Tumgik
#s4 custom drink
balkanikabg · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Description:
Hot Carob Drink Machine is a small appliance that can be used to make different types of hot carob (sweeter, healthier and non caffeine alternative to hot chocolate).  It can be found in buy mode under "Appliances -> Small  appliances". It costs 300$, and it comes in 7 different colors.
When you press on the object you'll see an option to make a cup or a pot. Each option will open a selection menu and you can choose from 8 different types. I also added my previous Hot Chocolates (Keto Hot Chocolate, Gingerbread Red Velvet).
Optional ingredients:
Health Nut Nook
Add On 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
DOWNLOAD (Early Access)
Public Access: 27th of December, 2023 on Curseforge
@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld
304 notes · View notes
mirais-things · 5 days
Text
Tumblr media
Bubble Waffle Maker
A small functional object that allows you to make 10 different types of bubble waffles.
It can be found under 'Small Appliances'. It has one menu and it's base game compatible.
All ingredients are optional, if you have them they decrease/remove the price.
I used the waffle maker introduced by EA, I just converted it to be able to use it in the base game but it keeps all 8 original colors.
I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for your support!
Mirai M ~
Tumblr media Tumblr media
DOWNLOAD (Early Access)
Public Release on 14th of April, 2024 on Curseforge
@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld
34 notes · View notes
piedpiperworld · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Vegetable Soup with Cheesy Toasts
Requires the Recipes Enabler v.1.4 or newer
Vegetable Soup with Cheesy Toasts, available in Family and Single serving.
Requires level 1 of cooking skill.
The ingredients are optional. (ANY veggie, ANY cheese)
DOWNLOAD (Early Access)
Public Access: 30th of November on Curseforge
@maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz
78 notes · View notes
olomaya · 6 months
Text
I've been playing a half empty town (the lovely Newark Banks) for the past year and I'm finally building out all the community lots and unfortunately, I can't stop creating mods specific to whatever my need is at the moment!
While building out the library, I was like, hmm, you know what would be good? If I could find books without having to check each bookshelf to see what it has. So I created a mod to do just that. And of course, @aroundthesims had just the perfect object for it. So now, my Sims can simply go to the kiosk and pull up a list of all the books in the library and also search for books, either by Title, Author or by Category. If the library has it, the camera will then "lerp" (jump) to the bookshelf where the book is. They can even donate books to the library and request books to be ordered if the library doesn't have it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
So good. I finish the library (almost) and then head to the gym to fix that up and I had no space to place a wall TV for them to work out. So I'm like, wouldn't it be nice if Sims could just do basic floor exercises without the TV ? So I created this exercise mat and added the S4 pushup and sit up interactions (and burpees! horrible, horrible burpees).
Tumblr media Tumblr media
They can (and should) also stretch which helps with soreness and fatigue.
Then I think hmm, wouldn't it be nice if Sims could buy a protein bar at the gym? And also sports drinks? And water? And the sports drink and water helped with post-workout fatigue? And Sims don't swallow half the bottle because we don't have bottle drinking animations and only cup/glass animations?
Tumblr media
So now I'm making new vending machine foods with customized eat animations.
So, at this rate, my town will be finished in 2027.
206 notes · View notes
abibliophobiaa · 1 year
Text
Begin Again: Chapter 4/4
Tumblr media
Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.
(20k words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)
Note: Tumblr ate my formatting, so AO3 is probably best. 🙃
Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; nightmares; suicidal ideation; smut 18+ only.
AO3 | MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CH
*
Winter 1988/1989
*
He leaves you alone in the coffee shop.
The smell of the coffee brewing grows sour, your stomach churning with the dread seeping into your veins with every throb of your heart.
Your four walls, your space, now empty without him there to fill it.
You never realized how much sound he’s brought into your life, how much color, how much of his light.
And in a moment, Chance had thrown a shade over it. Squashed it just as it had really started to grow.
Chance’s words roll around in your head.
Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.
Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. Jason.
Names without faces, people you’ve never met, people you’ll never meet.
Because they’re dead.
All of them.
Gone.
He says it’s Eddie.
It’s not Eddie.
There’s no reality you could ever find yourself in where you believe the lie that Eddie’s done something like this.
Not this man, not the one who consumes fantasy literature like it’s a lifeblood, who talks DnD with his youngest friends animatedly and conjures up new ideas for sprawling campaigns full of high stakes and grandeur, who flips Max upside down in his arms when he greets her until her laughter shakes deep within her bones and a smile lights up her whole face, the man who drinks out of a Garfield mug when he visits his Uncle, who listens to ABBA and Blondie with you and his friends even when he claims to hate it.
Not this man.
Never this man.
But now you need to find Eddie, tell him everything’s okay, that you don’t think he did it.
You know he thinks you do.
Could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way he flinched from your touch.
The title of murderer.
The weight of it.
You can only imagine how crushing that is, how hard it’s been to keep those accusations to himself all this time, to carry it on his back each and every day.
To live near to those who might whisper behind your back, question how you’re free, ponder your innocence.
You decide to close up early, dismissing your customers as nicely as possible, feigning issues with your machines. A patron grumbles that they were working moments ago, but you only offer them free coffees for their next visit and wave as they all bustle down the street.
It’s likely not the most professional thing you’ve done, but it’s necessary, your fingers removing your apron from around your hips before moving to go snatch your keys from behind the counter.
The front door locks with a click behind you, eyes flashing across the parking lot to find Eddie’s van missing. He’s likely skipped work, and you understand why he would, but all it does is curl the guilt further in your gut.
That you hadn’t done more, said more, chased after him—something.
You run upstairs to your apartment, grabbing your things and rummaging about, trying to make it look some semblance of normal before you grab your pocketbook in hand and rush over to your wall phone, dialing one of the first numbers in your phone book.
Max picks up on ring number two.
Your breath shudders out as you ask, “Is Eddie there?”
“He was, but not anymore,” she says honestly. You can hear her shuffle around on the other end, a huff filling the line. “He looked upset. Did something happen?
“He heard Chance and I talking.”
“Okay, and? Chance is a dick, we all know this, so what did he do?”
“He told me about March. Of eighty six.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” you tell her, quickly adding, “but I don’t believe him.”
You hear her huff once more, followed by the rustle of something in the distance. “Good, because whatever he told you isn’t true. He doesn’t know half of what really happened, and I doubt he ever looked into it. Which, you’d think we would have since the idiot works for the police.”
“So you know where Eddie might be?”
“He’s at Steve’s,” she says simply, like she knows, and of course she does.
He’s her brother. Minus the blood and title, of course, but her brother all the same. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“You’re picking me up,” she states plainly, and you almost laugh.
Almost.
But she sounds serious, and you’ve seen Maxine angry and you don’t want to be in the line of fire on the receiving end if she ever explodes.
“I’m picking you up,” you agree, swallowing thickly. “Hey, Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Just…I know you’re my boss, but don’t hurt him, okay?”
“Gosh, Max—no. I…I lo—really care about him.”
“So I’ll see you in fifteen?” She says, as if she knows the exact distance between yours and the Munson’s.
And you suppose she does after all this time.
You nod, even though she can’t see you, and say, “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
You’re there in twelve, the roads zooming on by as you turn and weave through the pathways that are almost second nature now. Muscle memory, because of all the time you’ve spent with them. With his family, who has, in a way, sort of become yours as well.
She’s there as she said she would be, sitting on the front step to the little home, hair billowing around her in the wind.
She drops down into your passenger seat without a word. The sound of her buckle sliding into place greets your ears, her dirty shoes kicking out before her, that delicate profile of hers set into a firm look.
“I heard what you said, you know?” She says after some time.
It’s quiet, a little lilting, her lips curling a bit at the edges. You know that look. It’s the same look she’s given Eddie after catching him in a state of disarray after a night spent making out with you like the two of you are teenagers all over again, and not twenty-three year olds with careers and rent to pay.
“What do you mean?” It’s a trap. You know it is, but you’ll give in just this once.
“I heard you start to say you love him,” she teases, tongue sticking out slightly.
It’s the truth.
It’s not a hard thing to do—falling for Eddie Munson, that is.
And still, your heart thunders away at the thought of it. For years you’ve spent trying to never form lasting connections with others. You’re in and out of places quicker than you can, never getting too close, never making those lasting ties.
And now you’ve gone and tied yourself to him, a single strand, an invisible string that tethers you to him.
It’s terrifying, and still there’s this sense of peace that fills your blood. Cool it before it can sizzle and burn.
“You definitely said it,” she says once more, as if you didn’t hear her the first time.
But you did. You said the words and you heard her, but she’s not the first person you want to say them to.
The person who deserves them the most is currently hiding out at Steve Harrington’s home, likely reliving the pain of the events of two years ago, exposed like a nerve by someone who only wants the worst for you.
You suppose you can’t fault Chance, either. You saw the pain in his eyes. The grief over the loss of his friends.
Three.
Three in a lifetime is already too much, but three in one week is a tragedy.
There’s no denying that fact.
‘He doesn’t know half of it…’
Max’s words swirl in your mind. Over and over again on an endless loop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but there’s a slow smirk sliding across your lips, fingers curling around the steering wheel as you peel out of the Munson’s driveway, heading in the direction of Steve Harrington’s family home.
It’s on the way that Max starts to talk, warning you in a sense, of what you’re about to hear.
“It’s…a lot to take in,” she says, and there’s a seriousness in her tone unfamiliar to you.
She’s usually always meddling with the kids, the rowdier and more hot headed one of the bunch. You’ve seen her interact with her friends, always just as fiery and explosive as her friends. You’ve seen her get angry with Eddie till her face turns red. But there’s always this sense of ease that accompanies it.
A laugh at the end of a snide remark, a smirk, a gentle tilt of the lips.
It’s not present this time, and an uneasiness settles into your blood.
“Just…when they tell you, promise me you’ll keep an open mind. You’re going to hear things that sound impossible, and that’s because honestly even we thought they were, but it’s…the truth. It’s the truth that the media swallowed up, the truth the government hid. But it doesn’t make it not real—it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And it’s crap because the world moved on, and yet we were left to deal with it.”
She means your friends.
You know that.
The fact that this ‘they’ she speaks of telling you this tale is the same group of kids that you’ve grown to know, your friends you’ve flourished with all these months, the man you’re falling in love with.
“Max, I just want to know the truth. So whatever you all say, I’m here to listen. I want to know. It’s important that I know,” you tell her seriously, pulling into the driveway to the sprawling home.
Your head slams against the headrest of your driver’s seat, hands coming up to cup over your eyes. Your breath draws right in your lungs, eyes burning from the prick of tears. A new fear dawns, unwanted and unbidden.
You voice it, a quiet strain of your voice that comes out as a broken sob. A fearful questioning of, “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me?”
“He couldn’t,” she tells you, voice stern.
“What if he does, though? You didn’t see the way he looked at me. He was there, but he wasn’t. It’s like he went away in his mind and he didn’t want me there.”
She chuckles. “Have you seen the way that idiot looks at you? It’s honestly disgusting. All puppy dog eyes and goo.” You break out into a watery laugh and, satisfied, she continues, “Look—Chance’s friends…well, not Chrissy, but Chance’s friends are assholes. I’m not saying they got what they deserved, because no one deserves to die. But they were terrible to him. He probably saw Chance and saw you and thought he’d turned you against him. Just like they turned the whole town against him in eighty six.”
There are no words that come to mind after what she says. After the truth she reveals. You’re not sure of what it even means, and yet you think of your customers in your early days or the shop opening. The way some, however rarely, would look at him and mutter amongst themselves when he happened to stop by. You remember the woman at the supermarket with her blonde hair and haunting eyes. The depth of her warning as she stood beside you on line at the register, telling you Eddie wasn’t a good man, telling him he should have never come back.
You think of the fact Eddie moved out of his own childhood home to make room for Max. But you also recall how much freer he is when he’s out of town. His smiles come easier, he seems lighter…brighter, without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.
The pieces start to slide into place, a push here, a click there. You think of your puzzle he’d brought you both for your first date, now finished and tucked away. How the image became clearer and clearer with each passing moment.
It’s the same now.
That clarity that takes shape.
The reasons why Eddie’s open in some regards, and keeps others very close to his chest. The evasions he’s had to create in his backstory with you, to protect you from the truth of it all.
To protect you from the danger of it, if what Max claims is true.
“Are you ready?” Max’s voice stirs you from your silent reverie. A quiet beckon. A soft lilt that drags you from your thoughts.
You’re not.
There’s nothing that can ever prepare you for what you are about to hear, and yet you twist the key in the ignition all the same. You tug your keys free and toss them into your pocketbook, opening your car door without another word. Max tips her head over the roof of your vehicle, looking to you for reassurance…or merely to see how you’re doing—you’re not really sure. But you dip your head all the same, shutting the door into place, fingers trailing along metal and window, heart racing in your chest at what you are about to enter into.
The walk to the front door is harrowing. You don’t really know what to expect. Max gives you a warning, sure, but nothing compares to reality. Especially not as you knock on the front door and Robin is there to greet you. She offers a kind smile and a hug, her voice quiet as she mutters she’s happy you’re both there. Max glances over her shoulder as you enter the home, your eyes trailing the insides. You’ve been here multiple times, but it feels different now. There’s a whole world you’re not privy to—a world that Eddie’s been a part of, Max and Robin, Steve and the others. The world that those who warned you of this town only spoke of as if they were conspiracies. The gates of hell, satanic cults, gruesome deaths. The fact there are some truths there weighs heavily on your mind, hands shaking a bit as you enter the kitchen and Steve is there to greet you with a warm hug.
You wonder briefly if Charlotte knows. If she’s privy to the world outside of your own that your friends have dealt with. This unshakeable strength they all seem to hold. But you hug him all the same, heart hammering away against his as your arms come to wrap around his neck, his breath a comforting puff against your ear. He steps back momentarily to look at you, all long dark hair, wrinkles high against his forehead. He’s too young for those, but they linger all the same, written into his features alongside the pain you see so clearly there now. The pain of the unknown swirling in your gut, the unknown that has Max reaching across the space between you to curl her hand in your own, squeezing tight.
You squeeze her hand back and look at both your friends as they stand before you, merely basking in silence, all your minds a swirling mass of chaos. Robin speaks first, voice wobbly, words fast and disconcerting in your ears. “He’s…he’s not doing well, babe. He came here a wreck. He never intended for you to find out this way.”
You know that. You do.
It’s why you’ve always been respectful. It’s why you’ve always been weary of what Eddie wants, why you’ve made it a mission to always have an open heart and open mind toward him. And in a few moments Chance had thrown it all into the wind. Obliterated the safety net you were forging, the space you wanted Eddie to live in—to thrive in.
“Max…she warned you, right?” It’s Steve who asks next. The boy with the loud and boisterous personality, always a little piqued, and yet he’s serious now. Guarded toward his best friend. Your heart swells because Eddie has people like these; people who will defend him tooth and nail, even from you.
Even from the woman who has spent nearly every day with him for the past few months.
And still, you nod all the same, your hand still entwined with Max’s. “Max…she warned me.”
Steve and Robin pass one another a look, and you’re brought into the living room. It’s dark there, the lights dimmer than you remember, your friends settling down in different areas about the room. Steve and Robin to the couch. Max on the floor. There are two seats brought out into the living area, set there like they were expected to be there all along. Separated by a few inches sure, but placed there with intent. You glance down at the one, wondering if it’s meant for you, and catch the stiff nod from Steve as you eye the wood carefully.
You drop down into it and hear the slow slide of a door in the distance, the tall form of Eddie catching your eye.
He’s as beautiful as you saw him last. A picture of black, red and white before your eyes. His eyes dark, his shoulders hard, body lithe and lean. You think of those moments from early this morning, his arms around your waist, chest against your back. Lips at your ear as he whispered what you meant to him, as he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in his life. Unbreakable, like he meant to keep you. Like he meant to hold you safe for the rest of his days. You know he means it now, can see it in the way his eyes flicker as they meet yours, as water clouds those swirling depths of chocolate brown.
There’s love there.
It’s not lost on you as he scans the room and lands on yours, holding for a moment, whispering those unspoken words into the space between you.
Unmistakable and yours alone.
You will the same into your eyes as he settles down beside you, legs spread wide, cup of whatever he’s drinking poised at the ready in his hand.
He says nothing. Remains stoic as Steve and Robin straighten in their seats, cushions of the couch forgotten as their elbows lean onto thighs, ready to regale their tales of this world outside their own.
The part of you that’s grown to love him over these months wishes to reach out to him. You want to stretch your hand into the space between you and curl your fingers within his own. To comfort him in the way you know only you can—body, mind and soul. But he remains in the gap between you, separated by inches that feel like miles. There’s a moment, however brief, when his fingers twitch against his thigh and you wonder if he intends to reach across and touch you.
But he never does.
He never does, and you suppose you cannot be upset with him for that.
He’s hard lines, harsh beauty, and adamant walls.
Impenetrable.
Fierce.
You pray they don’t remain that way—that your months of progress don't reverse in a moment's time.
Steve glances about the room, between his best friend Robin beside him, down to where Max sits staring at Eddie on the floor, Eddie with his grim expression as his eyes meet hers, and then lastly on you when he exhales and says, “What we’re about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. It stays a secret, it stays within the group.”
“It stays within the party,” Max adds, shifting away from Eddie’s stare enough to look at you. “It’ll mean you’re part of it.”
“One of the family.” Robin laughs weakly, passing you a sympathetic smile. “Part of our dysfunctional family.”
Your eyes shift amongst them with a swallow, and then slide briefly to Eddie’s. There’s…there's something there. A softness, a quiet whisper behind his gaze, but you don’t know what it means. Can’t decipher the meaning behind how he looks at you; you just know it curls deep within the pit of your belly, makes you warm, reminds you it’ll be okay.
Everything will be okay.
“I’ll take it with me to the grave,” you tell Steve.
His hand cards through those long strands of dark hair and he stands up from the couch, walking across the room to tend to the fire churning in the fireplace. Once he’s happy with the flames sparking and dancing within, his hand comes to rest on the ledge, his other hand resting on his hip as he glances down at a dirty spot on the carpet.
“I guess we’ll start from the beginning then…”
And it begins.
*
They start from the beginning. With the missing boy Will. With Will, who you know and works at your shop. Kind, sweet Will with the world on his shoulders and nothing but love inside his heart.
Steve recounts the loss of Barbara Holland, a friend of Nancy’s. You learn about the gate that opened in Hawkins to another world. This Upside Down that sounds as harrowing as it truly is.
You learn early on that El has superpowers. She has psionic capabilities, can lift things with her mind, step into alternate dimensions when she goes away in her mind.
