formulate the right words to express just how utterly thankful I am to all of you who have shown your support and love on my first series! I am forever grateful, thank you. I love you all! Also, I had my little Breakfast Club moment at the end. Also, I added a small allusion to Shrek, I'M SORRY! I was watching it while writing.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭
“Hmmm…”
Surely—only in the logistics that was Eddie Munson’s mind, of course—anyone could decipher the underlying “fuck off” that was spoken into that quiet, drawn out hum that Eddie’s sleeping state grumbled out from the comfort of his bed. But it was evident that his uniquely catered Eddie Munson language got lost in translation, because whoever was creating that grating, jarring, and abrasive knocking clearly was not smart enough to interpret his message, he came to the conclusion. Totally not because it was just a sleepy murmur… totally not. Nonetheless, the corrugated wood of his front door was rattling harshly under the fervent hits of bare knuckles, seemingly also bringing awareness to the repeated request to tighten the door hinges from Uncle Wayne to his forgetful nephew, though that ask fell quite redundant on deaf ears- well, until now, of course.
Maybe if Eddie waited long enough they’d go away.
No, they didn’t.
“Fuck me, man.” He complained with a yawn. Truthfully, Eddie would like to say his slumber came about under the guise that it had been a long day, I mean, hey, rule number four of the Munson Doctrine specifically states a tired man deserves a restful hours long nap, should it ever be brought up with complaints from another party member. But the honesty of the inner workings of his mind actually proffered the idea of sleep to fill the gaps in which you were not in his company. After you had left his trailer, Eddie had plopped on his bed with a pained groan of pure longing for you to just return and stay with him forever. He missed your pretty face. Your mawkish voice. Your saccharine smile that just made all his insides turn into a mush of gooiness. Sleep gave him the ability to close his eyes and transport his subconscious into another reality where you were laying delicately in his arms, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, lips pushed into a pout as they smushed against his naked chest with little breaths tickling his skin, and you were just losing all your worries in the solace of his heavy arms wrapped around you in protection against all the evils of the world that could hurt such a beautiful person. And also, sleeping through the evening allowed Eddie to stay up all night, which for whatever reason enabled his mind to formulate the most insanely creative ideas of his upcoming campaign, because, honestly, who could conjure up the idea of hooded cultists who hail a so called Lord Vecna at two in the afternoon? Not anyone sane, that’s for sure. The ominous hour of 3:00 a.m was a profoundly better time for ingenious ideas to flow. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone. But that’s all besides the point.
“Jesus shit, dude, fucking relax.” He aimed against the knocking perpetrator. Eddie groggily stood on wobbly legs, the sensations of pins and needles nestling into his toes, as his bare feet trudged their way through piles of clothes and thrown magazines.
Reaching the doorway of his bedroom, his movements came to a halt, he needed a good stretch before cursing a neighbor out for disrupting his peace. He had his bets that it was surely the recently converted Jehovah Witness that lived three trailers down, who made it her mission to “condemn the devil within and save him from satan.” One time, Wayne even caught the middle-aged woman sprinkling holy water around the Munson trailer during the time Eddie decided to practice his guitar just a little too loud. His tired muscles burned with the extensibility of his reaching movement; back popping with a deep arch, elbows cracking as his arms turned up to the sky, and a waking yawn to resume his conscious breathing. Padding his way to the front door, his left hand rubbed the dry remnants of sleep from his eyes, as his right hand eased the harsh reddening imprints of his jeans on his abdomen with hard scratches. He really should have taken off his belt before a nearly two hour long nap.
The rapid knocking was really starting to piss him off. It had been reaching the five minute mark, couldn’t people pick up the point that someone didn’t want to be bothered? “Oh, my god.” Eddie sighed with a heavy breath, clinched eyes to attenuate the pounding headrush that coincidentally became worse with every deafening knock. His heavy hand slammed onto the door knob with a cruel twist.
“What the fuck is wrong with- oh.” It was you. Fist frozen in the air, but it had quickly fallen from the opening of the swinging door. You flinched at the sudden ambush. “Sh-shit, sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”
“No, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can leave, I shouldn’t bother-”
“No, no, no, no.” The sound of your quiet, nasally voice had upset his stomach with worry. “C’mon in.” His body moved for your entrance. Upon seeing you in the glowing lowlight of the yellow lamps across his living room, Eddie was able to make out the redness of your eyes, followed by your creasing eyebrows that seemed to find no moment of peace to relax. “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?”
He hadn’t meant to upset you further, but his gentle prodding question seemed to elicit your pent up emotions, and your face immediately crashed into the palms of your hands, as tears began making their pounding way out with choking sobs that you attempted to conceal. Eddie had no hesitation rushing his arms around you, where your stature had just given up in the embrace of his warm body. Your drenched lashes seeped through your fingers, spreading their salty wetness across the expanse of his naked chest, his lips pressing into the crown of your head, where he inhaled the sweetness of your lingering smell that he was just dreaming about merely two minutes ago, and his large hands raced around the canvas of your back to give you the comfort neither of you were ever privileged with as lonely children.
You were in utter distraughtness…
-
Four Days Earlier
That following Tuesday after your return to Hawkins High you got slapped in the face with the biases of privilege, as Jason Carver smiled at you after leaving the front office from a meeting with Principal Higgins during the school day. Believing your hopes of finally having the world align to the imperative need of justice you felt were deserved for Eddie Munson, others… and yourself came to be too good to be true after Ms. Kelly had called you into her office. Before you, it was Martin Valencia, sophomore, who detailed the accounts of when Jason threatened the boy because he stood too close to jock’s locker. Then, Nathan Werner, senior, lamented the numerous times Jason and his posse would throw bits of food at his lunch table under the guise of just “messing around.” Tracy Owens, freshman, spoke of when unsolicited comments about her body were hurled against her when she stepped out of her comfort zone and wore a dress she felt pretty in. Because of Jason’s words, Tracy never wore that dress again. Then it was you. Ms. Kelly had used the term “anonymous tip” to explain your visit to her office, but Eddie Munson’s name was written all over it. Unless, of course, a bystander had felt bad for the agenda that was being pushed against you before and prior to your suspension, but that wouldn’t occur in the bubble of Hawkins High. No, you knew this nameless hero came forward—completely unbeknownst to him, funny enough—with the purest intentions of explaining your hurt to invigorate the importance as to why he cared so much about you that it reflected in his actions. Why he couldn’t bear to see you pained by the abhorrent actions of angry men, because he’d been there. He’s fallen victim and he’s victimized. But that wasn’t who he was anymore- it wasn’t who he ever wanted to be. So, Eddie Munson spoke. Even though he didn’t want to throw your name out there without your permission, his words were clear enough to pick you out.
Subtly may not have been in his skillset, but at least compassion was. Even if he was still learning.
Truthfully, you were wavering between the feelings of anger and relief upon initial arrival. While the notion of speaking to a licensed counselor for the guidance and understanding the troubles within seemed essential for your progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being cornered when your name echoed through the intercom. You wanted to speak on your own terms. Choosing when and how. And the abruptness of your visit felt more like an intervention, though Ms. Kelly was firm with her assurance that your personal feelings were not going to be psychoanalyzed without your consent, and you were merely appreciated for any input you could provide about the bullying that was from Jason Carver.
So, as Eddie Munson had done, you spoke. Finally.
But the reality of life came crashing down as you were humiliated with the fact that all that strength you mustered to be vulnerable about the hurt and pain inflicted onto you by a schoolmate ultimately meant nothing in the eyes of the authorities when Jason Carver ultimately got off scot-free. Despite her best efforts, Ms. Kelly presented the finding of what’s been going on with the rightful opinion of suspension as consequence, but her professional judgment had proved to mean nothing when Coach Monaghan had reminded Principal Higgins of the upcoming semi-finals that their star player couldn’t miss.
Jason Carver’s suspension declined into two days of detention.
Reality, too, had devastatingly slapped Ms. Kelly in the face. No title. No profession. Not even her degree could trample the opinion of a white man with a promise to bring home a trophy. She was a woman, a woman of color who resided in the rurality of Indiana. This had been the verity of life for Ms. Kelly. For Chrissy Cunningham. For you. Looped and controlled into an endless cycle of becoming puppets for puppeteers who felt that a total of four inches between their legs somehow made them superior.
But who were you guys to let them have a say in the show?
Chrissy Cunningham had made her strong decision to leave a relationship that hegemonized her will. You were on the course to liberate yourself from the appalling titles that tried to demean your worthiness. And Ms. Kelly would have her power when principal evaluations would circle at the end of the school year. Retirement would be hurtling early for Principal Higgins.
“It fucking sucks doesn’t it?” Eddie Munson had found you on the bleachers after cheer practice, as everyone but you began clearing out for the day. Marinating in your sweat under a blistering sun surely would be enough to send you to the showers, but on days like these, simply sitting and reflecting was enough to just be… enough for the day.
You didn’t even have to ask to elaborate, as he sat down next to you. You understood. “I took a picture of you and your friends and I got a week of suspension, ugh.” You threw your head back, as he chuckled at your exasperation.
“That was totally out of jealousy, looked way too sexy in that photo, of course, it pissed Higgins off.” That was able to get a sweet giggle out of you, and Eddie swooned at the sound.
“Well, it was a very… nice picture of you.” You smiled, before containing an even bigger grin with a bite to your lip, which had Eddie piquing with surprise.
“Wait, really?” He sprung up, his back jumping into the straightest posture it ever had been before. “Because, y’know, I was totally just kidding, but you- you just admitted that I was sexy-”
“I did not say those words!” You protested with a bubble of laughter.
“Nah, nah, nah,” Eddie waved his finger in your face, “you can’t take that back, sweetheart, you totally think I’m sexy.” He puffed the lapels of leather jacket, which was surely too hot to be wearing in the spring weather.
“Oh, whatever.” Your effusive voice too giggly for the faux groan of annoyance you attempted to portray, but the fluttering butterflies stewing in your belly were ready to contradict any reservations you planned on having with him; your body was clearly ready to open itself up to him.
“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t try to deny it, it’ll do you no good.” He smirked. Soon, a prodding tongue peaked from his lips to indicate his venture as to how he was going to convey his next words correctly without turning into a nervous mess. Maybe it was still too early to ask you his impeding question. Maybe you would flat out say no to his face. Maybe hearing and processing the rejection was needed for his progress. Maybe- just maybe, you would actually say yes and his throat would constrict with anxious nerves. Maybe he should just take the leap. “Y’know, some scientists actually say that tagging along with the ever so devastatingly handsome man you think is sexy to, I don’t know, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, is actually a good way of dealing with, y’know… tingling feelings.”
Oh, he was so close to being smooth, but he was internally dying at his poor choice of words that had you dying of laughter at him. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight enough he’d get sucked up into a blackhole and he wouldn’t have to relish on the fact that he just uttered the words “tingling feelings.”
“Aw,” you beamed with amusement, “like a date?”
If Eddie Munson couldn’t suave his way out of embarrassment, he sure could joke his way out of eternal misery. “Woah, no!” He fervently shook his head. “I believe that’s something that happens when two people like each other. And, c’mon, that’s totally not us. We’re buddies!”
“Oh, right.” You nodded along to his sarcastic logic that made you gush inside. “Well, that’s actually really good, because since we’re friends we can tell each other about our secret crushes, right?” Eddie’s lips completely folded within themselves to hide his ebullient smile. “See, there’s this guy, pretty tall, he’s got this whole Van Halen wannabe hair-” you couldn’t contain your giggles as his mouth dropped with dramatic flare, and his hand held his heart with pain.
“Kirk Hammet, this dude would prefer Kirk Hammet.” Eddie corrected matter-of-factly.
“Ugh, he's got this Kirk Hammet wannabe hairstyle-”
“Much better, keep going.” He chimed in with approval and encouragement.
You could only playfully roll your eyes in retaliation. “Anyways, he’s also super funny- oh, a fully decked out metalhead, and, you know, just a little bit… sexy.” Eddie got full merriment from seeing you suddenly shy away from the revelation, just belting a trading laugh at your banter. “So! As a friend, Mr. Munson,” you pulled him back to the topic, “do you have any tips on how to get him on a date with me?”
“Well,” Eddie tittered with a breathy sigh, “hypothetically- theoretically- if it ever were to randomly occur- just in case he were to ever ask you out to, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, I personally think you should go with him.” He rejoiced proudly.
You giggled before sincerely smiling at him. He was so unbearably cute. It stung to have to turn him down. “I’d love to go with you, Eddie, but…” his grin had slowly began to drop, “I’m still very much grounded and confined to my room. It’s school and practice, that’s it.” You despairingly reminded.
Eddie let out a disappointed breath through his nose, nodding to affirm his understanding, though mumbling a small “prick” at the allusion to your father.
“I’m really sorry, Eddie, maybe another time we-”
“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He interjected. “Don’t apologize or try to, like, make it up to me, it’s not your job to do any of that, it’s okay.” Eddie managed to speak out with a small smile. Though it wasn’t a direct no, he was accepting it, letting it be spoken without interference from his anger. This was a part of his learning. This was a part of his growth.
“The day will come for us.” You reached for his hand, and his eyes stayed connected to the delicate movements of your small fingers playing with his ringed ones, as he situated himself in the intoxicating sparkling feeling that was igniting just from touching your skin. “You know, when we can properly go out… as friends who don't like each other.”
Eddie chortled a smile. “Totally platonic." He joked. "Buddies even. Like brother and sister-” Your suddenly scrunched face of cringe had Eddie immediately reeling back his words. “Wait! Wait, no! Too far- too gross, I took it too far, I’m sorry! Sweetheart, I’ve never spoken to a girl before!”
“Eddie!” Your cheeks burned with laughter.
-
Eddie’s chest was heaving heavily under your crying face, as he attempted to minimize his panic for your sake. He had just dreamed of a perfect reality in which you came back into his arms, filling in that empty hole in his heart with all your love and care that he fully intended to return three times greater. But this isn’t what he wanted- how he wanted it to happen. You, pained by some evil that hurt you to the point of sobs, he hated seeing it. His hands raked over your head, trying to smooth the shaking mess that you were, before cupping your hot face and maneuvering you away from the comfort of his chest. “Honey, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.” His thumbs smeared the tears that tainted your cheeks. “Okay? Are you hurt? Something happen? Did someone- did he touch you? Please!” His round eyes frantically roamed your face for answers, but he was only met with sniffling sobs. “C’mon, baby, please just breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”
You fervently shook your head. “I-I can’t go back- back home. P-please, Eddie, don’t make me go back.”
“No, no, no, no, I won’t.” He shoved you back into the warmth of his body, arms cascading around your trembling figure to ease you into peace and safety. “It’s okay, just stay here with me.” He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, where you simply let yourself get lost in the engulfing waft of cheap cologne and cigarettes. “Just stay here with me.”
Minutes had passed where he took responsibility of gently rocking your conjoined bodies side to side with ease in the middle of his living room. He didn’t prod any further, simply letting your emotions cry out in a safe environment, where they would be understood and appreciated for their strong efforts of being vulnerable. Maybe then, he’d ask. When your breathing settled, when your eyes didn’t sting with fuzzy vision, when air could properly heave in through your nose and out from your mouth, when you could gather your thoughts and articulate your words, when you could just be okay.
Just as you always dreamed.
It was devastating that a kind person like you couldn't be granted a simple ask: to just be okay.
Eddie felt your lips move, as you mumbled into his chest. He delicately pulled away to see your wet face, “What?”
“I-I said, um, I didn’t bring- I don’t have anything with me, l-like clothes.” You sniffled, as you wiped your noise with your sleeve.
“Oh, uh, okay, that’s fine, do you want to borrow some of mine- it’s okay, really-”
“I promise it’ll only be for one night!” You worried interjected. “I-I’ll leave first thing in the morning, and I’ll figure something out by then-”
“Okay, no.” Eddie immediately stopped your rambling. “You have to tell me what the hell is going on, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” His hands firmly gripped your shoulders, so he wouldn’t be tempted to bring you back into his embrace and possibly wash over the issue at hand because he had you in his arms again. As much as he really wanted it, he really needed to know what was hurting you to the point of sobs and desperation.
“Eddie, my dad…” You had begun to blubber with a sense of shame, because in all honesty, you were embarrassed about the unfolding events of your life. Normalcy, why couldn’t you just be someone normal, be someone with a normal life, with normal parents, with the stability of just being loved and understood and not followed by animosity? What- what could possibly be so wrong with you that people hated you? How terrible of a person were you that you were deserving of all this hatred? “He kicked me out, h-he doesn’t want me!”
In a matter of days, your progress- that progress you were so proud of for enduring, was taking a steep hit to rock bottom, where you felt you were just going to rot in the depths of nothingness, where no light of life could revive you. Everything you had ever worked on was slipping into the abyss at high speed, and the breaks were refusing to stop.
You were crashing into despair.
-
Two Days Prior
The balmy Thursday afternoon felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to what was Tuesday’s scorching humidity that had been suffocating the small town since the coming of spring. Though slugging through Hawkins High’s poor excuse of a courtyard alongside Chrissy Cunningham to reach the end goal of the football field for practice felt exceedingly unbearable, after your confiding revelation brought forward an onslaught of urging requests from your bubbly friend: your father would be going out of town that Friday.
“Come on, just do it!” Her hand tightly gathered around your arm, where you became suddenly aware of just how strong she was, as her insistent movements left you shaking in her grasp. “It’s not like he’s going to say no, he's the one that asked you out first! I mean, your first date together, that’s so cute!” She swooned.
“Not a first date.” You quickly interjected. “Very much a friends hanging out thing.” It may have been easy to joke about it that earlier Tuesday, but suddenly reveling in the idea that it could very well be considered a date—hell, it was—had your tummy stirring with queasiness.
“Oh, please.” Chrissy laughed. “You guys can tiptoe around your feelings all you want, but everyone knows it’s so obvious. What’s so wrong with admitting it?”
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” Last time the admission of feelings came about, Eddie Munson had drunkenly confessed the entirety of his problems in your bedroom in the dead of night. And while you both have accomplished the responsibility of recognizing that moment of brutal vulnerability as a stepping stone to receiving help, it doesn’t derail from the fact that whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson was built on a foundation of troubled minds fueled by hatred and anger. The fear of potentially reverting back to the people you both used to be kept shouting at you in the depths of your mind. It was cemented that as a couple, your relationship couldn’t reflect that of a sweet high school romance- no, you and Eddie Munson were not granted that privilege of peace, and your relationship would be stalked into a corner where all the bubble worlds of Hawkins, Indiana would unite together to yell, stab, slaughter, and shoot you both down with the lasting promise that neither of you were wanted in their town, especially not together. And this wasn’t a matter of if it were to happen- this was going to happen, bound to by the reality of life, and when it does, would Eddie Munson stick by your side or run? “…I just don’t want anything bad to happen, Chris.”
“Okay, look,” she stopped you, and watched every other cheerleader in front of you walk with notice of you two behind, “I know what this is about.” She huffed with certainty. “You’re scared you’re going to end up like me and Jason.”
“Huh?”
Oh, Chrissy Cunningham, she truly did have a caring heart. “It’s okay, I promise. But I can assure you guys are nothing like me and Jason, so that won’t happen.” It had just dawned on that she actually had no grasp as to what had occurred between you and Eddie. The yelling, the even more yelling after the cafeteria incident, the inebriated word vomit- nothing. She genuinely knew nothing about the gravity of the situation. And it truly was not her fault, in fact, you liked that she didn’t know the extent of it. What happened between you and Eddie stayed between you and Eddie.
So you simply nodded along. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess.”
And bless her, she was there to help you. “Look, Eddie is nothing like Jason, okay? He doesn’t care about what people think or say. He tried really hard to make it up to you for whatever he did, I don’t know, but either way he really tries. I mean, he literally hunted me down just to make sure you were okay. What has Jason ever done? Ask you what my favorite color is so he could act like he knows me and win me over?” She laughed with a scoff. “Please don’t let the people in this town dictate your happiness. Eddie likes you for you, and you two deserve to be happy with each other.”
She may not have had the clearest indications as to what was actually pestering your mind with fear, but her intentions of helping did place clarity on the uncertainty that was Eddie Munson. Her words and his actions truly illustrated the assiduous effort Eddie was enduring for the sake of his and your’s stability. Trust is a profoundly scary skill to embark on with another person, but the basis of security and love that would blossom from assurance in one another was a journey so devastatingly beautiful, it would heal the longing within both of you.
Eddie Munson laid his cards out with a terrifying layer of vulnerability. If he was doing it- working through the painful excursion into trusting you, the least you could do was reciprocate the effort. You were ready to trust Eddie Munson.
“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft smile, “yeah, I know, Chrissy, thank you. I’ll be sure-”
“To tell him?!” She perked up with a squeal. “You’ll tell Eddie that you can go on the date?!”
You chortled in disbelief. “Yes, I’ll tell him, leave the energy for practice.”
“Do it! Do it now!” She begged you, once again, your limbs were taken into her grasp and she was shaking you into oblivion. “Please!”
“We’re literally on our way to practice right now, I’ll do it afterwards.” You giggled, as you dragged her to catch up with the rest of the girls.
“But what if he leaves before us?!”
Eddie Munson had surely not left before you guys. It had occurred in the split second after Coach Hannigan had aggressively blown spit through her whistle to call for a break mid session, that instead of running to the designated drink cooler that became quickly surrounded by sweaty cheerleaders, you instead ignored the blatant thirst that burned your throat to dedicate a couple seconds of your time to run to the football field’s gated entrance. It was then, you caught sight of the still parked van that belonged to your metalhead, heating up in the blistering sun in the same parking spot it reserved when Eddie first arrived at school that early morning. Now, assuming you saw correctly, Coach Hannigan’s watch had indicated the time in which Eddie’s scheduled meeting with Ms. Kelly was surely to be over with. Why was Eddie Munson seemingly hanging around the halls of Hawkins High, especially when he made his disdain for the school very public, you weren’t sure. And with complete honesty, there was a part of you that wished he would have just gone home, so you wouldn’t be faced with the nervousness of having to ask him out. In retrospect, you knew just how much Eddie would like hanging out with you, and that warmed your heart, but the chances of him potentially saying no still lingered on a low chance. And that, in itself, was terrifying.
Practice had come to a hurtling end far quicker than you had anticipated, and Chrissy Cunningham was wielding all cheer captain authority to make sure you were placed in front of a shower head before they all got claimed by girls ready to leave. She’d even tasked herself with the responsibility of locating where the man was lurking, which evidently came to your dismay when her intelligent skills proffered her return in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Your shirt hadn’t even been placed on by then. And as wonderful as it would have been to discredit her “he’s in the drama room, I heard him playing music in there,” with your logical, “that could be anyone, Chris, you don’t know that it’s him,” you knew she was right. One day, you’d thank her for this, but right now, you were urging her to just let it go.
Chrissy Cunningham had used that newfound strength of hers to all but push you into the direction of the drama room, the one you hadn’t stepped foot in in a little over four years when you were asked to build sets for A Midsummer Night’s Dream for your elective art class during freshman year. And Chrissy had been right. Music was drowning its way through the closed doorway of the prop room, where the distinct screaming voices of men surely indicated itself to be muffled metal music which was in particular interest to Hawkins’ local metalhead. There was no turning back now. Chrissy had even assured to lay your father out with an excuse of “girl problems” to explain your unwanted lateness to the punctual man.
So you stood in the empty hall, long after the dragging time of school hours, with your fist hesitantly making your presence known to the man on the other side. You opened the door shortly after, where you came face-to-face with a confused Eddie, who’s features quickly melted into a sickly smile upon landing on you. His fingers worked quickly to turn down a dusty radio that had once been squashed under theatrical masks and vibrant feather boas in the corner of the room. “Hey, sweetheart.” And it was then you wondered why you had been nervous all along, when his simple greeting seemed to have placed you into ease with no uncertainty from your body.
“Hi,” you closed the door behind you, as he stood from throne King Duncan once sat during Hawkins High’s very first—and last—remediation of Macbeth, when Kevin Kavaugh’s baby face held no grip to the fake beard that once belonged to a Santa Claus costume and it had slipped off during Act 1 Scene 2. Not to mention when Lady Macbeth had to die a scene early because Carly Bennett hurled her lunch due to the numerous eyes awaiting her to speak her line. “Um, sorry for interrupting.”
Eddie Munson wasn’t having any of that, as he rounded the table he was once sat at to meet you in the middle. “No, no, my time has gotten much better since the mere second you walked your pretty self in here.” He smiled down, with a grin that just made your face heat and gain the inability to look him in the eyes.
And it was because you were shying away, refusing to meet his teasing stare, your eyes caught sight of the work he’d been displaying on the table behind him. “What are you working on?” You invited.
“Just settin’ up for my campaign tomorrow night.” He notified, as he sat half of his bottom onto the edge of the table with crossed arms.
Taking in his words, you finally peered up at him with round, crestfallen eyes. “Oh.” You heavily sighed. “So, you’re going to be busy all night tomorrow?”
“Yeah, basically.” He nodded. “DnD campaigns can last for hours, which is why I’m settin’ up early. Still gotta meeting with Ms. K, so I don’t wanna waste any time. Figured putting everything up would be easier. Finish with counseling and head straight into DMing, y’know, Dungeon Master n’ all.” He proudly pointed at himself.
And your obvious response of another despondent “oh” had clearly railed Eddie into a small frenzy of concern.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He suddenly stood again. “Are you okay?
“No, no.” You quickly assured him into ease. “I was just, um- it’s stupid really, well, it doesn’t matter s-since you’re busy and I don’t want to disrupt your plans, but, um, I just thought it would be a good idea to go out- or hang out, you know, tomorrow, like, together or whatever to the Hideout like you wanted.” Mrs. Crosby, your Public Speaking teacher from the tenth grade, who used to parade you around as a model student who spoke so clearly and concisely with confidence, would surely be disappointed at the sentence you just uttered.
Not Eddie Munson, though. No, in fact, Eddie Munson was grinning ear to ear with a teasingly amused smirk at your sudden shyness, something his insides were melting and reveling in, especially knowing he was the cause of your flusterness. So you surely didn’t appreciate his, “Holy fuck, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Refusing to let him see your heated face, you hid away in the comfort of your hands with a whine. “Stop!” But his snickering laugh was failing to cease. “You’re being mean!”
“Aw, no, c’mon, sweetheart, let me see your pretty face.” He smiled, gently grasping your wrist at an attempt to pull them away.
“You’re not helping by saying that.” Your muffled complaint had him chuckling, as he worked to pry your hands away, leaving your face vulnerable to his lovesick smile.
“There she is.” And for a split second, everything was quiet. Neither of you spoke, but rather lavished in the couple seconds in which you both peered at each with mesmerized eyes, because though it was never verbalized, neither of you could believe that you had each other. Eddie cleared his throat. “Um, could you ask me that again?”
You giggled in disbelief. “Are you trying to torture me?”
“Of course, not.” Eddie laughed. “But this is quite literally the first—and probably only—time a girl will ask me out- let alone one as gorgeous as you, so c’mon, hit me with it. I wanna bask in the feelings.”
“Oh, god, you’re ridiculous.” You delicately chuckled, but Eddie was still awaiting your invite with a large smile to ease you into your words. You sighed with a grin that matched his, and gave him your full attention as you looked up into his dough eyes. “Will you, Eddie Munson…” you trailed off into a small giggle, “…go on a date with me tomorrow?”
“Yes, absolutely.” And that answer, you weren’t expecting.
“What? No!” You quickly interjected. “Your campaigns tomorrow, you can’t go.”
Eddie laughed, “Isn’t there a game tomorrow you’re supposed to be cheering at? When exactly were you expecting to go out with me when we’re both busy?”
“Uh, well, yeah, but the game doesn’t start till six, I figured we’d go to the Hideout before then, you know, after school?” You reasoned your thinking, but Eddie still couldn’t contain his chuckles.
“Y’know, you really are so fucking cute, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Nobody goes to the Hideout in the afternoon, it’s a bar, more of a nighttime thing.”
You scoffed incredulously with a lingering beam. “Oh, well, excuse me, you’re the one that suggested it in the first place. I’ve never been, I was just trying to be nice and go along with your request.”
“Oh, I know, honey, you’re just the sweetest.” He softly spoke, as he stepped closer, leaving you to truly crane your neck to meet his smile. “So, after my campaign, after your game, we’ll go.”
“Yeah?” God, Eddie Munson was truly baffled by the idea that you, someone so utterly enthralling who had the purest heart of good and acceptance, was questioning the validity of his statement of wanting to go out with you. He should be questioning you- questioning the world of what granted him the right to get to know or even go out with you. But this was a part of his journey. Eddie Munson was deserving of good things, and so were you. And while the both of you could easily fall into an endless hole of overthinking your worthiness for each other, it would ultimately do no good. As the wise words of Chrissy Cunningham once said, you and Eddie Munson were deserving of happiness. And you both had been put through too much to let that chance slip away because of fear. Eddie was told to face it, and he was. You were strong enough to do the same.
So, Eddie Munson confirmed your questions with an affirming nod that spoke everything he needed to before he took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’ll be okay? I don’t want to put you in a dangerous position.” His fingers gently touched the tips of yours, where they met on the old wood of the table.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You softly spoke with a delicate smile. “I actually wanted to tell you that my dad will be leaving town Friday for work, so… we can have our day.”
“Perfect.” Eddie whispered into the air, and you watched his large eyes flicker to your lips, where they linger just long enough to spark the atmosphere with palpable tension. It had dawned on you just how close he stood, chest puffed to yours, where his wrinkled band t-shirt gently caressed the basic top you had changed into, and this spark was heavily enticing your lips to just finally give in to all desires and crash into peaceful bliss- but not right now. As Eddie’s head slowly leaned in, you had to reel back. For now, at least.
“Um,” Eddie immediately halted his movements from the clarity of the moment, and drew back.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “so, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you-”
“No, no, it’s okay.” You reassured him away from his worries. “But, um, it’s just my dad’s waiting for me.” And the silky curve of your lips proffered him the understanding that you wanted him, too. Just as much. And when it was right, the moment would come.
“Yeah, okay, so, uh, after my campaign- or your game, whichever one ends first, just meet me by my car and we’ll go on from there. That sound like a plan, sweetheart?”
You could only muster a little “mhm” through your bitten lip before turning to the door. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stop by the game and actually see me cheer? I know there’s absolutely no way you’d actually rather play a nerdy little game surrounded by smelly props.” Eddie could visibly see your sarcasm oozing out of your teasing smile, and it truly made him battle his internal restraints to not run up and swoop you into his arms with a loving kiss. God, you were the one torturing him, and you had no clue in the world.
He winced before pointing a stern finger at you. “Don’t make fun of me, sweetheart, you’ll make me lose all self-control, and there would be nothing stopping me from dropping down on my knees in front of you and-”
“Eddie!” You chastised with a flustered face of hot cheeks that had him dying of laughter with a shit-eating grin.
“Oh!” He smiled, “By the way, my freshmen, way smellier than any props in here.”
Eddie Munson was truly a piece of work.
-
Your snotty sobs had deliquesced into the quiet hum of Eddie Munson’s shower, where hot water burned your skin, as it felt like a deemed punishment for what you had just put Eddie through. He had taken it upon himself to reclaim countless times that your visitation was something he welcomed with open arms, and to let out all that was needed for you to be okay, though his reassurance did little to distract you from obvious trauma dumping you just proliferated into his life. It was no different than Eddie Munson bawling his eyes out while his intoxicated mind spewed the pain and regret of his life, in fact, that may have been even more severe than what you had transpired, but it still didn’t derail you from the notion that crashing into him with all of your hurt couldn’t be well for his mental progress, and you loathed the idea of what you were doing to him.
When your tears had finally subsided into small whimpers, Eddie had still held you tightly in his grasp, processing the information of what your life had just turned to- probably thinking far more than you had been able to.
“Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie, I don’t mean to-”
“Hey, sh, just take a minute, okay?” His hand continued to smooth down the back of your head.
Though, your rampaging thoughts were quickly manifesting into a jumble of words that were torpedoed out of your mouth. “No, really, Eddie, I’m sorry, I swear it’ll only be for the night, or I can leave if you want me to, I-I just- just- can we just be here for a minute?”
Eddie’s arm tightened around your waist, and his hand securely cradled the back of your head, where he just gently whispered, “of course,” into the air, and your arms finally linked themselves around his neck for the safest embrace either of you ever felt.
Seven minutes had passed by with no interruptance to the peaceful quietness you and Eddie had cascaded between the both of you. Your tears had damped the warm skin of his neck into a sticky, itchy residue that had you wanting to pull back, yet you weren’t entirely ready to leave his body. And it was even more evident he had no plans of letting you leave, as his hands refused the budge from the firm hold they had against you. When you eventually made the decision to carefully move away, Eddie saw how the obliterating uncomfortableness you were currently suffering through: reddened eyes with humid skin that mixed terribly with your drowning tears and sweat from the spring mugginess of the night. Eddie had delicately brushed everything away from your hot face and neck, where he was finally able to see your beautiful face shining past the pain of your expressions.
Being so exposed, you truthfully felt so gross. The moment of transparency, where you just stared at his concerned face that longed to keep you away from the troubles of the world, made you feel like an utter failure, because for once, you couldn’t solve your way out of a problem. No homework, quiz, test, or exam could amount to the complexity of mental and emotional health, and while you managed to keep your mind distracted from the issues of your life, your efforts ultimately could not lead you straight to being okay, and you felt like a failure.
“I’m sorry.” You harshly rubbed your eyes with a deep sniffle. “I’m such a mess, I don’t mean to drag you into this.”
“No, you’re not, honey please stop apologizing, everything is fine.” He cleaned your face with a heavy hand swiping your cheeks. “I want you here. I want you talking to me.”
With a trembling sigh, your sore voice croaked. “So it’s okay if I stay here- it’ll be just for one night, I promi-”
“Yes, of course, it’s okay.” He cut off your apologetic rambling, because even though you hadn’t explicitly spoken the words I’m sorry, he knew it was drenched in your cramped sentences. “But I’m gonna really need you to work with me here, sweetheart, and tell me if he laid his fuc- if he put his hands on you? Did he, baby?”
“No.” That was the succinct answer he needed to hear, and a small breath of relief washed over him for a second. “W-we, um, we just started yelling and-and got into this big fight, where I just screamed at him, you know, about everything, and t-then he just kept yelling back, and he got so angry.” You heaved heavily. “Eddie, I don’t have anywhere else to go, um, I-I’ll figure something out, I just- I really can’t go back there.”
“No, no, don’t go back.” He ran his hands over his face. “Please, just stay here as long as-”
“No, Eddie, I can’t do that to you or your uncle.” You pursed your lips with slumped shoulders, feeling awful for taking advantage of his living situation for your accommodation, but Eddie would be livid to hear you keep denying yourself safety.
“Stop, don’t even try it.” He firmly stopped you. “Just, for once, let me help you. You’ve done so much for me, you deserve to let me just fucking help you through this, sweetheart. Please.” You relented. There was no point in making this situation harder for yourself, and you desperately just wanted to have some tranquility in your life, and Eddie was offering the biggest hand to you. Closing your eyes, you just agreed to his loving aid with a soft nod of acceptance. You once laid your bed out for Eddie Munson when he was at his lowest, he’d be damned not to give you that in return.
“What do you want right now? We can talk- or just, like, completely avoid it, but only for a little bit, don’t keep it inside, that’s what Ms. K said- oh, uh, food! Are you hungry? Have you eaten dinner yet? Maybe like a cup of water? I can order some food, you don’t really want me cooking anything, but I have like a shit ton of pretzels-”
“Is it okay if I shower?” You quietly interrupted.
It was hot, suffocatingly hot. The months of spring brought an awful draft inside trailers that were not equipped with the proper protection for the incoming heat wave that would engulf Hawkins, Indiana. When winter hit, freezing families bundled together dreaming of the day warmer weather would mitigate numb toes and shivering bodies, but when that dream would come, sticky skin of sweat and hot flashes that made it feel like you were burning in an oven made the poor civilians of Forest Hills Trailer Park yearn for winter to come back. Just stuck to suffer yearly.
And you were sweltering.
-
Twenty-Two Hours Prior
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Honestly, how crazy would it be for Eddie Munson to rub his Black Ice Little Tree air freshener onto his jacket to mask out any potential bad smell? It’s not like carried his cologne around with him at all times, let alone for dates he doesn’t even go on. Plus, he always wondered if that Old Spice smell was too much. Last time, he became oblivious as to how much he wore, and Gareth Emerson couldn’t stop the ongoing sneezes that occurred whenever had Eddie stepped within a two feet radius of the poor kid. Safe to say, Eddie Munson learned two sprits was enough. But he had only applied his cologne this morning, what if the smell was gone? What if he still terribly smelled like that cigarette he smoked just before Hellfire started? Or what if he smelled like the illegal greens that resided in his lunchbox, after having to spend an extra five minutes rolling joints for Naomi Rahman after she explicitly stated she thought his service came pre-rolled. He knew he should have charged her extra for the free labor. Shit, what about his breath? Was he going to kiss you today?! Were you going to kiss him today?! Does he even own chapstick? And his hair, how come it looked so frizzy in the murky reflection of his rear view mirror? Was it always this frizzy? Why the hell do people let him walk out of the house like this?!