El, with her dark hair and bright soul. That innocence that always seems to burn bright behind her gaze.
El, who you learn has fought monsters bigger than her.
Steve walks you through that first encounter with the Upside Down, the demogorgon he faced, his words careful as he explains the appearance to you. A standing, hulking monster, with endless rows of teeth, intent to bring death to those that encounter it.
You’re told about their next encounters.
Max moves to town with her family. Her crappy step-father, her late step-brother, and her late mother move in and immediately she’s thrown into this world she’s never planned for. Apparently Dustin finds some sort of tadpole creature that eventually grows into a demodog. Another monster like the one Steve explained earlier, but this time there are multiple, and they move in what seem to be packs. You learn about Will’s possession by the Mind Flayer, the loss of their friend Bob, their first experience with the ‘hive mind.’
“It all sort of…works in tandem,” Max clarifies. “All tied to one power source.”
El closes the gate this time, they tell you, and for a while it seems everything is okay again. They start to heal, the kids begin to go back to their normal lives, Steve and Robin start working at the Starcourt Mall.
“That parking lot that’s still empty?” It’s your first question in a while, you’ve simply been taking in everything they have to say, trying to be respectful of their experience.
“Yes,” Robin says, frowning as Max glances down at her shoelaces.
Eddie watches the younger girl like a hawk. His face is tight and drawn as Max says, “My brother didn’t die in a fire.”
It’s July and the kids are on summer break. All is well in Hawkins. They’re having fun, being kids, living for the first time in a long time. And then there’s the issue of Billy. Billy, who has always been rough around the edges. Not a good person at all, from what you’ve been told, but he had been alive and had been well one day, and then the next it was like he was different.
Max recalls him being a lot of blank stares in his room, a lot more standoffish. But there becomes this issue around Hawkins, of people becoming aggressive, something to do with kitchen chemicals? And a girl at the pool Billy worked at had gone missing.
Heather, Max explains.
As this is all going on, Steve and Robin explain their encounters with Russian code and their involvement with a secret organization taking place quite literally inside the belly of the mall.
There’s a Mind Flayer building an army, some gigantic beast of a thing, that towers over the building. The same thing that had put itself inside of Will, the same thing that also puts itself inside of Billy.
Your head spins with it all, from the explanation of how Robin and Steve were tortured for information inside the Russian base, to Max and the other kids fighting this monster inside of their friend Hopper’s home. There’s the battle at the Starcourt Mall, when they’re all later reunited, where Max watched her brother die after laying his life down to protect her and her friends.
It’s overwhelming.
Your chest aches, and you’re grateful when Eddie calls the meeting to a halt, catching the glittery tears on Max’s cheeks that she tries to swipe away when no one is looking.
Eddie slips out of the room with the younger girl in tow. There’s a brief moment he makes eye contact with you, his mouth working slowly like he anticipates saying something before thinking better of it.
It’s been only hours and yet you feel like he’s been gone longer, the sting of the emotional distance between you two burning deep in your chest.
*
“Babe, don’t take it personally, okay?” Robin runs a hand up and down your arm, pouring you a glass of something strong and full of ice.
Your face pinches as you take a sip, throat burning from the harsh bite of whatever she’s put into the concoction. “What is this? Battery acid?”
“Very likely,” Steve muses from the doorway, coming to loop an arm around your shoulders. You lean into his side, seeking out the comfort of a friend in the moment. His fingers curl around your skin, giving you a squeeze. “They went for a walk. Eddie said they’ll be back in five. The next part…it’s Eddie’s bit. It’s what happened back in March and…it’s a lot. He’s never really shared it outside of the group. He wanted to tell you before…you know, before Chance. He told me he wanted to. He was finally ready.”
Your heart clenches at the thought. Here Eddie was, ready to open up to you fully and bare his soul to you, and Chance came along to throw a wrench into the whole thing. Robbed Eddie of the opportunity that was meant for him all along.
“I just…a whole world underneath Hawkins?” Your throat swells around the words, around the reality of what you’ve been told the past few hours.
Before you came here, you heard all these ludicrous rumors about the happenings of the small town you were running to. To know they’re fact, to know they’ve been hidden behind lies and government workings—it’s a crazy reality to swallow. A world where monsters exist and walk the earth, a world where gates to new dimensions exist.
It’s your world now.
“And El—having powers?”
Robin comes forward to join you on your other side, sliding a hand into the center of your back. “I felt the same when I found out.”
You feel the need to sit. To really soak in the words swirling around in your brain like little specks of confetti twirling to the ground. Dozens of strands of thoughts in an endless funnel of wind and disarray. But you lean into the warmth of your friends instead, relishing in their closeness, when the glass door to the outside slides open and Eddie and Max reappear.
She’s a little red in the face. Bitten and kissed by the wind, but the rims around her eyes catch your attention next. The telltale sign she’s been crying, paired with that of her sleeve dragging along the bottom of her nose, bumping her glasses that always sit a little too loosely on her face.
Eddie’s dark eyes scan your face, like he’s shocked you’re still there, and you pass him a weak smile. There’s the barest of twitches in his face, and most would miss it, but he offers you that.
A slight smile.
You’ll take it.
“Are we good to keep going?” Robin asks, glancing about the room.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Eddie says, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak in hours. It jolts you, drawing a wince out of him.
Robin turns back to you, eying your drink in your hand as the others head back into the living area. “You might want to keep that close.”
She’s not wrong.
Eddie’s fingers toy with the silver of his rings, twirling them round and round low against his knuckles. “So, uh, it’s March…of eighty six and, you know, I’m still the Freak around town. So you can imagine I’m just a tad confused when Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen of Hawkins High, comes to me for a deal.” His eyes flash to yours, a grimace pulling at his mouth. “Used to deal. Don’t anymore, but—I, ah, yeah, sorry sweetheart. But Chrissy is not herself. I didn’t really know her much, but she’s just perpetually happy. I mean, I guess she had to be. Cheerleading captain, about to be valedictorian, friends with everyone. So I meet her in the woods behind the school and she looks scared as shit. Like—maybe I should have paid more attention to it, maybe that was my mistake, but…she asks me for ketamine.”
You train your eyes on Eddie as he speaks. He’s a shadow before you, hollows of his features glowing from the orange hue spilling from the mouth of the fireplace. He’s all long limbs spread out, legs before him, slender and spidery, bent as his back rests against the wooden chair. His hands rest against his thighs, where he continues to twirl the metal around his digits, head bent low and mind seemingly back in the forest that day in eighty six.
“I…brought her back to my trailer that night and I couldn't find the ketamine. So I leave her in the damn living room and when I come back she’s just standing there. Blank face, nothing behind her eyes, just gone. And I’m yelling at her over and over and over again, but whatever this thing is that’s pulling at her just…she never hears me. I wonder if she did, even now. Like if she knew I was trying to save her and—” He pauses as your hand curls around his kneecap, and you worry for a moment he’s going to push you away, to reject this comfort, but his hand slides over your own and squeezes lightly.
He doesn’t let go.
What he explains next has your throat closing around the truth of it. Chance’s words swirl in your ears. The fact Jason Carver, fueled by jealousy over being cuckolded by Eddie Munson, killed his girlfriend. But the reality is that much more horrifying. Because Eddie recounts the moments with ultra clarity, the memory of them burned into his retinas for the rest of his life, of the girl levitating above the ground. The way her body stretched across the ceiling as her bones snapped one by one in her body, before she died right before his eyes.
“We all met…that next day,” Max says with a bitter laugh, gesturing between Eddie and the rest of the group, including herself.
So they were bound by the untimely death of Chrissy, Steve explains, recalling how they all went looking for Eddie with Dustin’s help, because Max had seen flickering lights coming from Eddie’s trailer and disrupting her own, just before he had run.
A sign of the Upside Down. Their first sign that Eddie had been innocent in all of it.
“Held a glass bottle to my throat,” Steve laughs as he explains those tense few moments of their ‘friendship.’
“You kind of deserved it. Jabbed me right in the ribs with that oar,” Eddie says, but there’s a lightness to his tone reserved for his loved ones. “His name was Vecna. This…thing, this person, responsible for cursing Chrissy. And…Fred, Patrick, and Max.”
Your eyes flicker up to Max at Eddie’s admission, blue eyes flashing with your own. “Max.”
“The asshole cursed me,” she says simply. “So what happened to Chrissy, what happened to Fred, we knew was likely coming my way. And it did—but we found a solution.”
“Thank goodness for that Walkman,” Robin exhales. “We found that music could bring people out of Vecna’s…soupy mind trance. Happy memories, favorite moments, your favorite song.”
“The song you could listen to over and over again on repeat…” You mutter the words out, feeling your eyes burn at the memory of Eddie asking you for yours so many weeks ago in your apartment.
“What’s your favorite song? If you had to pick one, what would it be? The one you can play over and over again and never get bored of?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, the words meant only for you. Your stomach twists painfully. “That one.”
Proof he cared, even then.
It’s a race against a clock.
It’s not long before Eddie’s a suspect in the murders he never committed, and it’s paired with the looming threat over Max’s life. One night in particular, Robin tells you, Jason Carver and his friends find Eddie at the boathouse and come with weapons in hand. You know their intention, from the way Eddie’s breath catches, was never to merely talk about the situation.
Hunt the Freak, he tells you bitterly, recalling those moments out on Lover’s Lake, just before Patrick suffered the same fate as Chrissy.
Two.
Eddie watches two people die that week.
You shudder out a breath as they tell you about the Upside Down. As Steve tugs the neck of his sweater down enough to show you the lines around his throat, and then slips up the side of his sweater enough to show you the scarring on his side that looks like a splash of sun against his skin. It reminds you of the ones that litter Eddie’s arms, the smaller ones on his face and neck, the ridges of his abdomen you barely felt before he pulled away from you.
“We’re, like, the most screwed up blood brothers to exist,” Steve says bitterly, his shirt dropping down into place. “Matching scars and all.”
“Demobats,” Robin explains, shuddering at the end. “Scary little shitheads.”
It paints a picture for you—clearer now than ever before.
Fills the gaps in your understanding over these nine months.
Yet another memory flashing behind your eyes of Eddie in your kitchen. Of wings and claws and the sound of skittering against your window. The choked breath from Eddie’s lungs that suddenly stopped working. The panic attack he suffers in your kitchen.
You think you start to grasp an understanding as they talk about how a plan began to form. They gathered a bunch of weapons with the intention of using Max and Eddie and Dustin to create distractions for Vecna. To give enough time for the others to try and kill him. But even the best laid plans go to hell—and it’s proven correct in both aspects.
Eddie and Max, to make things simpler, both die that night.
Max, with her limbs broken and mangled, blood dripping from her eyes. And Eddie, with his flesh torn into over and over again, countless rows of teeth sinking into skin, taking pieces of him, ripping him into ribbons, robbing him of life.
It chokes you. Chokes Eddie as Steve explains the parts of the story Eddie’s mouth can’t work around. The gaps are still too raw to fill in by himself. You don’t blame him.
You press the heel of your palm into your eyes, feeling Eddie’s fingers tighten around your own, the severity in his gaze making the room come crashing around you.
“Eddie never…he never murdered any of those people,” Max says, but you know that.
You’ve known that.
In the end, Eddie spends a few weeks in the hospital.
Max spends months there.
His name is cleared relatively swiftly. Steve is a bit cagey as to how they manage to get Eddie’s name pulled from any further headlines, but you know it’s because there was nothing to hold together a case against him.
Jason is suddenly the blame for the events that occurred, and laid to rest on that March day.
It’s a lot to process.
The room feels heavy with it, thick in a way that reminds you of honey. Sticky, yet missing all that sweetness.
Steve suggests you all stay for the night. Get some rest. Recount the stories in the morning.
It’s been hours and every inch of your body aches from work and your eyes feel tired, burning with the unshed tears lingering on your lash line.
Steve lets you borrow some of his things, an oversized sweatshirt, some pants you need to roll up multiple times, and leads you and Eddie down the hall of the second story to the home, pausing in front of a bedroom.
“It’s a guest room,” he says, gesturing inside. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Goodnight, you two.”
It’s normal for you to expect mirth or a deeper scheme behind Steve’s eyes. The sense of teasing there that you’ve grown to know and love, and yet standing before that bedroom in the lonely hall has you unsure of where to look, Steve only whistles and shifts awkwardly before leaving you to your solitude. Neither of you speaks for a time, bodies shifting in the darkness, not touching and awkward.
This morning you had been curled as tight as two could be, your spine to his chest, your thighs to his, those strong arms of his wrapped around your waist, his chin over your shoulder, lips to your ear.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered.
Your heart stuttered. Faltered from the weight of what he was saying. Your fingers slid up to curl into his hair, his face leaning into your touch. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before either, Eddie.”
It was the truth then, it’s still the truth now, and yet there’s a chasm that grows wider by the second in that hallway, and for fear of watching it grow anymore, you take the initiative and push past the man to slip inside the guest room.
Neither of you speaks as you move about the room and take in your surroundings. There’s a simple dresser in one corner, a lamp on a stand that sits in another, and there’s only one bed.
One.
It’s a thought that might have thrilled you some other time, and now it only fills you with a maelstrom of emotions. In the past few hours your conversations have been reduced to sparing words, your touches to brushes of fingers. And now there’s a silence that screams between you, those murky depths curling and lapping at your ankles.
You drop your borrowed clothes onto the bed, glancing over your shoulder to where Eddie stands awkwardly in the doorway. The fullness of his form is outlined in golden light emanating from the hall, those dark eyes of his searching.
“You can take the bathroom,” you tell him, “I’ll tell you when I’m done and you can come out.”
He’s seen you in nothing but a pair of jeans before, yet somehow changing around him feels more intimate. Especially with the disquiet between you two. So there’s no protests on his part as he reaches into the side dresser, as if he’s done this before, and snatches a pair of pants and a shirt from within. He opens his mouth to speak and you feel your soul soar for a moment, before he’s snapping it shut again and slipping inside.
When the door clicks shut, you let out a shaky breath and change in silence.
*
Eddie knocks on the bathroom door moments later, your voice beckoning him out when you’re finally and fully dressed again. You’re moving about and folding your original clothes up onto the dresser when he moves to go sit down on the bed and you maneuver around him to get ready for sleep.
He watches you in silence as you wash your face and brush your teeth, wiping down the countertops after, a habit from working at Sunshine Coffee for so long now. You know why you’re really doing it, though. It’s a temporary distraction from the deeper issue at hand: the rift between the two of you.
Sighing, you slip back into the bedroom and walk around to the opposite side of the bed closest to the lamp and slide underneath the covers. Eddie watches, still upright, as you turn onto your side and reach over, asking if you can shut the light.
“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s fine,” he says softly from behind you, and the room drowns in darkness.
You pinch your eyes shut to try and get some rest, chest aching, heart clanging like a damn cymbal, but your mind only spins. You’re certain you’ll find no rest tonight, only the dizzying free fall of your wandering thoughts.
That is, until the bed dips beside you and you feel Eddie pull back the covers, sliding down against the mattress to rest a head on the pillow beside you. You feel his hand accidentally brush your hip and from behind you a following, “Sorry,” that spills through his lips.
You laugh, because it just feels so silly.
You’re not mad at him, but there’s still this disturbance hanging in the air. The worry to push him beyond his boundaries, beyond what he feels comfortable with now after sharing his past with you. If he wants to remain in silence, you want him to remain in silence. You want whatever he wants—whatever he needs at the moment.
“What’s that?” Eddie asks, his voice tight.
“Nothing…I just—nothing.”
He doesn’t speak for a bit. Only settles down far enough on the other side of the bed you can feel the heat radiating from him, but not even the ghost of touch from his form.
A beat of silence passes.
And then—
“Sweetheart, I hate this.”
Your head nuzzles further into your pillow, voice a little shaky as you whisper back, “What do you mean?”
“I left earlier because I thought the worst. I thought—I thought you believed him. Wouldn’t be the first time someone was turned against me,” he says a little breathlessly. Jason. Jason did that. And the ramifications of it are still present to this day; you’ve seen it first hand. “That was dumb as shit for me to think. I…I wanted to tell you. I was going to, he just beat me to it first. Should have come from me, should have been sooner, should have—”
“Eddie, it’s okay.”
“It’s not, though.”
“Seriously it’s—”
“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry,” he says, and you shatter.
Eyes flush against your cheeks, lashes dancing along the topmost points of your cheekbones, you mutter, “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. At all. I need you to understand that.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to me? You’re all the way on the other side of the bed. You won’t even look at me.”
“Because I know how hard tonight was and I didnt want to push you. Eddie, what you told me tonight…it’s important and it’s huge and the fact you’ve trusted me with it means everything to me. But I also want you to take the time you need. Process what you’re feeling and all of that.”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Where you’re too nice,” he says. “I just want to hold you.”
“Then hold me, Eddie. You never need permission to hold me,” you whisper back, sighing as his arm comes to loop around your waist and tug you flush against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
Your fingers drag slowly around his bare forearm, feeling gooseflesh pimple the surface of his skin. “For what happened. For what Chance did. For eighty six. For all the people who have been unkind to you. I wish they could all see what I see.”
You roll over then, seeking his face in the dark. His eyes are molten honey, soft in a way that has your fingers seeking the warmth of his chest over his tee shirt, feeling the divots and lines of his abdomen against fingertips. He’s lean and lithe and perfectly yours, with a heart that melts yours.
He just never sees it that way. But you suppose that’s what loving someone means. It's choosing them, even when they don’t choose themselves. It’s the good and bad days, not just the ones that are bright shades of orange, pinks and reds behind rose-colored glasses. It’s standing by them no matter the circumstances, supporting them fully. It’s the whole hearted acceptance that resides in your heart for him.
For who he was, who he is now, and who he will be.
“I’m happy you know now,” he says, rubbing a thumb along the bump of your chin affectionately. “I’m tired of being nervous. I’m tired of the constant looking over my shoulder and running. It’s been almost three years.”
“It takes time, Eddie.”
Your fingers reach up to cup the curve of his jaw, dancing along the scarring there. It still kills you to know he’d been broken and on the brink of death in the middle of this other world that resides beneath your own.
That he had been inches from death and still held on, only to find the world outside just as cruel as the one that nearly killed him.
“What you’ve been through—what you’ve all been through,” you start, exhaling as his forehead drops closer to your own, pressing there to linger. “It changes you. There’s no way it couldn’t. And yet you’re all still living, you’re all still loving and showing your past that it can’t rule you. You’re so brave. I don’t think you’re running anymore.”
“I don’t want to,” his fingers slide down along the slope of your face, the line of your throat, skipping along your collarbone. “You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time. I’m afraid I’m going to fuck it up.”
“You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time.” His hand slides down the slope of your shoulder, along your bicep. “We’re bound to make mistakes. But we get to make them together. It’s a learning process.”
“I’ve never been good at that,” he teases, chuckling lightly.
“It might be a steep learning curve, but I think we’ve got it.”
His fingers trail down your forearm, before tangling in the space between the two of you on the mattress. He lifts your hand and brings the center of your palm to his lips, presses a kiss to the center there, eyes lingering on your face.
“We’re good?” He asks against your skin, his eyes practically molten in the night.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He sighs in relief, biting softly at the skin at the heel of your palm, earning a laugh from you. You’re about to protest when his face pushes into your collar bone and he practically drapes himself over you, his long limbs tangling with your own.
“What would your friends think knowing you’re basically a koala bear in bed?”
“I’ll deny it,” he mumbles against your skin, the outline of his smile making your stomach tumble.
Your fingers come to curl in the tangle of his dark mass of hair at the back of his head and hold him as close as he can possibly be to your frame. “I’m glad you stopped running, Eddie. I don’t think we’d have met if you didn’t. And I’m really glad we met. Really, really glad.”
His head lifts at your words, those dark eyes of his searching your face in the barely lit room. He brushes the bump of your chin again with his thumb, resting it in the dip below your lip. His eyes flicker southward, and you lean forward a bit, just as he presses his mouth to yours, silencing all other thoughts from your mind.
There’s only this moment, this bedroom sequestered away from the world, these hands holding you, this boy kissing you, whispering how much he cares for you, and your hearts full to the brim because the world lies ahead and it’s yours for the taking.
There is no more running.
*
The next morning dawns bright for a winter day.
The first official day, really.
It’s all pearlescent skies, overcast, pale clouds stretched in what looks like a blanket across it. It looks like it’ll snow, the news forecasting a foot of it just before the holidays.
It’s how you wake up beside Eddie that next morning. His arms slung low about your hips, his breath at your ear, the curtains parted enough to allow you the view of the backyard.
Your fingers dance along the tops of his hands, along the hair along his forearm.
Today feels different somehow.
Your relationship has taken a new turn. A hurdle overcome. Now there’s only a blank canvas—open spaces to fill with new memories.
Eddie also sleeps easily. The few times you’ve slept beside him he’s either not slept at all and waited for the sun to rise and you to head off to work to finally allow himself rest once the night bled into day, or has fallen asleep and woken up in the throes of a nightmare or tossed and turned in his restlessness.
Now his chest rises and falls steadily at your back, his mind quieting enough for him to do so. You shift slowly, gently enough so as to not wake him, onto your side to look up at him. He’s all smooth edges now. The wrinkle between his brows is gone, face unmarked by any thoughts warring in his mind, those pillowy lips of his parted slightly. He looks younger than his twenty three years. Your fingers trail up to touch his cheek, fingertips running along smooth pale skin, earning a sigh from the man.
A hand at your back presses you closer to him, a little ‘oof’ spilling from your lips as your face meets his chest and his head comes to rest at the top of yours.
“What day is it?” He mumbles against your head.
“Saturday. We’re both off.”
“Oh,” he hums thoughtfully. “So we have the day to do nothing.”
“No, we have the day to go shopping. You haven’t gotten any Christmas presents and we have four days until the big day,” you remind him. “We’re spending it at the Wheeler’s, remember?”
You’d anticipated spending the holidays with Eddie at the very least. Your own family was traveling to Florida to seek out warmer weather instead of the bitter cold of Hawkins. Had brushed off your invitation with a simple, “Next time, honey.”
Nancy’s invitation came later. She’d cornered you at a get together over at Steve’s and said she’d really like you to come. That her house was more than large enough and that her parents were looking to have everyone get together. The more the merrier.
You were over the moon about it. Your first real “family” holiday season.
He only groans.
“It’ll be fun. We’ll spend the whole day together wrapping gifts and watching movies.”
“With Max.” He says it like he doesn’t enjoy her company, but you know he doesn’t mean it.
“Yes, with Max. She has shopping to do as well.”
He huffs out a laugh that warms your skin. “We have vastly different ideas of fun.” He pushes back just enough to drop a kiss to your forehead, before shifting up onto his elbows. “We should probably head downstairs soon. I hear them moving around in the kitchen. They’ll be looking for us.” He leans down to press his lips into the curve of your neck, sighing. “Just wanna stay here instead.”
For emphasis, he drops back down and hugs you tight, resting his head against your collar bone.
In the end, you win out, managing to extricate Eddie long enough to dress and ready for the new day. In the kitchen, Steve stands over the stove, working up some breakfast, while Max and Robin sit at the kitchen table, faces impassive as the two of you slip back into the room. When they notice the way his hand brushes your back as he slides a chair out and you move to take a seat, the mild discomfort fizzles and conversation resumes.
“Did you two sleep well last night?” Steve asks, waving his spatula like a sword for emphasis. “It’s almost ten.”
“Like a baby, Harrington.”
You snort at Eddie’s words, thanking Max as she hands you and Eddie steaming cups of coffee just as she knows you like them. You thank her, smiling warmly.
“You two kiss and make up? Because I’m not about to spend the day with you two pouring at each other non stop,” Max asks, nonplussed.
You choke a little on your coffee.
Eddie’s face hardens.
“Red.”
“What?”
She shrugs, biting into a strawberry as Steve starts shoveling breakfast onto everyone’s plates.
Your chest warms.
*
In the end you manage to get all the shopping you need to do finished.
It’s not without its struggles, however.
Max and Eddie separate are two different storms.
Max with her fiery, sometimes explosive energy. Not to mention that deadpan that endears you to her, her open opinions, the brashness in which she lives her life.
And then there’s Eddie. Charismatic and explosive like her, all frenetic energy as he moves in and out of stores, looking for the perfect gifts for those he cares about most.
She urges him to hurry up, he barks back at her to let him think.
It’s a constant back and forth that has you both amused and frightened, because you’re never quite sure if they’re seconds away from fighting in the mall. Onlookers question if the two of them are okay, to which you mutter back “siblings” and they nod in understanding, like they know exactly what that implies.
And later, as the three of you return to his dimly lit apartment, illuminated only by the Christmas tree the two of you lovingly decorated together, you bask in the warmth of their familial bond. The way the two of them curl up together on the couch watching The Grinch Who Stole Christmas as you work on putting together something to eat for dinner. Every so often you glance over your shoulder, catching the way Eddie’s arm curls around the younger teen, how she seeks out his warmth.
It dawns on you—the depth of this moment. These two souls are so willingly open to allow you into their lives. Into their hearts. It’s taken time, months really, and the fact they trust you wholeheartedly now is not lost on you. You’ve never had a close family. Always absent, leaving you to your own devices.
You understand Max and Eddie are a family now, bound by unexplainable trauma, and yet they are family all the same. And in a way, though you wouldn’t voice it to them right now, watching them from afar like this…them allowing you into the safety of this moment…it almost feels like family for you, too.
This overwhelming sense of belonging that curls around your insides, makes them warm, brings a wave of tears to your eyes. Eddie catches the glitter on your lashes, untangling himself from Max just as you dip your head into your shoulder, ladle spinning through your freshly made sauce, trying to hide yourself from his sight.
“Hey, hey. Don’t you hide from me,” he urges, tapping at your cheek, earning a watery laugh from you.
“‘M fine,” you mumble, sniffling noisily. The tears recede and lift your gaze to his to prove it to him, but Eddie remains at your side, curling an arm around your hip to drag you close. “Really, I promise.”
He presses his forehead into your cheek. “Let me see that smile.” You snort as his lips smack a kiss there, loud enough to draw Max’s attention.
You hear her scoff, her drawl of distaste, but there’s a smile on her face all the same.
“Just feeling really happy is all,” you reassure him, a smile sliding onto your face.
He slides a hand down your arm and curls his fingers into your own, squeezing your tangled digits. “I know what you mean.”
The three of you eat your chicken parmigiana in comfortable silence, Eddie only groaning every so often in enthusiasm over the fact he’s being fed. You snort, knowing very early on in your friendship that the best way to Eddie Munson’s heart was through his stomach.
Later, it’s Max and you sitting at the kitchen table wrapping gifts as you walk Eddie through baking a tray of cookies. You’ve already successfully wrapped the gifts you all got for Wayne, as well as the smaller gifts for the kids and your friends. Eddie had told you he’s terrible at wrapping gifts, at which you had told him it’s not about the wrapping but the fact love was put into the package. But he reassures you all the same he’ll be better put to use doing something else. So you’d set him up with some baking supplies in his small kitchen, and gathered things for you and Max to get started with.
“Small round circles,” you tell him, watching his fingers hesitantly roll dough within his palms, now bare from their usual rings.
“He’s really got the easier job,” Max grumbles.
She’s been…struggling, to say the least. Every so often she curses under her breath when a tab of tape gets stuck to her fingers instead of the package, or she doesn’t have enough paper to cover a box because she underestimated. You try to assist her as much as she’ll allow, but she reassures you over and over again she’s fine (she’s not) and that she doesn’t need help (she does).
“Why is that, Red?” Eddie asks, the line of flour on his cheek a slash of white against his face.
And there on the table, in a mess of crinkly red paper and endless tabs of tape keeping things positioned in place, lies one of Lucas’ gifts.
She holds it up with an uneasy laugh and Eddie tries to hide his own chuckles into the lip of his coffee cup.
It’s not perfect, no, but this moment is.
*
The Wheeler’s truly go all out for the holidays. Upon entering their home, Eddie’s palm in your own, your eyes are drawn to the endless holiday decorations. Their tree is dressed to the nines, all wide and fluffy branches, glowing lights, endless ornaments that twinkle against green branches.
There are lights twined around all the railways and banisters, illuminating the room in a pale glow. There are centerpieces on all their tables, little candles with tiny wreaths around the bases, the smell of pine filling your nostrils as you take a turn about the place.
Karen Wheeler is there in a flurry, ready to take your jackets. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad, sweetie,” she says to Eddie, brushing the snow from his shoulders.
It’s been snowing all afternoon. A few inches now blanket the streets of Hawkins, and though it did provide for a harder drive, you find that it only adds to your experience in town with the people you love. A true white holiday season.
Last year you’d been somewhere tropical, in a bathing suit on the beach, sipping a margarita funded by your parents. Now Karen moves about you and helps you slip out of your jacket, coming around front to look at you, a giant smile blooming across her face.
“You’re a doll! Eddie, she’s so beautiful.” She turns to him, then glances your way. “Come on in. Be a dear and help me with the table, would you? Nancy, your friend is here!”
It’s not long before you’re put to work, setting up table placements, smiling and waving every time another arrival comes through the front door.
Dinner is warm and bright. Full of laughter, full of quiet conversation and guests asking to pass the pasta, a roll, the chicken. It’s memories told about the kids through the years, Hopper regaling you with moments that make El flush deep scarlet in embarrassment. It’s Max leaning into Eddie when she grows a little morose, and him curling an arm around her shoulder to whisper against her ear because he knows what she’s feeling. It’s Wayne crying later when Eddie gives him a new mug that says “World’s Best Dad” and Max rushing over to tackle you and Eddie when you give her the tickets to a concert she’d been talking about taking Lucas to.
All around the room people pass around gifts, room full, hearts fuller.
Charlotte and Steve slip away after a while to go kiss beneath the mistletoe, Nancy and Jonathan hold one another close on the couch, Robin and Vickie glance lovingly at one another as Vickie holds a new sweater up to her chest.
The kids thank Karen for their new socks, knitted hats, and warm mittens.
You smile as Eddie slides your new necklace around your neck, a locket with a picture of the two of you on one side, and a picture of him on the other, just so you’ll always have him close.
He kisses you and tells you his thanks over the new cassette tapes and guitar strings you'd gotten him, the new fantasy books he’s been meaning to read, and a couple of things for his new campaigns he’s been dreaming up.
“Hey, Eddie,” you tell him, as people retreat to the dessert table and dining area, leaving the living room mostly unattended.
He brushes your hair back into place and trails his finger over the locket. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“I have another gift for you—and before you get upset, it’s little. It’s…well, here.” You slide the little pouch into his hand, the drawstrings pulled tight.
Tentative fingers move to open the little bag, dropping the item inside into his open palm. His head tilts to the side, shifting the key with a fingertip. “What’s this?”
“It’s a key. To my apartment. So you always know you’re welcome. And also because…all my life I’ve been running from reality. Bouncing between place to place so I don’t have to really get to know people. Trying to protect my heart because I didn’t want to get hurt. Never really allowing anyone to get all that close. Until I came here…and met you.”
“I’m not understanding.”
You shift closer to him where you sit on the floor, your knee brushing his own as you lift the key and dangle it in the air between you two. “I thought about it. About the shop, about the friends I’ve made here, and how I feel about you and I want to stay. I’m going to stay in Hawkins.”
Home.
You’re finally home.
And the slow smile that starts to spread across Eddie’s lips as he finally understands is all you need to see to know you’ve made the right choice.
His eyes shine with the reflection of Christmas tree lights, and swim with affection for you.
Home.
You’re staying here in Hawkins, staying with him, choosing this.
So if his voice wobbles a little, you say nothing of it, because he’s glowing. “That’s…that’s the best gift you could have given me.”
You curl the key into both your hands and squeeze tight, the imprint of it cool against your skin.
But it’s the easiest decision you’ve made in a long time.
“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”
*
Hawkins feels even more like home the next afternoon.
It comes unexpectedly, as most things do, with the door blowing open from the cold winter air, bringing Eddie along with it. His head is bent down, looking at something within his jacket. You’re worried he’s hurt from the way he’s cradling his side, but what you find instead makes you pause.
Hidden within the side of his jacket is a silvery ball of fur, with a tiny button nose, two dark eyes, and a set of ears that look funny on its small head.
“Eddie, what is that?” You ask, already knowing your answer, but wanting to hear your boyfriend fess up all the same.
He tucks it closer to his side and mutters, “Nothing.” The kitten gives a tiny meow and Eddie melts, his dark eyes growing softer by the moment as one of those ringed fingers comes to rub along the furry head.
You take a step closer, glancing into his jacket to see the little one. It peers out curiously, leaning into Eddie’s side as if it knows that he’s his protector already. “It’s not nothing because it looks like a kitten. A living, breathing kitten.”
Eddie rubs the tiny head again. “That’s because itisakitten.”
“What was that?”
“It is a kitten,” he says simply, pulling the jacket away to hold the baby in front of him.
“Why is there a kitten in my apartment?” You step closer, stroking a finger along one of the too-big ears. The kitten purrs and leans into the touch.
He rubs a thumb along the tiny little spine and says, “Well, you see, I was walking over here from work and I heard this tiny little thing meowing by the dumpster. And I had to pick it up. It was calling my name.”
You pause in your gentle stroking, and the kitten's eyes pop open. “It was saying Eddie?”
He nods, and you move to rub underneath its chin. “Yes, so clearly, you should have heard it.”
“Eddie…” you warn, just as a tiny, sandpaper tongue drags along your fingertip.
You melt a little bit, and Eddie takes note.
“My apartment doesn’t allow pets. But this apartment is yours. Fully and completely yours.”
“Eddie no.” And as much as your mind screams no, the kitten stares at you and your resolve crumbles all the more.
“Look at it. How can you deny this face?” He holds the kitten up beside his face.
And you know he’s talking about denying the kitten, but the look on Eddie’s face is just as hard to say no to. All pouty lips, bit doe eyes, lashes batting at you obnoxiously.
So it really should come as no surprise to you when the two of you spend the next day at the vet with the kitten (a boy, they tell you) and then the pet store after (Eddie tells you he needs toys, though you tell him food is more important) with a very giddy Eddie who spends way more money than he really needs to to spoil his new “son.”
Later that evening, after you’ve all eaten (kitten included) you sit around on the floor as Eddie rolls a ball toward the little one and grins widely as it pats a tiny little paw against the surface until the bell inside jingles.
You’ve been like this for hours, taking turns showing the little one new things, figuring out which toys he likes best, getting him used to the two of you and his new home.
“It is really cute,” you say as it comes to curl up in Eddie’s lap, sound asleep.
“He’s really cute,” Eddie agrees, running a gentle hand along its back.
“What do we name him?”
“He was chewing on my buttons in the car. How about Chewbacca? Get it?”
You laugh, incredulous. “Chewbacca? Eddie, this is our son.”
He snorts at that. But you suppose this is your fur-child now. Both of yours.
“Yes, I understand that, and I happen to think Chewbacca is a wonderful name,” he says plainly, not quite getting the issue here.
“He doesn’t even look like Chewbacca. He’s silver.” You rub at the little head, leaning over to kiss the tiny nose.
“How about Chewy for short? Chewbacca is his full government name, though. Chewbacca Munson.”
“What if I wanted him to have my last name?”
“We can hyphen.”
“Wow, I’m surprised you compromised that quickly.”
He shrugs, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. “It doesn’t slip my mind you’re keeping him here. Thank you for indulging a childhood wish of mine to have a pet.”
You snort, but your grin is megawatt. “You’re lucky I l—like you so much.”
*
Your friends are inside, the sound of music and chatter drifting from the opened patio door. The countdown to the new year is set to start soon, but you’re staring up at the sky, Eddie’s arms low around your waist, his chin against your shoulder as the two of you stargaze. He reminds you of the constellations he’s already shown you, then starts to point out the newer ones you’re not familiar with.
You’ve been like this for a while now. Him holding you close, keeping you warm, your breaths curling in the winter air. There’s a whole party happening just feet away, and yet you’re exactly where you want to be the most.
“They’re going to be looking for us soon,” you whisper, though you find you don’t really care.
A particularly loud laugh echoes from inside, the outline of Steve and Charlotte’s forms illuminated across from you as Robin tells them a story with a wide smile on her pretty features.
She waves and you wave back, returning your eyes to the stars, to the boy who you’d believe hung them if he told you so.
“Hey, sweetheart?” His voice is quiet. Timid.
You turn around in his arms to face him, his lips a little chapped from the cold, that too-big jacket of his becoming your blanket as he cradles you in the circle of his arms.
“Yeah?”
“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. Something kind of serious,” he says, and you feel your lips tug southward. At the furrow of your brows, he shakes his head, cupping the side of your cheek with his hand. “Wait—maybe not the best wording. I, uh, it’s serious in a good way.”
“In a good way…” you repeat slowly, chewing idly at your bottom lip.