Eddie slumped back in the old seat of his van with a groan. This was going horrible- granted the date hadn’t even started, but still. He couldn’t do this. How are you even supposed to act on a first date? Shit! This is Eddie Munson’s first ever date with a girl- a gorgeous girl- the most beautiful fucking girl he’s ever seen for crying out loud! How the hell do people do this so casually? You were probably cool as ever.
“Oh, my god, Chrissy help me! I'm freaking out over here!” As much as you’d like to scream, your devices only left you whispering fervently, as you and Chrissy Cunningham had snuck away into the corner of the locker room, where your cheer bag had been precisely fitted with three pairs of earrings, two necklaces, two pairs of shoes, and three dresses; however, despite being intricately picked for the sole reason that they were the best dresses you owned, you began hating them upon closer inspection. It’s lovely how the mind works, isn’t it?
“Would you relax?” Chrissy huffed, shoving her frayed bangs away from her eyes. “You’re stressing me out, and I’m not even going on the date. And it’s not like this is going to be your first, you’ve been out plenty of times.”
“Three.” You sternly corrected, with the high wedges in your hands acting like a scolding finger, as you pointed them towards your friend. “Three is not plenty. And as if I cared what those guys’ thought, this is Eddie. He, I actually do care about.”
“Aw, that’s so cute.” She giddied out a squeal, which could only be met with your eye roll. “No, but seriously, Y/N, it’s Eddie, you know he’s, like, totally obsessed with you, I don’t think he really cares about what you’re going to wear.”
An underlying “I know” was spoken into your sigh, as you put down the shoes, and simply looked at everything laid out on the old locker room bench. “So,” you took a deep breath, “any of these will be fine for the Hideout?”
“Wait,” Chrissy’s eyebrows raised into her forehead, “you’re going to the Hideout? Why’d you bring heels? That place is totally, like, a rundown-beer-old man kinda place. Not a heels and dress type.” She stressed.
Just when you were beginning to calm down... “Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Came the whisper yelling. “I’ve never been! How do you even know?!”
“That’s where Jason and Andy always bought their booze from for parties. The owner is totally like this desperate guy who always wants money, and, well, he sold so they bought.” She quickly explained, groaning at the memories of having to sit in the back seat with the numerous boxes of cheap beer, because Jason Carver was that much of a douche he made his girlfriend move to the back for his friend to claim the front. “But, anyways, just wear your cheer shoes, it’ll still look cute with your dresses, especially the green sundress one.”
“But my sneakers are so scuffed up, they’ll look messy.” You whined. If only Eddie Munson knew how much thought you were putting in just to see him. He would think it was so cute.
You were then met with a Chrissy Cunningham deadpan that had you snapping back to reality. “Y/N, get real, Eddie’s probably wearing that t-shirt he doodled on with markers. I highly doubt he’ll judge you for a scuff mark on your shoe.”
Eddie Munson’s wristwatch ticked at 10:25 p.m. The last straggle of students, teachers, and town goers were slowly evacuating the emptying parking lot, as the numerous cars prompted the small bit of traffic that would occasionally occur in Hawkins that wasn’t directly correlated to the Fourth of July Fair. With the tiniest bit of a pep talk that honestly made him feel a little lame, Eddie exhaled deeply before making his way out of the car. Four weeks ago, Eddie had walked in on Dustin Henderson intently watching “Sixteen Candles” in the comfort of his own living, after Hellfire’s designated room got invaded by a bombardment of paint cans and set designs for Ms. Kathey’s drama club, insisting that her “Our Town crisis” was far greater than any campaign Eddie’s club had to host. Wanting the brownie points, Dustin took it upon himself to impress his Dungeon Master by proffering his house as an alternative, though when Dustin had muttered the words “mi casa es tu casa” he hadn’t anticipated Eddie Munson to just meander in without a warranted knock, leaving the kid vulnerable with his movie playing loudly in the background. Now, Eddie Munson was still a proudly proclaimed asshole back then, so the situation gave him great leeway to blackmail the freshman into doing his dirty work- by that, he meant his science homework. But now, there was no science homework, and Eddie Munson was instead trying to replay the foggy memory that was Jake Ryan leaning against his red car in the coolest fashion, as Samantha Baker stared in awe. He wanted you to stare at him in awe. He wanted to be cool. With the exception of the cool sports car and confidence, of course.
But when the back doors of the gymnasium had opened and the harsh light of the beaming lamp post illuminated your figure upon entrance, Eddie Munson had been apotheosized. Long gone was the air in lungs, as when his eyes landed on you, it felt like a sucker punch to his stomach, and any confidence he was trying to willed by mimicking the acts of Jake Ryan had abruptly slipped his mind, and Eddie began fidgeting in place. Chrissy Cunningham had completely gone unbeknownst to Eddie as she waved you goodbye, the janitor, Charlie, who was currently dumping a barrage of trash from the gym was left unnoticed by Eddie, everything- every little thing that wasn’t you didn’t matter in this instance.
Just you.
You had shyly approached him with a soft smile to your lip that had Eddie’s heart fluttering in his chest. “Hi.” That simple greeting was enough for Eddie Munson to officially say goodbye to the conviction he once held when he flirted with you just yesterday.
How you were able to fuel his charm with giddiness one day, and then have him melting into a puddled state of flusters the next day was beyond the knowledge of modern science.
“H-Hi.” His voice rasped into the night air, which had you softly giggling.
“Um, I hope this is alright?” You smoothed down the creases of your dress. “I didn’t know- uh, is this appropriate for, like, the Hideout?”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” He cleared his throat, eyes following your body up and down, before reverting back to your eyes out of respect. “You’ll totally be, like, the prettiest girl who’s ever walked in there- well, I mean, way more than pretty,” he awkwardly corrected, “because, um, you look r-really beautiful. You are really beautiful, Y/N.”
Your eyes had lit up and twinkled under the night sky. Briefly looking away to compose the ever growing smile on your face, you finally peered up at him. “Thank you, Eddie.” You delicately spoke, following suit of eyeing him. “You’re really beautiful, too, you know?”
Unfortunately—or very fortunately for your entertainment—Eddie had sucked in a deep breath, far bigger than he had anticipated, out of shock from the words he just heard, leading him to hurtle into a fit of uncontrolled coughing. “Sorry!” *cough* “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” *cough*
“Are you okay?” You laughed, your hand gently being placed onto his chest with small rubs to ease his derailment.
“Totally your fault.” *cough* “Why do you have to be so- ugh!” Eddie heaved, as his back straightened, and the clearing of his throat helped alleviate his little fit. But how could someone blame him in the first place? Not once, in the twenty years that Eddie Munson had been alive, has he ever heard someone call him beautiful. It was the great juxtaposition of Eddie’s life, because that’s what society told him. Eddie Munson was far from beautiful. Freak. Criminal. Errant. Disgrace. What would be so wrong with believing the town’s word, that he really was everything terrible in the world? They believed, so he believed it. Eddie Munson spent the entirety of his childhood wondering where he went wrong to continue to be degraded, and then turned his early adulthood into becoming those things, because why try to change the people’s opinion. It was already cemented into the books. Eddie Munson was a shame.
And you had just casually waltzed into his life and ruined that. Ruined his pessimistic beliefs. Ruined is cynicism. Completely ruined the agenda placed against Eddie Munson, because, for once, someone outside of his personal friends and family wanted him.
You wanted him. And in the Munson Doctrine, the newly indicted rule states your word triumphs all. Because you gave him meaning. You gave him a chance. For redemption. For love feelings. For everything.
“My fault? I have no clue what you mean by that.” You giggled against his blushing state. “But you’re lucky I didn’t have time to call you sexy before your little aneurysm. I was totally ready to sneak that one in there-”
“Okay!” Eddie clapped his hands to cut you off. “You are trouble. Into the car, before you fucking kill me out here.” He left the last part to quietly fuse into the night sky with mumbling lips.
Eddie Munson’s hand had lingered on the small of your back, where he guided you to the passenger side of his car, and opened his chariot for your voyage (his words). Your cheer bag had found the floor of the back side of his van, where remnants of trash you once saw when Eddie Munson graciously stole you away from your house as per your request still nestled in the same spot they were once discarded. Eddie was quick to appear on the driver's side, and his van lit up with the last bit of life it had within her, where he began trailing behind the last of students leaving Hawkins High.
Eddie Munson was going on his first date ever.
“Wait, stop, go back.” Eddie’s finger halted on the knob of his radio, ending his knit-picking ministries of finding the perfect channel for his music taste. It was always a mystery why he continued this routine. Eddie knew anything from the local channels would never play his preferred choices, but the procedure always developed the same: switch between channels, condemn the local radios, reach for whichever one of his tapes was closest. Except for tonight, of course, you interrupted his precious routine. “Go back, please.” You sang with the most satisfied smile, as Eddie—with his skeptical, squinted eyes—begrudgingly gave in, turning the knob ever so slightly to the left.
It was David fucking Bowie.
“Yay! I love his music! Keep it there.” You gushed, as his voice began drowning into the small atmosphere of Eddie’s van, and he, so predictably, protested your personal taste in music.
“Nonononono.” His hand immediately reached back for the radio. “I am not losing you to some British dude with weird hair. Pass me my Sabbath tape.” Now, full transparency, Eddie truly could no care to bash your taste of music. In fact, he, himself, occasionally bobbed along to the voice Bowie every once in a while. It was just something about bickering with you that made his tummy tingle, that he just couldn’t help himself. He liked your little offended face.
You gasped an offended gasp, as your hand playfully smacked his away from the premises of the radio. “Um, excuse me, isn’t Ozzy Osbourne just another British guy with weird hair?” You giggled.
“Woah, woah, woah, now, babe, you better choose your words wisely here, alright?” Eddie chortled. “He’s British metal, it’s the only acceptable form, this though…” he exaggeratedly grimaced, as the lyrics to “Changes” belted out from the speakers, “This is just lame.” He teased, while you dramatically scoffed. “Sounds like it belongs in some weird cartoon movie with, like, ogres and shit.”
You guffawed at the oddity of his opinion. “That’s literally right up your alley, sir. And, in my humble opinion, Mr. Dungeon Master, I believe orcs are far more lame.”
If it wasn’t for your presence in the vehicle, Eddie Munson would have swerved off the road and crashed into the nearest tree. His wide eyes and flushed cheeks swiftly met your laughing face, before distracting himself with the attention of the road, clearing his throat to prevent the impending cough that was inevitable ever since he met you. Your name calling was now sparking another tingling feeling inside him. “You… ugh,” Eddie grinned with red cheeks, “You are trouble.” He bit his lip, as he just took in the sight of your head falling back with laughter. God, you were so comfortable. So comfortable with him. “And for your information, orcs are not lame, in fact, because you said that, I’m changing this terrible song-”
“No!” Your hand had seized his, fingers lacing tightly to prevent his movements, and you locked your entangled hands into the soft plush of your thighs. Eddie Munson’s mouth fell agape. You really were trouble.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll do whatever you say.” He rushingly mumbled out for your amusement.
“Just enjoy the song, Eddie.” Your thumb caressed his hand, and you felt him tighten his hold on you. “Expand your horizon, and I promise to listen to all the screaming men you want me to.” You turned up the song, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to protest your want. Not when you looked so damn perfect enthusiastically singing your heart out, with your hand in his, with his skin grazing your thigh, with you in the front seat of his car, where he could picture you sitting to the end of time, because it looked so natural.
You and Eddie Munson were natural.
Chrissy Cunningham had entirely been correct. For the past twenty years since its start up, the Hideout had indefinitely established itself as a rundown-beer-old man-kinda-place. There had been a reason why Jason Carver was so insistent with Chrissy Cunningham staying in the car during their retrieval for cheap beer. Eddie Munson had soon fallen to regret ever bringing you here. Unabashed stares from men had been glued to you the second you and Eddie had made your presence known within the bar. Eddie had wished they were merely targeted at him for the simple reason that the regular goers were shocked to see the metalhead, who dedicated his Tuesday nights playing loud music on the stage, with a pretty girl who they deemed to be out of his league. But it would be stupid to think of that, when the stares had obviously been directed to the young girl in a pretty dress, someone these men had grossly dreamed of. Eddie had attempted to shield you from the many perversions aimed against you, as he directed you to a table farthest away from the small crowd that lingered at the bar.
He felt like a complete asshole when he watched you coil into yourself, arms cramping over your tummy once you situated yourself onto the rustic chair. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie had leaned in to immediately apologize. “I should’ve put more thought into this, I just couldn’t afford anything like Enzo’s, but we can absolutely leave if you want.”
“No, no.” You assured him with a small smile. “If this is the place you like going to, I want to enjoy it with you, too.”
“You…” His head dropped in disbelief at the person you were- at the person he got to experience this moment with. “You’re too fucking nice to me, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Really, let’s leave if these assholes are making you uncomfortable.”
But you had sternly shaken your head. “I don’t know when it’ll be the next time we get to hang out like this. I don’t want to let anyone ruin our night, Eddie. I-It’s okay.”
Eddie could see right through your smile. You were devastatingly uncomfortable, but your words held so much truth, you genuinely did not want to leave, sacrificing your consolation for a special moment with Eddie. Because this was your chance- your opportunity to be with one another, and given the hardships of reality, who knew when something like this could be offered to you and Eddie again.
He had immediately shrugged off his jacket, passing the heaviness of leather and denim over your shoulders for you to take lead in letting your arms get swallowed by the sleeve. “Take this, princess, at least.”
You adjusted his jacket around you, before sitting up and beaming at him. “How do I look?” You rhetorically spoke with a giggle.
Eddie Munson was about to cry. His fist clenched tightly out of sight beneath the table, and he blinked harshly to get rid of the invading tears that were about to come forth. Why did he have to react like this? What were you doing this to him? Why did you have to give him the time of day after everything he’s put you through? The sight of you- your hair, complementing the perfection of your features, because you meticulously styled it flawlessly just for him; your eyes, sparkling in the low light of the bar with such happiness, because you were looking at him; your cheeks, plumping with such liveliness, because your alluring lips were curled into a heavenly smile, because of him. Eddie Munson wasn’t deserving of good things, so why the hell were you opening your arms to him? Accept it, accept it, accept it, he forced himself as a reminder. Accept your care. Accept your passion. Accept your love feelings. You were putting your life at risk wearing the jacket that branded Eddie Munson. But you were doing it with the greatest smile he’s ever seen.
You wanted him- you wanted Eddie Munson.
“You look beautiful, Y/N.”
Your lips folded within themselves to contain your beaming smile. “You’ve already said that.”
“Because it’s true.” He spoke with such conviction.
Your hand snaked under the table, where you met his tense fist, but your delicate fingertips ignited them to unfold and relax with comfort, where fingers just mindlessly played with one another. “Thank you, Eddie. And thank you for asking me out… first, at least.” You giggled. “You know, before you held me against my will to ask you out?”
Eddie let out a guttural laugh. “What are you talking about, princess? You practically hunted me down and begged me- no, pleaded with me to just finally take you out. I’m just for the food, of course.”
“As if.” You scoffed with a playful roll to your eyes. “But, you know, now that you mentioned it, I am desperately hungry for food. What is there to feed me?”
“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, this fine establishment offers us some very stale nachos-”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Some burgers made with the fakest of meat, and just drenched in grease from a stove that’s never been cleaned-”
“Very appetizing.”
“And, of course, three-day-old cheese fries with, y’know, just a sprinkle of dust for flavor.”
“Ooh!” You perked. “That! I want cheese fries, please.”
“Then cheese fries she will get.” Eddie stood with a lingering chuckle, getting ready to place in your order. “You wanna pick your poison? I can get it for you.” He pointed towards the bar.
“Whiskey old fashioned.” You smiled confidently.
Eddie blinked back in surprise. “That really your usual?” He interrogated with a flabbergasted laugh.
“No, I’ve just always wanted to say that.” You giggled with amusement. “That’s what my dad and his friends say when they come over and invade his liquor cabinet. I’ve never drank before, so I’ll just have whatever is your favorite.”
Eddie Munson had instantly fallen back into his seat with a gaping mouth of shock. “Sweetheart, you let me bring you to a bar, and you don’t even drink?!”
You retaliated with a deadpan shot directly at him, and your hands finding your hips like a scolding mother. “Eddie, how hard is it to believe that I just really want to go anywhere with you, that I don’t care where it is?”
“Uh, very.” He answered too quickly. You could only laugh in return, gently smacking his bicep.
“Just go get my drink, please.” You failed to sternly convey, as your effusing voice spoke too bubbly to be austere.
“I’d be a terrible influence to let you indulge in beer, and an even worse person for letting your first be from here. How about a soda?” He crooned affectionately.
But you, of course, protested so eloquently with crossed arms. “It’s never a bad thing to try new things.”
Bits of yellow liquid had toppled over the rim of the thick glass, as your cup of beer fell heavy against the wooden table with a loud clunk. Eddie stood smiling next to you, sliding the drink to be perfectly stationed in front of you. He had returned far quicker than you had anticipated. “Here you go, Evel Knievel, go crazy.” He jabbered, urging you with a nod to his head, as an act of support. Your round eyes peered through your lashes and connected with his. With a confident grip of the overly large cup, you brought the drink to your face, getting a whiff of something not too bad but not entirely pleasant, either. Possibly overestimating yourself, your lips engulfed a section of the rim and you happily accepted a hefty swig of the beer. Eddie looked down at you expectedly, because as he prophesied while ordering your beer, your nose had cutely scrunched into a multitude of creases, becoming the biggest telltale sign that you surely did not like it. Eddie had laughed but pitied you as if you were a lost puppy, “Aw, you want me to get you a soda, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please.” You grimaced, though ever so politely.
“It’s okay, good thing I only got one, I figured you wouldn’t like it.” He chuckled, as he slid the beer over to his side, and brought the cup to his mouth, where his mouth rested upon the gloss stain of your lips. If this was the closest Eddie Munson would ever get to kissing you, he would take it. He gladly took a gulp with no reaction. You envied him. “I’m proud of you for at least tryin’ something you wanted, pretty girl.” He lovingly pinched your chin, before leaving to retrieve your soda.
-
Eddie’s pajamas felt soft in your hand. They were his finest pair—no holes, no stains, no loose threads—coming from the back of his dresser, because five months ago, Eddie had shrunk them in the dryer. Nothing too drastic, but they clung to his body in ways he was too uncomfortable with, and if a certain pair of pants or a t-shirt didn’t provide him the privilege to move about freely, the back of the dresser they went. But he honestly wasn’t kidding, they were his finest pair of pajamas. Entirely because they hadn’t been in Eddie Munson’s possession for too long to be worn to demise. And now they sat neatly folded on the toilet, awaiting to replace the soft towel that was wrapped around you tightly.
It felt wrong. Having to leave your skin to dry out in the humid atmosphere of the Munson’s bathroom, as you truly left with nothing in your hands, but the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet. Despite the shrinkage, his pajama pants had still managed to pool around your ankles, even with the stretchy waist clasping at your stomach at an appropriate height. And his t-shirt had been no different, sleeves long enough to get caught in the crease of your inner elbow if you ever chose to bend your arms. Dio, written boldly across and attended with an unsettling depiction of a creature to embody the tone of the album cover. You’d ask Eddie about it some other time. And he would gladly answer.
Your hand had become coated with a warm layer of water, as it swept away the condensation pestering the hanging mirror. Red, your eyes had still been stained with the dreaded redness of tears and exhaustion. But at least, the last bit of hot water for the Munson’s managed to circulate your blood back to your drained face, and the tiniest sliver of liveliness could be detected if anyone chose to inspect close enough. Eddie Munson would be that person. He always had no problem staring at your face.
Turning the brass door knob, the waft of a cooler breeze from the trailer’s air conditioner cascaded goosebumps along your arms. It’s quiet. Your hands tightly clenched around your balled up pile of clothes, as you begin your slow movements to the kitchen. But the stove light continued to be the only thing keeping the kitchen company, as Eddie was still nowhere to be seen. The washer had been stationed to your left, where the clean clothes of Eddie and his uncle resided in a basket that had yet to be folded. Choosing to follow suit, your denim shorts were folded in half with delicacy, placed onto the metal washing machine, with your shirt joining soon after, ready to grab first thing in the morning. Because that was a promise you were holding, you were truly not ready to take up any more space in Eddie Munson’s life, not when he had his own issues to understand. He didn’t need yours as a cherry on top. Even if his persistence told you otherwise, that he’d have you living with him in a heartbeat.
Hearing a muffled shuffle coming from the end of the hall, you paddled your way to the doorway of his bedroom, where Eddie had caught you through the creaking sound of his door opening up to your face.
“Hey, um, feelin’ a little better?” He finished up smoothing the wrinkles of the newly spread bedsheets, something he retrieved from the back of his closet. Though, they hadn’t shrunken. He honestly had just forgotten about them, until ten minutes ago. You nodded truthfully, the corner of your lips barely tugging upward, but enough to make your dry skin feel tight with the movement. “Um, oh, your room for tonight.” He opened his arms to showcase the myriad of posters that would be staring you down while you slept. “Clean sheets n’ everything. Hotel Munson, if you will, best service in town. Especially that continental breakfast, don’t miss it.”
That managed to turn your facade into a real smile. Something Eddie loved. “I can’t take your bed.” You spoke so quietly, someone could have thought you were whispering him a secret. “You’re already doing a lot by letting me stay here, Eddie.”
“No, please take it.” He walked up to you with an earnest voice. “Honestly, take anything- I’ll give you anything, Y/N, just please.”
You stared at him with longing eyes that just pulled at the string of his heart. “Will you sleep with me?” You sighed softly.
Eddie Munson had fervently shaken his head with all purpose in the world. “I’ll give you anything, Y/N.”
“Thank you, Eddie. For everything.”
“You’re the only reason why I’m getting better, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m devoting my life to you.” He smiled solemnly at the breathy giggle he managed to squeeze out of you. Progress was progress, and this was the start. “Although, I checked, and I don’t have any ice cream here to help. But I can go to the store real quick-”
“Eddie, it’s okay.” You assured him with a tender hold of his forearm. “Really.”
“Okay.” Eddie accepted with a sigh. “Um, is it okay if we talk now? I don’t want you keepin’ anything to yourself, honey. I wanna hear your voice.” Eddie's hand had engulfed yours, urging you to follow his small steps to the made bed right behind him. He had dropped with ease, letting you stand between his spread legs, where his other hand had joined your united ones, and both sets of his fingers began toying with yours languidly. “Please.”
You slowly took up the empty space next to him. What was three inches of space closed to be touching thighs, when Eddie had snaked his arm to grasp onto your hip and pull you as close as possible. The worry of whether the move was a step over your boundaries had quickly dissipated in Eddie’s overthinking mind, as the close proximity had prompted you to lay your head comfortably on his muscular shoulder.
But before Eddie could think of laying against your head in return, you had quickly chosen to turn your face to the wall where a large burgundy blanket had taken the place of an actual curtain over the window. It was behind him, where his back was turned to. Because you didn’t want Eddie Munson to see your face right now. You shielded away. And he would let you. As long as he got to hear your voice.
“If I look at you I’ll start crying.” You quietly mumbled against his shoulder. Because you look at me with all the care in the world, and my father doesn't.
“It’s okay, baby.” His lips fell onto the crown of your head and made no judgment to move, even long after his lips had already puckered to plant you a deserving kiss of compassion. “Take all the time you need.”
Come Monday afternoon, Eddie Munson would thank Ms. Kelly for guided lessons on how to be a therapist. Even if that was far from her intended goals with him. But as long as it was helping you, he’d facilitate his newfound skill.
“Being with you, Eddie…” you took a deep breath, “…you just make me realize so many things.” Both of your arms had bear hugged his bicep, keeping him as close as humanly possible. “My dad, I wish he would just get help from someone for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would get better for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would just care for me.” Like you did. “I told him. I told him everything. About what he’s done. How he treats me. How I feel. Everything, I finally said everything, Eddie.” Your voice began wavering with a stinging throat. Because even if you had chosen to peer away from Eddie’s sympathetic face, it wouldn’t steer you away from the hurt of losing everything you’ve ever known. “I stood up to him, Eddie.”
“I’m proud of you, baby.” He whispered into your head, his hand working to grab a caring hold of your thigh. “So fucking proud.” I wish I had the strength to do what you did when I was younger.
But you had finally picked up your head and cried at him with glossy eyes and a frown so deep it felt like a knife in his chest. You harshly began shaking your head. “He yelled at me, Eddie. He screamed so much.” You began choking. “He didn’t want to hear about how I felt. Eddie, he was blaming me. Said it was my fault. For everything.” You agonized.
“No, no, no, sweetheart, none of this is your fault, alright?” He cupped your hot cheeks securely in his hands. “None of it is. Don’t you dare listen to a word that asshole said, okay?”
“But, Eddie, he’s right.” You sobbed. “I just can’t- Eddie, I should have left you alone that night.” The club picture. Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were blaming yourself for everything that had occurred. You didn’t even have to verbalize it for Eddie to understand. He knew what was about to come out of your mouth.
If I didn’t bother you, you would have lived your life.
If I didn’t bother you, the school wouldn’t have been so disgusted with me.
If I didn’t bother you, my dad wouldn’t have been so ashamed of me.
Eddie Munson’s face had dropped stunned. So blankly, he just spoke, “Don’t fucking say another word, Y/N.” And maybe that had come out far harsher than anticipated, but he had indicated it with such love, he honestly didn’t care. Eddie Munson wasn’t going to tolerate another hateful word to be said about you. It was the reason Jason Carver still sported a faded yellow bruise on his cheek. It was the reason why he spent hours killing himself over the nasty words he once screamed at you. Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare be alive to hear you speak horribly about yourself. The men in your life had already terribly decided to do that to someone so far from deserving it. Including him. And processing the horrid regret of feeling appalled by his actions, he was going to be the first to understand that hearing these words come from yourself was going to hurt ten times worse. For him. But especially for you. The rage coursing through his body, he was desperately trying to handle it. But someone was hurting you. And Eddie Munson was fighting all restraints to not end up with a murder charge by the end of the night. “If you sit there and tell me straight to my face that he made you believe any of this was your fault, I’m killing him.”
You sat still, blanking your round eyes at him in disbelief. Though jarring, his words- his entire shift in demeanor had snapped some sense into you. Because you believed him. Everything he had just uttered came with a harsh truth. How Eddie had managed to speak the scariest words, yet so clearly convey his adoration for you was truly unbeknownst. To you. To anyone. But not to Eddie. No, because Eddie was beginning to understand his feelings for you were drilling deeper and deeper to the point where he’d jump to any matter to protect you. He would have done anything to go back in time and confess it to you the moment he first spoke to you. But it was too late. And now, all he could do was devote his life to you. Just like he said. It wasn’t a joke.
So, you whispered, “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Do you believe that?” His eyes frantically scanned yours in search of certainty. “Because everything that's happened has been my fault, sweetheart. Not yours. And I need you to understand that. Do you?” His words were so firm, it felt like a parent lecturing a child. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you that first day in the cafeteria. I shouldn’t have been an asshole the night you took my picture. I shouldn’t have crossed the line when it came to Jason. I shouldn’t have called you those disgusting names. And I shouldn’t have fucking scared you, and dumped all my bullshit problems onto you.” Eddie’s eyes were beginning to burn with a gloss coat of tears, but his face remained stoic, not wanting to deter you from the purpose of his words just because of his emotions. Because he knew you would. Eddie Munson knew you cared about him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m so fucking sorry every piece of shit person in this fucking town has blamed you for my mistakes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Ed-”
“No. Don’t fucking make yourself believe that it’s okay.” He pleaded. “It’s not. None of it is. I know you’re happy that I’m getting help, I am, too, but if there’s any part of you that still hates me, then hate me, Y/N. That’s okay. It’s okay to be fucking angry and sad about everything me and everyone else put you through. You don’t have to be this selfless person who excuses everything that’s ever been done to you for the sake of normalcy, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do that to yourself. Be mad at me. Be mad at your shit excuse of a father. Be mad at fucking everybody. You deserve to have your feelings heard. And if your dad isn’t going to be the fucking one to do, I will. I swear I will, princess.” He swore with all urgency. “But only if you want me to.” Eddie huffed, as he longed into your sorrowful eyes, and cemented his proposition. “You’re going to sit here and tell me if you want me to make it up to you. I don’t care if we’ve already been on a date, none of that matters, except how you truly feel. It’s your choice. You get to decide. You choose.”
Eddie Munson had laid out his cards. For once, the decisions of your life were in your hands. Not your father’s. Not anyone’s, but yours. And maybe that was the entire reason as to why you took Hellfire’s picture in the first place. Everyone had made their decisions about Eddie Munson and his friends. Exclusion. Ostracism. Rejection. Everything had been chosen for them. Eddie Munson’s life and character had already been set in stone by the people of Hawkins, Indiana. And you had recognized it when Principal Higgins made his decisions. So you took back that power. You disobeyed the expectations of a small-minded town that bred conservatism and conformity. You made your choice. You took his picture. You did what was right. Everything that has happened has been a result of you making your own choices. No one likes when a teenage girl is capable of breaking the decisions that have been set for her. Because that makes her a powerful woman.
That makes her you.
So you made your decision. Firmly. “I want you to make it up to me.”
And Eddie Munson accepted it. “I will.” He so effortlessly agreed. “Now, c’mere.”
Eddie had taken a hold of your legs, and moved them around his waist, where your body crumbled into his lap, arms holding on for dear life around his neck. He moved until his back uncomfortably hit the frameless wall, where lumpy pillows only gave him support, but Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare to move. This was him listening. A large hand splayed across the canvas of your back to sooth, and another keeping your head secured in the solace of his neck. This was him making it up to you. Because though you weren’t speaking, your cries were articulating the anger you bottled. “I hate him. I hate him” You choked.
This was your power. And Eddie Munson was accepting it with loving arms.
-
Nineteen Hours Prior
You’d been laughing for nearly three hours.
Eddie Munson’s bottom was beginning to feel the numbing sensation of his ass giving out for having been sat for too long. But he couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to. Not when you were uncontrollably laughing at the stupid jokes he made, because he was bringing joy to your life. And it was a real laugh. Not a cute one that would be gently let out for fear of being judged for having experienced pure happiness. No, you were being loud. And sincere. And Eddie Munson loved hearing it.
“That’s so not fair.” You whined finishing the last bit of cheese fries that stained the lined parchment paper with grease within the basket of stray fries—all too small and soggy to be enjoyed. And there was no dust. “You can’t just casually mention you turn up this place with your five fans cheering you on.”
Eddie had, of course, playfully exaggerated the weekly experience. When asked about Corroded Coffin, he had put on his bravado act, one like the most famous rockstars do during interviews in Hollywood, and braggingly told you how crazy the local five drunks act upon their arrival. “I mean, I’m a total smokeshow, babe, can you blame ‘em? Autographs, pictures, I even have groupies lining up at our tour bus.” Eddie Munson loved making you laugh.
“What do you mean I can’t mention it, you’re the one that asked about it?” He crooned, as he took a large gulp of the water he ordered after he downed the beer you had discovered to hate.
‘Well, yeah, but you’re just rubbing it in my face.” You laughed. “I’m bound to my room, I’ll never get a chance to see the Corroded Coffin live. I wanna be the sixth drunk to come watch you perform- well, with my soda that is.”
God, you were too fucking cute. “Don’t worry, baby, I got my sweetheart back home, I’ll bust her out one day for a personal live show from yours truly. She’ll love you.”
“Mh, feel like I’m meeting the parents.”
Eddie’s face scrunched with a wince. “You don’t wanna meet my parents, babe.” He chuckled. “Everything that’s wrong with me is because of them.” Sometimes if he laughed about it, he’d forget how much the truth hurt. “But, uh, Ms. K, said I shouldn’t think like that- think that I’m like them, y’know?”
You nod your head to affirm him. It’s true. Eddie’s not like them. Even if you’ll never meet them. You know he’s not like them. “Do you believe that?” You quietly asked.
The tone of the night has shifted. “Tryin’ to.” He concisely answered. “I mean, every time I looked in the mirror all I saw was my old man, been thinkin’ I was like him for the last ten years of my life, so it’s not easy to just forget it, but I’m workin’ on it.” There was a small lingering smile on his lips by the end of the sentence. He was proud. Proud of himself. You could tell.
“That’s good, Eddie.” You softly spoke with a caring smile to let it cement that you, too, were proud of the person Eddie Munson was becoming. “I also feel like I’m like my dad- well, actually I kinda just know I am.”
Eddie didn’t speak for a second. His hand had managed to sneak under your stool, where he had taken a hold of your cushioned seat—torn with its years of usage—and pulled you close until the legs of your chair screeched their way against sticky wood tiles that covered the floor and finally hit his chair with a clank. You were close. “I don’t know if you’re aware, sweetheart, but you’ve never chased me out of your house with murder on your mind.” And luckily his comment was lighthearted enough to keep you at ease with your underlying feelings, providing you laughter where you would usually cry. “I don’t think you’re like your dad, honey. Not even in the slightest bit.” He whispered closely to your face.
And surely, a smile was on your face. Not because this was a topic you loved to rave about, but for the mere fact that you wanted to tell Eddie. You felt comfortable- safe with Eddie. You wanted him to know your secrets, one you hadn’t even told Chrissy Cunningham. “I have a little brother.”
In retrospect, it had been an odd thing to simply blurt out in the midst of a semi-serious conversation, so you didn’t find blame in Eddie when he squinted at you with confusion. But out of respect to you, and with no judgment ahead, he chose to follow suit. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you did.”
“I didn’t either, until about two years ago when my cousin, Cassidy, told me.” You admitted, a tight lip smile being the only readable tell to your face. And with a heavy sigh puffing out of your cheeks, you had continued. “She, uh, she said his name is Levi, which I thought was pretty cute. And then eight months ago, my cousin also told me that my mom just had twin girls. Jasmine and Maddy. I know their names, but I don’t think they know mine.” Comprehension was quick on Eddie’s part, as it didn’t take a rocket scientist to dissect your words. Your mother had abandoned you. Started another family. “I’ve always felt like I was too much like my dad- too much of a perfectionist, too focused on work, that I just reminded her of him. It was probably why she didn’t bother coming back for me.”
And Eddie heard it. The small crack in your voice when you finished speaking. You were stopping yourself from explaining any further, because the thrush of abandonment was crashing into you at full speed, and you didn’t want to cry on your first date with Eddie. It was why you took the last sip of your drink as a distraction. It was why your eyes averted away from his gentle gaze and willed all strength to focus on the American flag that was nailed onto the wall above the bar, so your eyes could be strong enough not to bawl.
But then you felt the warm metal of Eddie Munson’s rings touch the skin of your knee, before the rest of his hand followed soon after to hold a tight grasp of your body. Of course, you looked back at him. How could you not? “Y’know, you’re pretty fucking incredible, Y/N?” He spoke with a profound smile to his face that personified all his adoration for you. “You’re quite literally the smartest person I know, and I know Henderson, sweetheart- but don’t tell that little shit I think highly of him, it’ll get to his already big head.” Eddie smiled, as he watched your frown develop into a giggle he could listen to forever. “And you’re so fucking nice. Like the sweetest thing on this planet. Got such a kind heart, taking that photo of my club, putting us in the yearbook, having the patience for everyone, and…” His eyes burned into yours, as his heavy hand squeezed your knee, “…giving me a second chance when I sure as hell don’t deserve one. Don’t waste your time wallowing on the idea that you could be him. You’re not, sweetheart. And you know it. I was dumb enough to start acting like my old man, but luckily a pretty, little thing whipped me right into shape.” Your blood had circulated to your cheeks, and he could definitively see the effect his words had on you. He was grinning ear to ear. God, how you hated Eddie Munson. “And because of her, I’m not rotting in a jail cell like he is. And I sure as hell won’t be, either. You’ve got too much kindness in your heart, you’re nothing like you dad, baby. Just because you came from him, doesn’t mean you are him. And you’re much smarter than me, sweetheart, so I’m sure that beautiful brain of yours will figure it out faster than I did. You are nothing like your dad, Y/N.”
And you accepted his words with certainty, letting them play on your mind as a reminder that Eddie Munson didn’t see you as everyone else did. There was a time he did, but he’s learned. You’re far greater than the expectation placed upon you by everyone else. You were spectacular in the eyes of Eddie Munson.
“Eddie,” his name lingered on your tongue for a bit, “um, your dad’s in jail?”
Eddie nodded. And then, he told you everything.
On the night of January 1st, a mere hour into the new year of 1976, the Munson family had spent their holidays in the cold, sterile atmosphere of Hawkins General Hospital. Eddie Munson, innocent to it all, was supposed to hit double digits that year. Exciting, it was all he could rave about on the way to Aunt Shirley’s house. Something in Eddie Munson’s tiny mind had proffered the idea that turning ten meant he was a man. Someone who was strong, and could grow muscles overnight, and used their strength to fight. A real man. Fight like his daddy… fight his daddy. He was ready for it. But the older Munson, as it typically occurred, had fallen under the influence after he stationed himself amongst the other men of the family around a cooler of beer that was empty by the time the clock struck twelve. Eddie’s mother had been insistent on driving. But when she asked for the keys, his father had made a big show of how a woman oughta learn to stay in her place, and humiliated enough, she didn’t try again. No one stopped him. No one said anything. Then the arguing began in the car. Icy roads and intoxication was a death sentence that the Munson family would learn devastatingly quickly. Eddie remembered nothing of that night except for the last scene that played in his head: his tiny soon-to-be-man hands gripping tightly the worn seat belt, with fear wracking through his small body, as daddy was swerving into the wrong lane. But it was the stop sign that changed everything. Passed with no regards, a pick-up truck had collided into the passenger side. His mother’s side. It was five hours later when Eddie Munson had woken up with a gentle tap on his shoulder. “You okay, boy?”
Uncle Wayne. “Where’s mom?”
At the very least, it was quick. Pronounced on scene. The agony of her life wouldn’t have to continue any longer. “She said you could have a couple sleepovers at mine. How’s that sound?”
Arriving at 10:43 p.m, Eddie Munson hadn’t anticipated keeping you around until 1:30 in the morning. But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Laughing about the miniscule things in life, sharing interests that drastically revealed how different you were—he was dark, you were light—and confiding about the scariness of childhood that should have been happiness, like little children sharing secrets on the playground. Much to Eddie’s dismay, you began organizing the table, stacking cups with bits of residing beer, soda, and water; stealing napkins to dust off crumbs and soak up water rings; and finishing it off with throwing the numerous balls of paper into the empty basket of what was cheese fries. You were ready to go. And Eddie couldn’t blame you. You had just cheered through an entire basketball game, he should have considered the exhaustion you were fighting against just to see him. But you’re not entirely done with your moment with Eddie. It’s not likely you’ll have another one given your circumstance.
Standing from your seat, you secured his jacket around you. “Ready to go to your place?”
You always found it amusing how your words could make his eyes bulge, just as they’re doing right now. This may have been Eddie’s first rodeo into the world of first dates, but he wasn’t oblivious to the actions that occurred after the date. In fact, he may have even rented a couple “movies” that followed the same plotline. And they always seemed to end the same way.
“W-what? Uh- I, um, what?”
“Your place.” You reiterated with a teasing smile. “That’s where you said your sweetheart currently is, and well, I’m pretty sure I was promised a personal live show.
“O-oh, right.” He swallowed thickly. Eddie Munson felt like an ass for having his blood begin to circulate to a particular area of his body, when all you wanted was to hear him play. But also, could you blame him? He didn’t know what he was doing. “Um, you wanna hear me play?”
“Of course!” You beamed brightly. “Like I said, Eddie, there’s a lock outside of my bedroom door bounding me to my room. By the time I leave, you’ll probably be off giving actual autographs, and taking photos, with a long line of groupies waiting for you. You’ll forget about me then. And I want my show now.”
You were insane. Eddie Munson could never forget about you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. You were burned into his mind for life. Just like he wanted.
Eddie wouldn’t know it unless he asked, but his assumption landed on the fixation that this was probably the first time you’d ever cruised down Mulberry Street to get to Forest Hills Trailer Park. I mean, genuinely, what reason would someone like you ever have coming down to this side of town? But Eddie stopped himself. He shouldn’t think like that. Still, the fear of judgment plagued his mind, as he anxiously took numerous glances to see your face- see your reaction. Because driving down Mulberry Street, there were no meticulously planted trees of uniform formation, but rather invasive species of plants and weeds that suffocated the dark woods. Where a sophisticated sign—lined with an array of beautiful rose bushes, and a bright light that spotlighted the fancy lettering of Pinecrest Acres—named your neighborhood, Forest Hills got nothing, only accounting for rusted trailers and dirt roads that the townspeople would use as an indicator for where you ranked in reputation. Apparently to the civilians of Hawkins, Indiana, poverty shunned you away from the title of an All American Perfect Community.
But everytime Eddie had briefly gazed at your face, he was met with a small smile of bubbling excitement to the point where your teeth had sunk into your reddening lip for the majority of the car ride over. You seemed too occupied trying to find the perfect rhythm to head bop to the songs Eddie had chosen for the departure from the Hideout—especially after the whole Bowie debacle—to focus on the evident income gap between the two of you. Or, you simply did not care. Either way, Eddie liked both options. And truthfully, you were having a hard time head bopping to the blaring voices of Iron Maiden. One day, Eddie Munson would teach you how to properly head bang, and you would complain of getting a headache, but for now, you were simply arriving at his humble home for what would be the first of many times.
Eddie had huffed out a lung to reach your door before you could. Actually, you saw him ferociously sprinting, and slowed your movements for his awaited opportunity. And you’re glad you did. Because when Eddie opened the door for you, he met you with a beaming smile of proudness for his gentlemanly actions. “M’lady.” He offered his ringed hand. “This is my, uh, castle.” He showcased his trailer with a sarcastic chortle of amusement to the reality that his home was far from a castle, and surely you could see that in the flickering blue light of the wooden lamppost.
“Thank you for bringing me, kind sir.” No grimace. No scowl. No look of disgust. You genuinely did not care for the elephant in the room.
Of course, you wouldn’t. Eddie knows the kind of person you are.
The creaking screen door was held open by the expanse of Eddie’s back, as he worked the house key of his crowded keychain into the doorknob of the front door. And upon the first step inside, you were inundated by the warmth of a cozy home, the snug smells of carpet and blankets infused by the obvious smell of lingering cigarettes, and glowing by golden lights of shaded table lamps. Had you spoken about it, Eddie Munson would have learned you envied his home. Because that’s what it felt like. A home. One where you could tell he had a lot of laughs over meals with the closest he cared for. Your house was like a museum. It’d been three years since you and your father ate at the dinner table together. And it was cold. He liked it cold. You were yelled at for touching the thermostat in search of warmth in an empty house.
“Sorry, uh, maid took off.” He made a quick round disposing of the trash that decorated countertops.
“Do you live alone, Eddie?”
“Uh, nah, my Uncle Wayne, remember I told you about him? It’s his place. But he works night shifts at the plant, so, yeah.” He smiled, standing by the trash can with his hands at his hips, watching your eyes circle around living space. Again, no judgment in sight.
“You guys have a lot of mugs.” You giggled, taking a minor step forward to peer at the array of colorful ceramics displayed by the handles with proudness.
“Yeah, Wayne used to hit the interstates as a trucker, had a thing for hats and mugs. Used to take the piss out of him by just getting him more.” Eddie chuckles. “But then he started expecting them, so now the old man’s got a lifetime supply comin’.”
Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “Which is his favorite? Yours?”
Eddie’s heart warmed at the question. “I gotta Garfield cup. He’s got an Odie one.” You wanted to learn about his uncle’s favorite. Eddie would one day eventually tell you over breakfast that he actually hates the taste of coffee, but doesn’t start his day without a cup full of that Garfield mug. Something about drinking coffee made him feel like an actual adult. Granted, he was still consuming it out of a cartoon character mug, but the irony is what made Eddie Munson so special. Because he still hadn’t catched on, and asked why that was so funny. A grown man wanting to feel like an adult by drinking coffee out of a Garfield mug.
“Aw, like the bobblehead in your car! You guys must really like Garfield.” God, you remembered.
“It’s the one thing I would watch when I first moved in with him.” Eddie laughed at the memories. A lazy cat who was enthused about hot lasagna was wonderfully able to ease the pain of his life circumstances. Of course, Uncle Wayne would continue to put it on.
You slowly walked up to Eddie with an endearing smile. “That’s really cute. I’m glad your uncle is a good guy.” Not a lot of people were in either of your lives. It was an unfortunate thing to be grateful for. But you were. And so was he.
“He is.” Eddie nodded with a gentle smile. “Gave up his room for me.” He jerked his head to signal down the hall.
And gave him that sweet giggle that melted his worries away. “Is that an invitation?”
“C’mon, sweetheart.” He ardently agreed, as his hand entwined with yours and led you to his bedroom.
And if Eddie Munson could be objectified as an element of interior design, his room would be the most fitting aesthetic for the Munson persona he loved to flaunt around. Though, if you ever told him that, he’d just laugh and say it was a standard metalhead’s room. But you liked the way you thought of it. How every poster—the ones you would admit were kinda scary, and he’d tease you about it—or clutter of amps and wires amongst the heaps of dirty or clean clothes were personalized to Eddie Munson and unique to his taste, even if it was typical in company with the scene he followed.
And then you saw it. “Ooh!”
“Wait! Don’t touch her- it.”
Fingers mid air, you stopped and turned around to face Eddie, who stood with a cringed face that was heavily targeted at himself. “Her?” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Eddie caught up to where you stood in front of his desk, taking the hand you were about to use to touch his precious guitar, and holding it firmly within his grasp. “No one touches the guitar unless it’s me- or unless you’re worthy.” He declared.
“Worthy? Who are you, Thor?” You teased right in his face, that had him scoffing and rolling his eyes.
“No.” Eddie childishly snided in your face. “It’s just that- wait, you read Marvel Comics?” His head tilted back, face churning with suspicion, as he eyed you.
Now, it was your turn to snide at him, “No.”
Eddie laughed in your face unabashedly. “Oh, you so totally do, sweetheart.” He giggled. “Nerd.”
“Oh, whatever.” You crossed your arms with sass. “It was a long time ago, and they were my dad’s collection. It’s not like I roleplay practicing alchemy with my little gaggle of friends.”
Eddie Munson winced for you. “At least I have friends.” Your mouth dropped in disbelief, and Eddie guffawed loudly in your face. He was kinda right. But he was also kinda the reason why you lost them in the first place.
Though, you had to hand it to him, you walked right into that one. “You are mean, Eddie Munson!” You joined in on his laughter. “So, so mean. I-” You stopped mid sentence, well, actually it was the faint thud you heard outside that stopped you mid sentence. A thud? Slam? Pound? You don’t know, but you heard it.
“What?” Eddie questioned your sudden confusion.
“You didn’t hear that?” You hit him back. “The noise outside?”
“There’s lots of noise outside. It’s outside, babe.” He could only giggle at the incredulous look you threw him. “Probably just the neighbors, or Cronkers. It’s night, gets her zoomies n’ all.” But before the question of who Cronkers was could leave your mouth, the front door to Eddie Munson’s trailer pushed open, and that, you both surely heard. Eddie’s head snapped to the door of the bedroom, concealing either of you from the incoming sound of the living room. Eddie had surely made a hand signal to stay, but as if you would, you blatantly ignored his unspoken declaration, and followed right behind, fitting your hand within his with a tight grip. “Hold on, sweetheart.” He quietly whispered, as opened his bedroom door and entered the long hallway of the trailer.
“Ed, how many times do I have to tell ya to fix those damn hinges-” Wayne Munson had stopped.
You and Eddie Munson had stopped. Hand in hand. In the kitchen. Fully seen.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie hadn’t meant for it to sound so disrespectful.
“Last I checked, it’s my house.” Wayne huffed back, watching his nephew nod his head in an apology. “What are you doin’, son?” And though the simple question had been directed at Eddie, Wayne Munson’s eyes had fallen on you. Standing shyly behind Eddie, his hand in yours.
“I, um- after my campaign, I just went on, uh- Wayne, this is Y/N.” Eddie simply cut straight to the point. “Y/N Y/L/N.”
Wayne Munson had surely remembered that name. “The girl that nearly got you arrested?”
Your eyes had doubled in size. “What?”
“No!” Eddie immediately blurted out upon seeing your worried face. “No, you didn’t, I promise.” He directed to you before turning to Wayne. “She didn’t, none of that was her fault. That was all Jason’s bullshit- and mine. Not hers, Wayne.”
A pregnant pause linger amongst the three of you. It was painfully awkward. Eddie watched Wayne watch you, while you couldn’t muster a stare back, merely peered at your dirty sneakers where your toes were uncomfortably tensing inside, thanking god you hadn’t chosen the heels you proffered to Chrissy Cunningham.
“So, uh,” Wayne had cleared his throat, “what are you two doing at this hour? Did I, uh, interrupt-”
“No, sir.” You interjected politely. Your hands had worked fast to peel off Eddie’s jacket, as it somehow felt incriminating, feeling as though it could have possibly alluded to anything inappropriate. It hadn’t in Wayne’s eyes, though as precautionary measures, you still shoved it back into Eddie’s hands.
“Look, Wayne, um, why are you home so early?” Eddie managed to ask.
“Well, some incident at the plant occurred, just sent us all home until it cleared up.” Wayne shrugged off his work coat to hang along the rack of hooks by the door. The older gentleman had sauntered his way into the kitchen, standing directly in front you. “It’s awfully late, hon, you eat anything, yet?”
“Um-”
“We ate at the Hideout.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing the attention of his uncle.
“Well, that surely ain’t food, is it?” He rhetorically asked, making himself chuckle with gruff, before turning back to you. “Ya like pancakes?”
“It’s two in the morning.” Eddie chided.
“I wasn’t askin’ you, boy.” Wayne tsked back. And like clockwork, he once again directed his attention to you, humming as a way to ask again.
“Yeah, um, I do, sir.” You meekly answered, attempting to conjure a nice smile that didn’t reveal how awkward you felt.
“Great, let’s have us some breakfast, then.”
Wayne Munson had lost his intimidation in a matter of ten minutes. Much amusement came about witnessing the atrocity that was Eddie Munson attempting to crack eggs without stray eggshells, then complaining about the icky sensation of gooey egg whites when the inevitable occurred, and he searched for shells within the unmixed batter. You and Uncle Wayne had stood back to watch it play out, whispering teasing comments about the boy, as though he couldn’t hear. He did. Then proceeded to complain about that. Then the toppings debacle came about, one that had you reeling with laughter, as you played along with Wayne. You said “maybe blueberries.” He suggested “a little cinnamon.” And in the background, Eddie’s small voice offered “chocolate chips.” But in the grand scheme of things, the joke came when poor Eddie was blatantly ignored for you and Uncle Wayne’s entertainment, so when you piqued “ooh, chocolate chips.” Wayne had smiled “that’s a great idea, you should come over more often.” Eddie’s mouth dropped to the floor with disbelief. But he loved it. Eddie Munson loved seeing you with his only family so much.
“You sure your folks won’t mind you being out this late?” Breakfast had been served in the early hour of 2:27 a.m, and the small kitchen table within their residence had been bombarded with a stack of pancakes with all the fixings.
“No, sir, they don’t mind.” You lied with a smile on your face, as Eddie watched you from across the table intently.
“Good.” Wayne stuffed himself with a bite. “I’m not lookin’ to have the police roundin’ us up.” He laughed. “‘Specially not when my boy’s almost graduatin’ this year.” And watched as Wayne smiled at Eddie, providing a firm pat to his shoulder that had his nephew feeling gratified.
“Y/N’s the real star.” Eddie pointed his fork at you. “Valedictorian and she’s finishing on her first try.” You giggled with a heated face from the sweet attention.
“Really?!” Wayne turned to you. “That’s incredible, darlin’, I’m real proud of ya!” That felt nice. Too nice, to the point where your heart had suddenly stopped for a brief second to recuperate. “Folks must be real proud, too, huh?” No. They weren’t. Your father nearly screamed at you to tears the day you were suspended because the daughter he raised was becoming a failure. And your mother never cared to stay long enough to learn of the fear you were enduring.
You could only extend a tight-lipped smile with a small nod, and Eddie’s face dropped seeing you seethe in the uncomfortableness of the reality of your life. Every passing minute that Wayne Munson spoke, your smile grew faker and faker, and Eddie watched it transform every time. But Eddie was helpless. Every diversion of conversation amounted to nothing, as the fact of the matter was that Wayne Munson was a good guy- a genuine one who shamelessly showed his support for nephew in every topic of conversation. Wayne cared for Eddie like a son. Wayne loved Eddie like a son. He showed it when he spoke. So clearly. And it cemented in you deeper that your father couldn’t bear to do the same with his own daughter.
Eddie couldn’t handle the pain behind your smiling eyes. He called it the second you took the last bite of your pancakes. It was the first time Eddie Munson hadn't finished a meal. His priorities too focused on you to satiate his appetit. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late, I wanna get her home, Wayne, she’s had a long day.” He’d politely interrupted his uncle's question of wanting more orange juice.
“Yeah, go on, and let her get some rest.” Wayne smiled at you, as you stood from the table. “I’ll take care of the dishes, hon, don’t worry.”
“Thank you for everything, sir.” You sincerely beamed back. “Really, I enjoyed meeting you.”
“Lovely meetin’ you, too, darlin’.” Wayne gathered the litter of plates and cups. “Hope to have you back soon.”
“Hopefully.” Hopefully.
You hadn’t even been able to process the breath of fresh air you inhaled from the humid outdoors before Eddie began rushing out his apologies.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, was that too much?” He rushed. “I swear I didn’t know he was coming back home early. And the conversation- if anything made you uncomfortable, I’m so fucking sorry-”
“No, Eddie, stop, don’t- don’t ever be sorry about that.” You smiled. A small one, but an authentic one. “I’m sorry that I worried you. You didn’t even get to finish your food.” Eddie sighed, shaking his head to refuse your apology that he felt was unnecessary. “The breakfast was nice- you guys were nice. I loved spending the day with you and your uncle. It made me really happy, Eddie.”
“Really?” He came out so strained with disbelief. But your fervent nod cleared all his worries. You loved it just as much as he did.
“Your uncle is really kind.” You smiled. “I’m happy you have someone like him, Eddie.” Before he could respond, you took it upon yourself to throw Eddie into a secure hug that had him immediately snaking his arms around your waist tightly. “This has been the greatest night ever. Thank you for letting me learn about you.” Your lips brushed his ears in quiet whispers.
Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling a sweet smell of your perfume, enclosing his arms stronger.
Eddie Munson had just gone on his first date.
-
“Sweetheart?”
Just as it occurred last Tuesday, when Eddie Munson had gone into his drunken hysterics of guilt about who he was as a person, where you once cradled him into a peaceful sleep to mitigate the pain of realizing who he had become, Eddie Munson was now doing for you. Your eyes had given up when stinging tears finally put them to rest in the comfort of Eddie’s neck. Your breath was steady. Where your lips gently grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, Eddie turned to softly place a delicate kiss to your hot temple. You were finally getting your rest. A sense of what stability could be like. With Eddie Munson.
“Honey?” It was quiet as a mouse in Eddie’s room, the only sound to be accounted for was the whirring of the air conditioner that was working overtime. It would surely break by the end of the week.
In truth, Eddie was hungry. You would probably complain of hunger, too, had you been awake. Dinner had been long forgotten. But even if the rumble of his tummy did place some discomfort, Eddie didn’t want to move. But what he did do was ever so slightly shimmy his body down his sheeted bed, until his back was finally within comfort, aligned to the mattress, and Eddie simply rested. With you clinging to his body like a lost child, Eddie laid back, and closed his eyes with rest. His hand had mindlessly found its way beneath his shirt that you wore, letting his fingertips graze upon your back with dainty touches that had you stirring against him.
“Shh, baby, just go to sleep.” He whispered against your ear. “So proud of you for getting it all out.” His hushed voice felt like tiny kisses against your warm skin. “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. Don’t ever think that you’re not.”
Wavering between the boundaries of sleep and awake, you could hear Eddie loud and clear. Failure, the feeling that consumed you and sent you spiraling had all been wrong. All of it. You weren’t a failure for experiencing the inevitable setbacks of life. Though it may not be the explicit goal, one of the best accomplishments can be as simple as refining naivety. It was okay to profess. You’d become fixated on the achievement of results, that you blinded yourself to the repercussions of a grand high, believing it to be the end goal. Just like the great pioneers of science, physicists to biologists, the ones whose intelligence you aspiringly admired, they knew to recognize the failures of a hypothesis as discovery not a mishap. Because learning what didn’t work for yourself was a profound revelation of merit. Indulging yourself into a state of purgatory—eating three meals, decluttering your room, working your body to a purifying sweat—was great, and an admirable start, because it may have worked for the moment, but not in the long run. And you were learning it the hard way. But that was okay.
That night, Eddie Munson wrapped a soft blanket around your clinging bodies, and for once, a restful night of sleep was casted upon you two, because two hearts of lonely children were experiencing the strength of love and recovery, and you two were healing.
-
Two Hours Prior
It was the turning of locks and an abrasive single knock to your door that you had become accustomed to for the past week that told you dinner was here. It had also been the only form of communication your father ever cared to give you now-a-days. On either ends of the kitchen island, you both stand. You watch him intently, and like usual, he’s in a rush to leave, pulling styrofoam plates of hefty take-out from wet plastic bags of condensation. The question’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe for once, things can change. Things can be like Eddie and Wayne.
“Hey, um, dad?” Not a word of acknowledgement. He didn’t even look at you. “D-Do you, uh, maybe want to eat together? Like, at the table?” That. That was all you were asking for. “Please?”
It was supposed to be simple. All you wanted was simple. Your father slammed his plastic utensils to the counter. “Do you really think someone like you deserves that?” Your face dropped.
“I-I just wanted to have dinner with y-”
“After everything you put our name through, you think I’d want to have dinner with you?” It was supposed to be simple. “I’ve got men in my office, their kids who go to school with you, asking me what kind of nutcase I’m raising. Do you know what they think of you? What they think of me?! How you’ve ruined our reputation in this town?! Are you that inconsiderate?!” Your tears started welling. It was supposed to be simple. “Do you not realize how humiliating it is having a daughter like you?! I’ve done everything to give all that you need in life, and this is how you repay me-”
“You left me, dad!”
The tense atmosphere fell silent with nothing but huffing breaths.
“Excuse me?”
“You. Left. Me.” This it was. You were saying it. You were going to say everything. “I- Being around you s-scares me, because it feels like you don’t care- I know you don’t care. You don’t care about me, dad.” Maybe it was something you’ve known all along, but simply refused to accept it. Downplaying the emotional hurt, because others had it worse. Who were you to complain? And your father even spoke it. Titling himself Father of the Year for never laying a hand on you. Some dads did that. But he was the villain for wanting what’s best for you. For the family. He was disgusted with you. “I-I just want you to care! Why? Why don’t you care about me?”
“I never left!” He heaved. “Your mother is the one that left us- gave up on us! Not me! I stayed when I didn’t have to! Don’t tell me that I don’t care when I fucking stayed!”
“You were never there, dad!” You cried. Anger, you wanted to be angry, show him how angry you were, but you were crying like a child, reflecting the one that had been abandoned for years. “When mom left, so did you! You were never here for me! You’re fucking gone to me, dad.” You whimpered the last words out, immediately hiding behind the comfort of your hot hands, as burning tears smeared against your face.
“Don’t-” Your father scoffed with disbelief. He turned away, because facing the reality of neglectful actions would have put him at fault. Something he did wrong. He couldn’t be wrong. He just couldn’t. But his daughter was pleading with tears in her eyes, that poured out years of hurt by the hands of everyone. By the hands of him. So, of course, he couldn’t look at you. Not when his face began to strain with stress to control the stinging of his eyes. “I- You don’t know how much I gave up to give you everything! Everything I do is for you!”
“Locking me in my room was for me?! Never congratulating me for anything was for me?! Forgetting my birthday every year was for me?! Stop- I- you know, dad. You know that you were never here.” Your voice constricted with the agony of loss. “Y-You’re supposed to be here. For me. And I just want to tell you things, I want to tell you everything, but-but I can’t because I know you don’t care. And I just want you to. Even if it’s just a little, please, dad, please just care about me.” Everything had become horrifically pathetic. The desperation. The yearning. You hated the way you sounded. But it was how you truly felt. “I just want you to be okay. I just want you to get help- help me get help, so we can be okay together.”
Had your eyes given you a second of peace from the blurring pricks, you would have seen it. The slightest sight of a quivering chin from your father that could have maybe- just maybe given you the infinitesimal chance of hope for the best. Because it showed that he felt something. Even if it was minute to the onslaught of your escaping feelings, at the very least, it was something. Something to show that he might care. Deep down. Just might.
But then he spoke. So calmly. So earnestly. And it made you want to vomit from the sickening impalement. “I was perfectly okay until you became my problem.” You were no longer a person to him. He cleared his throat, his reddening eyes penetrating you with the utmost frightening look of disconnection. He was gone. “I hope someday you realize your mother didn’t just leave me, she left you, too. And she didn’t care to come back, Y/N. Not even for you. So, go ahead and yell about how I don’t care, when she clearly didn’t care about you, either. Make me out to be the bad guy, Y/N. But when you do, I want you to stop and think for a second about how much of a problem you were to make her leave. But I fucking stayed.” That was the irreconcilable wound that burned into your skin. Changed everything forever. “If you think you have it so bad with me, leave. Nothing’s stopping you. In fact, I want you to. Let’s see how willing mommy is to open up her arms for you. Just don’t come back when she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t care.”
Your father was thirty-four when your mother left. A decade later, his daughter was taking the same steps through the front door. The slam of the heavy door finally ignited the single tear to stream down his face, before his fingers swiped away the vulnerability. Perhaps somewhere in the back of your mind, your dad had long died, alongside the dream of amends. And maybe you had known it all along, but refused to accept the ugliness of it all. But you didn’t regret it. You couldn’t find yourself too. Though, you couldn’t believe you finally said. Everything. You hated him. You hated everything about him. As each thought cemented, your legs took you closer to him. Eddie. Without thought. Without warning. Your mind knew where to take you. Your body trusted to follow. Because just as you saw him once, you knew he could see you.
It was why his gentle words opened the busted seams of your heart, “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?” It was why his arms held no hesitation to bring you to him. It was why he provided you the necessities to be comfortable. It was why he was making it up to you.
It was why you woke up in the arms of Eddie Munson that Sunday morning. Because Eddie Munson saw you.
-
You hadn’t blinked for three minutes.
The stained linoleum of the kitchen floor were all your eyes could focus on, as the morning sun attempted to bleed through the curtained windows of the hot trailer. You had sat so stiff in the wooden chair. Where you once nearly choked on the tooth-achingly sweet bite of pancakes from a comforted laugh, you had now been stuck quiet in the depths of loneliness, attempting to find the right words to say.
Eddie’s eyes had bleared open, despite the resistance of dryness, when his hand had clutched around air. Heavy hand patting around, all that caressed his palms were the wrinkles of his sheets, now cold where the warmth of your body had now rested. Eddie had felt gross to admit it given the circumstances, but it felt nice- so fucking nice to hold you so dearly. To have his nose be invaded by the smell of you. To have his hands squeeze the curves of your body for comfort. To have your breath fan him with warmth even if it was boiling outside. Eddie would gladly burn to death if it was at the hands of your calm breathing, so steady and tranquil, so angelic and beautiful.
Rushing out of the containment of his strewn blankets, his knees had popped with the abrasive movements as his feet steadied themselves among the scratchy frills of the lining carpet. Had he given himself a second to ease the tiredness of his body, Eddie Munson would have had an alert mind, and wouldn’t have startled you with the deafening creaking of his bedroom swinging open. But he did, and he would soon apologize. But not before he showered you with the needed support for the conversation you were carrying.
Phone tightened in the small grasp of your hand, you locked eyes with Eddie from down the hall. And he heard you speak, so soft and frail, closely into the receiver. “Something bad happened, Chrissy.” Eddie rushed to your side, once your face contorted to the pained scrunch that killed his soul to witness. Had you looked at the ticking clock on the wall, you would have known time was breaching seven in the morning. Chrissy Cunningham’s voice sounded so groggy with fatigue. You felt even more awful. But Eddie’s hand had landed on the small of your back, his rough finger maneuvering gently against your tense body to mollify the ache of tensity. You stared at him with big eyes, as you spoke weakly into the phone. “I can’t go home, something bad will-” Your breath hitched. “I just- can I please stay with you for a little bit, Chris, I’m so sorry.”
Eddie had pulled you in until your head landed peacefully against his chest. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispered against your head.
When Chrissy Cunningham had her first argument with Jason Carver, she was spending the night at his house, when she suddenly turned up at your doorstep. It was trivial. Teenagers arguing over the discomfort of one’s lab partner being of the opposite sex. Despite its inconsequentiality, Chrissy had wanted to cut her sleepover short after the petty bickering. You had let her take up the other half of your bed for the entirety of the Memorial Day weekend with no complaints. Chrissy Cunningham would be damned to not provide you the same safety. Of course, she said yes. No questions asked. When the last goodbye was spoken, you’d lazily dropped the phone back onto the hook, before collapsing into Eddie’s tight embrace for security.
“Let me make you some breakfast.” He pulled back to see your face. “Wayne should be home soon. I’m sure he’d like to have breakfast with you again. Couldn’t stop ravin’ about you last time.” But the short chortle that fell out of Eddie’s lips was short lived, as you suddenly began shaking your head in refusal.
“No, I don’t want him to see me, Eddie. Not like this.” You sighed. “I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t want to be a problem. This is twice in a row that I’ve been here without his-”
“Hey, hey, hey.” His hands drew down the length of your arms. “Relax, sweetheart, you’re not a problem, I promise. It’s my place, too. I want you here, Y/N.” Your heart could barely handle the words Eddie spoke, how much they contradicted the torment your father instilled. “Let’s just sit for a minute, yeah?”
“I-I can’t, I have to get my stuff, I need to head over to Chrissy’s, I still have so much work to catch up for school, I can’t- Eddie, I can’t.” Your hands pulled around the skin of your forehead, believing it to be the only remedy to ease the aching throb of your head.
“Okay, stop, honey, you’re going to drive yourself insane thinking like that.” His fingers took a firm hold of your wrist to pull them away from your harsh touch. “I know it’s a lot, baby, and I’m so sorry for this bullshit that’s being thrown at you, but please just take a second to breathe. We’ll figure this out, I promise. Just one thing at a time, we’ll take it one thing at a time.” You nodded your head with a heavy exhale to regulate the needed alleviation throughout your body. “I’ll take you to grab everything you need, I can drop you off at Chris’, and you’ll eat there- promise me you will, because you haven’t eaten anything in a while Y/N, and once you finally rest, you can catch up on a bit of work. I’m sure Chrissy will like to help. And I promise, Y/N, I’ll be home, near this damn phone, so if you call, I’ll be here to talk to you. For anything you need, I’ll be here.”
Eddie Munson’s designation brought you to quiet tears. How could you ever see yourself as a problem, when Eddie Munson wanted to be there for you?
Begrudgingly, you’d lost the comfort of Eddie’s pajamas when you retrieved your folded clothes from the washing machine, having to be tainted by the outfit that reminded you of the haunting memories of last night. Eddie hadn’t realized the severity of you truly wanting to leave his house before his uncle arrived, until he trudged out of the bathroom with decent clothes, and found you nowhere, until he peeked outside to the foggy morning where you rested against his van within the mist. In all honesty, the humiliation of having to face someone as nice as his uncle was the only driving point to leave so urgently. Bombarding his home when nothing had even been concisely established between you and his nephew. That was another lingering issue that twisted your mind to mush. Surely the events following up to today had pushed you both beyond the heavy definition of a friendship, or maybe it hadn’t, and this was simply the newfound experience of gaining a friend who was genuine in comparison to the ones you once had.
“You ready to go?” His hand stationed upon your shoulder, where you turned to meet his sweet eyes that couldn’t keep away from your face. The ones that fluttered to every feature with precise dedication to each one; your eyes, your nose, your lips.
How could he ever be just a friend when he looked at you like that?
The ride over had been nothing but a palpitating heartbeat drumming in your ear, as the contents of your belly stirred rambunctiously. Eddie noticed it every time he looked over. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Lips mouthing the words like a command to be followed, as you stared at the passing landscape as a distraction to the fear bubbling inside. Eddie’s hand snaked over to yours, stealing your attention, as his fingers interlocked with yours to never be let go. He smiled at you, a reassuring one, one that dissipated the heat that was consuming your body to a suffocating degree. Eddie was here. Your empty driveway had been the first sight your eyes landed on. Dead. You thought he was dead to you. But a gnawing persistence of disappointment crashed over you when you saw he was gone. Just a little bit. Because maybe on the off chance of believing he could change, you would have seen your father’s car parked in the same position it once had been when you left, because who would genuinely go to work the next day after their only child left them for good? But that was the ego of a man. That was the reality of your father.
“Take all the time you need, or be as fast as you want.” Eddie squeezed your hand, as you stayed seated in his van. “Your choice, sweetheart, okay?”
You nodded your head surely.
The third stone to the left that lined the large bush of pink rhododendrons had housed the spare key to your house. Imprinted into the wet dirt, the key had embarked you into the coldness of your house, where Eddie followed closely behind. In the case of not being hounded with the threats of murder by your father, Eddie had taken the moment to really stare. Stare at the whiteness. The blandness. The minimal decorations. The large staircase. Uninventing as a house could be, Eddie felt unnerving about the thoughts of being stuck in such a lifeless place for years, proffering much needed appreciation to the cozy trailer he called home.
“I just, um, I’m only going to get clothes, and some important papers. I won’t be long.” Your fingers curled around the cracked door of your bedroom, still opened from when you stepped out to have dinner. Still opened from when you just wanted to be together. When it was supposed to be simple.
Your room looked different. Drastically different from the drunken eyes Eddie once scanned of your room. Gone were the miniscule details that defined the person you were. Eddie didn’t like it. At all. “Everything’s gone?” He hadn’t meant it to be perceived as a question, but the implications of confusion had taken over, and Eddie surely was looking for answers.
You were quiet with your speech. “I was just trying to get better.” Given you had reached within the depths of your closet to recover a beloved suitcase, Eddie hadn’t seen the pain of admission to your wrongdoing. Just like your father, the reality of acknowledging where you had gone wrong burned your throat as you spoke. But you weren’t like him. Just like Eddie wasn’t like his. And you were strong enough to recognize your wrongs. “But, um, I don’t think it was enough… to actually help.” You weren’t like him.
“You did something.” Eddie chimed in sincerely. “That’s more than most people do. You’re really fucking incredible to try something without having a shrink tell ya.” His finger circled to himself. And that’s what he wanted. A laugh, even if it was small, the corner of your lips were tugging to the sky. Even if he had to take a jab at himself.
“Ms. Kelly is not a shrink. She’s a counselor. Genuinely a vast difference.” And even if it was stated with a little sass, he’d take your rebutting comments with ease, because Eddie Munson truly loved it coming out of your mouth.
The offering of a hand had fervently been rejected by you, feeling as though you’ve sacrificed enough of Eddie’s time with the rampancy of your life. So, he sat back. With you by his side on the floor of your bedroom, Eddie quietly watched you fold items of clothes, each tailored to the style that suited you best. Shirts; small, large, short-sleeve, long-sleeve, of all patterns and colors. But you softly told him green was your favorite. And sweaters, my god, did it appear you love them most. While you ransacked your dresser, the very least Eddie insisted on was retrieving all that hung in your closet. Tight dresses, sun dresses. You’d briefly went on a tangent explaining how you loved the look of strapless ones, but the lack practicality really peeved you off. Eddie laughed when he heard you say peeve with all seriousness. And the shoes were the easiest. Sneakers, and, well, just mostly sneakers, they were the most important. Not very often will you find yourself sporting any form of stilettos while living at Hawkins. If those had to stay to be forgotten, it’d be okay. And ever the gentleman, Eddie noticed your hesitant approach to the last drawer, and quickly turned his head away to appear as if to be occupied by the minimalistic flower patterns of your wallpaper. Whether you realized his actions, or merely thought it was perfect timing, it didn’t matter, because Eddie Munson saved you the awkwardness, and you freely were able to stuff the last of your suitcase with the needed bras and underwear of your life.
A moment of quietness rested upon you, as Eddie momentarily left your house to follow the back and forth momentum of loading his van with your personal belongings. Books. You had a lot of books, special ones that once lined your bookcase with perfect clutter. Eddie had seen the small lingering smile etched to your face, as your finger traced the spines of novels, big and small. So hearing you disheartenedly admit donation or selling to be the best options stung his chest with a residing ache. He mumbled with a small smile. “You should keep ‘em, sweetheart. They belong with you. And when you get your own place, they’ll be the first thing I’ll help you put up.” Eddie Munson had a delicate way of evanescing the affliction of reality.