Now his brow furrows, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m not…I’m messing this up. Okay, I’m going to just come out and say it…”
“You’re worrying me,” you mutter, a little breathless, hand coming to rest over his hand comfortingly.
“I…”
“Hey lovebirds, wanna stop sucking face? The countdown starts in five minutes!” Steve shouts outside, Charlotte shushing him with a hand on his shoulder. Her giggly apology reaches your ears and the two of you turn to find them staring your way.
“Can we get some privacy?” Eddie calls back, face pinching in his frustration.
“Come on, Stevie. Leave them alone,” Charlotte agrees, tugging at his arm. “We’ll catch up later. Sorry, guys.”
The patio door slides shut once more and you’re left alone with your favorite boy. He huffs out a sigh, sliding his arms back around your form, breathing a cloud between the two of you.
You’re not expecting him to just blurt out his next sentence. Not expecting the words at all, and yet they’re the same words you’ve been holding to yourself for safe keeping, for that perfect moment like this one. The moment where it’s the two of you, overwhelmed in one another, hidden away in a stolen moment captured in time.
Because it’s New Years Eve and Eddie’s just said, “I’m in love with you.”
Because it’s New Year’s Eve and your tears prick, voice a broken sob as you whisper back, “I’m in love with you, too.”
It’s New Year’s Eve and you’re spending it with the person you want to go make countless memories with in the next three hundred and sixty five days. You want all his days, good and bad. To brave the storms should they come, to chase away his nightmares, to rejoice in the happy times. You want to wake to him in the morning and kiss him goodnight before bed. You want to dance in the kitchen as you cook together, to taste his sugar sweet lips on those days you try something new to bake. You want those new adventures, dinners with Wayne and Max, play time with Chewbacca. You want the game nights with your friends, to listen to him play Dungeons and Dragons with the kids, to go on that camping trip Steve, Robin and the others talked about come summer time.
You wanted it all, want it all, with the boy standing before you with all the love in the world behind his eyes.
“I’m in love with you,” you repeat, just as the sound of the countdown spills from inside.
Ten…
He curls a hand around your face once more.
Nine…
You brush at the hair near his shoulders, feeling him warm beneath your skin.
Eight…
He tugs you closer, always closer.
Seven…
You slide your hands into his jacket, hands resting against his back.
Six…
He tells you he’s in love with you once more.
Five…
You press your forehead to his, smiling up at him.
Four…
He glances down at you through those dark lashes.
Three…
You feel his breath dance along your bottom lip.
Two…
You wish him a Happy New Year.
One…
He kisses you as party poppers explode showers of confetti inside. Kisses you as shouts fill your ears. Kisses you until butterflies dance to life in your belly, until fireworks dance behind your eyes, and the rest of the world falls away.
It all dissolves around you, and you’re just standing there in the arms of the man you love.
Nothing else matters.
All that matters is this moment, this boy, this love.
*
It starts, you suppose, in the car ride. The atmosphere has a new heaviness, a thrill that boils in the cabin. Your fingers slide through Eddie’s, toying with the rings resting cool from the winter air against your thigh. You’re not sure what possesses you. Not sure if it’s the happiness from the evening, the weight of his confession, the way your heart feels full to burst—but it has you feeling bolder, has you slowly trailing your fingers along your opposite thigh. A slow path, a gentle up and down, over and over again.
His eyes flash to yours, linger briefly on your exposed flesh, the warmth of your skin. You catch the way his tongue dips to his lip, the pinch of his teeth against skin, before flashing back to the road. You’re almost home, only minutes now, but you’re itching for touch. For his touch in particular, warm against your skin, along the outline of your leg muscle, inside your thigh, at your center where you want him most.
You feel the first little brush of his fingers as they slip free from yours, the tantalizing trail of them, along the thigh nearest to him. A gentle drag of skin against skin, venturing higher every time. His fingertips tease the hem of your ruched satin dress, now bunched near your hip, leaving only inches between where he lingers now and your clothed center. There is a question in his eyes, a pass of chocolate brown eyes in the night as he looks your way, and you dip your head, understanding his meaning.
His fingers start a new exploration, a curious slide along your inner thigh, a gentle sweep that leaves gooseflesh in its wake. It’s unfamiliar to him and you, and yet it elicits a soft sigh from your lips, head falling back against the headrest. Taking this as all the coaxing he needs, he pushes up higher, halting at the edge of your panties. There is a brief moment where he pauses, and you wonder if he’s about to freeze up and end this before you’ve even had a chance to begin the night, but he dissuades those fears when he shifts and presses his middle finger against the spot of slick already forming against the gray material.
He curses, his eyes sliding up to the ceiling in a silent prayer, hand tightening in a white knuckle grip against the steering wheel. “Wanna touch you.”
“Then touch me, Eddie,” you breathe out, shuddering as he pushes the material to the side and slides a finger through your folds, dragging in a curious line.
It's a wonky, unpracticed pattern that he tries once…then twice, and pulls back.
“Show me. Show me what you like.”
It sounds choked.
A little gasp, a soft plea.
Understanding what he means, you reach down to join him, dragging a line down your center, swirling in the pool of slick at your entrance before circling the bead of your clit. His eyes dart from the road to where your finger starts to move in small circles, toes already curling within your heels.
He watches like that for a few moments. Captures the way your chest rises and falls with each sweep of your finger, the heaviness of your breath, the shudder of each pass of air through lungs. And it doesn’t take long before he’s replacing your fingers with his own, following the same path you’d taken. Dragging those thicker digits from your entrance up to your clit, starting the slow slide of his fingers along hot flesh, murmuring, “You look so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, baby.”
Your answer is a hum, a broken whisper of, “Right there, Eddie. Just like that.”
You’re already close.
You feel the beginnings of your orgasm beckoning, dragged closer by your own ministrations, and swifter now with Eddie’s fuller fingers, your hand coming out to grab at his thigh. You can’t help the whine that spills from you as that heat coils higher in your belly, the rubber band pulling taut, ready to snap as he moves faster under your guidance.
Your fingers dig down where they rest against his flesh. His eyes sweep back over to you, molten and dark in the moonlight, stuttering along where he’s touching you in a way he’s never done so before. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, mesmerized by the way you look in this moment. It’s terrifying and exciting, eyes shut against the feeling. Flames lick at you as he pulls into the back of your coffee shop and parks the van. You barely register the click of his key pulling from the ignition before his mouth is on yours, face crashing into you from over the center console. You’re immediately moaning into his mouth and driving your hips up further into his hand to seek more friction as the rubber band snaps and sweet release spills into your system.
“Oh shit,” he breathes against your lips, brushing kiss after kiss along your face as your hips fall back against the seat, your eyes heavy as you try to catch your breath, looking up at him with a little laugh. “Was that good? I—”
You silence him with a kiss, whispering, “Inside,” against his skin.
He barely has a moment to lock the door before you’re grasping his hand and rushing him up the stairs, humming as the door locks close behind the two of you and you’re finally and blessedly alone. You both toe off your shoes as you maneuver your way over to the bed, connected at the mouth, hands reaching to grab at clothes, a clash of lips, tongues and teeth.
“Chewy, stay in your room. Your parents are busy!” Eddie scolds, the kitten in question already sound asleep in his little makeshift bed.
You giggle airily as the backs of your thighs hit your mattress, back falling into plush comforters as he crawls over you, walking you backward up the bed until your head rests upon your mountain of pillows.
“Say it again?” He asks, marking a path down your cheek, along your neck, pulling a whimper from you as he sucks a hickey into your collarbone.
“I’m in love with you, Eddie.”
He’s kissing you again, your head swimming with the ecstasy of the moment. It’s slower this time. Not like in the car where it’s a frantic, wild thing. There’s all the time now in the world to taste, tease and explore. His tongue sweeping low against your lip, sliding along yours, licking into your mouth with slow, languid kisses.
He moans into your mouth, a sweet thing you swallow as his body slides closer to yours, the beat of his heart a tattoo against your sternum. A frantic flutter you slide your palm up between the two of you to feel, tethering yourself to this moment—to this man.
His guitar string callused fingers drag a familiar path along your thigh, sliding your dress up higher over your hips, baring you to him once more. His fingers come to slide between your folds, still puffy from your orgasm, making you shudder and mewl against his skin. Hips move upward at the sensation, seeking friction, seeking him.
In your impatience, you fist both sides of your dress in your hands, Eddie’s hands falling away from you long enough to let you sit up and pull the material up and over your body. You feel bared to him, already nearly naked against your mattress because the dress had called for no bra lines, and a forearm moves to drape across your chest.
“Hey, hey,” Eddie coos, cupping the side of your cheek. “You’re so beautiful. There’s no need to hide with me. I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart.”
Your arm drops away and he replaces it with his lips.
This part he knows.
This part he’s practiced on you already.
One hand comes up to knead one breast, while he pastes wet kiss after wet kiss to the other, tongue laving over your flesh, sucking into supple skin until you’re bucking up against his clothed thigh, rubbing your center against the fullness of it—seeking something, anything, to satisfy the need swirling in your gut.
“Come here,” you nearly beg, curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, tugging him back upward to your lips. You kiss him soundly, mewling as his thigh shifts and his hips roll forward, the hardness of him rubbing just right against your core, robbing you of all air. “Missed you.”
“I’m right here,” he chuckles, fingers dancing along your thigh. “Not going anywhere.”
“Want to touch you, Eds. But only if you’re ready.”
He leans back onto his haunches above you, hair a wild mess, chest rising and falling swiftly. He looks beautiful like this, just as he always does, all dark eyes and swirling heat living in them. They’re blown out now in his desire, in a way you’ve not seen him before. Heat flares at the thought it’s meant only for you, reserved only for you at this moment, just as his fingers reach for the hem of his shirt and hesitate.
“I can shut the light,” you whisper, hand coming to smooth up and down his thigh.
You want him to be comfortable. Fully at ease in a moment you know is already nerve wracking for him. It’s his first time with you, but it’s also his first time baring himself fully to another human after what transpired two years ago. His eyes shift to the left, to a faraway spot on the wall, like he’s mulling it over.
You stretch your arm out toward your lamp when a hand curls around your wrist like a bracelet. Eddie’s voice breaks into the silence with a soft, “No, leave it.”
He reaches behind his back and tugs the shirt up and over himself, slipping it off to toss it into the far corner somewhere. He waits. Waits for you to scream and run, to push him away you’re sure, what with the way his mouth settles into a firm line, his hands shaking where they rest at his thighs.
You’re familiar with his scars. At least the ones on his face, his neck, the spattering of them along his arms. The ones that litter his torso break your heart all over again for the boy on the floor of the Upside Down. The boy who had been close to death, and lived to tell the tale. The boy with the biggest heart you’ve ever known.
You lift yourself up to sit, hand coming up to hover over his abdomen, gaze flashing up to his momentarily. “Can I?”
He dips his head once, releasing a shaky exhale as your fingers trail along the first scar along his abdominal muscles, then further up along the two smaller ones to your left.
“Do they hurt?” You feel his stomach jolt as you drift back southward again, the softness of his abdomen dancing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“No, not anymore. Not for a while now,” he manages to get out, watching your fingers where they linger against him, one of his hands sliding along the crown of your head comfortingly.
His left side, just over his heart, is the worst. A ridge of patchwork done by the plastic surgeons at the hospital, all puckered flesh, hills, bumps and divots. The demobats had tried to take him from you, tried to rob you of ever knowing this man, and your eyes water as you curl your palm over his ribcage, catching the soft shudder of his breath as his eyes fall closed.
You love him.
You love him fully and completely. Even in this body he resents, because it houses his soul. And it’s his soul you long for, want to entwine yourself to, want to cherish for as long as he’ll allow you. Even in this body that he rejects because it no longer looks as it used to, because it’s this body that has held you, has loved you, respected you.
It’s him.
You’ve never loved another person like this before, this feeling of fullness that makes your head swim. It drives you to lean forward, brushing a kiss over his heart, feeling him warm beneath your touch. His hand comes up to curl against the back of your head, your head turning so your ear rests over his sternum, arms looping around his back.
“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, as those ringed fingers curl around your chin and tip your head enough for him to kiss you sweetly.
When you pull away, you hear the first whimper fall from him. A choked garble that threatens to cleave you in two. Tears slide down his cheeks, along the bump of his cheek, salty tracks you brush away with your hands.
“I’m crying during sex and we haven’t even had sex yet,” he says pitifully, sniffling loudly.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, thumbing at his scarred cheek. “It’s okay. If you want to stop, we stop. We don’t have to do this now.”
“I want to. I really want to.”
After that it’s a swirl of movement. You slide your underwear down and kick them off as he moves to clamber off the bed, fumbling with his belt buckle and struggling in the process. You jump up to help him, his hands falling to his sides, as you unhook the belt and tug it free from his jeans, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. You toy with the button on his jeans next, earning a sharp hiss from him as the zipper slides down and you accidentally brush him beneath his boxers, heart thudding when you find him hot and hard already. Swallowing, you watch as he wiggles the jeans down his thighs and stands there in nothing more than a pair of boxers, leaning across the space to kiss you once more.
You can feel the way he trembles, nervousness bubbling as he lowers you back against the mattress, elbows on either side of your head so he can cradle you. Your fingers trail along the hem of his boxers, eliciting a sigh from him, before they slip further within and wrap around silky hot flesh. He’s thick, thicker than anyone you’ve been with. You wonder for a moment if he’ll fit as you drag your thumb along his slit, collecting the bead of precum there. The curse he lets out has you slowly moving your palm up and down his length, watching him pinch his bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering above you.
His eyes flash open then, head shaking as he reaches to grip your hand where it rests against the base of him. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m gonna blow if you do that. I’m already scared I’m only going to last ten seconds. That’ll have me tapped out in five, baby.”
You snort as he leans forward to brush a kiss against your breast, your hand falling away from him to curl instead in the comforter beneath you. Emboldened, Eddie reaches down and slides his boxers off, kicking them into one of the various piles strewn about your floor now. He pops out stiff and ready, your eyes barely having time to take in the sight of him before he’s kneeling back down onto the bed, stealing a soft kiss that has you feeling warm like honey, all sticky sweet and languid.
“Do you have a condom? I didn’t think to bring one. I wasn’t…I didn’t know we’d be doing this, not that I’m sad about it. I’m actually really happy and—”
“I’m on the pill,” you explain, and the furrow between his brows softens, head slowly nodding. “But I have some right here.”
You reach over into your bedside table and he reaches over to pull a foil from the box. You watch him open it with shaky hands, chuckling to himself as it almost falls out of the packaging.
You reach out to see if he needs assistance sliding it on, muttering as you watch him roll the condom down himself. “I got them at the store the other day.”
“Oh—well that’s good. Safety first and all of that,” he says, chuckling nervously. You shift a bit beneath him, moving up further, making room for both your bodies, as his hand marks a slow path along your ribcage. “This is where my experience stops.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I’ve got you. Just remember we have nothing but time.”
“Okay,” he says, voice a little wobbly as he lowers himself against you, grabbing himself in hand. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready since we were in the car,” you laugh, making him smile as he slowly drags himself up and down through your slick, bumping your clit in a way that has your eyes clamping shut, voice hitching in a whine. “Eddie.”
He understands your breathy plea, sliding lower until his tip rests at your entrance, full and warm as he presses in slowly. You both shudder out a moan, your fingers coming up to grip his shoulder at the slight burn of the unexpected fullness of him.
He’s babbling your name into your throat, gasping at the feel of you fluttering around him, muttering how much he loves you into your neck. And you’re rolling your hips up further into him, wanting to be full of him, wanting to be as close as you’ve ever been until he’s cursing against your skin and burying himself to the hilt.
“Oh, hell. Okay. I’m inside of you.”
You snort, shoving playfully at his side as you adjust to him. “That’s typically how this works.”
He swallows thickly, hips rocking shallowly against yours. “Can I move?”
“Yeah, hon. Please.”
He starts off uneasily. Moving a little too swiftly against you as his human instinct takes its time to kick in. You grip at his shoulder, trying to steady him, gasping into his neck at the still delicious drag of him along your walls.
“Hey, Eddie,” you whimper, and his eyes pop open to look down at you.
“Oh no. Baby, I’m not hurting you, am I?” He stills inside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your face, those dark eyes round with fear.
“No…no. I just wanted to say go slow,” you whisper, mewling into his mouth as he does exactly that. Pulls back gently and rolls his hips forward in a way that has your eyes rolling back a bit, shuddering out a breath. “Y-yeah. Like that—just like that.”
“Is this good? Want it to be good for you, because—” He groans into your shoulder as your hips rise up from the bed to meet him, hands sliding up and over his back, thigh curling around his hip to keep him closer. “Shit. You feel so good. Like you were…like you were made for me.”
“You are.” You whine as he palms your breast, kissing the corner of your mouth, rocking against you in a way that has you seeing stars. If he kept going, if he kept hitting that spot over and over again—“Doing so good, Eddie. Making me feel so good, so full of you—mmmm—”
But it’s all over soon after your praises fill the room. You clamp your nails down as his shoulder as his hips move more erratically, sweat on his forehead pooling, his teeth pinching at his lip as his eyes slam shut.
“I’m close. I’m so close, I’m sorry baby—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just let go, I got you.”
His thrusting grows erratic as his chest falls forward and presses you down into the mattress. You feel him give one more final snap of his hips before he comes to a halt, trembling against your form with a curse. He’s gasping as he spasms inside, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.
He remains against you like that for a moment, panting heavily against your skin, pasting kiss after kiss into your sternum before he finally pulls out of you with a low whine.
You gasp out a breath and slide a palm over your racing heart, watching him walk over to your bathroom to discard the condom. When he returns, he loops an arm over your waist, fingers wandering against your belly, the curve of your hip, the tops of your thighs.
You shudder out a breath as he grazes your center, asking, “What are you doing?”
“You didn’t…finish, right?”
He leans down to press the softest of kisses to your lips, the answering shake of your head all he needs before he runs a finger along your slit, a gentle drag from your entrance before following the pattern against your sensitive clit you showed him in the car.
“Eddie…” Your heel shifts to press against the mattress, thigh falling open, baring yourself fully to him. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Wanna kiss you there, sweetheart.”
You chuckle heartily at his brazenness as he starts dropping kiss after kiss along your breasts, down the line of your sternum, across your belly where he sucks a little hickey into the skin below your belly button until your chuckling against his smiling mouth, his hand coming up to curl with yours resting by your hip. He gives you a little squeeze and laces your fingers with his as he starts kissing along the tops of your hip bones, the span of skin between them that makes you gasp against your pillow, head rolling back.
He doesn’t stop the slow torture there. You’re not sure where he’s learned this, but you’re silently thanking them with a plea as his lips mark a scorching path along the insides of your thighs, his other hand curling around the meat of your leg to open you further to him, nose tickling your sensitive flesh until you’re shifting your hips against the mattress, earning a nip against the inside of your thigh.
“Eddie, please,” you whimper, breath robbed from your lungs as he finally slides the flat of his tongue from your center up to your clit, drawing a tentative circle there.
“Tell me what to do. What you like. Wanna make it good.”
“To the left. And just like that, keep doing that.”
You’re a shaking mess as his ringed hand leaves yours and joins his tongue, prodding where you want him most, and you practically cry out your “yes” as he slips a finger inside.
“Like that, like that,” you babble, hand dropping down to rest at his full head of curls. When his second finger eases in, you feel your walls clamp down around him, his answering chuckle vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “If you curl your fingers like that—ah, yeah, just like that—”
You break off into a sob as he mimics your ‘come hither’ motion, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue in a way that has your legs shaking on either side of his head, fingers twisting tight into his curls. You’re afraid you’ve hurt him at first, whipping your hand back, but he reaches up and slides it back into place, pressing your open palm against his hair so you can tug as you teeter closer and closer toward the edge.
“I’m so close, Eddie. You’re doing so good,” you pant, white flashing behind your eyes as he crooks those fingers against the part of you that has the flame flickering in your gut burning brighter and brighter, coil growing tighter as his tongue works you, his own sighs after a particularly hard tug of his hair against your center vibrating down to the tips of your toes.
The flames dance higher.
Burn brighter.
Become all consuming as tears prick in the corner of your eyes.
Because it’s Eddie.
Eddie Munson, the man who walked into your coffee shop all those months ago. The man with the quiet soul and loud mind. The man who cracked into a smile at your silly factoids and your ridiculous jokes. The man who had first been your friend and became so much more. Who tended to you when you were sick, helped make your house a home, created a little family with you by adding Chewy into the mix.
The man who became a safe place to land. A shoulder to rest your head. A door to walk into at the end of the day, to seek shelter from a storm with, to love endlessly and be loved in return.
It’s him, and in a way you think it’s always been him.
You snap with a low keen, trembling as your orgasm rushes over you, Eddie’s head peeking up just enough to watch it roll over you as his fingers continue their gentle slide.
You writhe beneath him as pleasure hits a peak and settles back into a low simmer, his head coming up to kiss you on the lips when he finally pulls out and joins you near your pillow. Your hand comes up to rest at the back of his neck, holding him to you, your mouths moving slowly over one another, tongues licking into mouths, neither one of you wanting to part from the other.
You’re not sure how long you lay like that in the circle of his embrace, his arm around your waist, your bare chests pressed to one another, ankles tangled beneath bedsheets. All you know is you hate to see him go as he slips out from the bed once more, sliding on his discarded boxers, into your bathroom. You hear the water run momentarily before shutting off, his frame reappearing with a washcloth in hand.
He helps you clean in silence. His fingers gentle along your still sensitive flesh, punctuating each slide of damp cloth with a kiss against your temple, before tossing it into the heap of clothing strewn about your floor. After that is a slide of hands as he helps you up and off of your bed, slipping his sweater over your head and letting it fall into place at your thighs. Your fingers skirt his side, along his bare chest, as he leads you into your bathroom and the two of you get ready for bed in silence.
He’s just been inside you, wholly and fully, but all you can think of is how these moments are your favorites. The ones only you’re privy to. The way Eddie slides lotion over his scars to maintain the elasticity of his skin, the care he takes in washing his face thanks to Steve’s incessant urging, the snap of his hair tie as he pulls his hair away from his face.
You stand before him as you brush, his larger form swallowing yours, fingers coming to toy with the hairs at the nape of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against skin. And as you spit into the sink and flush water down the drain, he spins you in his arms and presses your backside against the counter, drawing you to your tippy toes as he kisses you soundly, swallowing your sigh of happiness.
“Ready for bed?” You ask, running your hands down his chest, curling along his sides.
And he is. You find as much as the two of you slip back into your blankets, him drawing you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the slope of your shoulder. You barely have a chance to whisper goodnight before he’s shutting his eyes and slipping off into a deep sleep.
You bury yourself closer to him and follow him into rest.
*
Eddie’s sure he’s dead.
Has to be.
It’s the only explanation for the way he wakes with you resting against his chest, your mouth slightly parted, little sighs filling the air.
He has to be dead, because last night Eddie Munson was Hawkin’s resident twenty-three year old virgin, and now he’s no longer a virgin and in bed with the love of his life.
Only he’s not dead. He feels the throb of his heart in his ribcage, the sound of it rattling in his ears thanks to your otherwise silent apartment.
Last night feels like a wispy dream he made up in his mind. Your hands in his hair, your body closer than ever before to his, the way you gasped and moaned in his ear. The feeling of you wrapped around him, hips rising to meet him, driving him further and further over the edge. He pictures the look on your face in utter bliss, watching you writhe for him, bringing you to that peak and watching it rush over you, leaving you shaking in his arms with him as your anchor.
All his life he’d thought himself unworthy of love. His father hadn’t been around much—always in and out of jail, and when he was around his way of showing love was teaching him how to shotgun a beer and hot wire a car. His mother, god he loved his mother, but when his father fell deeper and deeper into his poor habits, she retreated to other things to fill her heart.
Wayne had been the one to give him a home, to give him shelter, to let him know what a family looked like. A real family, at least. And then there was Max. The rough and tumble girl from across the street, with a personality that matched the fiery hue of her hair. She showed him what it was like to love someone like your own kin. Like blood. To want to cover them, protect them from the world, keep them safe.
And then there was you. The girl who had walked into his life and changed the course of it. For two years he retreated into his shadows. Craved the darkness they provided, the safety of drawing away from others. Hiding, because it seemed easier than facing the world. For a while, he was content with his core group; the same kids who had been with him during the worst week of his life, stood by him when he needed it the most, loved him when he lay broken and battered in the hospital. When the town turned on him, even after he’d been exonerated, they were there to protect his name. To try and fight back the rumors that threatened to swallow him whole. They never saw him as a murderer, never saw him as anything but Eddie Munson, loved him beyond the whispers of those who wanted to see him fall.
Loved him beyond those who wanted to run him out of town, wanted to believe the lie that he had the heart to kill all those kids, wanted to put a blame on the fact half of Hawkins had been ripped apart and sunk into the hell that lingered beneath.
You walked in and changed all of that.
Loved him despite his shadows, coaxed him out of them, wanted to see the parts of him he desired to keep hidden. You called to him, a gentle whisper, those small gestures that slowly broke away at the walls he erected to keep others out. You were patient, a constant beam of light in his world, a gentle smile on the days where he hated himself more than words could ever say.
You loved him in the light.
Loved him proudly in public, despite the way people might have looked onward in stores. Loved him even after knowing what he had gone through in eighty six, loved him despite the scar ravaged body that lingered beneath his clothes.
You’d given him a home to place his heart within. A roof to keep it covered. Your hands are there to cradle it and hold it close. And he trusts you. Whole heartedly trusts you.
Smiles against the crown of your head as he recalls telling you he loved you the night before, the way tears like stars glittered on your lower lashes, the choked hiccup of your breath as you whispered back in a broken voice you loved him, too.
“Are you awake?” You mumble beside him, humming softly as your arms come to stretch above you. He aches at the feel of your chest pressing further into his, cock stirring to life at your hip when you lean over and kiss him soundly. “Oh, good morning to you too.”
“Shut up,” he laughs, feeling his cheeks warm. Only you’re pressing further into him, hips flush against him, making him shudder. “Too early.”
“Is it?” You practically simper the words and his chest tightens further, gasping at the feel of your fingers along his chest, down his abdomen, dancing along the thatch of hair at the base of him before curling your palm around him fully. “We have no plans, it’s just us…”
He reaches down to grab your hand, already missing the heat of you around him, and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Sighing, he leans up onto his elbows and stares down at your face. Beautiful, even freshly washed for bed, you’re so beautiful it stirs an ache deep within his chest.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”
You lean up and brush your lips against his. Tentative at first, and then coaxing as you slip your tongue along his, breaking apart long enough to rasp out, “I love you, too.”
Soon it’s a flurry of movement. He slips out of his boxers, kicks them down around his ankles, and moves to shift between your thighs. He remembers you’re on the pill and grabs himself in hand, feeling you beckon him forward with a swivel of your hips as he dips himself to the slick already pooling at your center. This time, as he sheathes himself fully, he languishes in the mutual gasp that fills the spaces between the two of you. Nearly chokes on a sob as he rolls his hips forward and back and feels you shifting to meet him thrust for thrust. You chase your end together, a slow ebb and flow, a quiet that wraps around your hearts save for your mingling breaths and moans.
You mewl into his skin that you love him.
To keep going.
Right there, you gasp out, when he hits that spot that has your eyes rolling back in your skull. Hits it over and over again as you start to shake beneath him, your impending orgasm drawing closer and closer.
It’s not like last night. The nervous, awkward feeling of exploring new lovers for the first time. Today he relishes the feeling of you around him, of rocking his hips into yours, of drawing out your pleasure, watching your face pinch, listening to your sounds. He wants to memorize every one. Every look that passes along your features as he moves against you, pushing your head further and further into your pillow.
With every movement he tries to show you his love. Tries to kiss you in a way that pours every bit of him into you.
He wants you to know that you’re it, this is it, this moment and this girl.
He’s done running.
He’s found home.
He’s found you.
Today feels like making love. Up until this moment he thought it was a cheesy thing people said about sex. But now he knows it’s real, feels the severity of it as he holds you in his arms, safe and sound from the rest of the world.
“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful you are.”
You only gasp his name in reply. Hands come to slide up along his back as he picks up his pace. Rolls his hips down into yours, hitting that spongy part of you that has your thighs trembling where they curl around his hips.
His forehead drops against yours, your eyes coming up to meet him as he tells you he loves you over and over again, hand curling tight with yours against the pillow beneath your head.
Forever.
For the first time, he wants that.
You shatter around him. Walls clamping down as you practically sob his name.
He’s not long after, moaning low and heavy into your skin, heart pounding in his ears. You whimper and writhe against him, as he slows in you, coming down from his own high.
He flops down onto his back and feels you shift beside him in the bed, coming to rest along his chest, hand trailing along his abdomen.
“Better?” He laughs, curling his arm beneath your head.
“Last night was perfect. Stop that.”
“Yes…yes it was. But this was better, no?”
You level him with a stare and he bursts out into laughter, waking Chewy who scampers over to hop in the bed with the two of you.
Your little family.
“Happy New Year, Eddie,” you whisper, reaching across to lace your fingers with his. “I have a feeling it’ll be a good one.”
“Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
*
Spring, 1991
*
“Baby showers are so weird,” Steve mutters, bringing the lip of his beer bottle to his mouth to take a sip.
The two of them stand near the door leading to the patio, glancing out to where Steve’s wife, Charlotte, sits in a circle of her closest friends who are all ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over the dozens of new little girl outfits she’s received.
Steve continues, “Bunch of girls sitting around opening gifts for someone who isn’t even here yet.”
“Also kind of weird because it’s sort of like a ‘congratulations, your dick works’ celebration.”
“You two are disgusting,” Robin says. “Neanderthals. Babe, you live with this man?”
You’re at Robin’s side, wearing that dress that flutters around your thighs when you walk, looking pretty as ever. You still rob him of his breath even after the past two years.
“That I do,” you laugh, kissing him as you brush by to go grab more desserts from the countertop. “Have fun, boys!”
The two of you slip back out from where you came, Steve waiting until the door slides shut fully when he asks, “So when are you going to ask her? That ring has been burning a hole in your closet for weeks now.”
“Soon…” he says, watching as you walk around with a tray filled with cookies in your arms, passing them out to greedy guests. “I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”
*
His first attempt has him sweating. Literal sweat dripping from his pores as the two of you sit at that too-ritzy restaurant Steve suggested you try. It’s not his scene, and it’s not yours. You prefer eating indoors, within the comfort of your now shared apartment, with Chewy always nearby to beg for table scraps (you always yell at him not to give him people food, but he’s quick to remind you he’s a growing boy).
This—the candles on the table, the multiple forks and spoons he’s not sure what to do with, the intricately folded napkins. He feels so out of place.
But the plan is as follows for the evening: the music will change to something soft and romantic just as the waiter walks out with your glasses of champagne and dessert. He’s requested a little note to be written in scrawling letters, set to read “will you marry me?” As you’re reading (and hopefully crying) he plans on dropping onto one knee and popping the ring box open.
It’s foolproof, Steve and Robin have reassured him only about fifty times now.
He just knows it needs to be perfect.
You deserve nothing less.
However, nothing ever goes quite as planned. You’re holding his hand, talking about the shop, when a table near you starts to shift. A trio of men start singing, actually singing, to the woman staring up wide-eyed at them, clearly enjoying a moment she’s been dreaming about. She’s a hysterical crying mess, Eddie’s horrified, and you look ready to sink into the ground from second hand embarrassment as one of the men steps forward and asks her to marry him in front of the whole room.
“Shit,” Eddie curses, and you pry your attention away long enough from the now frantically kissing couple to look over to him.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” he says, glancing up to where the waiter is standing with a tray holding your dessert and glasses.
He’s waiting for him, he realizes, to give the go ahead.
But now his head is spinning, because he’s definitely not singing to you, he’s not prepared any fancy speeches or grand gestures, and definitely won’t be topping that display.
He just wanted to get down on one knee and let the words pour out of him in the moment.
The plan comes to a halt even further when you huff out, “I understand the whole public engagement idea, but I don’t think that’s for me. I feel like…I don’t know, I’d want it to be more intimate. Just you and me. Us.”
It’s like a record scratch in his ears, lungs relieved of all air as he tugs on his collar because he’s choking now too.
Is the room getting hotter?
The waiter glances over and Eddie shakes his head stiffly, reassuring you he’s fine when your hand reaches out to cup his forearm.
“Check,” Eddie mouths to the man when you’re not looking.
So no, it didn't happen that day.
*
The second attempt fares worse than the first. You’re cooking beside him in the kitchen and he’s about to get down on one knee when the phone blares from the far wall.
The two of you stand close to the receiver when the familiar voice of Dustin fills Eddie’s ears, grating and frantic, like he’s recently run a marathon or something.
“Dustin Henderson, resident butthead, what do you want?” Eddie drawls, earning a soft shove from you where you stand beside him.
“Aren’t you twenty-five?”
“Some things never change,” he says, and he can practically hear the kids' eyes rolling in his skull on the other end. “Is someone dying, because I was kind of in the middle of something.”
“That’s disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Dustin groans.
“Not that kind of thing, you perv.”
“Look, I need help not being single and miserable…”
“That doesn’t sound like someone dying.”
“It might be soon if I don’t fix things with Suzie.”
“Okay, so how do you suppose—”
“Not from you! You’re not romantic,” Dustin continues, leaving Eddie a spluttering mess because he was, in fact, about to be romantic. Probably the most romantic he’s ever been in his life. So fuck him, he thinks. “I need your girlfriend.”
It didn't happen that day either.
*
The third attempt has you in the hospital, Eddie nearly wearing a hole into the ground as he asks the doctors a million and one questions. Is she going to be okay? What kind of medicine can she take? How long will she need to be on crutches for? Do they have to amputate? (He knows that one is a little dramatic, and he’s only asking because his brain is practically shaking in his skull, but he has to know).
You were taking a walk through your favorite park, following along a trail you’ve walked many times now, his sights set on the little lake in the middle of it that is viewable from a small bridge that sits beneath a canopy of leaves.
The only different thing about that day was the way you stepped funny and rolled your ankle, falling to the ground clutching at the offended limb with tears in your eyes. He’d been a mess, an absolute mess even though you told him over and over again you were okay, that it’s likely nothing serious, even though you were the one hurt in the first place.
But he drives like a bat out of hell to the hospital, only to sit in a waiting room for hours, before you’re taken for x-rays.
You have a broken ankle, and his heart aches when they cover your limb in a cast.
That afternoon it’s all dinner in bed and cuddling with Chewy and him as he props your foot up on a mountain of pillows, refusing to let you lift a finger for anything.
Not even the remote, he tells you when you grumble that you’re fine.
Definitely not the right time to propose, he decides, and shelves it for another.
*
He finds you a few days later sitting on the floor with your injured ankle resting in front of you and your palm upturned. He catches the sight of the velvet box next, the way your eyes behold the box like you’ve never seen anything like it before in your life.
“Oh no,” he cries out, rushing over to where you sit on the ground. “No, no, no. I had it all planned out. Well not planned out; I’ve had to change the plans a few times now, actually. But I wanted to make it special, take you somewhere or do something we like to do and ask you—”
“Eddie.”
It’s ruined.
The whole thing is ruined. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and groans.
“Eddie,” you try again, and he lifts his head to see you turning to look at him.
There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t seem sad. He’s just ruined your proposal and you’re not upset?
“Eddie, ask me now.”
He feels himself stumble a bit. Stutters out, “W-what?”
“Ask me now.”
You swallow thickly, handing him the ring box as he settles down on the ground in front of you. Chewy pokes his head up from the top of the couch, tail swishing at his two humans.
“A few years ago a new girl moved to town. There’s this idiot that works across the street from her shop at the bar, and he’s kind of a dick to her at first. You can laugh, it’s true. But it’s funny because she’s never deterred by it. She starts writing these little facts on his cups, and these corny little jokes that make her laugh and make it really hard for him not to laugh too because she’s just so pretty. They become friends…sort of. You see, he doesn’t really like to let many people in, and here she is with this big personality. Everyone falls in love with her, I mean—how wouldn’t they. Except for him. Or so he thinks.”
You’ve moved closer, your knees against his, one of his hands in your lap, curled in your own.
“He starts helping out with her apartment and realizes the more he hangs out with her, the more he likes her. He starts to feel less like a monster, and more like someone capable of love. She peels back those little layers and is so patient with it, never pushes him, always puts his feelings first. And then, he realizes he’d be a complete dingus to not tell her he likes her. And then the most surprising thing happens.”
You’re laughing through your tears, but laughing all the same and asking, “What is that?”
“They fall in love. Him for the first time ever, and he realizes…he wants that person every day for the rest of his life.”
He pops the box open and watches your hand come up to press against your lips, taking in the single diamond on a slender gold band.
“I love you so much, sweetheart. Every day more than the one that came before it. And I want that, I want this…us, for the rest of my life,” he says thickly, trying to hold back his own tears. “If you say yes, of course.”
“Yes, Eddie, yes,” you whisper, holding out your hand so he can slide it onto your ring finger.