You had told him you’d be just a minute. And you had been. Sitting in the driver seat of his van, cool air blasting through the dusty vents of the AC, Eddie wondered what you did for that minute. Following the cliches of just about every coming of age movie where the main character leaves a childhood home, Eddie would have imagined you reminiscing through the various rooms you once stepped in throughout the stages of your life. But surely, that would take more than a minute. And you were out quickly. Because the reality of the matter was that you simply did not want to reminisce. Anything good of remembrance had been taken away from you by the tainted realization of what you meant to the people you cared about the most.
It was cold. It was blank. It was lifeless.
So, all you needed was a minute, and as promised, Eddie watched you close the door to leave that life behind. This was your beginning. Even if it wasn’t ideal, you wanted it- needed it. You let go of the deep breath that resided in your lungs the second your bottom met the cushioned seat of Eddie’s van. It was the first words he spoke, the only words he needed to say, “Are you okay?” You looked at Eddie solemnly. It was such a disgustingly polarizing question. One that had been haunting you for a lifetime. One that brought you to the precipice of collapse. One that felt as if you’d been driving yourself to delirium just to dissect.
A small smile appeared on your face, as you softly answered. “I will be.” And for once, you could be sure of that.
As a student of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham had been all too familiar with the rampant yells of metal music that emanated from the grumling car of Eddie Munson. The student parking lot had been no different than her neighborhood street. So, Chrissy emerged on cue. It didn’t take you two seconds to jump out of Eddie’s car the second he parked along the curb of Chrissy’s house. Pacing off her porch, Chrissy met you halfway down her driveway before you crashed into her arms. Your arms had smushed into the straight strands of her hair around her neck, as she secured you firmly in a hug. It became helpless to try to fight the bombarding tears, and they came quickly, sinking into the cashmere collar of her sweater. Not a word was said between the two of you, as she merely held you in a tight embrace that provided the comfort you needed to relinquish the torment of your home life. “I told my parents.” Chrissy mumbled into your body. “Of course, you can stay with us.”
A choked sob escaped your throat. It was acceptance.
Chrissy’s eyes opened to land on the man standing back. Leaning against his rustic van that was on its last leg, but he paid no mind, as long as it got you to the places you needed. To the places you’d be okay at. To the places you could run away and be together. Eddie’s heart lurched at the sight. Seeing you understand that you were cared for. No matter your parents, you had people. Even if it was just two. Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson loved you.
Shit, Eddie Munson genuinely, authentically, certainly, absolutely loves…
He swallowed the large lump in his throat. “Just hold her.” His lips mouthed, as Chrissy watched him. And she listened. Arms tightening around to safety.
Stability.
-
Monday. Following in the footsteps of the lazy, pessimistic cat that Eddie and his uncle loved, you were beginning to revel in the same sentiment of despising the first day of the school week. Sunday had you were drained of all emotions. You wished you could put blame on sore muscles after having to move your items into the spare bedroom, though Eddie took that away from you when he told you to sit down, and did the dirty work himself. And Chrissy, of course, did the due diligence of multitasking between the playing chef and best friend. French toast was fried and topped with syrup and powdered sugar with a side of strawberries, while providing a shoulder to cry on, because it dawned on you that you had never been taken care of like you had been during the mere twenty minutes of that particular Sunday morning than you had been during the last eighteen years of your life with your own parents.
The notion had solidified when all of that sunny Sunday, you received no call from a worried father about their gone daughter’s whereabouts, as one would expect. Nothing. Not even a knock at the doorstep just to make sure of your security. Absolutely nothing.
And surely, a tumultuous home life would be reason enough to garner someone a day off from school to prolong the chaotic weekend, but most weren’t returning from a suspension due to insubordination, so that Monday you were playing catch-up. Exhaustingly.
The myriad of conversations surrounding you within the main hall of Hawkins High was becoming discordant to your tired state. Your eyes blinked harshly to try to mitigate the drowsiness of the day. The clunking of your stubborn locker finally opening was enough to bring you just a sliver of energy to switch out a history textbook that truly looked the historical part for an agonizing book about calculus that was becoming your sworn enemy.
“You tired?”
Your eyes turned to lock with his brown ones you’d grown heavily fond of. Eddie had sported a sly smile that played into his bravado, as he leaned against the lockers next to you.
You winced at him. “Is it that obvious?”
“I woke up to your pretty, little, tired face yesterday morning, sweetheart. I’ve burned it into my mind forever. Of course, I’m going to notice.” Eddie liked that small shy face you pulled, attempting to hide your heated face away from his stare. But with your face peering away from him, you caught a glimpse of what reality was for you in school. Eddie followed your eyes to the sight that made your smile fall. Across the hall, Blake Decker had eyed you with a flagrant smirk after whispering to his buddy that if the freak could get you, so could he- the whole baseball team could. You were up for grabs. It was just a matter of who could score first. Three lockers down, Stevie Martinez had laughed at the question of how much substance the freak was supplying you after getting in your pants. Would enduring a little flirting with him get her a discount? He had to be desperate. And pointing at you from the water fountain was Carmen Mitchell, identifying you to her posse of youth group kids that were ready to snitch to Hawkins’ local pastor of someone needing Jesus. In a couple days, your father would be receiving advertising mail of encouragement to join the church. Luckily, you didn’t live there to countenance the proselytism from evangelical Christians. Eddie despondently sighed. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
Your head snapped at his contemplative face. So somber, but a tight-lipped smile was attempting to cover it. So, you smiled at him. Dignified. “No.” You told him firmly. “I want you right here… with me.”
His teeth found his bottom lip, as his cheeks became flooded with blood that rosied his pale skin. “I, uh-” Your giggling did nothing to satisfy the coughing he had to conjure to compensate for his dry mouth. Because you… you were squeezing his heart without realizing the severity of it. This was dangerous. Dangerous territory Eddie Munson was crossing into. But running away would be worse. He did it once, and it killed him. “Um, w-would you want to be with me Saturday night? Like, another date? A second one? I promise I’ll plan it way better than the first one.” He chuckled. “No more skeezy bars, I swear! And it’ll be the weekend, so I’ll obviously not be doing my homework, and I know you’ll be done with yours…” He shrugged with a teasing smile.
You laughed. “You should really be doing your homework, Eddie.”
“I will, I will.” His conspicuous stare to the far right let the fact be known that he was blatantly lying without a care. “If I do it, can this potential date be my little treat?” He perked.
“Depends, what does this little treat entail?” You interrogated with a smile on your face.
“Ah, well, unfortunately, sweetheart, details will not be disclosed for anticipation purposes.” He smirked. “Y’know, surprises n’ all.”
You playfully rolled your eyes. “Mm, the last time you concealed such details I almost wore heels to a rundown bar full of old men.”
Eddie blenched. “Sorry ‘bout that again, sweet girl, but I promise this time is different.” He assured. “I may be a sulking asshole who can’t handle my emotions and lash out at people because I’m too pathetic to deal with my own problems, but I definitely keep my promises.” My god, how far you and Eddie have come was mind blowing. Had you told your past self that the man you had a screaming match with just outside of school a couple weeks prior was asking you on a second date, you would’ve laughed in your own face.
“Are you still hanging that over my head?” You giggled. “Because if I remember correctly you said far worse-”
“No, no, I know, sweetheart!” He adamantly agreed. “You’re wholeheartedly correct. And are you kidding me? That one-liner was the second greatest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I’m genuinely considering getting it tattooed right across my chest with no regrets.” He laughed. “That one sentence set me straight, honey.”
“Wait,” you invigorated, “if that’s the second greatest thing I’ve ever said, what’s the first?” Your head tilted with curiosity.
“Agreeing to go out with me. Twice.” He simpered.
“‘Twice?’” You tittered. “I don’t remember saying yes to the second date.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie laughed. “I’m totally finishing my homework for this week, that’s a guaranteed yes from your part, trouble.”
You pointed a stern finger at him with squinted eyes of skepticism. “Only if you finish your homework.”
Thursday. Amidst the bustling thirty minute break from class, the cafeteria had flooded with an amass amount of students that proffered the freneticism that was Hawkins High’s lunch period. Chrissy Cunningham had been persistent to encourage your prospective application to Claire’s after Hannah Walsh was set for a nine month leave—whatever that meant. And Chrissy was resolute on the fact that working at the Starcourt Mall had far more perks than babysitting the Johnson’s circus of kids, especially after popping out their fifth. Insisted on the matter that it was aging you. Lovingly, though. And it happened to fall during her harangue about the employee discount that a book report was slapped in the middle of the table that stole your attention away from your friend. “The Last of Mohicans.”
“Wear something casual.” Eddie smiled, as you peeled your eyes from his homework and looked up to meet his satisfied grin. “I don’t recommend heels, but wear as you please. You’ll look perfect regardless.” But before you could get a word to even formulate, Eddie had turned his attention to an equally stunned—more so confused—Chrissy. “Will your folks mind if I pick her up at your doorstep Saturday night?”
“Oh.” Chrissy blinked. “Uh, no, they have a dinner party that night.” She smiled, and looked at you.
“Perfect.” Eddie beamed. “I’ll see you Saturday night at seven?” Taken aback by his charm, you made the right decision to save yourself the embarrassment of trying to speak, and settled on a firm nod and beguiling smile that had Eddie flushed with giddiness. “Perfect.”
Saturday. It was the locker room scene all over again. Yes, being taken in by the Cunninghams had been something of extemporized means, but a week of residing in their guest bedroom—something they encouraged to just call yours—surely would have given you enough time to settle, right? No. Very much, an extremely hard no. Clothes of all sorts had been strewn about in a chaotic mess, made only worse, when you flung about shirts, pants, and shorts to find the perfect outfit. Chrissy had been defeated in a pile of cotton, cashmere, and silk as you dwindled your choices to two shirts that in Chrissy’s words “looked great, just choose one, he won’t care.” And she’d been right. Upon opening the door to his meticulous knocking, his eyes had brightened just as it occurred on the night of your first date. Your face- your everything had been magnetized to the golden rays of the setting sun, that just highlighted everything beautiful about you. And that was… everything.
“Are you going to finally tell me where we’re going?” You elated, as you settled into the front seat of Eddie’s van.
“Patience is a virtue, my darling.” Eddie smiled, as he took peeks to his right side. “Trust me, it’ll be better than the Hideout.”
“Benny’s?”
“Not Benny’s, but I’ll consider it for the third date.” He smirked.
“If you make it that far.” You joked, as your soft giggles infiltrated his ears lovingly.
“Don’t worry, Y/N, I have firm plans of completing all of my homework for the rest of the school year. So, hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re kinda stuck with me.”
“Mm, wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that idea.” You teased. “Ooh, wait! Enzo’s?” You were beginning to catechize him, but were only met with a barking laugh from Eddie.
“Sweet girl, I’m still terribly broke, but I appreciate your guessing.” He chortled. “Now, no more questions. Just sit back and relax, and let me handle things, okay?”
And you did just that. Attempting to adjust to the loud music Eddie’s ears had already been accustomed to, he had taken it upon himself to provide you all the formation of said bands that played. Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath once bit a bat’s head off on stage. Eddie claimed it was the most metal thing he’s ever seen. Oh, and Derek Riggs, the dude who made the album cover for Powerslave—declared the best album by Eddie, himself—for Iron Maiden liked to stick silly messages into the artwork. Eddie affirmed to show you whenever it would be the next you came over. Which then segwayed into a conversation of how Wayne Munson had been insisting on having you over again. He liked meeting one of Eddie’s “friends” as he put it. Eddie would never tell you, but all of Sunday, he had been teased relentlessly for having a pretty girlfriend. And despite his inexorable shield of “we’re just friends, she’s not my girlfriend,” Wayne Munson’s old ears were able to pick up on the mumbled “yet” that his nephew so hopefully spoke to himself. And thankfully, before any interrogation could progress from your part, you both had reached the outskirts of Mulberry street, and neared the woods.
“Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock?” You asked, as Eddie’s van tracked over tire trails from previous cars who took the familiar succession. “Because one would show you have sentiment.” You smiled. “The other would show you definitely have a motive.”
“Definitely the first one.” Eddie laughed. He parked his trusty van at a small clearing, where twenty steps south, Lover’s Lake glistened under the illuminating sunset. “Because- well, last time we were here we cried like babies over ice cream.” He sniggered quietly. “And, uh, even though it was… heavy, it was still one of my favorite times with you.” Eddie had shyly began to play with the rings on his fingers, as he felt your eyes dawn on him. “Y’know, it was the first time I got to talk to you- actually talk to you. Explain everything to you. So, um, as part of making it up to you, you deserve to be taken out. Properly. Not a bar. No tears. Just you and me. Where we can just clear our minds together.”
When he finished, Eddie finally found the courage to peer his round eyes at you that searched for any validation that this was okay- that he was okay- okay to be with. And he found you smiling sincerely at him with devoted eyes that gave him all the tender care of the world. “I love it, Eddie.”
He smiled. You, you, you, you. How great would it be to hear the word “you” instead of “it” in that sentence?
Eddie whispered. “I packed a totally metal picnic.” He nodded to the basket that resided in the back of his van.
And packed a totally metal picnic he did. Three feet away from the cooling waters of Lover’s Lake, a small patch of grass and dandelions had been covered by the soft blanket that lived in Eddie Munson’s van, as it’d been the only clearing that wasn’t smeared with muddy clay infused with dirt—an hour prior, Eddie had played landscaper to get rid of the dirt and sticks that claimed the best spot he found. Though, he had kept that part a secret from you. Something about hearing you gush about fate giving you the perfect area was too innocent to kill in his eyes.
“Okay, so we have some totally cool beers, and by that, I mean one for me.” He pulled out. “And for you, sweetheart, a nice cold soda, because I care about your liver and taste buds.”
“Why thank you so much, kind sir.” You laughed, as you grabbed the drink.
“No problem, princess.” He winked, before continuing his ministration. “Oh, and, uh, I saved you the future food poisoning I would have given you if I cooked anything, so Mrs. Latrowski kindly offered to make us some Fettuccine Alfredo.” Not kindly. He was now stuck fixing her hunk of junk excuse of a car for the next week. Without pay. “Don’t know if it’s really picnic-y, but I hope you’ll like it.”
“Of course, really, thank you so much, Eddie.” You scooted closer to have his thigh touching yours. He licked his lips, and focused his attention to the basket to conceal his reddening cheeks.
“But Mrs. Latrowski doesn't get all the credit, because I packed pretzels.” Two bags. Two comically large bags full of pretzels. “And, uh, Pringles, sour cream n’ onion, because that’s the only acceptable flavor. Oh, don’t worry, I balanced it out with some of Wayne’s watermelon that I stole. Don’t tell him.” He laughed, pulling out the tupperware of the uniquely cut fruit. “And I made us some PB&Js. And to top it off, some chocolate chips.” The half filled bag of Nestle's chocolate chips that were once used to make pancakes with you and his uncle were now being pulled out of his basket as an appetizer for your date.
And you loved it all.
-
The obnoxious door bell had rung for the second time that night.
“Ugh.” Chrissy Cunningham groaned, as her plans of taking advantage of her newly single night were now being disturbed. Pausing in the middle of Sandy Olssen’s hopelessly devoted number to Danny Zuko, Chrissy begrudgingly removed the bowl of popcorn from her lap to wake her legs from being sunken into the couch. And then, some knocking. “Alright, I’m coming!” Her socked feet slid her across the glossy wood of the floor, as she dragged herself to the front door. “Yes-”
It was strange how much you looked just like your father.
Chrissy’s face had been drained of all the blood in her system, and she closed the door to lessen the gap between her and the house. “Chrissy.” Your father cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting your night so late. Are your parents home?”
“N-No.” She softly answered. “But, uh, my b-boyfriend is.” Her heart beated out of her chest. For safety.
“Well, um, is my daughter here? I’d imagine Y/N would most likely run away to your home than anywhere else- well, at least I would hope.” His mind reeled back to the morning he chased Eddie Munson out.
“She’s not here, sir.”
“Right, well, if you’re ever in contact with her, please give her this.” He handed over an envelope that stuck to a folded piece of paper with tape. This was it. This was his goodbye. Chrissy cautiously took the hefty envelope, and nodded her head, speechless to it all. “Have a good night. Tell your parents I said hello.”
Not even a hello to you.
-
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have eaten all those chocolate chips!”
The dramatics of Eddie Munson truly played their part, as he laid back with his arms stretched out, and a groan to accompany his complaints. “I told you to slow down on those.” You laughed, placing a delicate slap to his bloated belly that simply elicited more moans. “Don’t die on me, you're my ride.” You joined him on the ground, where he turned his head to meet the tip of your nose.
“Wow, nice to know how much I mean to you.” He playfully scoffed.
“Are you kidding me? You mean the world to me, Eddie. Best chauffeur in town!” You laughed, as he rolled his eyes. “Even better since you can’t complain. You know, since you’re making it up to me?”
Eddie guffawed. “I asked you to let me make it up to you, not exploit me.”
When the giggles had simmered down, you and Eddie were left simply staring into each other's eyes. You could see his stare soak up your features, following the contours of your face, and stationing at your lips. “You know you mean more to me than just a chauffeur, right?”
Eddie nodded his head, his hair getting smushed in the space between his head and the blanket. “I know, sweet girl.” You both could feel it in your bellies, that stirring feeling of sparks igniting whenever you looked at each other. The excitement, sure, it was incredible to revel in, but the security, the security of when that spark would slowly die out, but not to a point of resentment, to a point where the nerves were gone, and you could be comfortable. Comfortable with the piece of mind that you had him and he had you. His shoulders scooted closer, nose rubbing against yours, and his breath fanned warmly across your mouth. “Y/N…?” Whispered into the air, the question didn’t have to be verbalized. You shook your head to give him permission. And Eddie leaned in.
That is until you screamed.
“Ah!” You shrieked, jumping up to your feet.
Eddie sat up with urgency. “What?! WHAT?!”
“There’s a worm by your head!”
“WHERE?!”
Your second date with Eddie Munson was ended by a stray earthworm that managed to squirm its way onto the blanket. But it’s okay. In the future, it would be a cute story to tell. And the car ride home was made even more entertaining when your jabs at Eddie became endless. The humidity of the night had frizzed his hair far more than usual, and watching his hands swat the strands crazily in fear of a worm creating a nest in there had your stomach cramping from laughter. Eddie would allow the teasing to continue if it meant hearing your laugh for just another minute. But he vehemently countered that you screamed just as loud in the first place, so you were in no place to poke fun. Arriving at the familiar doorstep of the Cunningham house, Eddie had sighed realizing another perfect night was ending far sooner than he wanted. But it had also been a reminder. The biggest sign of that two story suburban wet dream of a house was your newfound freedom. No longer were you shackled to the barbaric severeness of perfection that your vile father had subjected you to. You were liberated to live your life. Make your own decision. Be your true self.
So dropping you off at your new home wasn’t exactly the worst thing for Eddie to endure, because he knew you were safe. He knew you were going to be okay. Eddie held your hand up the stairs to the porch, where the small, yellow light bloomed your features in the night. Staring down into your face was the single greatest thing Eddie felt privileged to experience. God, he loved it. He loved y-
“Thank you for another perfect date.” You beamed up at him.
“Anything for you, princess.” He sighed a breath of relief, as he felt at ease in your presence. Preparing to have you leave was another thing to handle. “I’ll be sure to finish my chemistry homework to get you on a third.”
“It would be quite nice to see you walking for graduation.” You squeezed his hand. “Maybe your uncle and I can celebrate you with a late night breakfast.”
“God, you really are the sweetest.” Eddie bit his lip, as he peered down at you. “I really hate that worm for ruining our moment.”
“Poor guy, we were probably crushing his home with our picnic.” You giggled. “Can’t blame him for seizing it back.”
“I can if he stopped me from kissing you.” Eddie allured you, as his large hand found your cheek to cradle in his palm tenderly. Thumb swiping your supple face, he had dragged you close against his chest. “But the bastard’s not here to stop me again.”
“No, he’s not.” You softly laughed.
Eddie smiled, as he whispered to your face. “So, can I kiss you, sweetheart?”
You delicately nodded. “You can kiss me, handsome.”
Nose brushing, your lips were colli-
“Y/N!” You jumped back with a squeal, as Chrissy Cunningham had abruptly opened the front door with exigency that caused you to separate from Eddie’s incoming face. Eddie knew what this was. This was the universe testing him. Seeing how fast he would resort back to his asshole ways, and yell at Chrissy Cunningham to fuck off for interrupting his kiss with the one girl he’s ever wanted to be with. But he bit his tongue, and fought the anger to subside, and simply chose to sigh dejectedly. “Sorry to barge in, but I really need Y/N.”
“Is everything alrig-”
“Yes, just come on!” She grabbed your hand. “Sandy just caught Danny dancing with Cha-Cha DiGregorio, come on! Eddie, you have our number, just call Y/N tomorrow, okay? Bye!”
“Wait, can’t we just get a minute-” Eddie attempted.
“No!” Chrissy Cunningham was using that cheer strength to hall you into the house.
“I’m sorry.” You quickly looked back. “Call me later, I had so much fu-” The door was slammed right on your sentence, and Eddie’s head fell against it utterly crushed. “Chrissy, what the hell? I was literally about to have my first kiss with Eddie-”
“Y/N, your dad came by.”
Your face had fallen like a sad child. “What?”
Chrissy had respected your wishes to leave you alone in your room. Alone with his envelope. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the note attached to the delivered mail. Your fingers had a tight grip on the paper, your heat causing the thin material to crumple from the clamminess. Eventually, your shaky hands managed to attentively tear the taped letter away from the envelope. Just a folded notebook paper. The unusuality of the situation came about as the paper had been torn. Your father once yelled at you for not tearing a sheet by the imprinted seam. This was rushed, a message written with urgency. For once, not prioritized on perfectionism. You unfolded the frail paper.
“I know you’re angry, but everything I’ve ever done for you was exactly for this moment. I did all I could. Your mistakes determine your success.” - From, Dad
Your brows cinched with confusion. Setting his note aside, you harshly reached for the thick envelope, turning it around to read the address. Your heart sank to your stomach. Written in its bolden letters, there it was, the determining factor to your future: 116th and Broadway, New York, NY, 10027 Columbia University Undergraduates Admission Office. Far, far away. You wanted to go far, far away. Frantically tearing the sealed envelope open, your hands worked absentmindedly quick to unfold the professional letter. It was there. Right in your hands. But your eyes couldn’t fathom moving past the formal greeting that simply stated your name, and possibly seeing the rejection of your life. You knew how your mind worked. You knew how you were conditioned. A rejection is a failure. You would be a failure. And your father would be right.
Columbia University
Office of Admission
Dear, Y/N Y/L/N,
No matter how close Chrissy Cunningham smushed her ear to the door, it was dead silent. Nothing. She was beginning to worry you may not have even been breathing. She may have respected your privacy, but she wasn’t oblivious. She knew better than to read your father’s personal note, but she very clearly read the return address of the envelope, and she knew what was about to unfold. Three years ago, sitting in the comfort of her bed with you by her side, you both stared at the ceiling with smiles on your face, and talks of the future. At the time, a young Chrissy Cunningham had gushed about going to Indiana State, because that’s where Jason Carver had prioritized to attend, after frequenting all their college basketball games with his dad as a kid. It’s where Jason Carver took Chrissy Cunningham on their first date. In the moment, she laid out the plans of her life: attend college, study pharmaceutical medicine, and graduate with a ring on her finger. Specifically his great grandmother’s. An heirloom so beautiful and of high value. And Chrissy Cunnginham would have wished it to occur on the night of their graduation, where both families met to celebrate the young adults on a new chapter of their life, and Jason Carver would have declared his chapter to begin with his wife. Chrissy had turned to you and asked “What about you?” And you answered honestly. “I just want to go far away.” You’d asked her if it would be possible. And she smiled and nodded her head. “I see you being successful. Somewhere big. Like New York. Where you can be you. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here.” And you had hugged your best friend tightly that night. Far away. That’s where you’d go.
Chrissy flinched, as the door to your bedroom slowly opened. And there you were. She stared at you with big, wandering eyes. Yours had been stinging. Stinging with tears, and Chrissy's mouth was beginning to open to try to formulate a word. But then you spoke. Quietly.
“I got in.”
Chrissy gasped, as she brought you into a tight hug, arms securing you in place, as she began screaming in cheers and jumping up and down, forcing you to follow suit. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” You released your tears of joy, crying in laughter, as you began your intimate celebration with your endearing friend. “That’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”
“I can’t believe I actually did.” You muffled into her embrace. “My suspension-”
Chrissy pulled you away. “Hey, forget about that! You did! What Principal Higgins did holds nothing to how incredible you are! And they see that!” She effused loudly. “I’m so proud of you!”
This was you. This was your accomplishment. Not your father’s. This was all entirely you.
“I’m proud of myself.” You giggled through the sniffles of a stuffy nose, as you wiped your eyes.
“We have to tell everyone- my parents, they’ll be so happy for you! Oh, Eddie! You have to tell Eddie!”
Your smile became small at the realization.
Eddie…
You sucked in your lips, and simply nodded along to the rambling cheers she shot out a mile a minute. Eddie. That night, despite Chrissy's encouragement, you hadn’t told Eddie of your acceptance when he called you at 10:43 p.m. You just relished in his voice, humming along to the stories and thoughts he excitedly shared with you, as you savored his over-the-phone company. Because in a couple months, you would be gone. And the budding relationship that you and Eddie had worked so hard to come to terms would be gone alongside your presence. And that made your eyes well with tears as Eddie sweetly confided how much he loved spending time with you. Eddie claimed that night he couldn’t wait to do it for as long as you’ll have him. What he didn’t know was how quick that reality would come shattering in. So you just let him speak. Because no one had ever given Eddie Munson a chance to talk. And the one person who did would be gone soon.
So, you smiled through the ache and told Chrissy that Eddie was happy for you.
And you softly cried that night. Alone. Both happy and sad tears that wet your pillow before you fell asleep for the day.
-
The next morning, Eddie had followed the sound of the patterned clink of his uncle’s spoon hitting against his valued Odie mug, as the older man stirred his morning cup of coffee to accompany the scrambled eggs and toast he’d just served himself. “Mornin’.” Though his back was turned, his nephew’s feet patting their way against the tile of the kitchen had become all too familiar. And like clockwork, a tired groan was the greeting in return. “What’s got you up this early?” He asked, as he turned around to see Eddie’s slumped body lean against the cold counter, as he did little to fight off the weariness.
A single sock with a hole that let his toe peek out, while his other foot stayed completely exposed. But in Eddie’s defense, he was in no control of the insanity that was his sleep state, and that left sock was most likely tangled into his rumpled blankets. But the boxer briefs were entirely his fault. If he’d only learn how to properly use the dryer, his plaid underwear wouldn’t be constricting his thick thighs right now. But as much as Eddie didn’t know how to correctly do laundry, he also hated attempting, and he was down to his last clean pair. So, unlike his pajamas, he actually had to wear the shrunken boxers after scavenging for them in the back of his dresser. And for once, Wayne could see his nephew’s large forehead, as his bangs had lost the battle of Eddie’s sleeping movement.
Examining his nephew’s look wasn’t something Wayne partook in on a regular basis, but seeing his state, and thinking of you- well, you liked Eddie. You liked Eddie like this. In the most abominable condition Eddie could be in, Wayne Munson could still picture you crooning so lovingly at him like the early morning of your communal breakfast. You liked Eddie for Eddie.
“You.” Eddie’s voice cracked with dryness. “Why are you so loud?”
“Ah, well, I didn’t know it was a crime for me to make breakfast in my own home after workin’ the graveyard shift.” Wayne gruffed. “And what were you doin’ last night? Oh, yeah, havin’ fun with your little girlfriend, while your poor uncle worked.”
Eddie shot him a tired glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“I like you better when she’s around.” Wayne chuckled quietly. “Far less grumpy.” And a small smile managed to crack through Eddie’s fatigued face, as the home phone began to ring from the wall. Setting his breakfast onto the small kitchen table, Wayne sighed before picking up the call with a strong “Hello?” And then a hum. And then another. And then he turned to Eddie. “It’s for you, boy.”
Slapping the sleepiness from his cheeks, Eddie meandered his way over to the phone, where he took over for his uncle. Sporting the same fashion, Eddie could only give a hoarse “Yeah?”
“Hey! Good morning, Eddie!” Chrissy Cunningham. He had suddenly flinched the phone away, as her effused voice startled him awake.
“Jesus, yeah, hi, Chris.” Eddie managed to grumble politely. “What’s up, everything alright?”
“Absolutely!” The bubbly cheerleader being a morning person? Oh, how Eddie envied her. “I just wanted to call you, because I think it’ll be a fun idea to plan a surprise party for Y/N.”
“Oh, yeah, sounds totally fun.” He sarcastically spoke. “But is it a normal thing to give Y/N a random heart attack in the middle of the year, or are we actually celebrating something for her?”
“Duh! It’s for her acceptance to Columbia.” She stated matter-of-factly. “She’s always dreamed of going to New York, and now she finally is! It’s incredible! And given everything that’s happened to her, I think she really deserves it, you know?”
Eddie Munson stayed quiet for a moment. “New York…?”
“Uh huh! Isn’t it great that she finally has a chance to leave this town! Really, I think a party is in need.” She laughed so casually. You were leaving? “Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to call you about, Eddie. See, when I thought about it, I realized she really only has me and you, so it can’t technically be a party. But maybe you could bring your friends around. You know, your club members? Is she also friends with them? I remember one of them came up to our lunch table one time. So, do you think-”
Eddie’s head began to pound, as Chrissy’s words were pacing through his mind. “Okay, okay, stop for a second, Chris.” He heaved out to rashly interrupt.
“Is everything alright, Eddie? Do you not think it’s a good idea? Maybe it’s too early?”
“I, um-” His throat felt heavy with constriction. “We’ll just talk about this later, I gotta go.”
Chrissy Cunningham stood no chance to Eddie’s rapid movements, and the phone was hung up before she could mutter another word. His hand had stayed tightly clutched to the phone, as he placed it on the wall. He was frozen. His eyes blinked oppressively, as he attempted to digest Chrissy’s words. Eddie’s heart pounded. You were leaving him. Oh, no. This is where the spiraling began. Ms. Kelly warned him of the possible triggers. He hadn’t expected one to occur so suddenly. Like everyone, you were leaving him. Suddenly, Eddie Munson was an eight-year-old hearing his father’s threats of abandonment because to his dad, he and his mother were no good and not worthy of anything. Then he was a nine-year-old walking in on his mother quickly packing a bag of her clothes. Her clothes. Not his. But his father came back before she could finish. And Eddie was stuck with the realization that his mother was ready to leave him behind for safety.
“You alright, son?” Wayne’s voice brought him back to reality. “Want some breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry.”
And that slam of his nephew’s door was all Wayne Munson got from Eddie for the rest of the day.
Monday, you’d received the same fate. Hopping out of Mr. Cunningham’s car in the early hour of the school day, you peered around the bustling parking lot in search for a particular van alongside a particular metalhead. But your efforts came up empty, and the commencing bell stole you away from further prodding. By lunch, your neck was beginning to cramp with how many times you turned around to take a peek at the Hellfire lunch table. But the head seat was empty. And the rest of the boys continued their conversations. Perhaps he was sick. You managed to convince yourself of the idea to ease the disappointment of not seeing him today. But that became short lived when a call to his trailer after practice went unanswered, and the other line rang and rang until it cut you off.
Tuesday, you followed the same routine. And you were left with the same nauseating feeling. Accompanying Chrissy Cunningham to her locker, you had carelessly interrupted her diatribe against Jessica Lewis’ ploy to turn the rest of the cheer squad to voting her captain. It’s almost the end of the school year, did she really think that would work? Ugh. But you had cut her off to ask if she’d talk to Eddie recently. Two absences in a row wasn’t particularly unusual for Eddie Munson, but your overthinking brain could ameliorate the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. You’d just gone on your second date with him, had he suddenly had a change of heart about his feelings for you? But Chrissy was useless. When interrogated, she quickly brushed it off as part of his usual antics of being against the school agenda.
But Wednesday, you put your foot down. Three days absent. Four calls unanswered. And you were ready to panic. Marching past students, unwavering to their bumping shoulders and looks of disgust, you sat yourself in the chair in which Eddie Munson’s ghost was residing. The boys stared at you wide eyed. “Where’s Eddie? Why hasn’t he been here?” You had cut straight to the point. Mike Wheeler had reminded you of the fact that your boy toy wasn’t exactly fond of attending school, so it probably wasn’t a big deal. You rolled your eyes at him. Grant Goodman had suggested the idea that maybe his time was being taken up by the work of Reefer Rick to move sales. Ever since he’d been in jail, someone had to replace his position. And while plausible, the idea didn’t exactly satiate that agonizing fear. Then, Dustin Henderson proffered the idea that maybe he was just sleeping the days away. That’s when you realized the boys were just as useless as Chrissy Cunningham.
That afternoon, your fifth call was finally answered.
Right before the start of practice, you wasted any lingering quarters from your bookbag to dial the numbers of the Munson household with the payphone provided by the courtyard of Hawkins High. When it picked up, you gasped of relief. When it was Wayne Munson, you felt awful for wanting it to be Eddie. You could only answer with a disheartened greeting when his uncle asked who was calling.
“Oh, hey, darlin’.” He was so sweet. Wayne Munson was dwindling down to your last hope. “Nice hearin’ from you again, been pesterin’ my boy of when we can have you over again.” He smiled. “Everythin’ okay?”
“Hello, sir.” You attempted to pick up your tone of voice to not sound so crestfallen. “Um, yeah, everything’s okay with me, but, um, I’m more so calling for Eddie. I just- I haven’t heard from him or-or seen him, and, well, I just want to make sure he was okay. Is he?”
Wayne’s long sigh did nothing to aid your concerns. “Uh, yeah, kid, not entirely sure what’s up with my boy.”
“Is he sick?” You questioned. “Like, did he come down with something?”
“Nah, nah.” Wayne quietly confirmed. “Not that kinda sick, but he sure ain’t feelin good. Been in his room most of the time. This isn’t somethin’ new. Not the first time he’s gone through this cycle.”
“What do you mean?” You softly asked.
“Every once in a while, sweetheart,” he began, “Eddie gets these moments… these feelings that he locks himself in his room. It’s hard to speak to him. He doesn’t wanna talk. Most of the time, I can figure out that somethin’ is bothering him, but other times, these moments just happen. And, well, I just gotta wait for him to speak on his own terms.”
You swallowed thickly. Were you the thing that was bothering him? Did you send him into a depressive cycle? “Is he- is he okay?” In retrospect, it felt quite a redundant question to even bother with.
“I think things are gettin’ better, kid.” Wayne earnestly answered. “He left his room today. Went to get some fresh air. It’s a start.”
“Wait, where did he go, sir?”
“Not sure, didn’t say. Just told me he’d be back after clearing his mind.”
Clearing his mind.
Your brain perked with realization. “Uh, th-thank you for telling me, Mr. Munson.” You quickly thanked. “I’ll try my best to make sure he’s okay if I see him. Just thank you so much.”
Wayne released a breath of consolation. “Thank you for carin’ for my boy, darlin’. It really means a lot. To the both of us. To him especially.”
Lover’s Lake. Cheer practice had been entirely lost of care the second you hung up your conversation with Wayne Munson, and your mind had prioritized a journey to Lover’s Lake. Chrissy Cunningham would eventually tell Coach Hannigan that you were feeling sick when fifteen minutes passed, and you hadn’t shown up for practice. Because car-less and quickly exhausted, your trek to the sentimental location had become a near hour and a half long trip. One once thirty minutes with the most below average car became to feel like an eternity on tired legs. Having to run laps for practice tomorrow would become your death. Skipping through the center of town had proven to be easier, as sidewalks were provided for the entire purpose of walking. But turning into Mulberry street, a lack of pavement that wasn’t a cracked road made the experience worse. Your sneakers crushed the overgrown grass that met the street, as you willed all strength to persevere through the ache of sore legs. Not to mention, the slight ping of fear that would shoot through you whenever a single car would drive by. The scary decade of the 70s was enough to instill a precautionary guard. Eventually, the wooded trail that Eddie Munson once took you down came into sight, and your legs managed to exert underlying energy to guide you through the wooded path. About five hundred steps north, Eddie’s van became unconcealed through a horde of trees.
Conscientiously stepping away from branches and newly sprouting weeds of tiny flowers, you quietly walked alongside Eddie’s van to approach the back doors that had been shoved open to let in the spring zephyr of the lake into his vehicle.
And then, you delicately made your presence known.