It’s a perfect fit.
Then again, you’ve always been.
*
Eddie Munson marries the girl of his dreams six months later.
It’s a small ceremony, surrounded by your closest friends in the Wheeler’s backyard. You share personal vows with one another, words that encompass the years you’ve known one another, the love you share, the dreams for the future.
He promises to love you for the rest of his life as Steve—newly officiated for this occasion—instructs him to slide your wedding band onto your finger. And you do the same, standing there in a pretty white dress, your own words falling around him and filling his heart as you push the solid gold ring onto his own hand.
You dance under twinkling lights the kids have twined around the trees, hearts full to burst.
Wayne tells him he’s proud to call him son and wishes you well as you part for the night, Max joining soon after to hug the two of you and remind you she’ll be by the apartment often to check up on Chewy (her favorite and only nephew).
You slip into your hotel room in a flurry of kisses, a sea of white tulle around you, your hands in his suit and his working on undoing the line of buttons down your back.
You fall into one another as you always do, his lips against yours, bodies burning, sighs mingling into one as he slides home for the first time with his new wife.
He holds you close, one arm low around your back, the backs of his knuckles against your cheek. Tells you he loves you as the two of you creep closer and closer to mutual bliss.
Later, after you’re both cleaned up and spent, he tucks you close to his chest and hums the song you danced to at your wedding.
He’s happy.
Happier than he’s ever been in his life.
“Fun fact: Becoming your husband made this the best day of my life.”
You press your head further into his chest, finger toying with the new ring on his finger. “Fun fact: Becoming your wife is mine.”
*
Tag List: @clinicallyonline17, @sidthedollface2, @lazywillow6748, @idkidknemore, @blue-eyed-lion , @emma77645 , @bambipowerblueaddition , @aysheashea , @lezzy-bennet @yeehawbitchs
767 notes · View notes
havecourage-darling · 2 years
Text
Firsts
Tumblr media
AO3 | Part 1 of 12 (each chapter is a standalone)
>> Firsts: Panic Attack || masterlist
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader
wc: 3.1K
warnings: none, some heavy kissing, drinking, cursing
A/N: Hi! It's me again, back on my bullshit, obsessed and inspired by your lovely messages. This follows the same eddie x henderson!reader from: Don't You (Forget About Me) and Object of My Desire. There are going to be 12 parts -- all detailing first time moments -- but they can all be read as standalones. Some intertwine with a later story idea I have (that I'm waiting for volume 2 to post!) this chapter has no S4 spoilers. Your comments, kudos, and messages give this adhd ridden hyperfixated weirdo life, tysm!
First Kiss
The first time you had kissed him, Eddie was almost sure he’d accidentally smoked a laced joint and had hallucinated the whole thing. Then, you’d snuck your hand into his hair and tugged his neck back. If that hadn’t been enough to turn him on, you had bit down on his neck – worrying the skin between your lips -- and Eddie was halfway in love.
His day had started normally. He’d spent all day in his mind-numbingly boring classes, eating lunch while terrorizing the cafeteria, sold some bud, and planned his next campaign. He didn’t think this was where he’d be by the end of it.
He promised Rick that he’d sell the rest of his stock to make room for some new stuff coming in next week. The best customers were none other than the seniors of Hawkins High. Fortunately for him, it was also the week of Halloween. While he normally wouldn’t be caught dead at any school dance, he knew it was his best bet. He’d hang around for an hour, sell out, and go home a happy guy. Maybe pick up some pizza and a movie for the night.
“Dude, I didn’t know you were here selling,” Jeff, his fellow Hellfire Club member, said just as he’d stepped into the gym.
“What are you dressed as?” Eddie asked, eyeing his outfit.
“Tommy Lee!” Jeff grinned at him, pulling out a pair of drumsticks. Eddie nodded, offering up his fist.
“That’s sick,” he said, glancing around the room. He caught a few odd stares, ignoring them, and a good amount of interested ones.
“Do me a favor dude,” Eddie, grabbed Jeff’s sleeve before his date could steal him away. “Spread the word that I’ve got some stuff to sell.”
Jeff shot the chaperone’s a look before nodding. “I got you man,” he slapped Eddie’s back before going off to the dance floor.
Eddie stationed himself at the edge of the bleachers, mostly hidden by some decorations. He grinned when a basketball player approached him after a few minutes. Typical.
“What are you supposed to be?” Eddie snorted, glancing at the pathetic costume.
“A cowboy,” the guy – Nick? Adam? – sneered. “You got any or what?”
“Or what,” Eddie muttered, handing him a small bag. “Same price.”
The cowboy handed him two pairs of freshly printed, crisp bills. “Pleasure doing business,” Eddie tilted his imaginary hat. Without a word, the cowboy turned on his heel and walked away. Oh the irony of being outcast by the top tier only to have them crawl to him for their needs.
Thirty minutes later, Eddie was all but sold out. He had two joints left but he knew he could smoke through them if he didn’t have any more buyers. Eddie ran a sweaty hand through his hair, why did the gym always feel like it was a thousand degrees, and caught sight of a teacher walking in his direction.
Without preamble, he ducked under the bleachers and waited her out.
“Munson?” A voice called out. Eddie whipped around, startled out of his fucking mind – who hell hides under the bleachers?
“Jesus fucking Christ Harrington, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Eddie said, clutching at his heart dramatically. If he was going to be over the top, why stop because he was hiding?
Steve laughed, as if that was the most hilarious joke he’d ever heard. “Uh, Harrington?” Eddie called out, taking a few steps towards him. Steve was leaning against the wall, his legs sprawled and expression akin to someone who’d lost their puppy. As Eddie bent down, he wrinkled his nose. “Shit, Harrington, that’s some shitty tequila.”
“You want some?” He said, perking up. Eddie winced as his arm smacked into his side, the bottle sloshing. Eddie picked it out his hand before he could spill anymore. He sniffed it experimentally and shrugged, why not? He took a swig and fought the urge to spit it out. That, is why not, he thought to himself, gagging.
“This tastes like lighter fluid,” Eddie told him, “and I’m not exactly known for having refined taste.”
Steve grinned. “Good shit, right?”
“That was not a compliment,” Eddie told him, standing up. “Why are you piss drunk, dressed like Mario, at a school dance? Isn’t there somewhere, I don’t know, with less supervision that you could be doing this?”
“Nope,” Steve said, popping his lips obnoxiously. “Love sucks, man.”
Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d heard that King Steve had broken up with the perfect Nancy Wheeler. He had a hard time believing that someone like Harrington couldn’t get another date, he drove around a BMW for shit’s sake.
“Hey, do you have any….” Steve trailed off, looking confused.
“Weed?”
Steve brightened, snapping his fingers and missing. “Yeah!”
“It’s your lucky day Harrington, I’ve got two joints left,” Eddie said, tossing one into his hands.
It took him a minute, but Steve handed him a few crumpled bills from the front pocket of his denim overalls. Eddie tried really hard not to contemplate his life.
“Steve Harrington!” A new, distinctly annoyed, voice cried out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I turn around to dance for two seconds and you disappear.”
Eddie watched, a little awed, as you stomped over to them. Without hesitation, a pink heeled foot kicked Steve’s leg. “Get up you moping loser, you promised me dancing,” you said.
“I’m sad,” Steve whined, moving to stand regardless. Even Eddie rolled his eyes at that one. He should’ve known – Harrington seemed super glued to your side this year. Where you went, he usually followed.
“Go be sad on the dance floor!” You urged, hopping in one place, the pink dress around you moving fluidly with you.
Eddie tried his best not to let his eyes settle onto your chest but, he was only a mere mortal, and the more you bounced – the more your assets bounced with you.
A third voice joined the fray and Eddie ducked. You glanced at him, as if surprised he was there, and blinked. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, “Natasha’s not a narc.”
“Damn right I’m not,” the girl dressed like a skeleton said. She wrapped Steve’s arm around her shoulders and winced at his breath. “Jesus Harrington, can’t you hold your liquor?”
“Can you get him something to drink?” You asked her, your face wrinkling in worry. “He needs to sober up a little before we go home.”
“At this rate, Amelia’s the only one who hasn’t touched the stuff,” Natasha snorted, dragging Steve out from under the bleachers.
You turned to him and squinted. Eddie grinned, excited to have your attention. With a flourish, he bowed. “Pleasure to see you tonight, if you’re looking for some weed – you’re in luck. I’ve got one left,” he said.
“What are you dressed as?” You asked, completely ignoring his question. Eddie quirked his brow and realized that your eyes were also a little glazed over.
“As a demon cult leader, what do you think? Did I do okay?” Eddie turned in a circle, putting on his show. He turned back to you, expecting you to look annoyed or put off – like everyone in the popular crowd did when faced with himself. Eddie felt his whole-body freeze when he caught your heated stare. You dragged your gaze up his body and Eddie swore he felt it like a physical touch.
Well, that was new.
“I’d say you look good, but you usually do,” you said, stepping towards him. Eddie, instinctively, took a step back. Scared and turned on were a very weird, although not unheard of, combination for him.
“Back at you princess,” he said, trying not to sound breathless. What the fuck?
At that, you quirked your head. “Princess?”
Eddie smirked, letting his obvious gaze trail down your body. You were clearly dressed as Princess Peach, your yellow wig pulled back into a messy ponytail, although…
“From my recollection, Princess Peach never wore a dress that short,” he said, eyeing your legs. He braced himself for a scathing reply but found you laughing instead. What the hell was it about this holiday that made people go insane?
“Princess Peach never had to attend a dance in an old smelly gym,” you said matter-of-factly. “Short as it is, it still feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here.”
“It’s the testosterone and steroids from the basketball team,” Eddie quipped, raising his brow. “No offense to your boyfriend.”
“Steve Harrington is not my boyfriend,” you said, laughing like that was the funniest joke you’d ever heard. “He’s literally crying over his break up.”
“Weirder things have happened,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I’m pretty sure-”
“So, this might be the tequila,” you interrupted him, loudly, “but I really want to kiss you.”
Eddie would’ve been less surprised if you’d taken out a baseball bat and smacked him with it.
“Uh, how much tequila?” Eddie asked.
You shrugged, stepping closer to him, “enough to make me feel good, not enough to not know what I’m doing.”
“You know,” he said, pensive, “that is really good enough for me.”
“Great!” You said, throwing yourself at him.
Eddie winced as your foot collided with his ankle but quickly forgot about the pain when your lips pressed against his. He dropped his hands to your waist, the rough fabric bunching around his grip.
You tasted like tequila, fruit punch, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. You were soft, so fucking soft, and pliant. Hands frantic, you fisted his collar as if assuring yourself he wasn’t going anywhere. Fucking zombies couldn’t pry him away with their cold dead hands.
Eddie felt you lean back for air, your eyes had a glint in them that he couldn’t describe and soon after, you’d pulled his head back by his hair. With his neck exposed, you latched on and Eddie desperately tried to remember that you’d both get in a lot of trouble if you were caught from the noises that were trying to claw out of him. Satisfied with the bruise you’d left, you beamed up at him and Eddie couldn’t help the fond smile he shot you back.
“Didn’t take you for a biter,” he said, thumb coming to swipe across your lower lip.
“I’m not usually, you’re just enjoyable,” you said nonchalantly and unaffected, like you weren’t just shaking up his entire world. Unable to help himself, he nipped at the crook of your neck and was rewarded with the most delicious sounding moan. He wanted to carve that noise into his memory.
You immediately pushed him back, eyes hooded, and lips swollen. The red bite he’d placed on your neck felt like a neon sign and he couldn’t help but feel turned on by it. Holy shit, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
Then, with a quick motion, you dropped to the floor. Eddie jerked forward, worried you’d tripped or something when he realized you were kneeling. He straightened and shot you a confused look.
“Come on,” you urged, placing a warm hand on his calf.
Come on what? He thought, still wildly confused. He watched your lips part and you looked up at him through your lashes. Eddie shifted, his dick trying to get in on the action as well. He froze. No…you couldn’t… Eddie dropped his gaze to you and you shifted your weight onto your heels, hands reaching for his belt.
“Don’t you want me to?” You asked, smiling sweetly up at him. Holy fucking shit, Eddie thought. Maybe he was hallucinating? There’s no way you – you of all people – were on your knees during a Halloween dance, under the bleachers, with him, dressed like goddamn wet dream, and offering him a blow job. He nodded absently, still dazed and trying to process this moment, and you beamed.
Your impatient hands fumbled with his studded belt and Eddie reached out to help you. He stepped back, needing the space to unbuckle his pants, and watched as you fell forward.
“Shit, are you okay?” Eddie asked, looking for what you tripped over.
“I may be drunker than I realized,” you said, giggling. Eddie felt his blood freeze. Fuck. Slowly, he untangled your hands from his waistband and lowered himself to the floor next to you. “Why’d you stop?”
Eddie sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’m pretty sure, given your squeaky-clean reputation, you’re not the type to lightly offer up what you just did,” he bumped your nose with his and felt his stupid, idiotic, heart flip at the sight of your wide smile. “Definitely not sober at least.”
“I’ve only had one boyfriend before,” you whispered, falling over onto your butt. You blinked, as if shocked, and brought your gaze back to him. “We did stuff, I’m not some stumbling virgin.”
“I’m sure you’re an absolute minx,” Eddie said, biting back laughter at your serious nod.
“He said I was good,” you frowned, looking pensive. “Although, he was also a virgin when we met so maybe I wasn’t?”
Nothing like tequila to bring around an existential crisis and brutal honesty. He was sure this wasn’t something you’d be telling him if you were sober. Still, Eddie couldn’t handle your sad little frown. He placed a hand on your bare knee, flinching at how hot your skin was. Although he was the one who’d touched you, it felt like you had branded him.
In fact, he was pretty sure he’d be unable to forget about this interaction for a while. Now that you’d caught his attention, you weren’t likely to go anywhere. “I’m pretty sure you rocked his world and have no doubt you could rock mine too. Especially considering that that’s how you kiss when you’re drunk. Not sure if I can handle a sober one.”
You grinned, lighting up the entirety of this dirty dark corner – even a little piece of him. Fuck, how had he never noticed how pretty you were? He thought back on all the times he’d seen you around the school.  
“Come on, let’s get you back to your friends,” Eddie said, lifting you up. You laughed, your breath fanning over the darkening hickey on his neck.
He knew you floated from group to group, notorious for having friends in every clique, club, and class. Shit, even Billy Hargrove seemed to have an eye on you – not that you’d accepted any of his advances. Jeff had almost peed himself laughing when you’d kneed him in the balls for trying to cage you in by your locker before homeroom.
Anyone with eyes knew how hot you were, Gareth had even mentioned it a few times – especially in Physics, the only class you shared with them. You seemed to always have a sarcastic quip or friendly jab at the ready. Good grades, popular, sarcastic, and ready to throw a punch was exactly what he liked about you and exactly what put you so far out his league it was painful.
He emerged from the bleachers with a glance around the gym and tried to find your friends from earlier. One of your fingers trailed down his abdomen, your lips pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck, and he groaned. Out of his league or not, you had been the one to come onto him. Because she’s drunk, Eddie’s stupidly moral mind reminded him. But what if she is interested? You obviously weren't wound as tight as Wheeler but was clearly not someone who offered without thought. Tequila did have a way of changing people though…
As he dropped you off next to a slumped Harrington, he caught the eye of the skeleton girl from earlier. She shot Eddie a thumbs up and started to make her way to the table.
“Hey,” he squatted down next to you.
“Hey handsome,” you said, giggling again.
Eddie really needed to get a fucking grip. He’d barely spared you much thought before tonight and in fifteen minutes you’d all but carved your name into his skin. What’s worse? He didn’t mind a bit. Shit, he really was a loser.
“I’m gonna go,” he said, “you gotta keep an eye on Harrington, okay? Your friend is on her way over to make sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t want to dance with me?” You asked, wide, beautiful eyes stabbing at his conscience.
“You’re a little too drunk for that right now, okay?” Eddie tugged a lock of your synthetic hair. “I’ll save you a dance at the next party.”
You nodded, trusting him entirely, and wobbled in your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You squinted.
Eddie huffed a laugh. “Tomorrow is Saturday princess. I’ll see you Monday,” he added quickly when you frowned sadly.
“Don’t forget about me,” you stumbled, hand still clenched around his, “promise?”
“Sweetheart, I’m absolutely positive that this night is branded into my memory for life,” he said, standing and pressing a kiss to your temple. Last one.
“Bye cult leader,” you whispered, laughing at your own joke. Skeleton girl dropped into the seat between them and exhaled.
“Thanks Munson, I owe you one,” she said.
Eddie waved away her gratitude and took one last look at his Princess Peach.
“See ya,” he said, forcing himself to walk away. He’d barely made it to the doors when Jeff all but jumped him.
“Dude, what the hell were you doing with Henderson?” Jeff asked.
Henderson? Aw shit, that was Dustin’s older sister. Eddie groaned; he’d completely forgotten. In his defense, most of his blood was firmly south of the border.  
Jeff blinked at him, waiting for an answer and Eddie…hesitated. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep tonight to himself. “Harrington was buying and Henderson followed. They’re drunk and I was just helping her back to her table.”
“Which is why you kissed her?”
“What?” Eddie froze.
Jeff eyed him. “I saw you; you kissed her forehead. I’m amazed she didn’t threaten to cut off your dick. Henderson’s cool but I wouldn’t fuck with her.”
Eddie exhaled, relieved. “Right. Uh, I don’t know. You know me man, I’m crazy.”
“Shit, I didn’t think you were that crazy,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “Respect man.”
“I’ll see you Monday,” Eddie said, “I’m out of here.”
“Later dude!”
Eddie took one last look at your table, where you were being force fed some food before disappearing out the doors. He brought his fingers up to his neck like he could still feel the ghost of your lips as you nipped him. Eddie hopped into his car and finally relaxed into his seat.
What a fucking night.
>> Firsts: Panic Attack, Part 2
A/N: guys, I also am very aware that I messed up the timeline for S3, S4 and when Don't You (Forget About Me) happens so we're just gonna smile and wave like that little mistake isn't there lol in my defense, I didn't think I was going to build a whole series around that one shot! muaha, I fixed it!