“Hi.” Laying back against the shag carpeting of the back space of his van, arms crossed behind his head with eyes closed in peace, Eddie had automatically shot up at the diaphanous sound of your sweet voice.
And he hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but he did, and your brows creased sadly. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” You reiterated back with concern.
Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but his voice could speak up. But you could visibly see his urge to tell you all. One cautious step forward, Eddie hadn’t protested, so you continued your slow movements until you took a seat next to him. An evident gap purposely placed between the both of you. “I- um, how did you know I was here?”
“Kinda got the idea when I talked to your uncle.” You answered.
“My uncle? You called my- wait, how the hell did you even get here?” Eddie attempted to wrap his head around.
“I walked-”
“You walked?!” Eddie abruptly interrupted, perturbed by the endangerment of your safety that was put at stake just for him.
“Well, you scared me, Eddie!” You hit back, and Eddie had quickly quieted. No, no, no. Eddie promised himself- promised you that he’d never put you in a position to be scared again. And here he was screwing everything up, because his emotions were becoming too much to handle. It was so easy to resort to his old ways. So comforting to do something he was familiar with. And he hated it. Hated everything he was doing, because it was such an easy outlet to write his progress off as bullshit, and affirm the fact that he was an asshole, because he deserved nothing good in life. Before he could apologize, you began speaking softly. “You haven’t spoken to me since Saturday. Since our date. Why- what did I-”
“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He knew where you were about to spiral. “Don’t blame yourself, this is all me, please don’t- just please don’t think you did anything.”
You eyed him worriedly. “Then what’s wrong, Eddie? Can you just talk to me?”
Eddie took a deep breath, and his hand found his way toward yours, where he squeezed it tenderly. And then he looked at you. So longingly. “Y/N, I will always, always be so thankful that I met you and had you in my life.” Your heart began beating rapidly out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it. “Genuinely, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking kind. And you care- you care so much that for once in my life I actually feel wanted. You make me feel so good, Y/N.”
“Of course, Eddie, of course, I want you-”
“But that’s what’s so scary, sweetheart.” Eddie stopped you. “When you leave me, I’ll feel fucking destroyed. And I- it wouldn’t be good to depend my happiness solely on you, because I’ll be so awful.” His eyes stung.
“No, Eds, I wouldn’t leave-”
“I know about Columbia, Y/N.” He simply inputted, that had your face scrunching with confusion. “Chrissy accidentally told me, she hadn’t meant to. But I know. And I know you deserve to leave this fucking town and go live your special life in a place where these bullshit people can’t hurt you. Leave me, sweetheart. You need to leave me.” He tried to smile through his tears, but it was ultimately failing. And you dropped your head to hide your hot face from seeing the man that was tearing your heart. “Before any of this gets serious, you need to leave me. I-I won’t have the balls to leave you, so just end this right here, sweet girl. Please.”
And maybe this is simply where the story of you and Eddie Munson was meant to end. In a matter of weeks, both of your lives and perspectives were altered for the better, as you navigated the heartbreaking moments of learning to be strong. Learning to seek help. Learning to listen. Learning to accept. Learning to love. Because when Eddie received that monumental call from Chrissy Cunningham, he felt as though his world came crashing down, because the thought of losing you became too severe to imagine, and he couldn’t feel that for someone he didn’t love. Experiencing the privilege of learning how to love you was the single greatest thing Eddie Munson had ever felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, he could feel it. He could feel it in the tight squeeze of your hand. And he’ll pay the price of having this moment with you even if he knew it would end far sooner than he wanted. Because it was for the best. You would get to live your life free from restraints, and Eddie Munson could look back at the incredible girl who endured hell with him and shaped him to be the better man he was today. Everything great about Eddie was only amplified ten times more because of your appreciation to his authentic self. You were so unfathomably beautiful, Eddie would forever hate himself to be the man that held you back from blossoming into the real world. Eddie never wanted a thousand admirers, he just wanted you.
Pulling his hands from your hold, they moved their way upward to cradle the cheeks of your head, and he pulled your hiding face to expose itself right in front of his. Your wet tears burned the pads of his thumbs, because it hurt so badly to make you hurt. No, Eddie Munson never wanted to experience the pain of seeing you leave him, but for once in his life, he would just like the control of choosing who hurt him. And he liked his choice of it being you. You would do it so kindly. Eddie Munson willed himself to picture a world where you weren’t in his life, and what a worthless world it would be. But you were leaving regardless. And that worthless world would be an inevitable reality, so Eddie was choosing it on his own terms. As much as it killed him, you were meant to leave. And he wouldn’t place himself into a position to stop you.
His forehead landed against yours, and he shakingly smiled down at you through his tears. “You’re so beautiful, god you’re so fucking beautiful. I could never get tired of looking at you.” Oh, my god he loved you, he loved you so much, Eddie felt so lucky to love you. “You deserve greater things than me, Y/N. Everything’s going to be okay.” He whispered. “Leave me, and go get what you deserve, sweetheart.”
But your head began to softly shake no in the hold of his hands. “You don’t get to decide that, Eddie.” His faltering smile fell in an instant. “I know you’re doing what’s best. I know you’re making your own decision, but it’s my life, too, and no one- not even you can get a say as to what I deserve or what I should do.” Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. He knew who you were. He knew the perseverance you harbored. He knew the intelligence of your incredible mind. “How could you ever think me going to college would ever equate to me leaving you? How could you ever think I’d do that?” You asked. “You’ll still have me, Eddie, you’ll always have me. Even when I’m away.”
It was this time Eddie began fervently shaking his head against yours. “No, no, please don’t give me hope.”
“I’m not giving you hope, Eddie, I’m giving you my word.” A heavy breath released itself from his quivering lips, and pressed his nose against yours. “Make it up to me, and give me your word.”
He nodded vehemently. “I give you my word. I’ll never hurt you, just please don’t leave me.” A nine-year-old Eddie Munson cried out to you.
You smashed your lips into his wet ones, tasting the coating saltiness of his raw emotions becoming embedded into your body, as he firmly pressed your face into his to happily suffocate into. The spark, it had blown up into a blaring firework that screeched its way into the night sky and glowed its vibrant colors like the sun that once set. That was the excitement. But then the remnants of the sparks cascaded down tranquilly into the warm waters of a lake named after couples like you and Eddie, and had sizzled into peaceful nothingness. That was the stability.
That was Eddie Munson. That was you.
His lips had so tenderly massaged yours, as his nostrils opened up to breathe you in heavily. His thumbs had pressed into the plushness of your heated cheeks to keep you like this forever. Just in his arms. In his hold. Where you were safe to be yourself. Safe to make mistakes. Safe to be that mesmerizingly beautiful human being you were. The one Eddie Munson loved so much.
Though much to his dismay, you were a human that needed to breathe, and Eddie had gut punched all the wind out of your lungs when his devotion poured into your mouth. You needed the tiniest bit of air. And gently pulling away, you and Eddie were left heaving against each other’s lips.
“Eds.”
“Holy shit.” He mumbled, voice too congested with snotty tears, it made you giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, baby, I just had the greatest kiss of my life.” Eddie whined, which truly prompted more soft fits of titters. “Y’know, I’ve always thought New York was a cool place? Diverse city. Great job opportunities. Pretty gnarly bars to get my music some exposure. Wouldn’t be such a bad place to visit and stay periodically.”
Your sinking teeth did nothing to suppress the ever growing smile on your face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “But, I mean, it totally has nothing to do with you. I’m not even your boyfrie-” Your giggling mouth fell onto his once more, lips molding against his with such synchronicity, it felt like second nature to have his mouth on yours so lovingly. When you pulled away, Eddie groaned with a deep setted breath. “Mm, please let me be your boyfriend, sweet girl?”
You spoke against his lips with a smile. “Of course. Make it up to me, Eddie.”
“Anything for you, Y/N.”
-
One Week Later
“Um, what about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” will that take your attention away from math?”
Chrissy Cunningham had playfully smacked your swinging feet, as they moved absentmindedly to distract you from the dulling ache of your elbows sinking into her mattress and the headache that was AP Calculus. “Uh huh.” So distracted. Chrissy rolled her eyes, as she sat against the headboard of her bed, thumbing through movies.
It was a never-ending sleepover.
“Weren’t your exams a week ago? Shouldn’t you be done with classwork? Or has this become your new definition of fun? Wouldn’t be surprised.” She laughed.
“My exams may be done, but I was still gone for a week, and Mr. Fitzgerald was persistent with work during that time. Almost done making it up.” Your hand wrote and wrote, as the indent on your ring finger became deeper with every stroke of your pencil.
“Okay, well, will you just take one break for a second.” She pleaded with a mewl you knew would only get louder.
You looked back at her with a knowing smile, before slamming your textbook shut. “Fine.” In true Chrissy Cunningham fashion, she offered you a small cheer. “Gonna go pee, be right back.”
Your friend nodded, as she watched you make your trip from her bed and out the bedroom door. And the second it clicked shut behind you, Chrissy was springing from her bed, and toeing to her window. Popping the latch, the night’s breeze flooded inside her room, and choosing to stick her head out of the window became a terrible idea, when Eddie’s face shoved its way into view, scaring the poor girl to death.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” She whispered-yelled at the metalhead, as his sneakers secured him onto the tiles of her roof. The man was beginning to have a thing for roofs.
“What the hell took so long?” He complained. It had felt like an eternity just waiting for the signal to arrive. Eddie Munson just hadn’t anticipated the signal to take over forty-five minutes to come. “The food’s going to get cold.”
“Well, sorry, but your girlfriend has a freakish obsession with schoolwork.” She protested.
And Eddie flashed a love sick smile. “She’s real smart, isn’t she?”
“Just give me my food.” Chrissy insisted.
“Give me a blanket.”
And the muscle of her arms had harshly hurled the balled blanket from her bed into Eddie’s face that had him stumbling on his kneeled legs with a huff from the impact of the hit. Eddie met her deal, and reached into the grease spotted Benny’s bag to pull out a double cheeseburger with extra pickles ordered directly by the cheerleader herself. Satisfied with her dinner, Chrissy ran back to her bed, allowing Eddie a moment to lay the blanket onto the roof and station the hefty bag of fast food alongside. Within a couple seconds, Chrissy could hear your incoming footsteps from the hall.
“Okay, I’m back.” You strutted in, heading straight to her bed. “Ready for some-”
“Wait, wait.” Chrissy abruptly halted your movements, leaving you frozen mid climb. “Actually I have a change of plans for you.” She smiled.
You peered down to her lap. “Where’d you get a cheeseburger from?”
“Alongside being a chauffeur, I’m also a great delivery man.”
Turning around, Eddie stood confidently—hands on his hips, with a shit-eating grin shining from his face—with your impromptu date awaiting you. You smiled, and made your way to him. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured a pretty girl needed the experience of a third date.” He gave your chin an endearing pinch. “Greasy food from our first, picnic setting from our second, perfect combination for our third. And most notably, no worms around.” He climbed out of the window, and stood perched with a proffered hand out to whisk you away. Of course, you gladly took it, and Eddie helped you over the window ledge, and guided you onto the roof, where the moonlight descended like a mystical spotlight.
“You know, some day, I’m going to have to plan one of our dates.” You teased, as you took a seat next to him. “Can’t have you do all the work.”
“Oh, no, I’ll absolutely do all the work, sweetheart.” He beamed a radiant smile at you. “Got a lifetime supply of dates set just for you.”
Your arms circled around his neck, as you placed doting kisses to his cheek. “Thank you so much, I love it all.” Eddie had turned his head to meet your lips to enable his newfound addiction of kissing you deeply. It was tooth-achingly sweet seeing you both smile into your kisses. Your hand had managed to snake its way down his broad neck, getting caught in the chain of necklace, where you fingers toyed with guitar pick that accessorized his entourage of leather and chains. It was then, you felt it. Pulling away from his chasing lips, you took a better hold of his necklace, turning it to the side that stayed concealed against his chest, where your thumb rubbed your senior picture. Torn by the hands of Eddie Munson from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook, and meticulously cut to fit the backside of his guitar pick and stuck on with the tackiest of all glues for security.
“You still have this?” You crooned, as you peered into his eyes.
His had never left yours. “Of course, baby.” He kissed your tilted chin. “Too corny?” He smiled.
“Absolutely not.” You laughed. “But I’m becoming quite jealous of the fact that I don’t have a photo of you- oh, wait, Chris has a polaroid camera!”
He groaned dramatically. “No, no! I’m not modelesque like you, pretty girl. It wouldn’t serve you any good.” He laughed, as he pinned you down to keep you from attempting to flee away for a photo opportunity.
“Well, I still have the yearbook Nancy gave me, so should I use your senior picture or your club picture?” You giggled.
You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had weaponized a young girl’s kindness to dehumanize the body that worked so hard to keep her full of life. A decade ago, you were running topless on the white sands of the beach, so liberated from the world’s retributionist opinion of what it meant to be a woman. But the bumps, curves, and expansion of your own growing body had been pitted against yourself forcefully by the nastiestness of society that reminded you you were a sexual thing, as you dealt with the first moments of womanhood at thirteen alone in your bathroom with an aching belly and a confused mind that couldn’t understand what changed so suddenly that you had to cover up the body that connected you to nature. Why was being a teenage girl something so terrible that other’s of all ages demeaned you? Why were you told to be so kind to everyone, but have it twisted to make you out to be something you weren’t? Why when you voiced your anger of being lied to by the world were people so freely allowed to label you with the dramatics of “being a woman?” Why were you left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?
Eddie kissed the creasing of your furrowed brows.
You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had denigrated a young boy searching for acceptance, and villainized the enthralling qualities that gave him beautiful uniqueness of what it meant to be human. He was uncomfortable. He was nervous. He was ashamed of his own feelings, unable to not see the grossness of society that made him feel embarrassed to be alive. To show character. Forced into a dangerous pipeline to destruction, because horrid people—one’s meant to love him the most—enabled the environment where vile words of unworthiness were encouraged upon a growing boy who was being attacked by the cruelty of the world when he just seeked to be loved. So low in the hierarchy, it became so easy for the town to discard a living body to the ruins of society with no mercy. How horrible could his differences be for everyone to hate him? How terrible of a child could he have been to be left with bruises that never healed and tainted him to be a lost cause? Why when he played the part of a no good freak that they casted over him did everyone become disgusted with him? Why when he chose to seek help from the destructive patterns of his life was his worthiness still stepped on by his peers. Why was he left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
But as noted, you and Eddie had rescued yourselves. Your time was not devoted to force the world to see you both as you truly were. That was not your labor. They saw you both for how they wanted to see you. But it wasn’t in your concern to care.
Not when he looked at you like that. Not when you looked at him like that.
“I’m okay.”
"...𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡..."
- 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞
𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If you are someone who has followed along with my series and you'd love to place your input, please feel free to! Any critiques, comments, suggests are all heavily appreciated! Again, thank you so much!
@sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64
@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn
@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#the yearbook: club pictures
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many thanks to my friend @vetulicolia for having the consideration to tag me in this. i intuit that this game has the basal concept of something akin to, ah… "list 6 songs that are important to you" - or perhaps 6 songs that you have just been listening to, recently, regardless of importance. i figure that i will do a mishmash of both, and see what comes of it.
pilotredsun - vitamin kid (pilotredsun, pilotredsun, pilotredsun… pilotredsun is immensely important to me as an artist and a musician, but i would hardly call them a favorite - in the sense that one often wouldn't call fine wine their favorite drink. perhaps i see pilotredsun's work as something adjacent to music, but different enough to warrant distinction in its own right. Vitamin Kid, in specific, is…hm. i have listened to a lot of pilotredsun's discography, and while vitamin kid is perhaps not my strict favorite, it is quite important to me, as it was one of the first pilotredsun songs i ever heard, and is still immensely endearing to me in a nostalgic sort of way. relatively early pilotredsun is always a treat to look back on, the collected soundcloud works.)
They Might Be Giants - Stand On Your Own Head (i recently discovered a love for this this due to the recommendation of someone i know, and i am immensely grateful. i had listened to it in the past, passingly, but had never really sat down to give it a thorough review before, and i've found a love for it. it's definitely not my favorite off of Lincoln, but it is nonetheless a track i have recently been obsessed with - "i love the world, and if i have to sue for custody, i will sue for custody!")
casio dad - i'm ok with you (im unsure how to properly describe my feelings on casio dad - and, believe me, i have tried before. but my loquaciousness turns to mush under the benevolent gaze of classic j - the artist behind casio dad and the current…co-owner, i believe? of the band 'glass beach'. i like casio dad very much. it is possibly my favorite 'band' of all time. i think it sounds very good. if you listened to casio dad, that would make me happy.)
Seth Boyer - The Cremation of Sam McGee (this track is one that i…initially viewed my interest in as ephemeral, passing, a temporary obsession i would - despite my very sincere appreciation for it - eventually chew up and discard. however, as time passes, it has become gradually obvious, with increasing clarity, that it is turning into a personal favorite of mine. The Cremation of Sam McGee is, as a poem, among my favorites already - and this work translates it into a song with beautiful, beautiful execution, the vocals and backing banjo always stuck in the back of my head in some capacity. a nebulous dream i have is to, one day, do my own cover of this song with sufficient quality.)
Feed Me Jack - Jelly the Queen (feed me jack is a band i view with a degree of heavy nostalgia and melancholy. it was…mmm. i would be willing to say that my discovery of it served as an entry point, a gateway, to my modern taste in music - it got me hooked on math rock, for awhile! and i still do like math rock, but, wew….you shoulda seen me in 2017/2018. despite very probably being in my top favorite bands out there, it met an unceremonious end when they broke up…i believe in 2017? a deep sigh. that occasion is something i view as an immense tragedy, a lost opportunity. )
AJR - World's Smallest Violin (i am, quite (un)fortunately so, of an indie pop penchant. they have crucified me for this in the past, and i suspect they will do so again. i discovered this song a fair bit ago due to a friend of mine occasionally sending it, and it has endeared itself to me heavily - if only for the sound, the idiom of the song, rather than its messaging, which i find myself somewhat apathetic to. it is very overtly meant for those who have some level of disconnect between the acts of them and their ancestors, who ogle and gaze up at the illustrious portraits of patriarchs long-gone on their fireplace and think to themselves, "their deeds were strong, and mine are weak". well, i don't really feel that compulsion, both in the sense of feeling a detachment, and finding their actions to be immensely brave in comparison - i knew them personally, if only for a short while, and they were unhappy and deeply lonely people up until their death, even if their titles of judge or lawyer or business owner could make one think differently for a moment. i, to some extent, inherited their struggles. the song has the lyric "someone somewhere has it worse" - and, though i do not say this with self-deprecation or out of the urge of masturbatory sadness, within the purview of this songs' goal, i am that someone, somewhere, that has it worse. one could perhaps tie this to my previous post. anyway i'm using this as a space for my garrulous personal rumination again & just end it off with my saying that i think it's a good song.)
and i suppose that's that. who to tag…let me think. er…. @mdq, @icetrancer, and i figure that you might get a kick out of this, @liziveth. on top of that, i invite anyone who sees this and wants to do it, regardless of them necessarily being tagged. it's good fun.
bows and exits the stage.
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The Holy Trinity of Risecore (imo)
Risecore is a somewhat derogatory term for bands who released music on Rise Records in the mid 2000s to early 2010s. It was applied mostly to metalcore bands that basically took the blueprint of Attack Attack's "Stick Stickly" and printed copies of that shit like dollar bills from the proverbial money tree. Synth laden crabcore breakdowns and sing along choruses repeated ad nauseum until the style quickly became a parody of itself. I personally have a huge soft spot for this kind of music. Asking Alexandria's first album in particular was hugely influential to my life, and even though I don't think that album aged well, it singlehandedly introduced me to the world of metalcore and made me a fan for life. For all the shit that people give risecore bands, I think their accessible approach to heavy music did a lot to bring new fans into the fold, and ultimately bolster the health of the alternative music scene more than people give them credit for.
Despite the brain mushing mundanity of this particular scene, there were a few standout Rise bands from that era that I think got unfairly lumped in with the rest of the crowd. Real ones know what's up, but the average person might not be able to discern these acts from the rest of the roster. These bands broke the mold by pushing the boundaries of the formula and experimenting more with atmosphere and vibes. Unsurprisingly, these bands are all connected in a way. After Of Machines drowned in a gofundme scandal and Oceana morphed into an electronic indie band named Polyenso, members of both bands joined forces to form Lead Hands. Finding this out years after being a fan of all three was mind blowing but also like... a big "no shit sherlock" moment.
Of Machines has possibly the saddest tale of tale of the bunch. This band had all the right ingredients and so much potential that was squandered by poor band relations and a singer that allegedly ran off with the GoFundMe donations that was supposed to fund their next recording. As If Everything Was Held In Place would still go down as a celebrated landmark in the genre, garnering a cult following where everyone who knows it seems to love it. This whole band was great but the quality that really elevated them was the combination of Dylan Anderson's knack for crafting beautiful vocal melodies, and super clean guitar leads drenched in reverb and delay walking all over the album with a gentle stride. I wouldn't say Anderson's vocals are that unique in sound, but he has a sense of power and control that is really hard to achieve with such a high range. It's impressive. The contrast between the soaring atmospheric leads over breakdowns and Bennet Freeman’s screams also creates a hypnotic dichotomy that is impossible to not grab your attention. They don't just rely on cheap tricks to sell their music either. Underneath the pretty leads and impressive vocal performances is just solid song writing that encapsulates moments of serenity and passion with effortless style.
Oceana had a more average career but was nonetheless riddled with member changes and major shifts in sound direction. Their first album was honestly fantastic, but it wasn’t until they got a new vocalist and doubled down on the atmosphere that they really came into their own. One of my absolute favourite things about this album is Brennan Taulbee’s voice. He utilizes a more subdued range than a lot of other singers in the scene, but he has this immaculate quiver to his voice that makes him sound like he’s trembling while confessing sins from the altar. It’s uniquely addicting, and if I ever did clean vocals in a band, he would be my number one inspiration. His harsh vocals are also deafening, and when combined with Jack Burns tasteful guitar riffs, they create haunting vibrations that you can feel in your bones. The vibe of this whole album is oppressive and you can feel it from the first few seconds. It'd sad, it's angry, it's depressing, and the fantastic production work really conveys these feelings with a staggering clarity.
The lyrics on this album is another story, and as I'll admit that I had no idea what they were singing about when I initially fell in love with this album. Oceana was comprised of some christian boys who thought they were fighting the good fight for the sake of their god, and they essentially created an anti-abortion concept album (birth eater... duh). Most of the lyrics are penned from the perspective of an unborn child, angry at the world for taking away his chance at life. I've had to do a lot of mental gymnastics over the years in order to keep enjoying this album, because the music is just too fucking good. The lyrics on their own are actually quite good too if you completely remove and ignore the context, and I think - for the most part - they did a good job at leaving the lyrics vague enough for the listener to apply their own meaning to.
After this album, the band went through a major stylistic change. They dropped the screaming and the breakdowns, cleaned up their tones and wrote an EP that was much more light hearted and non controversial, albeit still spiritual in nature. The Clean Head EP is honestly some of their best work, and I will go to my grave wondering what would have happened if the band followed it up with a whole album in the same style. It probably would have ended up in my top 5 albums of all time. Jack's guitar playing is so creative and impactful. Brennan's lyricism and vocal delivery is phenomenal. Denny Agosto's drum work dances around with a gentle intricacy that never fails to make my ears perk up. This EP is a spiritual experience whether you believe in a god or not.
Lead Hands was a post hardcore band born from the ashes of Oceana and Of Machines, and their existence was much more similar to the latter. They released one fantastic album before squandering their potential in a battle of interpersonal and financial dramas. This band saw OG Oceana screamer Keith Jones teaming back up with guitarist Jack Burns, Of Machines drummer Brent Guistwite, and VeraEmerge vocalist Spencer Pearson (who sounded quite like a dreamier version of Dylan Anderson).
This band took the heavy, moody riffs of Oceana and the atmospheric leads of Of Machines and then cranked up the ambiance and slowed everything else way the fuck down. Lead Hands is heavy, but it's also soft and pretty. How they managed to do both so well is still a wonder to me. Guitars are tuned to drop B, but they are played clean, and only have a bit of overdrive during the heaviest parts. Riffs plod along methodically and every major shift in dynamics feels intentional, like a seed planted in the earth and given time to grow. They really tried to trim the excess here and approached the writing with a less is more mindset. This album can be an atmospheric slow burn and has been criticized for it's monotony, but I think it's beautiful. It can easily fade into background noise if you aren't paying attention, but it's intricacies blossom with repeated listens and it becomes very rewarding over time. God only knows how good a sophomore from this band could have been.
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Honeybee
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years.
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex
Word Count: 5.7k
MASTERLIST
NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰
———
Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.
Truly, it was pathetic.
Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.
Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.
At least, I thought I was.
And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.
I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?
Honestly? I blame the FBI.
If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...
Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.
Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...
I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.
He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.
Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.
Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.
"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."
Fuck. That fucking nickname...
"Spencer... It has."
When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.
I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.
Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.
Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.
"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"
I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."
Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."
How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.
Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."
"N— I am not!"
"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"
"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."
I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.
"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."
He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.
I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.
———
All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.
He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.
That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.
Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.
In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.
I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.
And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.
I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.
"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.
"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.
And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.
I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...
But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."
I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"
"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."
I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.
The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.
When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.
"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."
I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.
"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.
Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.
———
And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.
It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.
On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.
So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...
Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?
Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.
Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."
I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."
"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.
I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."
With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."
"Well, good. You deserve it."
After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.
And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"
"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."
"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."
There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."
"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"
"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.
"Am I wrong?"
"I... I don't..."
"Ha! I'm not wrong!"
The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.
"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"
I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"
There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."
"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"
"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"
"What, you think I'd joke about that?"
Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.
"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.
Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."
I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."
She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."
I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.
———
I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.
I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.
Later today... Whatever.
The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.
Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.
A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.
Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.
Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."
I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."
"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."
"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"
His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.
Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.
"Are you... gonna let me in?"
The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.
Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.
And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.
And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.
The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.
Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.
Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.
"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."
"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."
That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.
Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."
Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.
Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.
He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.
Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.
But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.
Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.
His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"
As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."
"Fair... But still..."
Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.
And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."
I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.
Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)
"Spencer, please..."
I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."
No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.
Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...
God, and those was only his hands...
The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.
I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.
"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."
What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.
He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.
Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.
No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.
I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.
Now I didn't have to imagine.
Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...
I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.
So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.
"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.
I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.
He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"
I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."
Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.
And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.
Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.
"Promise not to sting me?"
I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."
"Deal."
He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.
It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.
That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.
His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.
Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.
His name was all I could manage.
"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.
"M—More... I..."
"Can you be more specific?"
How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.
I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.
"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.
My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.
I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.
By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.
Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."
I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."
He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."
"I... Is that a bad thing?"
"It's a strange thing..."
He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."
With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"
Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."
"I was highly amused."
I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."
Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.
"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.
Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."
"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.
"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."
He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.
"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."
Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.
All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
"I know you won't, Honeybee."
———
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanficiton#criminal minds smut#spencer reid fanfiction
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Unmotivated writer S/O? They cant think of anything interesting to write and unable to put things into words, any format is fine and the characters are: Eula, Ayaka, and mona.
Also have a Good Day/Night/Evening/Morning!
Her and Unmotivated Writer S/O
Characters: Eula, Ayaka, Mona x gn!reader
Warnings: none
A/n: thank you! I’m probably posting this in the evening so you as well have a good evening :)
But I related to this request on a spiritual level as I often have writers block 🥲
• Eula often left you alone when you were unmotivated. She understood you needed ample space for your work and it didn’t bother her whenever you needed to just take a breather.
• Eula will try and cheer you up in a cynical way. She wasn’t used to affection in the slightest bit, so she often took cruel routes in an attempt to solve your problems. This was no exception.
• You we’re grateful for Eula but sometimes her way with words scared you. Each word she said meant vengeance but had a deeper meaning. Her wordplay would inadvertently inspire you because of how poetic it was.
You lightly gnawed on the end of your ink pen in frustration, sitting upright in your bed with a sleeping Eula beside you. The blank paper on your lap was so angry, you needed to write something now, but you couldn’t find any words to describe your feelings. You’ve searched every nook and cranny in your brain and it all goes to mush.
Eula had just woken up from her nap, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You’re still awake?” She asked with a hearty yawn. “Relax my love, it’s been two hours already and you’re still on the same spot,” she cooed at you beside you in the bed.
Eula could see your plastered frustration from a mile away, but she already knew from your past writer’s blocks that nothing was going to come from staring at a blank sheet of paper. She held your twiddling hand, stopping it from fidgeting, looking you straight in the eye. “Seriously what am I going to do with such a nervous wreck,” she sighed heavily rubbing her forehead.
She knew better than anybody to “grow” you have to disobey the rules. In your terms, you have to abandon your work to continue to write beautifully. You obviously weren’t going to get very far staring at a blank canvas. She thought even you knew such basic common sense.
Her facial expressions softened in sympathy towards you, she knew how badly and congested you felt. The very thought about abandoning your thought process made you cringe inside and out. She stroked your soft cheek with the back of her ice-cold free hand. “Please take a break? For me?” She asked you with puppy dog eyes.
• Ayaka honestly felt bad for you, she wished she could help you somehow. She knew how much you loved writing, so to see you so unmotivated made her feel a little somber. She’d try and cheer you up one way or another.
• Ayaka will be gentle with you just like a mother. In fact, she’ll be so kind to you by offering you tea, a neck rest, maybe even a night out to relax, that it’ll be counterproductive.
• Her kindness might disturb you greatly but you are grateful nonetheless. You’re glad such a beautiful girl such as herself was so concerned with your problems even if it wasn’t her responsibility.
You sat at your desk with your hand pressed against your forehead as you twiddled with your feathered pen. Struggling to put words on paper, you knew how you felt but you couldn’t find the words to describe it. You felt like you were going to burst from the overwhelming feeling and if you couldn’t portray it exactly how it was you’d die on spot.
You felt Ayaka’s hands drag along your shoulder, her head nuzzling on your shoulder as she gave you a quick peck on the cheek. She was so close you could smell her wafting fragrance of Sakura petals. “Can I get you any tea, my love? You should relax once and a while.”
Normally you’d jump on the offer, but you, unfortunately, couldn’t. You had an ache on your heart, you knew if you didn’t jot something down you’d forget this lustful feeling. You tried every word in your vocabulary and every letter combination and nothing sounded right.
Ayaka could tell from your extended silence to her question you were in your own little world. She sighed, she wished she could just drag you out of your mind and put the words on the paper herself. Looking at the empty white sheet, she understood you were busy. “If you’re listening, I’ll get you some tea and a pastry. You haven’t eaten yet no?”
No response yet again. She knew you weren’t intentionally ignoring her, you just occasionally dozed off and she took no offense to it. “I’ll order us some takeout, I’ll get your favorite tonight.” She stepped aside and let you think for as long as your health allowed it.
• Mona understood the feeling of being trapped, but not for the same reasons. Her passions are often blocked by her lack of mora. Yours are due to your mind being stubborn at times.
• Mona will try to empathize with you the only way she knew how, she might however fail miserably. She might actually make matters worse because of her outright bluntness.
• However because Mona was so blunt, it opened your eyes to the truth. She might tell you something you’ve been needing to hear for a long time but we’re just too hardheaded to accept.
Mona watched you in mutual frustration from the couch in her home, she allowed you to linger whenever she was working. Even though you two sat in silence you both enjoyed the presence of one another. “You know you’re not going to find the perfect words if you spend all day there.” She tsked.
Your foot tapped rapidly on the worn-down floorboards. Not paying attention to whatever words she was spitting at you, you couldn’t bother to take your mind off of your current thought. “Hey, are you listening to me?” She asked gripping the armrests aggressively to sit herself up.
At your unresponsiveness, she shot straight up and marched her way to your desk. Leaning over to look at whatever you were so hyper-focused on that it meant ignoring her. When she saw the blank sheet of paper she slammed her palm against the desk, snapping you back to reality “Just listen to me. Write down a summary of whatever is on your mind and let’s go get something to eat.” She stared straight into your soul, you knew if you disobeyed it meant the end of life itself.
You stood immediately ashamed at how you neglected your girlfriend. “S-sorry Mona,” you said shakily, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just got ahead of myself.” She stared at you, debating whether to let it slide or not.
“Seriously, I’m starved,” she changed the topic to spare your pride. “We haven’t eaten since this morning. I could go for a nice cheap salad right now,” she said with a quick eye roll. You knew she cared and didn’t mean her harsh words she was only trying to help and look out for you.
#eula x reader#ayaka x reader#mona x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#eula lawrence#kamisato ayaka#mona megistus
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GIVE ME A REASON: PART SEVEN -A Rogue One fanfic
Final part to this story! 😘😘😘
Read on AO3
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Seven
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor
Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)
Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope
Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope
Warnings: None?
Words: 2,888
Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.
Also can be found on AO3.
Nervous.
The hardened rebel spy was nervous. So was Jyn, of course, but it was still a surprise to find the tangible expression of Cassian’s jangled nerves. She thought he’d be better at hiding it. At hiding all of his emotions when he wanted.
But maybe he didn’t feel the need to hide it from her? Although it was a subconscious tick he probably wasn’t aware of… Which wasn’t helping the butterflies in Jyn’s own stomach. In fact, it was really starting to annoy her.
She reached for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his in an attempt to still their drumming against the side of his leg. He was still standing, but with no thanks to the Alliance. The inconsiderate bastards could’ve maybe provided a chair for the wounded captain. Not that Cassian would’ve accepted, anyway. At least everyone was just milling about until the ceremony started, so they were able to take a position against the wall, allowing Cassian to casually lean against the immense stonework for support.
He’d been looking around the large hall, watching the crowd of Alliance personnel and council members, observing and evaluating, as the spy habitually did. But when she touched him, his eyes snapped immediately to her hand on his. They widened and then that furrow formed between his brows and he frowned.
So that was how it was going to be?
In his bed, he could hold her so tight their bodies practically fused together, could nuzzle her neck, his lips could ghost over her skin in tantalizing, teasing non-kisses, he could lean into the touch of her palm on his cheek, make salacious pleased noises when she stroked his head and neck, or trailed fingers down his spine. But any sort of affectionate display in public wasn’t allowed.
Not that she wouldn’t have grabbed his hand to still his annoyingly drumming fingers if they were only just friends. They were only just friends, anyway.
He twisted his hand free, gently, casually, but removed it from her grasp nonetheless.
His dark eyes met hers and she held the gaze. Let him see the hurt, even as she thought it a stupid thing to feel hurt about. And yet… Meeting Cassian Andor had redefined her world, her existence, how she felt, how she dealt with those feelings. Her very place in the galaxy seemed to have changed.
Because here she was in a giant hall in a ruined temple, surrounded by hundreds of Alliance soldiers, waiting for a princess to tell her ‘good job’ or some such. But even stranger, she was standing beside a person she truly trusted. She couldn’t remember ever trusting anyone before, not wholeheartedly, with no reservations, no reluctance or doubt. Not since she was a child living in that cozy home with her parents that now seemed a dream.
This seemed rather dreamlike, too. Mon Mothma, the head of the Alliance’s council, dressed in regal white, looking like some ethereal being -maybe the ones Cassian had told her about in that intimate, vulnerable moment- had entered the hall and a hush formed as everyone scrambled into neat military rows, coming to attention as the elegant woman approached the dias.
She began to give a speech, but Jyn couldn’t focus on it. Cassian had started fidgeting again, shifting his weight and drumming his fingers against his leg. It seemed so entirely unlike him, and yet Jyn could sympathize. She had always tried to maintain an unreadable exterior, too, or rather, she had always tried not to feel things because everything she felt was too painful. She imagined it was similar with Cassian. And she imagined he was likewise nervous now, because being the center of attention felt wrong in every way, and just such a situation was imminent.
Jyn hated the idea of Cassian’s vulnerability being exposed to the world, that he would be required to limp the ridiculous distance up to the dias at the front of the room, in front of everyone, probably with her assistance, if he’d accept it. The man did not deserve anyone’s pity. They should only respect him for everything he’d done for the rebellion, for everything he’d sacrificed. And from what Jyn could tell, he didn’t even want that, it was so ingrained in him to work in the shadows.
She grabbed his hand again, but it was honestly more to calm herself than him. This time, though, his fingers encircled hers and did not pull away. His attention remained on Mon Mothma as she finished up her speech and introduced the princess.
Dank farrik.
Princess Leia was young and pretty, likewise clothed in regal white, but in a dress that hugged her perfect curves and accented the elegant line of her neck. Her brown hair and dark eyes offset her perfect porcelain skin. More enticing, the princess had the bearing of someone like Mon Mothma, but there was something more lively in her, adventurous and passionate maybe. Jyn would’ve felt justified in her previous unwarranted flash of jealousy when Cassian had described Leia Organa as if he knew the young woman, if Jyn didn’t find the princess extremely attractive herself. Force, if it didn’t feel like Cassian had been imprinted on her very soul, and if Jyn’s libido hadn’t already decided it wanted him and no one else would suffice… But a princess would’ve been way out of her league, anyway.