931 notes · View notes
tired-teddybear · 2 years
Text
more of punk!steve bc i adore him
steve first runs into the Party at the arcade (where he works part time because he wants to make his own money as a ‘fuck you’ to his parents and cuz it’s a chill job) and he becomes their favorite worker and they become his favorite customers. one day steve takes a smoke break in the parking lot and sees some kids bullying the Party and his older brother instincts kick in.
he walks up behind the party like “well well what do we have here?” and the Party is like “steve!! :D” and steve in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and combat boots glares down the bullies and they scamper off. from then on steve tells the kids to go to him if someone is bothering them and it becomes town-wide knowledge not to mess with byers wheeler henderson & sinclair. he basically becomes their personal Scary Dog.
the parents end up wanting to meet this young man who kept bullies away from their kids (and they’ve heard all sorts of rumors about him and he dresses like That so they’re suspicious) and steve’s like “yeah sounds great!” and immediately charms all of them because he’s a sweetheart and does genuinely care about and want to protect their kids. from then on he’s the go-to babysitter / ride to school / campaign host. steve pretends to be annoyed but he loves it and treats them all like they’re his younger siblings (especially lucas and dustin)
joyce and steve bond especially and they have coffee dates every sunday and just talk (joyce tries to get steve to come to her when he needs help or just someone to listen). at first everyone who sees them is super confused because what is paranoid mother Joyce Byers doing with the high school bad boy Steve Harrington?? but after a couple months it just becomes commonplace and people will even stop by to say hi
i also think jonathan and steve would end up being best friends in like freshman year and steve would get jancy together in s1 (steve and nancy don’t date). he’s never a third wheel though they have a great “this is my boyfriend and our best friend steve” type relationship. (plus jonathan never takes the creepy pics and the whole fight never happens so they’re all chill).
steve and robin are fellow outcasts so they’re chill. then steve beats up some guys who harassed her and they become actual friends and steve lets robin come over whenever her parents are being shitty. steve lowkey converts her into a punk and they basically do illegal shit and have a bunch of fun.
btw steve is a fully realized biromantic demisexual (or just queer whatv lol) and he has an extremely accurate gaydar which is partially why stobin become friends. anyways i’m mentioning this becauseee
steve meets will byers and Immediately Knows and pretty much comes out to him and tells him it’s okay and he becomes wills Gay Mentor (imo jonathan can either be straight or queer and just not really informed abt gay shit so steve would be the mentor in his place bc they’re basically brothers anyway (joyce absolutely tries to adopt steve multiple times)).
steve meets max at the arcade before any of the Party befriend her and she immediately becomes another of his favorite customers (the ranking is dustin, will & lucas & max, mike). she thinks he’s super cool and basically projects onto him as an older brother figure and he’s happy to play the part. he notices the way billy treats max and threatens him that if he ever treats her like that again he will kill him and hopper will help him hide the body. things are pretty peaceful for max after that. additionally neil hargrove gets arrested for domestic and child abuse and billy takes his car and leaves without a word. max’s mom still drinks so steve kinda unofficially adopts her, she has her own room in his house and ends up staying there most days. he ends up actually adopting her later but they’re still more of an older brother & younger sister dynamic than father & daughter
steve doesn’t interact with eddie until s4 but they know of each other and are on neutral terms until the byers move to cali and eddie starts DMing for dustin lucas mike erica and max (who steve managed to convince to play). they’re wary of each other at first but eddie realizes steve is actually a huge softie and steve realizes eddie is just a cute dork who reads LOTR and plays D&D.
steve isn’t on any sports teams or anything but he works out on his own, goes for jogs every morning with jonathan and nancy especially after the demogorgon and demodog shit. basically he’s fit and good at fighting (due to more experience with it) and nancy taught him how to shoot so he can do that too. most of his scars are from demo-creatures instead of fistfights, though he has a few of those too (not from jonathan or billy tho).
615 notes · View notes
letomills · 10 months
Photo
Tumblr media
Download showerproof skins: SFS / Mega Download Dummy Thicc TF clothing: SFS / Mega
Dummy Thicc is a body shape created by @digisims2, learn all about it here.
This is a follow-up on the Dummy Thicc AF-EF clothing set I posted here. Explanations and previews under the cut.
This post gives you 2 independant downloads:
I. Five custom skins correlated to the Dummy Thicc body shape (S1-S4 + alien)
Tumblr media
These skins will pick up your skin defaults (or the Maxis skins if you don’t use defaults). Let me repeat that they are custom skins - they will not replace your skin defaults, they will only have the same textures as your defaults. They are also not geneticized or townified. If you’d like to genetify and townify them, check out Rikkulidea’s tutorial. Skins that are correlated to custom body shapes are also called “showerproof”, meaning that the body shapes they are linked to only shows up when the sims are nude (taking a bath, streaking, doing ACR stuff, etc.). They have no effect whatsoever on clothing, because clothes use their own meshes. To show up at all on a nude sim, these skins require top and bottom meshes, which are included. I took the liberty to include the AF-EF meshes @digisims2 shared here, and added the bottom mesh with block feet. I also converted the shape for TF and supplied TF top and bottom meshes. You will have to choose between block feet and sexy feet, and between Maxis hands and smooth hands. Digi’s mesh files have been renamed so that everything is as clear as possible. The skins come in two versions: AF-EF and TF-AF-EF. If you want skins that give the Dummy Thicc body shape to AF-EF only, only keep the “AF-EF” folder. If you want TF to get the Dummy Thicc shape as well, only keep the “TF-AF-EF” folder. You can use these skins on any sim though: all other age groups and all M sims who have them will just have the standard Maxis shape.
Uncensored previews are included, though their value is limited since as I said, these skins will have different textures depending on the default skins you use. If something isn’t clear, feel free to ask.
~~~
II. Dummy Thicc TF clothing set 
You don’t need the skins for the clothes to work. Same as with my AF-EF set, everything has fat and preg morphs, polycounts are low to reasonable and all clothing categories are covered. All recolors are BSOK’d.
1. Sweater Jeans Outfit
Tumblr media
Mashup of @yuichen’s Drinking Mercury sweater (+ Mazsims recolors), Kayleigh’s Bustelo jeans (with Mork’s textures) and the sneakers from this. Categorized as everyday. Polycount: 2,134.
~
2. T-shirt Shorts Low Sneakers
Tumblr media
Top textures are by @serabiet, shorts are by Aweeshie, and shoes are by Yuxi with textures by @deedee-sims. Categorized as everyday. Polycount: 2030.
~
3. Floral Dress Wedges
Tumblr media
Tops and skirt textures by @gobbluthbutagirl, original skirt mesh by Sentate, shoes by Trapping. Categorized as everyday and formal. Polycount: 2130.
Find the Maxis-size TF version here.
~
4. Puffy-sleeved minidress
Tumblr media
Original dress mesh by Maxis, dress textures by Nymphy (I got them from @mrs-mquve-cc‘s blog here) shoes by Amaryll. Categorized as everyday and formal. Polycount: 2,056.
~
5. Long Scarf Is Long Slouchy Boots
Tumblr media
The original Long Scarf is Long is a 3t2 conversion by @rented-space but I used Eir’s shoeswap from here. Textures by Eir, @rented-space and @mrs-mquve-cc (from here). Categorized as everyday and outerwear. Polycount: 5,090.
~
6. Athletic Mashup
Tumblr media
Mashup of yftophipsweats and @platinumaspiration’s Clumsyalien Riona Pants.  Pants colors are my recolors of Platasp’s textures, tops are based on the Maxis textures and some of these jooxis recolors, except the white one which was taken from this billielith set. Categorized as everyday and athletic. Polycount: 4,222.
Find the Maxis-size TF version here.
~
7. Leotards
Tumblr media
Original mesh by Maxis, recolors by Maxis, Parsimonious Kate and Emosims. You’ll have to choose if you want them standalone or repo’d to Dummy Thicc AF-EF. Categorized as athletic. Polycount: 2,152.
~
8. Swimwear Sporty
Tumblr media
Original mesh by Maxis, one-piece recolors by Anna (for the blue) and me, two-piece recolors by @persimmonthusiast​ / Monsieur Oshima. You’ll have to choose if you want block feet or sexy feet. You’ll also have to choose if you want the one-piece recolors standalone or repo’d to Dummy Thicc AF-EF. The two-piece recolors are standalone only. Categorized as swimwear. Polycount: blockfeet: 2,024 // sexyfeet: 6,602.
~
9. Underwear
Tumblr media
Textures by MzzUnvrz, Rosaline_10 (Cute and Valentines), @autumnparanoia​ / FadeToBlack (VFormation) and @artemida-sims (here). Choose if you want block feet or sexy feet. Categorized as underwear. Polycount: blockfeet: 1,948 // sexyfeet: 6,526.
~
10. MissTiikeri Cinnamon Spider Nightie
Tumblr media
Original dress mesh by Sentate, dress textures by @misstiikeri, leggings textures from here. Choose if you want block feet or sexy feet. Categorized as sleepwear. Polycount: blockfeet: 1,912 // sexyfeet: 6,490.
Find the Maxis-size TF version here. 
~
11. Parka Jeans Outerwear
Tumblr media
Original coat and boots by Maxis (I removed the gloves and lowered the saturation on the pink and blue), jeans by @pixeldolly. Categorized as outerwear. Polycount: 2,442.
118 notes · View notes
balkanikabg · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Banana Bread Pancakes
REQUIRES Keto Cookbook!
Banana Bread Pancakes
-It has 3 sizes (8 servings, 4 servings, and single serving)
-Requres level 3 cooking
-Boost Health Nut lifestyle, has low calories
-Vegetarian-Safe
-Optional ingredients
-Can be found under Breakfast Category
DOWNLOAD (Early Access)
Public Access: 4th of December, 2023 on Curseforge
@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld
231 notes · View notes
mirais-things · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
REQUIRES THE LATEST VERSION OF MY FOOD ENABLER
Required L.1 of cooking skill
Optional ingredients - ANY Mushroom, ANY veggie
3 sizes - 8, 4, or 1 serving
Tumblr media
DOWNLOAD (Early Access)
Public Release on 14th of December, 2023 on Curseforge
@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld
44 notes · View notes
piedpiperworld · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
PATREON SCHEDULE
70 notes · View notes
ridiasfangirlings · 5 months
Note
Another s4 chicken ask: Yata and Fushimi had planned a date in advance before the chicken incident and can't really cancel so Yata is now on a date with chicken Fushimi (in public!). Chicken Awashima is also at the bar to spend time with Kusanagi and the rest of Homra aren't allowed to comment on it lol. Munakata has some job he needed to do and brings along some of s4 chickens with him as well. (I'm sorry for these ask but I just really like the thought of intelligent chickens with jobs)
Everything is normal, no problems, there’s just some chickens around but that’s no big deal XD Continuing chicken AU, imagine Yata has been roped into helping with the chickens, or at least making sure Fushimi chicken stays fed (and also getting to be the target for Fushimi’s constant irritated pecking). As it happens the two of them had a date scheduled that night and as Yata is feeding Fushimi his special high quality chicken feed Yata laughs about how I guess we can’t go on that now. Fushimi gives him a pointed look and pecks his ankle, Yata’s like hey what was that for. Yata’s like you couldn’t want to go on the date right and Fushimi pecks him again, ruffling his feathers. Poor Yata is just like ‘…no seriously we can’t go on a date when you’re like this.’ Fushimi stares at him and Yata gets this sinking feeling that if he cancels he will be paying for it when Fushimi goes back to normal so finally he’s like all right all right I’ll take you on a date. 
Cue poor embarrassed Yata having to walk in public with his chicken date. Imagine he was actually planning a pretty good date, like this is right around their anniversary or something so Yata thought they’d have dinner and see a movie. Yata now has to talk his way into getting the restaurant to let him bring a live chicken in (Fushimi struts forward and pulls out his S4 badge, the waiter is very confused but okay this is an official chicken I guess it’s fine). Yata is initially all embarrassed by the people staring at him as he sits across the table from a chicken but soon he forgets about it because he’s to busy arguing with Fushimi, like Fushimi selects a meal by pointing with his beak and Yata’s all no you are not getting a steak you need food that’s healthy for chickens. Other diners whisper amongst themselves about the crazy man arguing with a chicken. 
Meanwhile Kusanagi is working at Bar Homra like normal when the bell above the door rings. He turns to greet a customer but doesn’t see anyone, there’s a cluck and he looks down to see Awashima chicken walking over to him. Kusanagi has no idea how she got here, like did she walk all this way or did one of the human S4 members drive her. Awashima hops up on the bar and Kusanagi has to physically restrain himself from pushing her off, like that’s his natural reaction to a chicken on his bar and he has to stop himself. Awashima touches a glass with her beak and clucks, Kusanagi laughs all I suppose you want a drink madam. Awashima clucks an affirmative and Kusanagi is just mentally like that was a joke as he sighs and starts to make an anko martini. Some time later the Homra alphabet show up to see Kusanagi standing behind the bar looking distressed as a chicken primly drinks a martini in front of him. Kusanagi glares at everyone over her head and they all decide it’s better not ask.
Elsewhere Munakata could just replace his usual group of retainers with random nameless S4 bishounen but he sees no reason why his men can’t do their jobs even in this condition so everywhere he goes he is now followed by a flock of chickens. Like imagine even when he normally visits other politicians he usually has one or two alphabet boys accompanying him, now nothing has changed except he is flanked by a pair of chickens. No one can quite bring themselves to ask why, imagine him like showing up at the Prime Minister’s office with chickens in tow and asking them to wait outside as he goes inside, the Prime Minister just staring as the chickens take up attentive positions on either side of the door. Later he has some budget meeting and brings along a gloomy chicken who he keeps handing off paperwork to and asking opinions about the calculations. The rest of the politicians wonder if Munakata-kun has finally gone around the bend, until the gloomy chicken actually finds an error in the budget calculations and types out the correct answer on a PDA using only his beak. And of course at some point the Blue King must face down a dangerous Strain, power in full bloom as his loyal clan of chickens surround him, each holding up one wing like a sword, and the Strain thinks maybe he should just give up now because he is clearly hallucinating.
14 notes · View notes
chocodollxren · 2 years
Note
Can i request Vil reacting to the MC forgetting his name? And generally being very much neutral to him? Like, "oh? You're a famous actor? Good for you" and then keeps on scrolling on their phone.
whenever i see vil hearts form in my eyes <3 it would be fun to write this for him! because that’s my 100% reaction to actual celebrities, they are famous but like why or whomst are they? was watching the circle s4 before my netflix expires and they introduced… two women i have never heard of. and then they were like, we were top of the charts and i was still like,, ummm who ?? lmfao. this ended up being much longer than it needed to be. thank you for the order, please enjoy your gyokuro tea! <3 @dexpairs-blog
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𓄹 ❥ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺…?❦ 𝘝𝘪𝘭 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘵 ,,
-> teahouse ,, menu ! order up ” guestlist ! ꒱·˚ ,, #O5.O9.22🍵 ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵
summary: you simply wanted a drink, but ended up catching the attention of famous actor Vil Shoenheit. in utter disbelief that you called him a “basic stereotypical actor” he finds a bit of pettiness in him wanting you to admit he was the prettiest man you had ever seen. no tws, gn!reader with >:O vil.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
❁ཻུ۪۪ ━ ❝ VIL SHOENHEIT. ❞
it was a sunny afternoon when you visited the Monstro Lounge, hoping to get a drink and a tasty cool snack. it was a little before opening, but surely Azul wouldn’t mind, you thought. unfortunately, you came at a bit of a wrong time as he was dealing with a frequent client, who came to pick up some beauty product or something from him. “Azul!” You called out to the silvery-haired male, running up to him as soon as you saw him finish talking. the other male rolled his eyes at your manners and begun to leave nearly at the exit, before something caught his attention. while asking Azul what he was doing, he heard you say something he absolutely could not believe.
“Who’s Bill Shoen-adadada.” you asked, genuinely confused that there was a famous actor at the school. surely, you were joking, were you not? everyone in this school knew him, whether they respected him or not they at least knew his name. He couldn’t help but stand at the door as Azul explained how he got the Lounge more business by promoting them on his social media, where he has over a million followers. you on the other hand, were still absolutely confused on who he was.
“Oh cool, anyways.” you interrupted Azul, no longer interested in what he was saying as you begun to do your dailies on your phone, you were thirsty, bored, and there was no ac in ramshackle. Vil on the other hand took full offense to this. he has had people tell him that his acting is bad or that he’s a weak pretty boy by haters, but you just didn’t react. you didn’t even care enough to listen or remember his name. huffing to himself, he left back for his dorm with slight agitation, thinking about you would cause him a headache he didn’t need.
the next day, you found Epel in the halls and begun chatting with him about what he’d be doing in Crewel’s class later, only for Vil to appear. he was about to chastise him for his manner of speech before he spotted you, and even narrowed his eyes at you. unable to ignore him after Epel introduced him as his dorm head, you politely say hello before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah, you’re Azul’s customer, Bill.” the way you said it with genuinely sincerity made Epel nearly burst out in laughter.
although he was genuinely shocked and insulted, Vil only let it show for a split second before correcting you. “Vil Schoenheit, the actor.” he corrected, a little passive aggressive. although he told you his profession, you paid very little mind and even said cool, before turning to Epel and discussing the assignment again and telling him what you knew.
normally he was the center attention, but next to you he was evidently the third wheel. there were rumors that the Ramshackle prefect came from another world… are movies not popular where you came from? but then why are you not even reacting to his beauty? maybe you failed to recognize it yesterday, but he’s right next to you in his new makeup.
turning to him after you were done with Epel, you give a small wave and say goodbye. leaving the two behind, you run into Cater who saw you talking with Vil, giving the typical reaction. how did you know him? why were you talking about him? only for you to shrug. “Actors are cool I guess. He just looks like a basic stereotypical one to me, though. Followers and beauty don’t matter.” you responded before walking away with an exasperated Cater tagging behind you.
did you just call him… a basic stereotypical actor? he was by far one of the best actors precisely because he was not basic. he found full offense to what you said again, and when Rook noticed him at the dorm frowning, he approached the man only to hear him rant about how he was called basic. “Oh you mean trickster?” he commented.