Cassian’s fingers squeezed her hand, and he leaned in, a whisper tickling her ear.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m just paying attention,” she whispered back.
A very quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Sure,” he said and she glared at him but continued to hold his hand, an anchor against the tide of nerves roiling in her stomach. “Why were you surprised that I might... kiss men sometimes? You like both men and women, too?”
“I rarely like anyone.” She stroked her thumb over the soft flesh at the base of his thumb. “But when I’m attracted to someone, it doesn’t seem to matter what their gender is.”
If they were pretty, they were pretty. She couldn’t really say why or what criteria made someone attractive to her. Although Leia had some gorgeous brown eyes. And so did Cassian for that matter, although his were a little darker, and as much playful as perceptive as they studied her face. And maybe she had become so soft that she’d gone to actual mush, because she could stare into those eyes forever.
Was that her thing? Is that what did it for her? Was she an ‘eyes’ girl?
Oh. Maybe she was. Because she found herself utterly captivated by Cassian’s beautiful eyes, finding everything she wanted and more in their dark depths... An if she didn’t know better... She could swear that he wanted-
“Captain Andor. Jyn Erso.”
Jyn nearly jumped out of her skin. Alarm likewise flashed across Cassian’s face before it was promptly hidden by a facade of professional pleasantness as he straightened. His hand slipped out of hers but landed at the small of her back to urge her forward out of the ranks.
And then Jyn found herself face to face with Leia Organa. And felt such gratitude that the princess had come to them and not made Cassian come to her, limping on an unsteady, barely begun to heal leg, that Jyn found herself smiling broadly, genuinely, at the kriffing gorgeous young woman.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for the rebellion. I know you’ve lost much.”
Jyn bowed her head, although being as small as she was, the even more petite princess still could’ve managed to drape the medal over her head with no problem.
“We all have lost too much,” Cassian said, after bowing to receive his own medal from the princess.
Leia Organa was good at maintaining her facade but Jyn saw the sadness in the young woman’s eyes. Jyn had cried while Cassian was in deep, medicated sleep, when she heard that Alderaan had been destroyed, feeling like she had failed after all. But what pain that loss was to its princess, Jyn couldn’t quite fathom. She had lost much, her parents, her childhood, but she had never loved an entire planet, full of people who she was a leader to. She had sort of led a unit of soldiers. And they all had died. And that was agony.
Except for Cassian. She still had Cassian. And if Jyn was honest, he was more than an entire world to her. He was a kriffing galaxy. She slid her arm around his waist because his hand on her back was not providing enough contact when Jyn felt like she might fall to pieces at any moment.
“I’m truly glad you both survived Scarif,” Princess Leia said, as if the loss of just two more lives would’ve crushed her, that the knowledge that some had survived, that some could and would survive this fight, was what kept her going. “Your bravery has saved us all.”
“Thank you,” Jyn said, unable to think of anything else to say.
The princess inclined her head, a bittersweet smile on her face, before she turned and began walking back to the dias. When Jyn returned her attention to Cassian, he was looking at her again with that expression in his eyes.
“We should probably get back in line,” she whispered, but was unable to break away from his captivating gaze.
“When have you ever been one to stay in line, Jyn Erso?” There was the small flash of his tongue wetting his bottom lip and Jyn nearly forgot how to breathe. No longer fixated by his eyes but his mouth. Was he-
His hand at the small of her back urged her closer, his other hand cupping her face and-
Oh.
Cassian Andor’s kiss was… Perfection. It was everything a first kiss, any kiss should be, excited and eager at the start, making it perhaps a little too rough when his mouth crashed against hers, but then suddenly softer, gentle, a tentative question, which she returned, sliding her lips against his, parting them in invitation, which he accepted, deepening the kiss. He tilted his head, angling his mouth against hers, sucking at her top lip then her bottom, submitting to her own explorative press and slide of her lips, the small nips she made with the edge of her teeth. His tongue darted over her lips, swiping into her mouth just the smallest fraction, just enough to tease and tantalize and make her release a groan of pure carnal want.
The room, the world, had faded away entirely but suddenly came crashing back hard. People were hooting and clapping, whistling and chuckling and shouting lewd, encouraging comments. Cassian broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against hers for a moment.
He had just kissed her. In front of everyone. They might as well have been standing on that dias, in front of the princess, making out for the entire Alliance to see.
“You kissed me,” she said, still incredulous.
“Yes,” Cassian met her gaze with his dark brown eyes, which seemed to be honest-to-goodness twinkling, for Force’s sake. “And you kissed me back.”
“But, you kissed me. In public. In front of everyone.”
“Yes.” Cassian was a good liar, pretending that it wasn’t a big deal for him to so openly display an emotion such as affection. He shrugged. “It was a bit territorial of me. Sorry.”
Jyn hadn’t even thought of that. She was so busy fighting her possessive feelings for Cassian, it hadn’t occurred to her he might be feeling possessive of her.
“Don’t apologize.” Don’t take it back. Please.
He smiled at her. And parts of her that she hadn’t previously known existed before meeting him, responded, filling her with warmth, as seemed inevitable whenever she was in the glow of that smile of his.
“Let’s get out of here while we can,” he leaned in to whisper, a little closer than necessary so that his mouth was just a couple of teasing inches away from hers.
“Yeah,” Jyn whispered back. “Your leg must be bothering you. I think we need to get you back to bed.”
His mouth twitched and he raised his eyebrows at her. Like he was in any condition to follow through on the innuendo that she actually hadn’t intended.
“Do you know of… er… a back way out of here?” Jyn asked as they ducked back into line. Things seemed to be picking up for the next part of the ceremony. And she’d honestly had enough pomp and circumstance for the day.
“Of course. I’m a spy,” Cassian said, giving Jyn a wink as he took her hand and somehow began to sidle through the ranks of rebel soldiers, weaving seamlessly between them and towing Jyn along, none the worse for wear for his injured leg.
They managed to reach the wall, slide along it and duck into a shadowy corner that was the entrance to a hidden narrow hallway just as all the troops came to attention and did an about face. Apparently the heroes of the Battle of Yavin were making their grand entrance. Jyn would’ve been curious about them if she wasn’t being towed along by the most compelling person she’d ever met, the most frustrating, uptight, passionate, tortured, beautiful man in the galaxy.
Halfway back to his quarters, his limp was worsening, so Jyn pulled her hand out of his and slipped her arm around his waist. It was difficult to say whether he maybe just wasn’t as much a stubbornly independent sort as she thought, or whether he trusted her like no other. But either way, he accepted her help and being snuggled up against him felt like where she belonged.
When they reached his quarters, Cassian collapsed onto his bed with a sigh. It had been a long day, even for her, and she was only recovering from comparatively minor injuries. So she was actually a little surprised when he didn’t immediately pass out. Instead, he gave her that look again.
“Come here.” Sitting up, he reached for her. And Jyn came, more than willingly, practically jumping into his lap, only hesitating when part of her shouted to be careful not to hurt him.
He smiled. Oh, that smile.
“It’s okay.” His hands found her waist. And oh, they fit her curves like they were made to hold her.
“But your injuries. I don’t want-”
“Straddle me.” He tugged gently at her waist. Heat blazed through her, and a wanting she’d never experienced the likes of before. “You can keep your weight off me that way, if you want.”
“Oh, right.” She put a knee on the bed on either side of his thighs, settled onto his lap without -he was right- placing her full weight on him. Cassian made a pleased noise, his hands never leaving her waist, but beginning to stroke up and down her sides, beneath her vest but separated from her bare skin by the fabric of her shirt, which she was honestly a bit thankful for. Her senses, her kriffing emotions, were already overwhelmed, especially when she looked down to find his face tilted up towards hers, his pretty dark eyes fixed on her, showing her everything he kept locked up so deep inside.
His eyes were all soft and imploring, filled with a desperate need to give and receive affection, to be understood and loved, to connect with another person on a soul deep level, emotionally… physically. It made her heart race and her skin prickle with gooseflesh. She had the same longing she had never been able to define before.
Jyn took his face in her hands, leaned down and kissed him. It was as good as the first time. Maybe even better. No less eager for one another, the ambrace was enthusiastic and a bit sloppy. But it slowed to that intense teasing exploration of one another, this time deepened by their tongues eager to taste one another, stroke and caress. The kiss was seeking and answering. It was… It was...
Kissing Cassian was a revelation. Not just confirmation that her attraction to him was reciprocated, but a soul-baring epiphany.
Most of her life, all of her adult life, Jyn had had nothing beyond surviving, no reason for living besides that death was the alternative. Cassian had tried to give her one, give her the Cause, his cause, the Rebellion. And for a while, she’d adopted it. She would still make it hers. But she was too cynical for it to be her reason for living. And if she was truly honest with herself, it was only her Cause because it was his.
Cassian Andor had given her something to live for, something to fight for, but it wasn’t what either of them pretended it was.
He was her reason. He was her Cause.
The kiss broke, and Jyn rested her forehead against his, the need to be close persisting despite the biological requirement that they break for want of air. His hands released her waist to cradle her face.
“Cassian…” She could barely recognize her own breathy whisper, could not find any words.
His thumbs stroke her cheeks and he sighed, his voice low and husky when he spoke.
“Me, too, Jyn. Me, too.”
END
#fic: give me a reason#rogue one#rebelcaptain#fanfiction#Cassian x Jyn#Cassian Andor#Jyn Erso#my fic
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Hunny, I’m Home
A/N: So I’ve FINALLY written smut about the motherfucking man himself: MR. CHARLIE HOT DAMN HUNNAM!!! Based on the below request, in which Charlie is your husband—he’s been gone for work and fucks you hard tonight when he comes home...
Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader
Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, multiple orgasms, cock worship, dom!Charlie
Request: This request from @happyhenners
Word Count: ~1.8k
Mrs. Hunnam. Mrs. Y/N Hunnam. That’s officially your name, and though it’s been months since the true love of your life became your husband, you still can’t believe it happened all the same.
When Charlie claimed you as his wife, he really, truly staked his claim. In every way. You two had been fucking for years, every damn day, on every surface in the home you’ve built together here, and all kinds of exotic places all across the world—you travel often with him for his work, so that’s just one of many perks.
And yet the sex hits different now the formal record states that you are his and he is yours. From your honeymoon onward, Charlie’s been fucking you harder than he ever had before. And all you want is more and more and fucking more...
He knows you love it when he calls you dirty words. His filthy fucking slut and desperate little whore. Outside the bedroom, Charlie often loves to call you Mrs. Hunnam, just to hammer home the fact that you officially belong to him.
More often, for short, he says ‘hunny’... he thinks it’s so charming and funny; you love him too much to protest that it’s really just dumb. And it’s grown on you now that he says it whenever he wants. You’ll love any word that comes out of that beautiful mouth on him. How could you not? That’s what happens when you marry a fucking god.
The one downside of Charlie’s job is that he’s often gone, for far too long, and you can’t travel with him all the time—sometimes you have to stay behind, to tend to business of your own. The house feels empty when he isn’t home. So does your needy, slutty little cunt. Greedy and absolutely aching for your husband... naturally, in the absence of Charlie, you’re strictly forbidden to cum.
At last today, after a whole damn week spent faraway, you know he’s coming home soon. You’ve been on the edge of orgasm all goddamn afternoon...
Your pussy practically explodes when your phone lights up with a call from him.
The sound of his voice on the line—all at once smooth and soft, full of love, and yet dirty, demanding, and rough—positively divine... reminds you for the thousandth time how much you love him. “Hunny, I’m coming.”
Releasing a long horny sigh, groaning loudly, you can’t let the obvious pun pass you by. “Aww, without me...?”
You can hear him indulgently rolling his eyes. “Never, babe. Just meant I’m on my way,” he replies, stepping into the car that’s arrived at the airport, to finally drive his ass homeward. “Been thinking about you all day. Every day.”
“You don’t say...”
“Don’t get cute with me now, Mrs. Hunnam. ‘Cause when I get home...” his voice takes on an ominous, dominant tone, “...I won’t be in the mood for these coy little games that you play. I’m not fucking around, okay?”
Fuck. From the force of your husband’s command, you might honestly wet your damn pants. “Yes, sir,” you answer, attempting to hold up your class and composure, as long as you can. Even though that game’s already over. “How do you want me, then?”
A sadistic smirk darkens his voice as he pauses before he responds. Always obvious just what he wants. “Want you waiting for me at the door, like a good little whore, soon as it fucking opens. Soaking wet, just from how fucking desperate you’ve been for that moment. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you blurt, on the instant; there’s no other word, to meet such a demand. “Yes, I’m all wet already, sir... how did you guess?”
His smirk darkens again; then he casually tends to the incoming calls on his phone that demand his attention. “Gotta go now, princess—I got business. Be home in a minute. Don’t you dare forget what I said.”
Charlie hangs up, at that. Leaving you hanging on to the words as they ring in your head. Pussy all dripping wet, you already feel dead. He had said it would be just a minute, but that’s massively understating the distance his ride has to drive. It’ll be almost an hour before he arrives...
You immediately rush over to the door nonetheless. Standing like a dumb bitch in impatient silence at the front entrance. You know from firsthand experience, from all the sessions of hot filthy sex that have blown your damn mind: the big dick energy of your husband is so fucking powerful that he can bend space and time. So perhaps he’ll show up any second now, right?... Yes, he very well might.
The time that it actually takes, tonight, feels more like decades. Your poor cunt is going to break, with each moment that passes as you stand and wait.
When you finally hear the sound of his ride, pulling up outside, your pussy drips so hard it feels like you’ve died. This is what he’d demanded: for you to be standing here desperate and wet—you’re so eager to show him how well you obeyed his command, just how thoroughly you understand it...
The door is unlocked, just as your body constantly is for his cock. At the sound of his footsteps approaching, you fling it wide open, before he can bother to ring or to knock.
Then he’s there, in all his glory, piercing blue eyes and pristine golden hair, and all you can do is stand and stare, ‘cause he’s just... holy... fuck.
You ask yourself in silence again: how the hell were you blessed with such luck? How in heaven is this gorgeous god of a man your damn husband? How the fuck will you ever believe that you are actually Mrs. Hunnam...?
In one swift motion, Charlie steps in and pulls you close to him. Shuts the door with a gentle yet forcible slam. As you melt in his hands, it no longer matters whether you understand—all that matters is that it is true, and he makes sure you feel it whenever he holds you. Owning you through and through, in all the ways that only he can do. Whispering words that just make you fall deeper in love with him. Telling and showing you that you’re his woman, and he is your man... Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Fucking Hunnam.
He leans into your lips for a long loving kiss and then presses his forehead to yours, just to drown in your eyes for a moment before he fucks you like a whore. It’s the most perfect welcome... before all the sex that’s in store, before your husband takes on his role as your dom. “Hunny, I’m home.”
***************
Whatever happened in the few moments after he uttered those words... was an absolute blur.
He tore your clothes off, fast and rough, and fucked you there and then against the door, you’re pretty sure. Then up against one wall, here in the foyer. Then another. Then the hallway. Bent over the expensive sofa that you’d just had reupholstered yesterday. Whatever. Rough against the cold hard marble of the kitchen counter. Somewhere on the floor.
Making you cum maybe a dozen times, then telling you to cum a dozen more. To scream out for him even louder. Let all the neighbors know for all he fucking cares. Spanking your ass, yanking your hair. Fucking you up in every way and everywhere.
Having been gone for a whole week, Charlie was set on ravaging you till you couldn’t think or speak. Which honestly did not take much—with him, your mind and body always turn to fucking mush from the first touch. You love the way his savage strength makes you so weak. It’s everything you fucking need.
Yet there is one thing that you need, one precious privilege... that your husband has not granted. Not yet. He’s fucked your cunt more times than you can count, taking you right over the edge, and it’s a wonder you’re not broken given how damn hard he pounds.
... But he has yet to fuck your mouth. And Charlie knows how much you love sucking his cock—almost as much as you love getting fucked. Sometimes even more, if you’re honest with yourself. You’ve never been this way with anybody else, but with him you are not ashamed to admit... you’ve become a complete, utter cocksucking whore.
You would give anything for the honor of worshipping his perfect dick. Probably sell your soul just for one lick. It’s just—the taste, the feeling of it... long and thick, so fucking big... the way he feeds your throat so well... the bliss of kneeling in your rightful place, before this beautiful god of a man as you so dutifully submit...
Your husband reads your mind right in this moment, as he always does. Where you now lie, your naked limbs entwined, your mind is still abuzz. The two of you are flopped down on the floor, in the corridor just outside the master bedroom with your back against the rug where you’d most recently been fucked. You hadn’t made it to the bed, apparently—that’s not much of a shock. Just how and when he’d even managed to carry you up the stairs, you’re not quite sure... you have no clarity, on that or any damn thing anymore... but you don’t care.
The only thing that matters now is getting his cock in your mouth. It is the one thing on this earth that you just cannot live without.
Charlie can sense just what you want, and what you need. His own burning desire to destroy your cunt—to fill you with his cum, over and over again, as soon as he’d come home—had been a hunger of his own, one that he couldn’t wait to feed. So there had been no time to waste. He himself didn’t want to wait; he felt no need to taunt, to tease, before taking just what he pleased.
But when it comes to this—your constant thirst to take his cock between your lips, and to devote yourself in worship—though he definitely loves getting his cock sucked... well, he knows you love it more. Because you’re just that fucked. With Charlie Fucking Hunnam, you are that much of a dirty, desperate, shamelessly cock-hungry whore.
He’d noticed it the first time that you’d done it, years ago when you had first gotten together. From the way you came undone from it, moaning in pleasure... you’d never been wetter, and told him that nothing on earth tasted better... since then, he won’t ever forget it.
Now that his own needs—temporarily, at least—have been met... Charlie can take his fucking time with yours. Tease you and torture you for being such a desperate little whore for his enormous, gorgeous dick. That’s how it works, of course. Both of you know that you get off on giving Charlie head, a lot more than he does on getting it. More than he ever did.
Worshipping his cock is a privilege. And he’s going to make you fucking beg for it.
***************
... Continued in Part 2!
Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 💖
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♡ Rainy days [hcs]
- ✎ characters ❝ kuroo, nishinoya, akaashi, and yamaguchi❞
- [ trigger warning(s): none ]
- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, crack ❞
❝ ngl akaashi’s did hit a little different, but nonetheless they’re all sickeningly cute ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡ ❞
-kyo ♡
The gentle stream of water coming from the opposing side of the door draws to a stop. A trail of steam emerges from Kuroo’s bathroom as he steps out, a plain t-shirt, a pair of shorts hugging his waist, and a towel slung over his shoulders. His usual bedhead is droopy, dripping with water from his shower.
And despite his display of pure beauty, your mind is trailed elsewhere, eyes stuck staring out the window as dark clouds gather in the late afternoon sky.
“Look Tetsu… It looks like it might rain.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised, it’s been cloudy all day. Cold too, we should stalk up on blankets.”
With that, the two of you spend the next 10 minutes picking out the most comfortable blankets Kuroo owns, settling on one that Lev ‘s sister Alisa had made and another that Kuroo has had for god knows how long.
He even brings out this mini projector that he had bought specially for movie nights as the two of you cuddle under the blankets, deciding which movie you should watch (most likely a disney/pixar movie because I think they’d be a huge guilty pleasure for him- his favorite is probably monster’s inc)
“I bet our baby would be cuter…”
“Oh my god Tetsurou.”
“Ow-What? I’m just speaking the truth.”
It’s in the middle of the movie when the pattering of rain finally begins, the droplets falling onto the window and streaming in tiny trails.
However, you don’t really seem to notice as Kuroo shifts his weight, his head laying on your abdomen, arms wrapped around your torso as your fingers comb through his slightly damp hair. He’s warm to the touch, his body heat cancelling out the chill that’s brought with the stormy weather.
The overall atmosphere is soothing, even when the rain begins to get heavy as Kuroo’s hands wander over your body. His fingers eventually find your own with gentle caresses and the occasional kiss to your knuckles.
Your eyes trail down to look at Kuroo who no longer seems preoccupied with the movie, instead he watches as the droplets fall.
“Hey y/n, you see that drop?”
“Yeah why?”
“I bet it could fall to the bottom of the window faster than all the others.”
“Bet!”
Somehow he’s right, even after the second, third and fourth round of the droplet race. And each time he wins he gets more and more smug, shooting you a sly grin that’s just begging for a slap.
“I guess I just can’t help that I’m such a winner- even if it’s something as frivolous as this.”
But as the night draws on, the rain makes something click in Kuroo, and suddenly he feels so soft. Maybe it’s the way you run your hands through his untamable hair, or the gentle touches you leave against his skin, but he feels unbelievably warm.
In this moment the rain nor the movie that has yet to end piques his interest. Instead his eyes focus on you.
He observes your features and the little things you do which in turn cause his heart to swell with the utmost adoration. He snuggles closer, his grip getting tighter ever so slightly.
“y/n… I love you.”
“Ehhh, who are you and what did you do with my Tetsu.”
“Hey- I’m being serious, I really do love you. With all my heart”
“I love you too Tetsu, don’t you ever forget that.”
Your finger’s lace themselves together with Nishinoya’s as you walk back home, the school day is finally over and for once he didn’t have practice on the count of the gym being used for other purposes today.
However about halfway there, the sky begins to grow gray. Your conversation halts, a frown forming on your features.
“Well that can’t be good. I think it’s about to rain… And I didn’t bring my umbrella.”
“It’s okay y/n, I think we’ll be just fine!”
And despite the threat of rainfall, the reassuring grin on Nishinoya’s face sets you at ease, his presence immediately enough to cheer you up.
So with hurried steps the two of you rush home (well it’s kinda more like he’s dragging you and you try to keep up because he’s pretty fast).
But despite your efforts at escaping the rain, they end up being pretty fruitless as the rain begins to fall before the two of you can get to your destination, resulting in both of you crowding together under the rooftop of a small family shop.
“Aw… Great, at this rate we’ll be stuck here forever.”
“Well- y/n I guess if you’re willing to take a risk we could get home in no time.”
At the mention of this said risk you’ve grown immediately suspicious. Nishinoya has always been what some may call a “wild child”. But he’s also someone who's trustworthy, and you have no doubt that he wouldn’t put you in a situation that would be dangerous.
“Okay Yuu, I guess whatever you have planned can’t be awful.”
“Let’s run through the rain. Your house is closer so we should be able to make it there in no time.”
At his suggestion you can only stare at him. It’s crazy but he does have a point- Neither of you know when the rain will stop anyway.
“...Fine”
So with your confirmation he takes off his jacket wrapping it around you as he grabs your hand, and drags you out into the rain, the widest grin on his face as the water begins to seep through his clothes and hair. His laugh fills the air as the two of you run through the empty streets.
By the time you get home you’re soaking wet, but even so you don’t go inside. Instead you stay out with him, jumping in puddles and playing games of chase through the streets like young children.
Your laughter can be heard throughout the neighborhood, as Nishinoya dashes through a series of puddles to get to you.
“Hey y/n!”
“Yes Yuu?”
“I love you!”
“-I love you too!”
And by the time the two of you finally decide to go inside, sopping wet, but wide happy grins on your faces, he pulls you into a hug.
“You make me the happiest y/n, I hope you know that.”
Needless to say the rest of the storm is spent cuddling close together trying to get warm.
“Hey Yuu- you make me the happiest too.”
Akaashi is well aware of the forecast for today. It’s a part of his morning ritual to check the weather before he starts the day- just in case. And as a result he is always prepared.
So after school and practice, when the clouds begin to roll in, he immediately pulls out his umbrella. And though he’s not a particularly touchy person he keeps you close, not wanting you to catch an illness from the cold weather.
As the driver pulls up because in my head Akaashi is from a well off family he guides you into the car, making sure to keep you warm because he likes to show his affection and care through simple gestures.
Once the two of you get to his home, Akaashi makes sure to take care of you first before going to freshen up. He’ll brew you a warm cup of tea and set you up with a lot of blankets and pillows on his bed, maybe even put on a movie or a show if you want.
And when he does come back from his shower, he’s immediately under the covers with you, his eyes catching the falling droplets of water.
He’s always liked the rain, even as a child. There was something so calming and peaceful about the scent that came with it, and the gentle patter of it on the window panes. He wasn’t messy when he was young, but he did love walking in puddles, and despite having grown out of it by high school, his admiration for storms never truly ceased even with age.
So even if you aren’t paying attention to the way it falls like he is, he’s glad that he gets to share this moment with you, huddled under a shared blanket basking in each other’s warmth.
He’ll even go as far as grasping your hand under the blankets, bringing to his lips in a gentle kiss.
We all know Akaashi isn’t really one for words, so sweet moments like this are often quiet and peaceful, filled with small and soft touches along one another’s skin.
Eventually though, you two do end up snuggled together, bodies tangled and fingers intertwined as you listen to the sound of the rainfall, he’ll press kisses to the crown of your head as his fingers wander along the small of your back.
“Thank you for sharing this rainy day with me y/n.”
“Of course Keiji, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It’s moments like this he cherishes the most. Where it’s tranquil, and just the two of you, there are no words that need to be said to convey how much he loves and appreciates you. Only little tentative touches of affection.
For him it’s the little things that count the most.
The gentle patter of rain begins in the middle of your study session with Yamaguchi. The water trickling harshly against the windows as the night gets later indicating that the end of this storm is nowhere in sight.
“Getting home is going to be difficult…”
“- Ah, don’t be silly y/n, I couldn’t possibly let you leave in weather like this. Why don’t you stay the night?”
His words send a flare to your cheeks. It hasn’t been long since the two of you have made it official, and while you’re both comfortable with one another, this was a new step in your relationship.
And while Yamaguchi is just as shy about the whole ordeal, he also doesn’t want you to catch a cold in this harsh weather.
“Okay Tadashi, I’ll stay.”
The night progresses slowly, a gentle calming atmosphere as you snuggle closely into one of Yamaguchi’s old sweaters that he had lent you.
He thinks you look cute, cuddling close to his clothes. Yamaguchi is someone with a soft heart, and little things like this turn him to mush, especially if it’s in regards to you.
If you’re still cold he’ll bring you a cup of tea or some other warm beverage to keep you from freezing, even offering his favorite blanket and fuzzy socks because I don’t doubt that he has a collection
His touches are a little shy and unsure, but throughout the night he does eventually find his way into your arms, holding you close as you talk, the rain falling into the back of your minds as white noise.
“And then Hinata threw up in Tanaka’s lap.”
“Poor Hinata…”
When it comes to people he cares about Yamaguchi is someone who’ll be very observant, he’ll pick up on the slightest of changes and learn that person like the back of his hand.
So as he watches every expression you make, every little gesture, and quirk, he begins to realize that this is it. This is where he wants to be for the rest of your lives. In your arms nestled close together through the calm and the storms. He realizes that he’s truly and deeply in love with you.
And the mere thought makes his heart pound in his chest at a rate of 100mph. The sound thundering in his ears so loudly and dauntingly that it makes his stomach churn, and his mind drift away.
“Tadashi?”
The sound of your voice breaks his trance, and he looks at you with the most nervous smile, only to be met with your much more reassuring one. And with his cheeks the brightest shade of red, he’ll blurt three magical words for the first time.
“I love you y/n!”
“... I love you too Tadashi.”
#haikyuu headcanons#hq headcanons#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader headcanons#hq x reader headcanons#haikyuu!! headcanons#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo x reader#nishinoya yuu x reader#nishinoya x reader#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi x reader#yamaguchi tadashi x reader#yamaguchi x reader#kuroo headcanons#nishinoya headcanons#akaashi headcanons#yamaguchi headcanons#haikyuu imagines
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First Kiss With Todoroki and Bakugou
Anon requested: “heeey can u please make a first kiss set with todoroki and with bakugou? pleaseee! and i love your writing”
Characters: Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 1,411
Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak
a/n: Ahhhh these were so fun to write! I got into them a little too much, so they’re longer than my normal mini-scenarios, but I’d say they’re pretty cute! Bakugou’s scenario is based on personal experience hehe. Enjoy as I pass out and sleep.
Also anon, I realize that I didn’t answer you when you asked if I have a Wattpad, sorry about that! It’s @/chibirach99, but I just post the same stuff as I do here on there simultaneously.
Todoroki Shouto
"Library again?"
Todoroki slides his bag on his shoulder and slips his hand in mine. "Of course, we have to focus on our studies as student heroes."
It's only been recent since we started dating, even holding hands causes blood to slightly rush to my cheeks, but he's already integrated it easily into his routine as if it's instinct. What's different about today is the slightly tighter grip he holds my hand with. Honestly, I thought he would have been more adverse to it, but he's more comfortable with it than me.
His larger, warm hand in mine allows him to keep in pace with me as we walk down the stairs and out of the building.
"You'll have to help me with the science lesson today, I didn't really understand it today." Our conversations are still more or less the same, we're still students after all. "And we can work on the math practice problems since Ectoplasm's lessons are difficult-"
"Before that," he stops right in front of the entrance doors of the building and fixes his gaze right on me, "Come with me for a moment."
This is different. Nonetheless, I follow him as his entwined hand guides me off the concrete path towards a tree in the distance.
For a moment, my focus shifts from keeping up with him to the way the afternoon light hits his face, the light spring breeze blowing a few strands of his hair around. He's so beautiful, I think and smile secretly to myself.
Once we're under the shade and out of view, Todoroki turns his body around fully to face me before sitting down, resting against it and lightly tugging my hand.
Without letting go, I take the spot next to him as he watches me blankly. "Did you want to rest? You could've told me."
His hand in mine tugs me again and he stares at me expectantly.
Now I'm confused. "What is it?"
He separates his hand from me and places it on my torso, pulling me into his arms and constricting my movement.
Heat rushes to my cheeks and my heart pounds at our close contact, my arms resting against his chest. Even for Todoroki, this is a bold move.
Without another word, his dual colored eyes flicker back and forth between my own wide eyes and my lips. One hand comes up to brush my cheek softly. "Are you okay with this?"
I don't know what to say, I'm too busy admiring his long eyelashes from this close up, so I just nod and close my eyes.
A breath of a chuckle leaves him before he presses a chaste kiss on my lips. The little flutter in my stomach is enough to inject my entire body in heat. Such a small gesture has such a profound effect, and I need to bury my head in his chest to ease the dizziness and hide my embarrassment.
"Was it too much?"
I jerk my head up. Despite sounding level, his eyes also dart away from me and there's a hint of blush on his cheeks. His body is also noticeably hotter as his arm constricts Tigger around me.
"I didn't want to overwhelm you for our first."
"N-No! It was...good. I liked it." The residual effect of the small kiss still lingers in my belly.
The corner of his lip quirks up just slightly. "I'm glad. I've been waiting to, but I wanted you to be comfortable, and I wanted to do it right."
Gosh, he's just so cute. I'd kiss him on the nose right now if I wasn't afraid he might burst into flames, so I settle for nestling into his chest. His heart beats a mile a minute in my ear to match mine. "Let's rest here for a little before going up."
He lifts our still entwined hands to gently kiss my knuckles. "Sounds like a good plan, darling."
Bakugou Katsuki
“You went out with Kiri, Denki, and the rest this weekend, right?” I ask Bakugou, swinging our hands back and forth as we exit the classroom building. “Was it fun?”
“Yeah, I guess so. They were being dumb as usual.” His other hand is stuffed in his pants pocket like the gangster he thinks he is.
“Kiri said you looked like you enjoyed yourself.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. In the week we’ve been dating, Bakugouis noticeably more chill than he presents in class. It makes me proud, considering the only other person he won’t yell at is Kirishima, a testament to his opinion of me and our relationship.
“Oh, that reminds me.” He stops walking and stares at me with his crimson orbs. “Close your eyes.”
I cock an eyebrow and let out a snort. “Why?”
“Just do it so I don’t feel weird!”
“Okay…” I follow his directions. I hear some shuffling of material in front of me.
“Hold out your hands.”
I’m still confused as to what he’s planning to do, but I hold out both of my hands knowing he probably won’t do anything weird. Something light in weight but soft to the touch is placed on my hands.
“Open your eyes.”
In my hands is the cutest bunny with floppy ears, made with the softest material, periwinkle-colored fur, wide black eyes, and an adorable pink button nose.
"It reminded me of how cute you are, and I know it's your favorite animal and color." Bakugou rubs his hand behind his neck, his gaze averted from me. “If you don’t like it, just give it back!”
“No!” I yelp a little too loud and hug the bunny to my chest. Something about him remembering such a small detail I said in passing threatens my ability to stand straight; my knees want to turn to mush. “I’m keeping it!”
Bakugou finally meets eyes with me. “You like it?”
“Of course I do.” I stroke one of the ears softly. “Thanks for thinking of me. But now I have to get you something.”
“No way, I got it for you because I wanted to!” He’s more aggravated that I even brought it up. “I should be able to buy gifts for you without it being weird.”
My heart goes to complete mush at the plushie in front of me. “But how am I supposed to repay you for this?” I want to do the same for him, but I don’t really know what I would get for him either.
He opens his mouth like he wants to reprimand me again before closing it and tilting his head back, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “I know how you can repay me.” His sudden shift in tone is almost jarring.
“Huh?”
Before I can process what he’s doing, his head leans down and he presses a chaste kiss to my lips. The little motion makes my eyes widen and blood rush to my head as my stomach flips. One small second feels more like ten, but it was over as quickly as it came. My head still reels from the small but powerful kiss.
That was our first kiss.
I bury my dizzy head in Bakugou’s chest, his one arm steadying my body close to his chest as he rumbles underneath my face. My lips can’t resist tugging up into a smile and heat rushes up to my cheeks.
“You’re mine, you know. You’re my bunny, and no one else’s, got it?” His voice is softer than usual.
I cover my mouth with my fist just to lift my heavy head up, still leaning on him for support. There’s a small blush coating his cheeks as well, assuring me that he also feels flustered like me. My mouth moves faster than I can process what I’m saying. “C-Can you do that again?”
Even through his blush, he smirks and places another short kiss on my lips. The same delicious electricity flows through me, and I’m left smiling again to his face.
“You’re gonna want me to spoil you with kisses now, aren’t you?” he teases me.
I hug the bunny to my chest. “S-So what if I do?”
Bakugou’s deep chuckle vibrates against me again and he presses one last kiss against my forehead. “You need to calm down for a minute, don’t want you to short circuit on me.” His arm wraps around my shoulders to lead me into walking towards the dorm building. “Let’s go hang out in my room.”
#Bakugou x reader#todoroki x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bakugou katsuki#todoroki shouto#bakugou fluff#todoroki fluff#request#gender neutral reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou scenario#todoroki imagine#todoroki scenario#mha bakugou#bnha bakugou#mha todoroki#bnha todoroki#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction
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Stingray Merman (Kairius)
There is something about stingrays - or sea pancakes - that are very cute, so I wrote a stingray merman that was supposed to of been done during the month of May for Mermay! Oh well! Stingrays are very curious creatures, and so is this adorable boi. Enjoy!
Male monster x GN reader
A Curious Encounter
The storm had been troublesome, you had realised now: the dreary morning you had come out to walk along your beach was the proof that somethings were left in tatters; the storm of the season that had ruined everything in its path.
You walked through the dampened sands in your sneakers, a well-needed precaution you had decided in choosing carefully had the aftermath been calmer. The coastline had been strong in taking the storm for the entire night, but now, it was rather captivating seeing the wreckage.
You walked down from the short incline of rocks and descended further down to see the beach you had been coming to since you had been young. The shore was weak and fragile; debris and waste that had been swept ashore; a tragic sight indeed.
In the ruin, the shore was littered in aggregational carnage; the sea had brought forth some animals big and small, most of them lost to the wreckage. Your heart ached with those animals and creatures, had you been able to save them, you would’ve done it in a heartbeat.
The sand was troublesome in getting out of your shoes, but the feeling of it you didn’t mind really: had you the time, you would perhaps spend as much time helping to clear up with the locals, or even try and find some shells for your younger cousin, Evie - an avid and caring animal lover like you, she would’ve been overwhelmed at this all.
Let’s hope some of it had been cleared by the afternoon. I don’t think any child shall want to see this. You mourned drearily, moving off from the site as you moved away further to a secluded area - the area where the land dipped and gave you great access to the views of the sea, watching the water roar beneath you in its glory.
The rockpools had all sorts of creatures that you loved trying to find when you had been young, and you had taken Evie with you to find all sorts of things that had been washed up: a four-limbed starfish that made Evie squeal, part of an earring that you made a story of it belonging to a rich 17th pirate, shells of all colours and shapes.
You hopped along the rocks, carefully descending to where the cliffs reached high and the walls surrounded below if you wanted utter privacy or peace. Below, the waves crashed back and forth, as if angry for the loss of life too that had been taken. Carefully, you listened in, feeling how you calmed with being around the waters, in the blacked sands, watching the world go past around you-
There was a splashing sound that reverberated and bounced off not too close from you, too human that made you doubt it could be anyone out there. People came to this beach - there was no question about that - but it was way too early in the morning for visitors. No children or people came out here this early to explore - you had known this for years.
The splashing maintained, as if someone was trying to get out a bathtub and the water and spraying and going everywhere, swaying, it brought you to come closer, following the noise, bracing the walls as you found yourself coming into the clearing of where most of the largest rockpools where.
The walls were sable and solid matte in colour, shining off they cast the opposite colours of the gloomy sky above; the waters rippling and tranquil.
You scanned each pool from where you could see, believing that your hearing had made you hear something that couldn't be there, the waves tricking you. As you turned once more to leave, the sound came from behind you, coming from the furthest one from you; as if begging for you to come to investigate.
You were careful in trying not to fall in, the rock edges were slippery with matter and it made walking across with some trouble, but you had managed to get to the furthest pool, checking each one but finding nothing of importance.
The sound grew louder, almost frantic of hearing you coming closer until you were standing over the edge, staring back to the sharp outline of a creature frantically trying to pull themselves out.
Their back was towards you as if this creature hadn’t seen you there yet, frantically trying to flap out of the waters to get themselves free. An eagle ray was common here, but when did stingrays of any type have humanoid arms?
You watched with awe and shock as you watched the humanoid creature tried desperately to get out, gripping in might at the rocks, trying to haul their heavy lower part out of the shallow water. When you lingered long enough on where their figure was in the water, their stingray body merged with their lithe and ghostly human skin, their back dotted in whites and pale blues, a spine trailing down the middle of their back down to their tail and caudal fin.
You could see that the poor thing had its arms and fins were connected, meaning it had much more trouble trying to pull up compared to if their parts were not connected.
You hadn’t of meant to catch the creature off guard, but the sound of shock that had left your mouth had made the half-humanoid spin in the water to stare up at you, the most human pair of eyes staring back at you; utterly terrified.
The face resembled any man you had seen before, but the sides of their neck had slits that opened and gaped with every passing second that the two of you stared at one another. The stingray was male you could tell from the features: his short hair falling over his face, cobalt in colour and wavy in texture from either being out of the water or just natural, his eyes were large and wide, which held some curiosity as they looked you over; a blue hue that blended hazel in the inner ring.
With sharp cheekbones, pointed ears and a startling appearance, he was maybe the most beautiful creature you had ever seen before.
Your gawking had brought a pitiful cry to come from their lips, leaving your heart to ache even further for the seconds you watched him fail to break out his watery prison, backing as far as he could into the corner to get away from you.
“No, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Your voice was soft and nurturing, trying to ease the merman into calming down and to make your presence less terrifying to him. He continued to stare up at you, his eyes taking you in, and you didn’t know whether he could understand you or not, but his beautiful haunting eyes made you believe he could.
His webbed fingers released the rocks he was holding onto for safety, his mouth opening and closing briefly.
“You... you won’t?” His voice was quiet and peaceful, softly he spoke with a tinge of an accent that you couldn’t put down were from, but he was still stunning nonetheless. You stared further, nodding your head. “Of course, I’ll try my best. I-- How did you get in here?”
It was a stupid question: of course, the storm swept him in, but your mind was doing somersaults and your words had gone to mush to form proper questions.
“The storm,” his voice wavered for a second, his eyes watery as if he was going to burst into tears any second, “the storm washed me here. I-I got too close to the shore, I was too curious, and it pulled me away.”
“Curious?” You asked.
“Curious, of the land.” He seemed ashamed by this, his soft porcelain skin tinged a blue in blush across his cheeks as he looked away timidly. “It’s okay, I’m going to get you out of here.” You promised with a reassuring smile.
His caudal barbed fin swayed with him and his demeanour and eyes lit up at your words, and suddenly, he was smiling! It was a sharp one too: broad as he beamed up to you, the sight so wonderful. “You will! You’ll help me?” His voice picked up in pace and pitch as he excitedly circled to come closer to you. Your cheeks flushed at the sight, so adorable you thought he looked, it was certainly a better sight than to see him woeful.
You squatted over the edge, looking over his appearance: he seemed waifish and skinny, with a visible ribcage that showed that he wasn’t very big for his kind. His skin in areas around his arms were bruised and reddened from perhaps trying to climb out, but he overall looked okay.
“What’s your name?” You asked.
The merman grinned broadly, happy that you had asked him, “It’s Kairius.” You told him yours, your name was whispered along the wind by his soft voice; delicately did he say your name with such tenderness.
Kairius - or Kai for short since you had difficulty pronouncing his name - was quick to show his intent curiosity in humans and you, as when you neared to come to the back of him, his agile fingers came up in a swift move, coming to wrap around your ankle delicately.
“Wow.” he murmured to himself, marvelling at your skin and legs, touching, stroking and prodding at areas you hadn’t ever seen before, your nervousness and timidness for being touched in that way almost got you toppling over with him. “Hey, careful!”
His skin on his fingers was clammy from the water, squidgy in texture and soft, but the feeling of his grip around you had loosened, as he gave a timid smile back to you. “Sorry, I just,” he corrected himself, his cheeks flushed, “humans are just so... pretty.”
Your blushed deepened as you caught Kai off with your nervous laughter. “You can check it out when I get you out of here, okay?” Kairius nodded enthusiastically, waiting for you to engage in your next plan.
Your thought was maybe having to use something to pull him out using a pulley system that you could wrap around his waist. But you didn’t have rope, and you were certain none was lying around.
You got an idea, unzipping your hoodie, feeling the immediate chill that had cast along your arms, your skin had raised with goosebumps from the sudden dip in the weather.
The bite was chilling, it sent chills down your spine, goosebumps rising from a horror movie along your skin and soon enough, it was terribly bitter. You hung the sleeve below to Kai, smiling down to him with a simple request. “Do you mind tying this around your waist?”
Kairius smiled and obliged, clever enough to wrap the sleeve about his waist, the sleeve was long enough to go around his waifish torso, the rest of it drooped behind him, his fist clenched around the ball to keep it taut to him.
You grabbed around the limp sleeve that dragged through the water surface, gently you pulled it up, holding it to you, beginning the process of pulling the merman out. The water splashed and waded through his body, his barbed fin wiggled wildly over the surface of the water when you pulled it close to you, feeling the material stretch and wear out. You prayed that it would rip too soon, or else you would have to start over with another plan.
The water sprayed everywhere and the gap between you, the ledge and him were not too far, but you had initially wondered how deep the water had been - or lack of depth at all. It looked more like a kiddy pool than one that could keep a long merman trapped.
There was a grunt that came from you, the higher you pulled and heaved the stingray merman up, closer and closer, his freedom was calling to him and the relief to have him out too was so close; you could almost taste it.
Your back was aching, your fingers burning with the familiar feeling to rope burn but you remained determined to get him out in one piece, regardless of having sore joints. He was very close to you now, and when you grabbed him yourself by the narrow part of his waist, you were surprised to feel at his ribs, his skin the feel of soft leather, sleek like a dolphin hide.
You had gotten him out in one piece, but his skin was twitching, as if it was breathing on its own and had come to life, the skin had become twisted and withered, his flesh looked starved to the bone from being a few metres out of the water.
The most hideous noise came from his lips, the sound a dying animal would make when gasping for breath, a hoarse cry from the back of his throat that made you stop dead in your tracks, realising what was happening.
“Ah, crap.” You moved with clockwork precision, (or what you thought was that) moving backwards with him still in your arms, hurrying to the one place that could give him his freedom and save him truly.
The ledge off of the shoreline and cliff couldn’t be that high, could it?
There were no questions, only answers, it was surely not that high that it could kill him, but you didn’t know how his stingray body would react to falling from a height compared to a human who could dive off. You had seen humans jump off of this ledge countless times, not a merman.
There was no time to doubt, and with some heaving, the hesitation couldn’t wait, his heavy, long body was thrown over your shoulder, falling like a limp doll into the waters below; making your predictions carry over whether or not he would survive when his body hit the water.
There was a splash and a shudder from you, watching over the ledge to see any moment, anybody, and you waited, your heart doing flips - had I killed him truly? You had promised him his freedom and you had killed him all the same, like how humans could be cruel nonetheless, you had murdered one by accident.
You had hoped no one was around to see a giant man-size stingray falling from a height into the water below when you reached the caves below, running along to reach the edge of the cave mouth, watching on with the bubbles that rose through the opaque water.
The bubbles rose and rose, like ash in a rising volcano they spluttered and popped, growing in the many when finally there was a breach in the surface, the first thing you saw was the head of Kai, his beaming broad smile reaching ear to ear, as he gracefully swam with ease over to you. Thankfully, he didn’t look angry that you had dropped him into the water.
His swim was the equivalent to an Olympic swimmer doing the butterfly style but a lot better and more agile in fluidity, his arms moved as he glided through the water towards you until he was there, floating just inches from you.
“You saved me, thank you.” He was grinning so proudly and his smile was the prettiest thing you had seen, the blush had reddened on your cheeks at the sight, the merman drifting as if he had suddenly recalled something. “I’ll be back! I promise! Stay there!” And with that, the merman had disappeared within the murky waters of the black rush, vanishing like a ghost within the air.
You didn’t have to wait long for him to return once more, leaping out of the water to startle you not on purpose, his fins attached to his arms flapping, water going everywhere and dampening your shoes as he pulled himself to get support; a toothy grin still present on his face when he presented you his gift.
He pressed the shell into your palm and your eyes brightened up across your face at the sight: the inside was as if a rainbow and star had collided, its hue a stunning chrome spectrum of pinks, gold and blues - like stardust caught and stored for eternity.
“Do you like it?” Kairius leant closer into you, his eyes observing and drifting back and forth to your reaction and the shell. You nodded, “It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him, holding the shell close to you, “thank you.”
Kairius smiled broadly, pride obvious on his face when he relaxed beside you, the two of you caught in a conversation about your lives and cultures, amazed at his world below and how his story was incredible to hear.
You promised one another you would meet again, and you did almost every day: you had watched the beach be cleaned up since the storm, helping on days as much as you could when you weren’t busy, but they days had been spent in the little cave, sitting and waiting for your close friend.
This day he had come early to see you, and the promise you had given him those weeks ago couldn’t be broken: that was how you were found with him, Kai in-between your legs could’ve been such a sensual concept, but the true reasonings were much tender.
The water slipped through your jeans, even when you had rolled them up as far as you could, but it was cooling and gave you tranquillity with the lower part of your body submerged.
“Are you sure?” There was hesitation in his voice, his voice wavered, his blue eyes had dilated as he took you in, looking over your features to see if you were comfortable with what he was going to do.
“It’s fine, Kai,” you reassured him enthusiastically, and it had calmed him greatly that he knew you were okay with this. With a hesitant hand, it came up to the side of your face, and ever so gently, using the back of his fingers, traced and stroked the length of your cheek, done towards your chin; marvelling at your flesh.
His fingers were ever so careful, you watched up close how tentative and the look of concentration and marvel he had at looking over everything in such fine detail, to look at the differences between human and mer, and he had a willing participant.
His hand had been on the other side of the matte sable rock, trying to keep it steady close to you as his other hand had kept him occupied, his body jutting forward suddenly as if he had lost grip of it and had accidentally slipped. You knew that he would’ve been more likely to be clumsy to his joints and the fins connected, but you had known that you would’ve had to keep him upright.
Your legs instinctively came to wrap around his waist, steadying him before he could crash and knock his head either on the rock or knock heads with you, but his head had still stilled just inches from yours from the action, the realisation came to both of you, neither of you sure how to react.
“I only heard stories of humans,” Kai began, his Adam's apple bobbing with his words, “not many mer had gotten into contact with them, but the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve were much more comely than I had ever imagined.”
Your body gave an involuntary shudder that reacted positively to his words, your mouth agape as he continued to speak. “I had hoped that you had been able to take my gift and enjoy it, I wanted it to mean a lot to you in how you saw it-- how I saw you.”
“How do you see me, Kai?” Your heart was racing by now.
Kairius gave a loving smile, his fingers came to touch at your face once more, evaluating you, “I don’t just see you as a human, but as my mate.”
Mate. The word was an odd one to you, but the feeling that swelled in your chest was euphoric, it breathed anew in your body and blinded your soul. It was terrifyingly beautiful.
“Kai-” “-You don’t have to say yes, I know it is quite a lot. Us mer mate for life and a human and merman relationship is something I’m wary of the reaction my family and kind would have.” He looked to his skin, the flesh he was made up of, it brought his face to frown in disappointment; defeated.
“I’m sorry I put this on you-- I should go.” He went to move off, to leave, but you had already taken his hand back, gently putting it back to the side of your face, staring into his quizzical eyes. “You can’t leave yet, not without hearing what I think.”
His head tilted, eyes trained on you as you confessed, “Yes, I understand how it would be difficult for reactions, but… I would want to give it a try, to delve into the unknown - wouldn’t you?”
His face brightened, eyes so wide you were afraid they would bulge out of his head. Without any warning or hesitation, Kairius had lifted you up and out off the ledge and taken you into the water, spinning you around in his arms whilst you squealed, holding on for dear life!
“You say yes? That makes me so happy! Ooh, I can’t wait to show you the shells I found for you, they’re -- what colours do you like? I can ask my friends over their mates-”
You had silenced him with your lips, his words muffled against your own, his eyes widened in surprise before he had wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. His lips were damp and cold, but they were soft and delicate, his kiss was tentative and caring.
When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face.
When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face. You kissed at his skin, the smoothness against your lips was calming, peppering his face with hundreds of kisses.
“I think a shell will do, but don’t worry, you’re the best thing I could have in this world.”
#stingray merman#merman#merman oc#merman lover#mermaid au#merman x reader#merman x gn reader#monster x gn reader#gn reader x male monster#male monster#male monster x reader#exophilia#monster story#monster lover#monster exophilia#merman exophilia#stingray merman oc
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[ @aaetherius ]
Ever since learning of Valentine’s Day from Lyria curiously inquiring about whether or not he planned to make chocolates for someone special, Lucifer had spent nearly every hour researching and testing various molds and flavors in order to make the perfect sweets for someone who didn’t like them to begin with, but it was the thought that mattered - or so the girl in blue had assured him after his many failed batches. But the day to present his work to his special someone is finally here. Inhaling against the telltale scent of coffee and with something a little extra mixed in, he gingerly holds a neatly wrapped box in his hands. One covered in a shimmering, red paper with a beautiful auburn bow. Atop it sits a much smaller box in matching paper. The packaging alone was a direct result of him staying up far too late to ensure it was perfect. From what he's read and overheard, this holiday is dedicated to loved ones, and he wants to make certain it's special for Sandalphon.
So he slips inside the cafe of the ship - the early morning sun spilling in through the windows and scattering light upon the countertops and tables until they were sprinkled with tiny particles that resembled gold dust. It's still well before Sandalphon usually opens it to the public, and much of the crew is still asleep, but above the scent that wafts from the chocolates he's made he can pick up the distinctive smell of black coffee so he knows the other is already inside. Tucking the box behind his back, he uses his wings to completely shelter it beneath beaming, blush feathers as a gentle smile slips onto his rosy lips. "Good morning, my love," comes his soft voice that he hopes doesn't give away his budding excitement as he makes his way over to where the other stands, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting as large plumes shiver visibly in his joy and bright, blue eyes seem to shine in the sunlight - it's painfully evident he's up to something."Have you heard of Valentine's Day?" He wastes little time leaping into the subject, unable to contain the delight bubbling up in his core. "Lyria informed me it is a holiday in which one makes chocolates for those they love. Though I have never made sweets before, given the purpose of the holiday, I wished to make some for you this year. In all of the skies, Sandalphon, you are the one I have always loved most. So, I pray you will accept this gift. Happy Valentine's Day."
Wings part and he gingerly places the pair of boxes atop the counter, eagerly awaiting for the other to open them. Inside the larger of the packages is a box that contains the fruit of his labor - coffee flavored milk and white chocolates shaped in little wings. A few of them are stuffed with some highly questionable filling Lucifer would claim is cinnamon.They look good, but the taste is suspect if Lyria gagging as she gave him a thumbs up yesterday before dashing off was any indication. Inside the smaller is a delicate but simple white gold promise ring with a set of six wings painstakingly engraved inside the band. The meaning of such a gift had been unknown to him until recently when he had gone shopping for chocolate supplies and Siero had spotted him struggling. With her guidance, he had managed to get everything he needed, but not before she asked after whom he was making chocolates for and, with a knowing laugh, she introduced him to a jeweler who told him about them.
Morning breezes with it's own peaceful divinity when sunlight casts it's serene grace to the lone cafe whose only inhabitant, for the time being, was the crowned supreme primarch. Up at early hours as an usual occurrence - and also a curse considering it wasn't, most of the time, at his own accord but always somehow door busted at unholy hours of early morning by certain scavenger mortal whose questionable tendencies of dragging his body out the confines of soft mattress and a pile of blankets was deemed an extremely necessity. Sandalphon doesn't question it, not anymore and knows best than to struggle against the captain's wishes, knows best to step away given the past day's usual ruckus whenever yet another holiday was just at the horizon to come. And ah - even his own gift for Lucifer, one he had made with so much care and dedication sat atop shelves where, usually, bags of coffee beans would decorate in it's place. Right now they had been moved somewhere else, somehow, in they place what decorates the shelves are a set of truffles coated in various saucers each, various vanilla scented cookies in various shapes varying on tiny set of wings, with slits at the base perfect enough so they can fit atop the rim of a coffee cup, others shaped like hearts, and a cradle shaped one - the specifics of how was he able to find molds for each a mystery to never be found. Something unique and of valuable effort just for that certain someone he knew was going to, also, grace his presence at the built - sublime in all it's way for Sandalphon who awaits the one who he knows, might have in mind the holiday too. It had been a fleeting comment from the girl in blue, and it was only the obvious considering the Grandcypher in general would make each one and every celebration a big deal that the dawning realization could come from any corner of the airship itself, and... Sandalphon can't help the flutter inside his chest, The way his core all but rattles in anticipation considering Lucifer's been absolutely up to something, yet he had never the heart to blow those endearingly awful attempts at not letting such excitement and the glow on azure eyes blow away it. No. Not when, apparently, he had been just as painfully obvious, to some of the crewmembers.
Sole of shoes echo past the door that gives to the cafe's entrance, it doesn't even take a look to know whose presence had graced the always welcoming of worn wood, musk of freshly cleaned and moped floor by the archangel's very own hand. Another of those habits to keep his mind away from the bad things, to not overthink and instead, channel newfound energy into keeping his body moving, doing things, enjoying every second of it as cups, vases, each utensil and surface of tables, chairs and even the petite lamps adorning the room were clean and shining against sepia light that passes by the various windows which graced anyone's gaze with the mold of uneven clouds, winds that blew them away until their shapes all but morph into endless mysteries, and the expanse of the skies could be seen from most of what those frames and their curtains could offer.
Sandalphon was done with a set of two brews, one awaiting for the former supreme primarch as he senses the other approach and pace in a slow but steady pace, scarlet yes looking up as hands keep expectedly pouring the hot drink on the second up and blossoming a warm smile, licked in some exhaustion all too familiar for the archangel whose hours of sleep usually never went past eight to nine hours at best. " Ah, Lucifer! Good morning, I hope I didn't disrupt your needed rest while I had to leave the room too early. " But he knew the answer to his light anxieties. Knew that he'd not mind nonetheless considering yet Sandalphon never stops with those worries, it was an habit, one that never brought harm and somehow, had always made the other, even if he dismissed his claims over and over, smile in a way that made even the farthest flowers come anew with life. So he lets the last of drops plop with a gentle noise to put away the used pot now dried of anything left, pace from behind the counter to meet the other's terribly obvious delight that seeps from any crack his attempt at feigning calm could try to be. Ah, each day Sandalphon was terribly aware just how everything about Lucifer was enough to affect his core, mold in in ways that twisted his and then reshaped it anew without a crack yet still feeling light into the heavens airborne the puffs of clouds, and as if a blade had embraced it with it's edges, about to bleed out and scatter like mush — Yet, as always. Plays along, head tilting to the side once he's infront the other but letting his back rest his weight against the edge of the counter. Wonder plastered all over his calm exterior. " Valentine's day. I have an idea about it given... the crew had asked me for recipes these last days. While I like the idea of trying making my own for the rest as a pastime, if they want to truly envoy their feelings for those said gifts are aimed for, they should have the guts to try themselves... " There's disdain in his voice, comical exasperation that cannot replace the way his core beats in anticipation. Oh those wings are hiding something, isn't it? And whatever feigned calmness dies little by little into utter fondness that becomes unbearable, along the realization that he's overlooking the simplest, but most horrifying detail about it all.
" You... Did. Oh, Lucifer... " Oh he knew exactly the grave he's digging for himself. Knew exactly what await for him in the eternal life he was grated by where nothing could compare to the terrors those heavenly, delicate porcelains could conjure if he dared to try doing anything but coffee when calloused digits glide over the top of the larger box, and his curiosity is rewarded with the sight of handmade sweets. And yet, it's because Sandalphon couldn't, even if his very life depended on it, tell Lucifer about this meager detail that seemed everyone had overlooked, much as Katalina's own kitchen nightmares she had managed to produce whenever anyone had taken their eyes off her and allowed her to aid at the task. This does not defeat the archangel's resolve, but he does swallow dry, and brace himself when the other presents his heartfelt gifts, to receive them and ah - even if they looked edible, adorably crafted and everything, who knows what Lucifer had added on each one's mix. " You really shouldn't have to... Wait - is this a ring, too? " And his attention redirects from those absolutely not sweets to the glimmering ornament when he had gone and haphazardly also open the smaller looking box. " I... don't get it why would you give me this, but the shape... Are those yo- My inherited wings? " And just like that, whatever perfectly disguised grimace in the form of fondness now truly becomes into whatever he feels now. A mix of genuine curiosity, wonder, joy... A lot passes over the smaller archangel before it settles into a melancholic but tender expression as lips draw upward shyly, and lift the ring to let it slip on one of his ring finger. It fits perfectly, resting with it’s shine perfectly - and is enough to let him completely overlook the little bombs of poison that lies close to his free hand, aimlessly reaching for one to take a bit and,
" GhK — " It was terrible! Why in the skies had he put spicy powder on sweet chocolate and coffee!? Oh heavens, everything burned, yet somehow Sandalphon still could meet the strong, awful taste with an unflinching smile, and not breaking a single sweat despise the way every muscle wanted to scrunch into itself and let the void devour his existence. And he has to advert his gaze a bit before forcing the sweet inside and swallow it clean before it'd sap centuries off his eternity as he can still stand, and live like nothing had happened. " I-It's so good...! Haah — Oh Lucifer, you... really planed this, don't y-you...? " And he decides to focus, instead on guessing he's very much poisoned himself, on the ring, shaking off what best he could of the dread of whatever he had put into his mouth, brow arched a tad. " This ring... Lucifer. A promise ring, dare I ask, out of curiosity, why...? " And ah, even when he feels like he's dying all over again, the meaning about this other item had been something that flew over his head, from genuine ignorance considering rings and jewelry weren't things Sandalphon usually studied beyond their use cosmetically. Not beyond what they could mean in traditions the mortals partake, so it just felt right to ask, and delay the inevitable that is his share of gifts that await contemplatively at the coffee shelves, within their grasp but still not yet the time for them.
#Nostalgic Flavor; [ 1 ]#and our fleeting paradise collapses into a new garden; Lucifer || [ aaetherius ]#aaetherius#[ Sandalphon dies; the series#[ this time? death by absolutely not chocolates he's going to keep consuming and stomach each and every one of them because he#phisically cannot tell Lucifer's hand at cooking is terrible ]#[ this is so endearingly painFUL sFJDSÑFDF Oh sandy im so sorry..... wHEEZES
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Spells Out Trouble: Owner of a Lonely Heart
This is chapter five of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!
Chapter Four: Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 5150
Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.
Just so you know: In this chapter, there will be written lyrics to a song (that I do not own!). It is called “She’s a Lady” and is sung by Tom Jones. I would suggest listing to it prior so you know what the song is. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it! (Also, not my gif!)
“Yes, I am. So no one asks her about it, alright?” Sam orders. Cas nods but Dean looks off towards you outside. “Alright, Dean?”
“Yeah, yeah. Totally. Do not ask her no matter how much she is struggling. Or no matter how much she is hurting. I can totally not do that. Yeah. I can do that.” Dean continues to stare out at you, struggling to even attempt to abide by his own words even in thought.
----------------------
You four had just got back to the bunker from shopping fun-time and were discussing your game plan in the Library. Dean explained how his invitation was for you instead of him. Actually, it was for a Lily Grace from the small and exclusive art gallery off the southeast coast. He managed to get you two plus ones which is where the brothers came in.
“So, I will be your date,” Dean says with a smile.
“I’ll also be there,” Sam adds.
“Yes, I, and Sam, will be your date.”
“Escorts actually,” Sam again adds.
“Well, you’re more of an escort whereas I could easily be classified as a date,” Dean says with a smirk towards Sam.
“Dude, you’re not her date!”
“Am too!”
“You are not!”
“Am t--”
“Boys,” you shout, “as much as I love the fighting over who gets to be my boy toy for the evening, we have a more important issue at hand. Okay?” Sam and Dean nod. “Good. Now Cas, what’s your job?”
“My job is to keep the guards at bay while also being a lookout,” Cas answers.
“Great.”
“We go in there,” Sam says going over the plan. “Mingle till we see our shot. Then grab the painting before it gets put on display. Get Cas to smite it. Be home before dinner.”
“Easy,” Dean says.
“Yeah, easy peasey,” you add.
----------------------
“Come on, Y/N!” Sam shouts from outside your room door.
“Give me a minute,” you reply as you finish fixing the last bit of your hair. You stare in the mirror for a moment.
Red lips. Light blush. A natural looking smoky eye topped with long and dark lashes. A natural hairstyle that is loose but looks placed. Cheap but expensive looking silver dangling earrings. It goes with the red cheap but expensive looking dress that you just bought. A low cut with small straps on your shoulders going all the way down to meet at the very bottom of your back. Back-less. Castiel had helped you with the small zipper and button that you were unable to reach, again. The dress was tight around your chest and waist until it came to the bottom of your legs where it started to become loose like a mermaid’s tail. The short train on the end wasn’t too in the way. It was perfect with your red strappy heels and freshly painted red toenails. It was tight and uncomfortable and it hurt like hell, but hey, hell is a regular destination around here.
“Is everything alright in there?” Dean asks, concerned. “Do you want me to come in? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine,” you answer, quick to stop his worry.
“We’re heading to the car,” Sam shouts again.
“But what if she’s hurt in there?” Dean whispers.
Sam grabs Dean by the shoulder of his tux and walks towards the garage. “Come on.”
“We will meet you in the car, Y/N,” Cas says.
You take a deep breath and look in the mirror one last time. Their steps fade away. It’s stupid to think of what you’re thinking. Thinking about how this high class social status and elegant party routine could actually be your life. It was a small dream. Not even a believable one. A good dream nonetheless. Better than the dreams and thoughts you’ve been having lately. The ones that haunt and hurt you. The ones that make a shovel useless. Never able to bury. Never able to push away. Never.
--------------------
“What’s taking her so long? She could be hurt!” Dean says, again trying to open the car door which Sam keeps reaching over to shut.
“She’s fine!” Sam replies. “Cas, tell Dean she’s fine!” The boys look over the seat at Cas.
“Yes,” Cas answers. “But there also is a small possibility that she is hurt.”
“Oh, come on!” Sam says.
Dean opens his car door and steps out. “I told you!”
“Stop Dean,” Sam also steps out of the car, “She’s fine!”
“No! She--”
Dean stops mid sentence as his eyes land on you.
“She’s gorgeous…” He finishes his sentence. Dean and Sam both stare at you in shock and awe. Both inspecting every square inch of you. Dean only doing so with more intensely.
“What?” You ask worried based on their expressions. “What is it? Do I look alright?”
“You look…” Sam starts to say.
“...Perfect,” Dean continues.
You smile a little knowing that the boys are in admiration of your appearance. “Good. I was worried I didn’t look good.”
“What?!” Sam’s voice cracks. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “You look great. You look great.”
“You, you, you, you, you, yo--” Dean says entranced before you cut him off.
“Dean?” You snap your red tipped fingers.
“You look better than great. Be--Better than perfect. You are just so much… you. And it’s beautiful. The greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s amazing. I love it. I love everything about it, and you. I love you,” Dean says, practically spitting out his thoughts. “I love you so much, Y/N. You--You are marvelous. Fantastic.” Dean steps close to you, slowly, as he looks into your eyes and reaches for your hand. “Magnificent. Sparkling. A blessing.” Dean takes your hand in his. “Marry me, Y/N.”
“What?” You say as you snap out of your own trance.
“What?!” Sam says, almost jealous.
“What,” You hear Cas say from Baby’s backseat.
“Marry me,” Dean says again, leaving you with even more chaotic thoughts in your mind.
Marry Dean. Marry Dean Winchester. Dean just asked you to marry him. Dean, just asked you, to marry him. What? What the actual hell. What the hell?!
Smack
“No!” You shout as you take back your hand from the side of Dean’s face. “I’m not gonna marry you! Are you crazy?! Why the hell would you ask me that?! And to ask me like this?! No! Just no.” You walk over to the car leaving Dean feeling his face as it turns red.
“Here,” Sam says as he opens the car door for you.
“Allow me,” Dean says, pushing Sam away from the door so he can be the one to open it. You get inside making sure to do a visible eye roll as you do so.
“Did Dean just ask for your hand in marriage?” Cas asks as you adjust your dress in the seat.
“Attempted to!” You say, still in shock. “You look nice by the way,” You tell Cas as your tone shifts to a more neutral one.
“Thank you,” He responds. Cas looks nice and the boys do too. The brothers have their tuxedos and bow ties while Cas has settled for a more relaxed, unbutton collar, suit, look. As the brothers get in the car, you notice how they even shaved. It’s been a very long time since either one of them were sporting the stubble-less look.
“That hurt you know?” Dean says, looking back at you.
“Well, you asked me to marry you so you should’ve expected a slap!” You retort.
“I mean it hurt my heart,” Dean says with a saddened tone. “But, it’s okay, Y/N. I forgive you,” He says smiling back at you.
“Oh, shut up,” Sam says as he hits Dean.
“You shut up!” Dean says slapping Sam back.
They start hitting each other and requesting that the other “shut up.”
Smack
“Ow!” Sam says as he touches the top of his head where you had slapped him hard. “What’d you do that for?!”
“I did it so you’d, both, shut up and start the car!” You answer.
“But why’d you have to hit me?!”
“I already hit Dean,” you say with a mischievous smile.
“Right,” Dean says as he smiles at the amusement of his brother's pain. He puts the key in the ignition but is hesitant to start it. He turns around to look at you then to Sam.
“What?” Sam asks, confused.
“I think you might have to drive,” Dean says softly.
“Why?”
“Cause… cause… cause she’s too distracting?” He answers nervously as he looks at you.
“Really?” Sam asks sternly before snatching the keys out of Dean’s hands.
-------------------
You had arrived. Walking in the front entrance with two tall and handsome drinks of water on your sides sure drew a lot of attention. Good-looking Goliath on your right and Mr. Cute and Clingy on your left.
“Your name, miss?” The guard asked.
“Ms. Grace,” Sam answered.
“Her name is Ms. Lily Grace from the East Golden Art Gallery,” Dean clarified.
“I see,” the guard says. He very clearly checks you out and attempts to look down your dress. “Have a good evening, Ms. Grace,” he says with a flirtatious tone.
“Thank you,” you say, returning the flirt. “Mr. Handsome.” You smile and bat your eyes until the boys raise their arms causing you to lift a few inches off the ground and pull you away from him. They find a table and plop you back down in a chair. “What’s with the man-handling?!”
“Um, flirt much?” Dean says.
“What? I was just messing around,” you reply.
“He won’t think you’ll be messing around when you look like this,” Sam adds.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” You ask defensively.
“It means, when you look as gorgeous and jaw dropping as you do right now, he won’t care if it’s a joke or not!” Dean says angered.
“Okay! Okay! I got it. What’s with the level of concern here?”
“It’s just that you… you… you look really, really attractive right now, Y/N. And it’s really distracting and if I didn’t know you, then I would be attempting to hit on you right now,” Sam lets out.
“Whoa, did you get hit with a love spell too?” You sarcastically question which Sam replies with an eye roll and a huff.
“Y/N, the only reason why you aren’t getting hit on right now is cause me and Sam already gave every guy in here a clear cut message that you were with us and definitely unavailable!” Dean states.
“Yeah, so no flirting alright Y/N?” Sam says. They both stare at you waiting for an answer.
“Alright! Alright. Besides, we have to find that painting,” you answer.
-----------------
The painting was traced back to the time during the Salem Witch Trials. It was a portrait of some farm and a big meadow. It was suggested that the painting got cursed because the witches’ death released a curse field around them which affected a painting in a nearby house. Somehow, the painting made its way here, to the art gala, and was being prepped to be sold to some unknowing victim. You had searched all over for it and found it nowhere.
“Find it?” Sam asked as he walked over to you.
“No. You?” You replied.
“No. Hey!” Sam called out quietly, getting Dean’s attention. “Did you find anything?”
“Nope. Nothing,” Dean answers, coming over to the huddle.
“Great. We’ve checked backstage, in the exhibit, in the halls, everywhere and yet it is nowhere,” you state.
“Wait,” Sam says, “not everywhere.” He walks through the dancing crowd in front of the stage and points towards the band. “There!”
“Crap,” you let out as you see that it is being displayed, on stage, in front of everyone.
“How are we gonna get that?” Dean asks.
“I don’t know!” Sam answers.
“It’s in front of literally everyone,” you add.
“Exactly, we’d need a distraction. And a big one at that.” Sam puts his face in his hands while you start making agitated fists.
“Oh!” Dean says as he gets really excited. “I’ve got it!” He runs away.
“What the hell was that?!” You ask.
“I don’t know!” Sam replies. “He said he’s got it.”
“Yeah, under the love spell Dean has got it,” you say sarcastically.
“Can I have your attention please?”
“Well where did he go then?” Sam asks.
“I would like to sing a song to a very special woman who is out here tonight.”
“I don’t know!” You say. Before you can say your next words, you notice the silence that has occupied the once really noisy room.
“This song is very special to me and it’s called…”
You look up to where the crowd is facing. Up on the stage, stands Dean. Dean, who is holding a microphone and talking in it, in front of everyone. “Holy sh--”
“…She’s a Lady.”
“What?” Sam asks. You point to the stage where Dean is talking with the band.
“What’s he doing?!” You ask. The music starts up.
“He’s creating a distraction!” Sam says excitedly. He pats you on the back, gives you a quick smile, then runs off.
You stand alone as the lights go out, a spotlight falls on Dean and he points to you in the crowd.
“This one’s for you, Y/N.”
He smiles at you and lets out the last thing that you would ever expect to come from Dean Winchester’s mouth: a song.
Well she’s all you’d ever want, she’s the kind I’d like to flaunt and take to dinner.
What.
Well she always knows her place. She’s got style, she’s got grace, she’s a winner.
The.
She’s a lady. Whoa whoa whoa, she’s a lady. Talkin’ about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
Hell.
Dean takes his mic from the stand and starts walking with it.
Well she’s never in the way always something nice to say, oh what a blessing.
He walks down several steps, coming off stage.
I can leave her on her own knowing she’s okay alone, and there’s no messing.
He slowly makes his way through the crowd.
She’s a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s a lady. Talkin’ about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
The groups of people part like the red sea as Dean target locks on to you, with a spotlight locked on him.
Well she never asks for very much and I don’t refuse her. Always treat her with respect, I never would abuse her. What she's got is hard to find, and I don't want to lose her. Help me build a mountain from a little pile of clay. Hey, hey, hey.
The spotlight is now on you, with a circle of people gathered around you and Dean on the dance floor.
Well she knows what I’m about, she can take what I dish out, and that’s not easy.
You try to turn away from Dean but the crowd refuses to let you look away from the glorious voice.
Well she knows me through and through, and she knows just what to do, and how to please me.
Dean was now right up close to you. Your heart was racing. Your face was melting. Your cheeks were blushing.
She’s a lady. Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s a lady.
Dean put his hand around your waist. Pulling you close and tight as he serenaded you.
Talkin’ about that little lady, and the lady is mine.
He took your hand and spun you outwards, only to pull you back into his capture.
Yeah yeah she's a lady.
You two were now caught up in dancing, and swinging, and twirling back and forth all while he was singing.
Whoa, whoa, whoa she’s a lady.
You kept looking into his eyes as his voice kept going.
Listen to me people, She’s a lady.
It was beautiful.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, she’s a lady.
You’ve never felt like this before.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, she’s a lady.
You’ve never felt truly...
Talkin about this little lady.
...extremely...
Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. She’s a lady.
...extraordinarily…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, she’s a lady. Oh, woah, Lord, she’s a lady. I can’t live without that little lady. She’s a lady.
...in love.
Claps and cheers filled up the building. You didn’t even realize that Dean was holding you in his arms. He let go of you as you both nodded and smiled in agreement with the cheers. You then ducked through the crowd and rushed outside where Cas had been on lookout.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” You scream at him causing him to jump back.
“Woah! Calm down! Calm down!” Dean insists.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Cas asks frantically.
“Tom Jones here just sang his heart out to me in front of everyone! Everyone in the entire building!” You yell.
“That was you?” Cas questions.
“Well I’m no Tom Jones,” Dean says with a smile.
“Why did you do that?” You start grilling him. “Why would you embarrass me like that in front of everyone? Why did you have to do that? Why now? Huh? Why is it that crap like this always happens? Why can’t my life just be normal for once?! Why couldn’t I just have been normal?! Why couldn’t I have stopped it?!” You start to spiral out of control, trying to hold back tears. You fall backwards but Dean and Cas catch you.
“Are you alright?” Dean asks as he props you back up, noticing your watery eyes.
“I’m fine!” You blurt out. “Why’d you do all of that though?”
“He did it,” Sam says as he runs up and joins the party, “so I could grab this.” Sam holds up the painting that he pulled from his tux. “Ta-da!”
“Good,” Cas says. He looks to the ground almost affected by the turn of events that just took place.
Sam looks at nervous Cas, shaken Dean, and teary eyed you. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” you reply quickly. You march towards the car and get in, officially starting the time.
The time where you distance yourself. The time every year where you run and hide. Where you go into a short hibernation, refusing to talk to anyone or leave your room. The time that you hate most in your life. The worst time. And that time begins, now.
--------------------
It had been three days since you yelled at Dean mainly about the whole singing thing. You kept quiet on the car ride home. Even pretended to sleep as if you were trying to fool your mom. Your mom. Mom. Since then, you haven’t really talked to anyone. You used to go to the kitchen the first two days until you realized that they had hid the food in order for you to confront one of them in order to ask where it was. It has been several hours since you’ve eaten. The only time that you talked to someone now was when Cas would wait in the room beside the bathrooms and say “hello” to you which you always ignored. You used to hide your hibernation period from the boys but there wasn’t any point any more. They all knew that you were in a dark place. But none of them even know how truly darker than dim it is.
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Five days since you last sat in the impala. By now, the boys took turns placing food outside your door trying to make sure you were still alive and weren't starving. You would hear them outside, whispering to each other, trying to determine your status. Currently, your status was at its peak of horrible. You couldn’t think about anything else other than what you have continued trying to bury for so long. So long you have held this in. So long you’ve wanted to let it out. So long you’ve told yourself you couldn’t.
Knock. Knock.
“Y/N?” Dean called from outside your room door. “I’ve got some PB&J for a late night snack. I figured you were still up. Are you still up?”
Dean seemed to be taking your absence the hardest. It was due to the love spell causing him to want to see you and be with you. He had gotten the spell under control so long as you at least said a word to him a day. You found that out after Sam had said Dean tried to kill him again for who knows what.
“Yeah,” you answered.
“Yes! Right. You’re good. You’re still up. So, um, do you want the sandwich?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Cause Sam and Cas said that you haven’t eaten anything today and were worried th--”
“I’m fine!”
“Right. O--Okay. I got it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You hear Dean set the plate outside your room and scamper off.
---------------
Only about five minutes later did you hear a noise coming from outside. It became louder and louder and unbearable. You went over to the door to hear what was happening on the other side. Whatever it was, it was unintelligible. You figured there was no harm in opening the door to see what it was and yell at it. You opened the door.
Thump
“Ow,” Dean said as he fell backwards from leaning up against the door. You just rolled your eyes and sat back on the ground, picking up a book that you have failed at reading. “Right.” Dean stands up. “I’m gonna guess that you don’t want me in here?”
“Leave.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Dean smiles and heads for the door. “But how abo--”
“Now.”
“Right. Will do. You got it.” Dean starts to close the door behind him. “You know what?”
“No. I don’t know. So how about you don’t tell me but you do leave.”
“No.”
“What was that?”
“I said no,” Dean struggles to smile.
“Dean, get out of my damn room, right now!”
“No! You can tell me to go all you want but you know I'm more stubborn than you. So, no. I think I’ll be staying.” Dean shuts the room door, putting just you and him in your bedroom.
“Dean,” you try to say sternly but your voice wearies, “get,” tears start to fall down, “out,” your voice breaks. “Please,” you say, almost begging for help rather than insisting him to leave.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean says as he gets on the floor facing you as you start to erupt.
“I--I--I can’t!” You start to sob causing you to bring your knees to your chest for some protection and defense.
“Hey, It’s okay! It’s okay.” Dean moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He sits beside you on the floor with his arms wrapped around you. He gently strokes your head and hair as he keeps trying to calm you down.
“I--I can’t! I can’t!” you keep repeating, unable to form words.
“I know, I know. It’s okay.” Dean continues holding you and he squeezes you tighter into his embrace. He starts to rock you ever so slightly back and forth as he moves you closer and closer to him.
You continue to sob as your legs spread out, away from your chest, and on your chest was Dean arms, wrapped tight. It felt safe and you felt comforted, but still not okay.
After about five minutes, the sobbing finally ceased. Dean still continued to try and calm you down. Rocking you back and forth, holding you, reassuring that you were okay, trying to keep you quiet and calm. He just continued to hold onto you as if nothing could make him let you go. But yet, he managed to make you let go.
“I--I’m sorry,” you say with your voice breaking while sniffing.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to be sorry. Everything's alright. I’m right here. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you.” He brushes your stuck to face hair behind your ears. You can barely see through your teary eyes but you do see Dean’s own watery eyes. You continue to let more time slip by before you speak again.
“Dean?” You gather your strength in order to get out the next part.
“Yeah, Y/N? I’m right here.”
“The bad,” you take a deep breath, “something bad has already happened and I… I couldn’t stop it. It was all my fault. It was all my fault.” More tears come down your face as you try and burrow yourself into Dean even more. He continues to hold you and remain as steady as a rock.
“Y/N,” he says softly, “what do you mean? Talk to me. Please.”
“I--I ca,” before you can refuse, it comes out. It all comes pouring out. Everything. “Before I joined you and Sam. Before you found me, I was alone. But before I was alone, I was with my family. My parents were hunters. They raised me to be a hunter. We fought and killed every stupid son of a bitch that decided to get in our sights. It was so nice. It was my family. Then one day, on a hunt, my mom… my mom… m--”
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“My, uh, mom, she got killed and she didn’t come back. She died, saving me and she never came back. I remember watching her bleed out as I just stood there, frozen. I did nothing as she died, choking on her own blood. I can’t even remember what it was like to have a mom, to have her. All I remember is what she told me. She made me promise to take care of my dad. To back him up. And I did, for a while. It was so hard after my… my mo--after what happened, I couldn’t do it anymore. I broke my promise and it broke my dad. I ran off and as far away as I could get. I thought I was fine, I thought he--he was fine.”
“It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“Um, I read the newspaper and I found out that he had died. On a hunt. Alone. With no backup. And so I ran even further. I changed my name. I changed everything. I wanted to be dead. It should’ve been me. And, it’s all… it’s all… it’s all my fault!”
“It’s okay, Y/N.”
“But it's not! I could’ve helped! I could’ve saved my mother! I could’ve saved my father! I could’ve saved all those people who had died just because I didn’t kill the monster because I was scared! I was scared and stupid. And selfish. I should be dead! Not them. It should be me!”
“No. No it shouldn’t have been you. It’s not your fault, Y/N. It’s not.”
“How can you say that?! How can you even believe that?!”
“Because I have to believe it too.”
“What?”
“My dad gave up his life for me. He traded his soul for my own. I used to hate myself. I used to want to die but then I realized, he did that so I wouldn’t die. And regrets? It’s a list longer than Santa’s. I tortured souls in hell. I even started the apocalypse, a couple times.”
“By accident.”
“Yeah but, exactly. I have a circle of death around me. You step inside, you die. Everyone that I have ever loved or who has meant something to me has died. Except you. Cas and Sam have both died before. Several times. But not you. I won’t let you. I love you too much. And I promise you, your parents don’t blame you. They love you and they are proud of you and they are happy just thinking about how amazing you are. Their minds can’t even comprehend the level of awesomeness that you have. You’re amazing.”
“You think so?” You ask, starting to smile.
“I know so,” Dean says, smiling back. He moves your neck closer to his and leans in for a kiss.
This was perfect. You had let go. Dean had finally let go. It was amazing. It was everything that you had ever wanted. It felt so good. Dean’s lips against yours. It was love. It was happiness. It--wasn’t real.
You sat up quickly, causing yourself a bad headrush. You stood up, backing away from Dean. He too had stood up just as quick, frightened.
“What?!” He asks, confused and worried. “What, what is it?! Are you okay?! Was it me? Did I do something?”
“No!” you start to form tears again. “No! This--This isn’t right! This isn’t fair!” You push Dean away while wiping the tears from your face.
“What? What isn’t fair? Y/N, talk to me!” Dean says.
“Talk to you?! This isn’t even the real you Dean! I’ve been so caught up in my own problems that I haven’t even realized that the real you is still in there, hating all of this!”
“What?! What are you even saying?! I’m me!”
“No, you’re not! Dean would never do anything like this with me! You--you were given some magical roofie and I’m taking advantage! That isn’t fair!” You yell as you open your door, running down the halls, unable to see.
“Y/N!” Sam calls from behind you. Sam sees Dean chasing after you and stops him from running. “What happened?!” Sam says with a very rare type of aggression.
“I--I don’t--I do--” Dean mutters out.
“Stay!” Sam orders Dean.
-----------------
You tried to find the keys to the impala but couldn’t see anything.
“Dammit!” You yell in frustration.
“Hey! Y/N! What happened?!” Sam says as he comes over trying to calm you down. He puts his arms on your shoulder trying to steady you but you hit them off.
“No! Just no! I just want the keys so I can go!” You slam your hands down on the hood.
“I’ve got the keys, Y/N,” Sam says as he pulls them out of his pocket.
“Give them to me!” You yell as you try to snatch them from his hands.
“No,” Sam says as he holds them out from your reach. “You’re in no condition to drive.”
“Fine!” You say as you wipe the snot and tears from your face. You open the car’s door and go under the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?” Sam asks with an annoyed tone.
“I’m hotwiring the car since you won’t give me the keys,” you answer as you attempt to see which wire is which.
Sam lets out a sigh then gets in the car. “Scooch.”
“What?” You ask confused as you scoot over to the passenger side.
“I said you were in no condition to drive. Me on the other hand,” Sam shuts the door and starts the engine, “I’m a little stressed and majorly confused but other than that, I'd say pretty good condition.”
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It had been a seemingly long car ride from the bunker to some cheap motel. You both remained silent the entire time. Sam seemed too afraid to poke the bear and you were just unable to talk at all. You had arrived at the motel and were waiting in the car till Sam came back with a room key.
He signaled for you to come over to a room. “So this is your room,” he said as he opened the door. You ran inside and took off your wet layers that became soaked from the rain. “I paid for three night upfront. Me or Cas should swing by later with some of your clothes and stuff. Okay?”
You go back towards the door.
Slam
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(Once again, I do not own the lyrics to the song that was used in this chapter)
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Hope you enjoyed it!
Tag list is open!
@crazybutconfidentaf @doctorlilo @pillowjj @busy-bee-angel-misska @vicmc624
Chapter six: Up Around the Bend
#dean winchester#dean x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester#castiel#funny#fiction#lovespell#supernatural fandom#dean and you#spellsouttrouble#fanfic
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Untitled 2 (Companion piece)
Gusu Lan awakes with no more noise than that of shuffling.
The sun sleepily gazes upon the compound, its rays soft; as one, the sect rises, lights its candles and sets about beginning its day. The air is unseasonably cool, calling for an extra layer of robes for the day. Fires are stoked, water put to boil; vegetables are laid out to be chopped for breakfast.
Wei Ying slumbers on.
As headstrong asleep as he is awake, Wei Ying heeds not the hour of day, nor the rules of the sect. His breaths are as deep and as steady as ever, his head firmly tucked against his Lan Zhan’s throat, his limbs curled tight around his husband. It is a comfort hard earned and well-loved, and he is loathe to leave it.
But alas! Lan Wang Ji’s schedule cares for no one.
Thus he begins the first ― and most ― difficult undertaking of the day: slowly, carefully, gingerly shifting first Wei Ying’s torso, then his limbs off of himself. Practice makes one perfect but does not make one willing; he still has half a mind to cancel his earliest meeting and go back to bed. Sod meditation, sod breakfast, and sod sect leader Yao; they can all go catch fire elsewhere for all he cares.
(But alas!)
He pads reluctantly to the stand by the window for his robes. On the bed, Wei Ying shifts and curls into himself, humming unhappily. A large part of him is promptly reduced to a useless puddle of mush, and Lan Wang Ji has to recite sect rules in Uncle’s voice in his head to make himself get through his morning routine.
The sun rises slowly but surely, and likewise he runs through his sword forms, by now so ingrained that he corrects himself without thinking about it. His qi always feels especially revitalized in his meridians in the mornings, a noticeable effect of nightly dual cultivation with Wei Ying.
(Ah, his ears are burning.)
He runs through, perfunctorily, what he knows of the forms from other sects - sect rules consider it inappropriate¹, but Wei Ying has debated and convinced him of the merits of being familiar with techniques not his own.
(Some might argue that his husband has made him soft; Lan Wang Ji is certain that, on the contrary, Wei Ying has made him wiser.)
It isn’t even breakfast time, and he misses Wei Ying already.
Nonetheless, the day must go on: he still has an hour’s meditation in the cold springs to do before the kitchens will be done with making breakfast. After decades of practice, he barely feels the frigidity of the water anymore; instead it is almost welcoming. It runs through his hair and down his back, taking the fuzziness of the early morning with it. He finds his usual spot, back to the spring’s entrance, and settles in to meditate.
Lan Wang Ji sinks into his trance, feeling the flow of his qi, the space his physical self occupies in the water. Time slows to an inexorable crawl, the song of birds and the rushing of water fading, giving away to his own steady heartbeat.
Around him, the world moves on.
The familiar smell of lotus and orchid gradually draws him out of the trance. There is a weight on his shoulders, warm and heavy and beloved. The birds have finished their odes, the sun has moved further out into the pond, and Wei Ying has appeared behind him.
Lan Wang Ji basks for as long as he can in the comfort of his husband’s arms around him and his chin atop his head. When finally the yearning cannot be held off any longer, he turns to gaze upon Wei Ying, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired and beautiful, and adorned with a deep, endearing sleep wrinkle on his cheek.
Wei Ying has chosen to don the robe Lan Wang Ji slept in, with a collar that falls open to reveal his chest and sleeves that drape over his hands. It is a… bold choice of clothing. Lan Wang Ji would like nothing more than to tear it off him, to touch, to reaffirm once more the vows they repeat daily, as well as a few other promises that they also make every night.
(But alas!)
Instead he tilts his face upward for a kiss, soft and devout and (disappointingly) chaste. Wei Ying is always sweet, the way mantous are sweet, and he runs hot; Lan Wang Ji vaguely thinks that if there were a wine that tasted like Wei Ying, he would spend the entire Lan Sect treasury buying all the available supply and hoard it all to himself, sect rules be damned.
“Good morning, Wei Ying,” he says into the space between them, and hopes his staring husband can see the besottedness in his eyes.
(The robe will have to wait for nightfall to be torn off Wei Ying.)
---
A few notes:
In one of the novel extras LSZ fights with Lan, Jiang and Jin techniques, if I remember correctly; LWJ says it is, unfortunately, inappropriate and will have to be punished. I was/am salty.
I tried to do a motif thing. It didn’t work. I’m not very proud of this piece but idk what’s wrong with it. I present it to the void for judgement anyway.
First part here
#fluff#wangxian#wangxian fluff#mdzs fanfic#they are married#they are in love#they are so precious#author is rusty#scorpiosea writes
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Battle of Heart and Mind - Review - Beware of Spoilers
Before I dive into the review I just want to make a list of things that were left unanswered, just to get it out of the way. Here it is:
- How did White Diamond know that PD was Rose? It was never explained.
- How did White know what a child is.
- How did White know what a mom is. Blue and Yellow had no idea what a mom was or even what a child is. Why would White know?
- Who made White or how was White formed? And if she was the first gem in existence how did she know what was she supposed to be?
Feel free to add more.
I’ll split the review into parts so it’ll be easy to follow.
Part 1: Blue helping Steven and her and Yellow fighting.
While I liked the tender moment between Blue and Steven and the fact that she helped me I still think her giving in happened a tad too quick. All Steven had to do was point out how she locked PD in the same prison. he was in and how she must have cried so many times because of how Blue treated her. I understand the guilt Blue feels and because of that her change of heart seems a bit more believable.
Next. And I can’t believe I’m saying this but how did no one notice that Yellow was sitting in a room full of bubbled forced fusions:
That is incredibly messed up. And I am willing to bet that those were all experiments that went wrong and they were bubbled to study them on how to possibly make the cluster? Could be. Either way it was so so wrong.
The fight between Yellow and Blue was nice albeit short. I would’ve like to see Blue poof, just for a bit, just so we can learn a bit more about Diamonds. She could have reformed quickly afterwards. Anyway, Steven managed to stop them fighting and Yellow agreed to help him escape. But during the fight Blue said something that I think is very important:
”She was suffering in silence for ages, just like our gems, just like me”. This line is the ONLY reference we get to the fact that Homeworld gems are oppressed and unhappy. No one mentions it again. And I get it there wasn’t time but at least show the Homeworld gems reacting to the battle, to what was happening. The world felt so empty without them.
Anyway, after White gets in the way of Steven leaving Blue and Yellow’s ships return and we see Bismuth, Period and Lapis are piloting them.
And let me just say that Lapis and Peridot’s new forms are really nice. Peridot is so cute. I only wish she would have done something with her hair, but I guess that’s just how Peridots look.
I kinda like how Lapis doesn’t have an obvious star on her outfit. She is a CG but she’s not fully there yet. I guess the half star counts too.
After this, there comes another important line that I think deserves some talking about:
”No, I won’t go. Pink Diamond ran away from you. Rose Quartz, my mom, she started a war with you. But I don’t wanna run, I don’t wanna fight, I just want to talk”.
It’s a really...interesting line if you think about it. It shows how PD, RQ and Steven differ and how each had a different perspective about things. And again it shows how Steven is just a pacifist who wants to talk things out. I suppose it s only fair because at that point a battle with White would’ve meant doom but then again, at least try. Sometimes talking is not enough, that’s just how life works.
The special goes on to say how Steven and the Diamonds have to fix their broken family and Connie even steps in and says how her mom use to enforce a lot of rules on her which made her feel miserable. But that once she told her mum how she felt things got better.
That’s all cute and sweet but...we’re talking about a race of beings that conquer worlds and commit genocide like it’s nothing. And White doesn’t just make rules for the Diamonds, she makes rules for everyone, and if anyone disobeys them she outright shatters or posses them. I’m pretty sure Connie’s mom would just ground her and that would be all. I mean one can not just put a ”=” between these two instances and call it a day.
Anyway, Blue and Yellow’s decide to talk to White about how they feel and Blue has this to say about it:
”White, we used to be close, don’t you remember? Pink would make us laugh, all those silly things she did for no reason. But there was a reason: she wanted us to be happy together, but we weren’t and we’re still not. I know my purpose is not to be happy but I find it harder and harder to enforce your rules when they make me miserable, when they make us all miserable”.
Btw, Yellow’s speech was so corny. I get that she was terrified of White but it sounded so weird.
I could have gotten 100% behind Blue on this if it weren’t for the fact that...we were never shown that enforcing White’s rules made them miserable. All we saw is them doing their jobs as Diamonds and showing no remorse for it. Blue wanted to shatter Ruby. Yellow is willing to poof or shatter anyone that doesn’t fit in. We were never shown them having a moment, after, let’s say, ordering a gem to be shattered. Maybe it could’ve worked. To show them torn apart by their roles as Diamonds. But nope, none of that.
And sure they were close and Pink made them laugh but in the grand scheme of things they were still dictators, they were still shattering gems, conquering planets and so on. And even if they were happy together Im pretty sure that White would’ve wanted them to keep Homeworld as it is.
Part 2: Steven’s fusions and getting into White’s head.
Steven’s fusions were so cool. My favorite was Rainbow Quartz 2.0
I like to think it’s a male gem even though they’re genderless. But just because Steven is involved. Anyone is free to see them as they want. It’s still a really nice fusion.
I liked Sunstone too but her design was so-so. But that wasn’t the problem for me, the problem was breaking the fourth wall. It took away from the tension and the seriousness of the moment.
And that’s another problem of this special: it juggles with the tone. Sometimes it’s dead serious, sometimes it is over the top silly. It wants to be both but the two don’t exactly mix well. It reminds me of Disney’s Hercules where they did just that and the result was just a mush of silly and serious.
Keeping the tone consistent would have been a big plus. Not make it totally grim but just let the serious moments feel serious and urgent.
I think my favorite part of the special is when Steven is in White’s head/room. It was intense, it was serious, it was dark and most of all there were stakes.
Obsidian was wicked cool. Though I thought she’d look slightly different than the temple because Rose was involved in the fusion. Steven was.
Just one question: What was White waiting for while the gems were dancing to fuse into Obsidian?
Part 3 - Removing Steven’s gem aka the best part of the special with the best animation.
I loved, loved, loved this part. Everything was perfect.
The animation? Top notch. The music? There was music when the gem was removed - Great. The atmosphere? Great.
What I loved most was that PD/Rose did not reform. Everyone speculated for so long as to what would happen in a scenario like this and now we have our answer. It’s a confusing one but a beautiful one nonetheless.
Steven is not his mom at all. He is the literal fusion of PD and Greg. I viewed that scene as White ripping off PD’s genes from Steven and Steven falling apart because he was left with the Greg part of him. PD is gone because she literally fused her genes with Greg and passed her gem entirely to Steven. She made sure she was gone and she practically delivered and empty gem for him to make his own. It wasn’t PD or Rose powering Steven it was Steven powering Steven.
Brilliant.
Part 4: White and her realisation that she herself is off-color.
The animation on White was fantastic I need to say that. I liked that she was proven wrong, that she saw with her own eyes that Steven was Steven and that PD was gone forever. It turned her world upside down, sure but it told us that she is not all knowing as she wanted to be seen.
I can’t say I liker her sudden change of heart.
People who abuse and who are as toxic as she is will not just change because they are told that their ways are bad. Sure some of you might say she still seemed reluctant when she was on Earth. She seemed but the fact that she so quickly accepted to go on Earth and fix the corrupted gems, shows that she got over it quickly.
It is nice to see her facial expressions while on Earth and I get they were trying to show us how she is not comfortable with what is happening but come on, what dictator turned around so quickly?
Though, White being off-color was brilliant.
Part 5: Healing the corrupted gems
I was so happy to know we were gonna see the corrupted gems be healed.
But then I was so angry that it was just a montage. I mean it’s better than nothing but we waited for so many seasons for this. I understand there was a lack of time - 44 minutes - when they marketed it as an hour special - but come on.
I wanted to see Centy interact with Steven. I wanted Jasper to talk and find out about PD not just to see her all flustered after seeing everyone around her. We can assume Amethyst told her very briefly what was going on but still.
I felt cheated out.
Also, Lars was back and while the off-colors delivered my favorite joke from the special I feel it wasn’t worth their showing up. It was rushed as hell. And it felt awkward as the Diamonds were just standing there assisting to this little human reunion.
All in all it wasn’t bad but it was, as with all big SU episodes, incredibly rushed. The story is there, the characters are there but it was all cheapened by the terrible pacing and by the fact that, at the end of the day, Blue and Yellow were absolved of all their wrong doings because they were doing all those things to please White.
Again, I feel the need to reference ATLA and how there Zuko’s family, a royal family, which the Diamonds can be inferred also are, was also broken and messed up but the show acknowledged that it was a family beyond repair, that it was too toxic to even go there and that while YES they did have happy times, as Zuko tells us they had, even in those happy times Ozai was still the toxic person we know and they were still part of a system which oppressed the Fire Nation people. The fact that they were family and that they had happy times did not take away from the important aspect of Ozai being a dictator. Also, Azula was also doing all the terrible things she did to please Ozai yet the show doesn’t excuse her but it tells us it was messed up.
Why is SU excusing the diamonds?
#su spoilers#steven universe#white diamond#pink diamond#yellow diamond#blue diamond#homeworld#change your mind#boham#battle of heart and mind#fusion#su critical
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Upright
Her fingers pulled against the strap of her chest plate, tightening the metal around her more snuggly. It should have felt familiar to her, it had been the armour she used to wear back at the palace, her home. But this was not the palace, this was not her home. And the collar around her throat that jingled far too loud to her own liking, was not the normal part of her uniform. But then again, was this truly the same uniform and chest plate as before?
No, it wasn’t. She had done something to it, made it enchanted, but was anyone truly going to go and attack her? She had become more paranoid with each passing day, but personally speaking, Beatrix had lost all sense of time since agreeing to stay. She had to, it was her duty after all. Until her last breath, she had sworn. And where she came from, one did not simply break a blood oath.
Her thoughts drifted towards her homeland, briefly reminiscing and possibly even yearning for the sandy shores and the rainy forests before the thoughts screeched to a firm half. Shaking her head from side to side much like a wet dog would, the guard focused her eyes forward as the throne room doors opened and in came… what was once the Countess of Vesuvia. No longer a human, but more of an Arcana-human hybrid.
The initial change of Nadia had shaken her, how could it not. Gone was the beautiful and beloved Countess and in her place was, this creature that appeared to be Nadia and the Devil combined. It made her blood run cold when their eyes locked and often Beatrix found herself breaking the gaze, lowering her chin in submission and her head often receiving a possessive and firm pat from the Countess clawed digits. That motion made her heart skip, often reminding the guard of better times when those fingers were not ending in sharp talons and they softly glided through her hair. She often found herself shedding tears for what might have been. For who Nadia and she could have been…
And now, as the once Countess entered, another figure close at her heels, Beatrix could not look at the pair, rather turning her eyes towards the ceiling. The other was another she had once loved, but just the same as the once Countess, she could not bear to look at her. Could not will her heart to not shrivel, could not steady her tongue from becoming like a viper’s, poisonous words beginning to form, only for her to shut her mouth and grind out a small phrase before leaving their presences all together. Sadly, this was one occasion, she could not do such a thing.
This place had changed Miann just as the Devil’s heart had changed Nadia. The once bubbly and sweet magician had become cold and cryptic. When Nadia said jump, Mianna asked how high. It made her ill. Her beloveds had changed, and yet here she was, still grasping onto her own humanity that she felt slipping away each and every day. It did not help that Nadia was often looking after her with a predatory and knowing grin. The once-Countess knew she was changing and well, she took great pleasure from it. She had always liked watching Beatrix squirm.
“Beatrix.”
The way Nadia said her name made her skin crawl, but once upon a time, it had made her heart flutter and dance. Her tone oozed with possession and seduction, but no matter how hard she tried, she was always caught in her sway. And the once-Countess was not to be disobeyed.
She turned her head over slightly, looking towards the woman who spoke her name. Beatrix watched on as Nadia settled onto her throne, her legs folding one over the other and she beckoned towards her with a taloned finger.
“Closer, dearest. You know I strain for no one.”
She spoke towards her, settling her once raised hand back onto the armrest of her throne. Miann sneered from the left side, watching as Beatrix stepped closer. Their relationship had not been what it once was since her full exception of this new Nadia. It had changed her altogether. Horns, blackened sclera, and even a tail. This was not her Miann. That was not her Nadia.
She looked towards Nadia from beneath her lashes, watching her as she watched her.
The once-Countess leaned forward, taloned fingers wrapping around her chin and lifting it upward. Her skin, surprisingly, did not crawl as she touched her. Beatrix even felt herself lean into the touch, hearing a soft hum of pleasure from Nadia.
“That’s a good little guard. My precious little guardian. How are you feeling today?”
It was an innocent inquiry, but those were the most loaded questions when it came to this Nadia. She would not keep her waiting long, especially when they were in contact. She was unpredictable when she had a hold on Bea.
“Fine, my Countess.”
“Just fine? Come now, my sun and stars… There’s something bothering you.”
“D...don’t..”
She uttered the singular phrase and immediately cringed, feeling Nadia’s fingers tighten around her chin, drawing her closer.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Nothing… My Countess.”
Nadia gazed at her, goat-like ears twitching slightly and she leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. Her nose brushed once and then twice against Beatrix’s and she drew her closer, her taloned fingers tracing down to the collar around her throat and giving it a little tug.
“Kneel. Miann, inspect her. Now.”
“Of course, Nadia.”
Beatrix was forced to her knees both by the sudden force around her throat and Nadia’s own command. The collar was always the source of her troubles, it had been the day it was put around her neck, but in the end, it did earn her some good things.
Miann stepped closer, lowering herself a bit to Beatrix’s level and sneering slightly again.
“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Pup?”
She taunted, placing her hands on her forehead. Miann glided her hands through her hair, pausing at about the middle of her head and grinning a sharp tooth smile.
“Oh~. Now, what’s this?”
Bea had grown out her hair somewhat, or rather it had been growing on its own and she hadn’t the time to handle it as she was always running about with some task or another. Plus, she had the feeling that Nadia preferred her hair longer. More to touch. She flinched at Miann’s pausing touch and grimaced as she yanked her head upwards, presenting her find to Nadia.
“Ah, a beautiful sight. So we’ve finally gotten through to you, have we, my darling pet?”
Horns had begun to sprout from her head, the first initial sign that her resolve was breaking. She had found them not a week ago, or what she believed to be a week. Back then, she had tried to file them down but to no avail. And now they were growing further and further, a little by each passing day.
“Absolutely beautiful. I believe this calls for a cel-“
“N-no. I… I won’t… Give in.”
Beatrix hissed out and attempted to strain against the force that was keeping her in place.
“You would disrespect your Countess?”
“YOU’RE NOT HER!”
She shouted, yanking her head from Miann’s grasp and glaring at Nadia, who leaned back in her throne and laughed loudly. The laughter curling upwards and bouncing off the walls.
“Oh dear, of course, I’m not her. I’m much better.”
Beatrix felt like she had been slapped, jerking her head to the side as she ground her teeth together before slumping. All fight seeming to be leached out of her and tears began to form at the corner of her eyes. It was hopeless, there was no going back, her Nadia was gone and she was changing. She was becoming like them. That had been the plan all along, hadn’t it? To be changed… To become the reverse of who she was.
And as her head was raised again by Nadia’s clawed digits, she gazed into the red eyes of the woman she once loved and saw nothing of her former self. Just an empty-eyed, predator wanting more power. She would not look long as her eyes closed and she leaned her chin into her hand. Giving up. This was one fight she could not win.
Birds chirped softly and the soft murmur of voices awoke her. Blearily, she stared up at the canopy hanging over the large bed and she stretched out slowly, much like a cat would before sitting. A frown creased her features as she looked about the bedroom.
This… this was the Devil’s realm. Not the chambers of the twisted and evil once-Countess. No. This was her chambers in the summer palace.
“What… What the Hell?”
Her words escaped her own lips and she was startled by her own voice. Turning her head from side to side, she started at the sound of a knock at the door and the appearance of Portia’s head poking in.
“Finally awake sleepy head? Come on, breakfast has been ready for the past ten minutes and you best not keep those two waiting. Your clothes are already set out for you.”
The ginger-haired Chamberlain grinned at the Guard Captain who stared at her, a confused expression on her features.
“Portia?”
“You alright there, Bumble-Bea? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And everyone knows this place isn’t as haunted as the palace back home. Now come on! Up, up, up!”
The other woman stepped further into the room and grasped Beatrix’s hand. Even though she was a good seven inches shorter than Bea and not as muscled, the servant was able to yank her out of bed with some clear effort. Beatrix opened her mouth to speak but was hushed by Portia and ushered over to the clothes that were laid on the chaise.
“Mush! Come on, breakfast. And you three have a date with the ocean an hour after, come on.”
And once she assured herself that Beatrix was up and dressing, Portia made her exit.
The Guard Captain stared down at the clothes that had been laid out for her. Truly they were items she had packed by accident, but nonetheless, it had certainly pleased both Nadia and Miann when they saw her retrieve the outfit from her luggage upon arriving.
Consisting of an essentially sleeveless tunic of deep purple, a set of trousers in black, simple sandals and a set of golden arm braces.
A sigh escaped her and she ran her hands through her ruffled, bed-headed hair. She still could not shake the nightmare, nor the feeling of the claws on her skin. Giving her head a firm shake in a clear attempt to shake the memory, she grumbled and moved to finish dressing, clicking the arm braces into place and then stepping over to her vanity to comb her hair into a proper style.
Soon enough, she was exiting her chambers and stretching her arms upward. Letting out a grunt, she flexed her fingers at her sides and began heading off in the direction of the dining room but paused as a familiar figure came bounding towards her from the direction of the terrace.
“Good morning Corny, where’s Miann, hm?”
Beatrix lowered herself to a crouch as the familiar trotted over and climbed up onto her shoulder and then to her head. He began pointing and gesturing towards the terrace. A chuckle escaped Bea and the duo began strolling in the direction of the open doors.
The terrace was a large outdoor sitting area that overlooked the rolling ocean and sandy beaches that the trio would soon be relaxing on. It was a beautiful view, but Bea was not focused on it, but rather her eyes were focused primarily on the two seated figures at the table.
Nadia was watching Miann with a knowing smile on her features as the magician was attempting to figure out one of the Countess puzzle cubes. Miann, meanwhile, was cursing softly at it under her breath but she was grinning all the same.
Cornelius the familiar climbed down from the woman’s head and trotted happily back over to Miann, scaling up to sit on the back of the chair. The magician looked up from the puzzle cube, her grin turning into a broad smile.
“Bea, good morning!”
“Good morning my stars.”
Beatrix stood in the doorway still, just gazing at the two of them before she felt a wetness on her cheeks. Blinking, she raised a hand and felt her cheek. Tears. She was crying and she soon found herself enveloped in between the once two seated women.
“Bea, what’s wrong, who upset you? Who do I have to set on fire??”
Came the hurried and worried questions of Miann who held tightly to both Nadia and Bea. However, the woman did not respond, merely burying her face into Nadia’s shoulder and hugging the two of them as close as she possibly could. They stood like that for many moments, Nadia and Miann exchanging worried glances as their normally strong and boulder-like lover sobbed. And soon enough, as quickly as the tears came, they soon settled and Bea pulled away, sniffling and gazing at the both of them.
“I… I love you both. I… Was just so overwhelmed, I had… A nightmare, it…”
“Was it the arena nightmare or th-“
“No.. It… Was something new. I don’t want to talk about it, please, let’s just enjoy our day. I… I’m alright, really. I… I love you both so very much.”
Nadia was silent, gazing down at her before gently cupping her face with both hands and drawing her thumbs over her eyes, brushing away the tears and gently pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s alright, Beatrix. It was just a nightmare, it can’t hurt you anymore. Now come, breakfast is set for us and we’ll need all the energy we can get for today’s outing.”
She beamed down at her loves before ushering them back over to the table and they all settled down to eat.
The day, after the brief moment of Beatrix breaking down in front of them, continued on uneventfully. But Bea did seem a bit distant to Miann and Nadia, who quietly exchanged concerned glances throughout the day. However, by the end of it, they all climbed into Nadia’s large bed and cuddled close to each other. Miann was often between the two larger women, but for this evening and many evenings to follow, Bea was held tightly and comfortingly by her two lady loves.
The nightmare did not return, but the memory remained, nestled deep within the subconscious of the Guard Captain. And sometimes, on her worst days, she swears she hears the laughter of the devil-Nadia and holds on tighter to the ring around her neck.
But in the end, it was a dream. She was not a reverse of herself, and neither were her beloveds. Everything was right.
#the arcane nadia#nadia satrinava#Countess Nadia#nadia x mc#beatrix#semi-reversed but sorta only alluded to#beatrix the apprentice#bea#also surprise guest star miann!
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