“Your beauty is evident, Roi du Poison. The trickster simply doesn’t understand. They even said Roi de Neige was moyen in appearance!” he dramatically said, a hand over his heart. although he was talking about how sad it was, Vil almost instantly felt better. you didn’t think Neige was good-looking or talented, either then. you were just someone with zero sense of awareness that a man as beautiful as himself existed around you.
as fate would have it, the next time he went to pick up his order from Azul, he saw you there sitting with the twins eating as Floyd tried to crush your bones with a hug. he couldn’t help but wonder, do you just not care about him, or others in general? maybe he was a little petty, but he had loudly announced how well his skin was, and you didn’t even bat an eye.
this continued for awhile, he felt this burning pettiness within him he simply could not explain no matter how badly he wanted to ignore you. maybe it was because epel and rook were constantly around you and you noticed them, but not him. soon he finally realized you just genuinely did not care he was pretty, were an actor, nor that he was the dorm leader of pomefiore. the only thing you cared about was surviving whatever Crowley threw at you, and the faces of people who gave you free stuff.
he had given up trying to get you to call him the most beautiful actor, after a few weeks. sitting beside you as you played away on your phone, he was slightly annoyed. your characters in a game are memorable, but not him? the Vil Shoenheit? at least he got you to remember his first name, that was a massive improvement from you calling him Bill, Cil, and at one point just blankly staring at him after failing to recall his name.
all of a sudden, you turn your head to the side, staring intently at him before going back to your phone again, and then his face. have you finally realized just how beautiful he was? “i need to invite new players for an event, can you download this real quick?” you asked bluntly before showing him the app on your phone expectantly. he had been following you for awhile without you even inviting him, you figured you would put him to good use.
he was greatly surprised and nearly scoffed in your face. did you really think he had time to play games? and just what’s with you staring so intensely? “hmm, you actually are pretty from this angle. you look like…” and he couldn’t hear anything else you said about comparing him to a game character. of course he was pretty, even you, the tasteless prefect knew it!
at the end of the day, you had no clue why he was so smug or why he walked you back to class, but you did know one thing. he was as strict as he was pretty, and pretty mean. you ended up having to ask Epel and Rook to join the event under your code to get your limited bonus.
Tumblr media
✎ ˎˊ- "chocodollxren" [choco - doll - rhen] ˖˚˳⊹ 'ּ໋݊◵ dn repost. likes/comments/reblogs appreciated; not required. so long as you enjoyed the content.
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! ive been trying to work on an event for my blog and in the meantime. im not someone huge on numbers, but considering my blog is turning a month old tomorrow and im almost at a milestone, it’s a little nice to know that many people read my works (this is not me being ungrateful im genuinely unsure how to word this, thank you!). in return, i’d really like to start the event soon! ((: im unsure though, what people would like. would people like something with much more details and one character headcanons, a much longer story prompt, or matchups. i used to do matchups for an older fandom, so those were plenty of fun! though i’d rather pick something people following me are interested in. you don’t actually need to follow me to send me an anon or ask/order of what you prefer, since actually i likely will not check. like i said, you’re free to follow and like whatever, do not feel forced to! or maybe shove the above event concepts all together? whatever that means. finishing my requests are my current priority, then the event. would it be better if you guys knew the theme for prompts?
163 notes · View notes
Text
Index - Billy Hargrove
Tumblr media
Fic Series
Lost Boy (post-S3 AU, angst, horror, found family, eventual Billy x El) - in progress
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
It's been over two months since the Battle of Starcourt. Billy Hargrove survived, but he's not sure he should have. Scarred in body and mind, he has no idea who he is anymore. He spends his days drinking and fighting until Neil, incensed by his son's behavior, throws him out of the house.
Hopper and El come to the rescue, taking Billy home to live with them. Their compassion is unnerving... and exactly what he needed. However, as he adjusts to his newfound "family," he realizes something isn't right. He still feels the Shadow's call, urging him to kill.
Little does he know the Shadow doesn't need him to obey. It has another piece on the board, waiting to strike.
Worship The Flame (post-S3 future AU, Billy x El angst, fluff, smut) - in progress
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
It's May 1989. After three years in California, Billy returns to Hawkins for Max's high school graduation. He thinks he'll find everything—and everyone—as he left them. Turns out time has moved on in Hawkins, too, and a certain "little girl" isn't so little anymore. Now that he's back, she's desperate to prove it to him.
Too bad he swore he'll never fall for her. And if he does, there's no way her police chief father won't find out.
Tumblr media
Oneshots
Enemy Of My Enemy (Eddie & Billy as awkward allies, pre-S3)
Billy Hargrove's been one of Eddie's best customers all year. Today though, when he shows up to the clearing with a black eye and stitches, Eddie knows this drug deal's gonna be different.
Fuck ‘Em (Eddie & Billy friendship, short S4 fix-it)
In the aftermath of the battle against Vecna, Eddie has an awkward heart to heart with Billy Hargrove.
She Knows (Billy & El one-sided friendship, short post-S3 AU)
Eleven tries to talk to Billy after the events of S3. It doesn't go well. Alternatively: Billy is scared to death of a teenage girl.
Have Mercy (Billy in Russia AU)
He’s been in Kamchatka for weeks now. The Russians, it seems, find him endlessly fascinating. They’ve dragged him to that small underground arena so many times he’s lost count, setting forth challenge after challenge. Bend this. Break that. It’s getting repetitive and, honestly, pretty boring.
All of that changes when they issue a new challenge—one that tests his humanity instead of his strength.
Amerikanyetz (Hopper finds Billy in Russia AU)
In a secret bunker in Kamchatka, Hopper finds another American prisoner. Someone who shouldn't be alive.
To My Younger Self (Billy & Hopper friendship, post-S3 AU, short letter fic)
From an AU where Billy survives Starcourt with major PTSD.
After an especially difficult week, Billy finds something on the dash of his car: a plain envelope with the words "To Billy, from Hopper" scrawled on the outside.
Tumblr media
My AO3
Tumblr media
My Art On Etsy
Tumblr media
strangerthings4theories (Billy-centric theory blog)
Tumblr media
Bileven Meta
Why I ship Billy x El
Billy and El are mirror images of each other
The phone booth: El hears Billy’s call for help
El is coded autistic
I’m not a perv for shipping Bileven. You’re just an asshole
The way this fandom dehumanizes El really gets to me sometimes
"What does your 'strawberry ice cream' tag mean?"
Bileven Extras
This gifset from The Boys perfectly captures the Bileven dynamic
“El would love Billy like a sister!”—I'm about to start making fun of y'all 🙄 (thread fic)
A years-long fight (thread fic)
Top ten Bileven songs
Bileven playlists
61 notes · View notes
seancamerons · 4 months
Text
i wanna make mbs for my fics lol like locations like i have this whole vision of how i think these places look like. ask me about any of these places i make up and have fun with what i have in mind. :)
lana's or known as lana's restaraunt a fancy pink designer boutique parisian provincial vibes and aesthetics, like it looks like a dupe versailles, with columns, statuettes and more. white gold pink as the main color palette the details are what is its major draw. the overall vibe is elegant and classic styles, it would totally have a beautiful logo of gold and baby pink with white accident - dainty looking with a lovely louise fili design aesthetic vibe designwise). the prices are high and is featured in backtrack.
another one is, the ravine itself. although its a canon location and has been featured through the years that could be fun. so scandalous and how good it feels to be bad, conveying that through imagery. i imagine the grounds by the firepits filled with charred logs. the van smelling like weed and gasoline in the summer heat, mosquitos and flies from open containers of food along with the skunky musks of the weed, the smell of cheap keystone light and other cheap beers for the underage who bribe some poor young adults into purchasing some alcohol for them, sometimes they're wanting to relive their glory days have an anon drinking party with guys with random girls, who knows. what a mess, it'd be a gritty vibe for sure. seedy and somewhat morally deviant, but also an entertaining party spot, very 2000s and 2010s flashbacks there.
its so intriguing though and an ambitious project the ravine is to incorporate in my writing. the ravine is featured a lot in faking it but mostly in together forever.
antonio's is another in-universe spot. where jimmy in season 1's coming of age briefly mentioned ordering some pizza for himself after his bday plans with ashley faded out.
it's where sean and emma get their double cheese pizza pies. i assume that's what it meant, they likely went there it's doubtful they didn't go to a chain. the vibe is strictly homemade, hometown mom-and-pop, also like a traditional parlor maybe even dated paneling like stained a chesnut with the checkerboard tables but still nice just retro. for instance another decor like those weird tiffany 80s looking chandeliers for lighting, like its giving pizza hut in the 1990s just family-owned.
i imagine jimmy was a frequent delivery or carryout customer. i could see young spin and jimmy pre-dot circa season 1 or 2, heading over to a pizza place after heading to novak's or the other drug and convenience stores passing the time on the main stretch of streets by school in town. i imagine the reason why the community school was named because the street they hang on is degrassi street, hence that is the idea i get.
wasaga beach, yet another location that i tend to love using in my writing. while in other teen dramas there were lots of locations in and out of town that were intriguing. in s4's back in black we finally see wasaga beach. I'm less sure if its real but i looked it up and it was once and it was sean's hometown. it comes up casually or not so casually in my fics that typically discuss sean or concern or center on sean or sean in relationships such as with ellie and emma, less may ut she conditionally comes up since he dated amy after emma and so on. okay, but i make it seem like an area close to me. hear me me out.
so in most of my fics he's either back recently from wasaga or back from the military after his stint in wasaga and or while he was staying there and leading up to his return, or lastly it's set before departure where wasaga is in the past and not considered, he wasn't ready to go back yet.
anyway, wildwood nj is my favorite place to be and it's reminiscent of a place that is DEAD outside of summer. it's a city by the beach there's a north wildwood and a south.
most people know about atlantic city with the casinos and beaches, an older boardwalk than all of them, and Ocean city course families frequent typically anyway because it's a dry town at Ocean City (not to be confused with ocean city, maryland but there's good and bad on both parts. oh and there's a famous boardwalk, both AC and Ocean City have famous boardwalks, but Wildwood is my favorite it's like 2 miles long and a lot of fun. Something for everybody. lots of funnel cakes on the pier, looking like the sometimes video by britney spears from 1999 but perpetually fun and whimsical, like a big carnival, my dream date.
in faking it it's pretty prominently featured and referenced.
2 notes · View notes
aemiron-main · 2 years
Note
hey! it’s @byler-barista-anon :)
if will and mike were in a coffee shop au, who would be the barista and who would be the customer? how long would it take for them to fall in love and get together?
have a wonderful day,
- barista anon 💙💛
OMG HELLO THERE AAAAA!! 💕💗💕💗
I think that Will would be the barista and Mike would be the customer!
I think that it would take a few years, honestly. I like the idea of Mike and Will meeting and Mike’s a regular customer for like a year & then disappears for awhile & then shows up again for a few months & then disappears for awhile, and each time he disappears, his style changes (like how we went from fair isle sweater Mike to hellfire Mike but if fair isle sweater Mike was older), and Will’s basically watching him evolve like a Pokémon LMAO. But anyway, I think that Mike is pretty standoffish, as he usually is, and tired and just wants to get his coffee and go. And as we’ve seen with the “SIR-SIR!” thing in s4 when Mike’s trying to order pizza, Mike can be a bit of a Karen. So I think that Mike is usually just quiet/even bordering on rude/snippy on days when he’s extra tired when it comes to the baristas. And the baristas know this. Will, unfortunately, is the new hire. Mike, unfortunately, is the regular who has a reputation of being grumpy and kind of difficult to deal with. So, on Will’s first day on the job, when his coworkers see Mike come in, they push Will to the front to deal with him. And will does. And Mike is grumpy, sure, but will is always nice to him, and while the two don’t really exchange words, and Mike is still grumpy, nothing eventful really happens.
So, I don’t really think Mike pays Will much mind until Will accidentally dumps Mike’s coffee all over Mike, and Mike goes to be a bit of a a Karen/snippy, right until he locks eyes with Will’s big sad baby cow eyes LMAO and while it’s not love at first sight, mike doesn’t have it in him to be a karen, especially since Will is frantically apologizing and handing Mike handfuls of napkins. But he IS still mike, and he IS still a snippy, grumpy guy. So, while he doesn’t pulls a Karen, he DOES roll his eyes and mutters something about “watch what you’re doing,” and will, who may be kind but is also snarky, fires back at mike with a “I could say the same to you. Usually, when somebody hands you something, you grab it!” And then there’s silence. The other baristas are staring, waiting for Mike to retort, or storm out. But mike just sort of looks take aback, and mutters what sounds like it could have maybe been the tail-end of a “sorry,” before he sulks out of the shop.
And from that moment on, will is saddled with the role of “mike handler” by the rest of the baristas, because for whatever reason (probably the sad baby cow eyes), Mike didn’t get upset about will spilling the drink, didn’t make his usual offended noise or eye-rolls that he does whenever the other baristas have spilled his drink previously.
And so, will always ends up dealing with Mike’s orders. And the two of them don’t say much to eachother, but there’s tiny, tiny things about mike demeanour that shift. He’s not quite as grumpy. His tone is a soft-tired, instead of a snippy-tired. He even comes up quietly to mention a mistake with his drink, instead of his usual dramatic eye-roll and hand gestures whenever they’ve made a mistake with his drink in the past. He even returns Will’s smile once, with a tiny, tight smile of his own.
And then Mike disappears for a few months. And Will doesn’t pay too much mind to it, but he does notice the absence. And then mike comes back.
Mike’s in his peak metalhead phase tm, with a leather jacket, and his hellfire shirt, and longer hair. He even starts wearing rings similar to Eddie’s, and Will sees them when he hands Mike his coffee & comments on them. And mike is sort of hesitant at first, almost worried that Will’s going to mock him. So there’s an awkward moment of silence before Will tries again with “They’re cool!”
And then, Mike smiles, a real, genuine smile, and launches into his Nerd Mode TM and explains that they’re dnd related/inspired by his dm, Eddie, and asks will if he knows what dnd is, and will ABSOLUTELY does, and so the two of them end up excitedly chatting about it until Will notices the growing line of customers behind Mike. And the two of them end up chatting about dnd each time Mike comes in, and Mike seems to be more easygoing now, less skittish and grumpy, genuinely happy. And he listens while Will tells him all about Will the Wise, and Will listens while Mike tells him all about hellfire.
And then one day, there’s the customer to end all customers. On the outside, he’s an average, middleaged man, perhaps a bit scruffy and angry-looking. He already seems to be in a rush and upset/frustrated. And Will, distracted by Mike, drops the man’s coffee, spilling it onto the man’s shirt. And the man absolutely loses it. He’s up in Will’s face, shouting at him, livid, going on about how Will’s ruined his shirt, and how it’s such a simple task, and yet somehow Will’s still fucked it up.
And for a moment, Mike’s a little bit excited, because he saw how this sort of thing played out between him and Will, and he expects Will to fire back with some sort of retrofit. But when he turns to look at Will, he can see that will looks sort of distant, as if he’s not really there. He looks scared, even. And that’s when mike’s attitude twists from excitement to concern.
Will, who grew up with Lonnie’s yelling, isn’t doing a great job of coping with the current situation. Usually he’d try and leave in some small way, diffuse the situation, duck down to grab some extra napkins or something, hide without really hiding, just for a brief moment. But instead, he’s frozen, standing there as the customer rants at him. And the man reaches over to grab Will by his shirt, since Will is still frozen, and the customer is increasingly angry that Will isn’t really reacting to any of his ranting.
And even AU Mike is still a Will protector, so he steps in, leaning across the counter to sort of out himself between Will and the man, like “is there a problem here?” And he’s in his metalhead phase and looks sort of scary/ grungy, and does his best to look intimidating even though he resembles the pack of disposable straws sitting behind Will. But despite his lanky stature, there’s something about his demeanour that makes the other man back down. But the other man is still mad, and points at will and goes “Maybe if he watched what he’s doing, there wouldn’t be a problem.” And Mike levels the man with a Look TM and hits him with the “I could say the same to you. Usually, when somebody hands you something, you grab it.” And then mike makes a Show TM of picking up his drink without dropping it, in a sarcastic “look how easy it is!!” way, and the other man just sort of stomps out without his drink.
And Mike turns to Will, and in the softest Will Voice TM, asks him if he’s alright. And there’s still coffee all over the counter, all over the dnd notes that Mike brought, and Will just sort of nods, still sort dazed, but Mike doesn’t believe it because will still looks like a deer in the headlights. So, he puts an arm around Will’s shoulders, similar to the arcade scene in s2, and steers him over to sit down, and ignores Will’s protests about needing to clean up the mess, because in Mike’s words “well, you’re the Mike handler, so you’re still in charge of me!“. And will is momentarily mortified that Mike knows about the “mike handler” titles/ jokes, but mike’s smiling at him so gently, that will can’t help but laugh and relax a little bit. And the two of them leave the mess for Will’s coworkers (rip) and spend the rest of the afternoon chatting about dnd, and Mike keeps shittalking the asshole customer and throwing dirty glances at the door as if he’s gonna stomp back in at any time. And eventually, the two have to part ways, but Mike gives Will a tiny little wave as he goes out the door, which Will returns with a tiny wave of his own.
And then Mike disappears again, for a few months (partially because he felt guilty because Will was distracted talking to Him when he dropped the drink on the angry customer). And then he comes back, looking more like end of s4 Mike except with a combo of hellfire Mike and fair isle sweater Mike aesthetics. And Will is happy to see Mike again, and almost wants to ask him where he went/why he keeps disappearing, but he can see that Mike looks nervous, so Will doesn’t want to pry and scare him away.
And then mike says something really quickly, mumbling and staring down at his hands. And Will doesn’t quite catch it, so he asks mike what he said. And mike nervously looks up at him and blurts
“Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtoplaydnd?”
And Will, thankfully, catches it this time, and looks a bit confused as to why Mike is so nervous, because they’d discussed Will joining hellfire before, and mike was sure that he could talk this Eddie guy into letting Will join, so it’s not like it’s a new idea. And so, will looks confused and asks like “Like hellfire, right?”
And Mike looks even more nervous now, looking away from Will, and the hand holding his coffee is shaking, so will, boldly, puts his hand on top of mike’s to stabilize it, lest there be yet another coffee spill. And mike looks like he wants to BOLT, like he wants to RUN, so Will boldly goes
“You’re not going to disappear on me again, are you?” And mike looks embarrassed and nervous again, and Will almost regrets saying anything, but before Will can apologize for prying, Mike sets down his coffee, and starts rifling through his bag. He pulls out a bunch of papers, which will recognizes as various dnd pages, filled with writing and crude little drawings. But the closer Will looks, he realizes that it’s not just some dnd pages: it’s a whole campaign. A whole campaign based on the tales of Will the Wise, of all the lore that Will had told him during their years of chatting. And before he can say anything, Mike sucks in a breath and puts his hand on top of Will’s. And he looks up at Will, soft and nervous, before speaking.
“I was thinking. We could start our own party. A new party, you and me.” And then mike glances over to where his hand is on top of his Will’s on and will just gets it, gets what mike’s implying. He gets why Mike disappeared, spending the time writing the campaign. And so, he looks at Mike, and that’s when Mike gets it too.
and the two of them go on to be dnd bfs!!!!!!
I also offer the idea of: established byler coffee shop au except will works at the coffee shop & Mike comes in every day and pretends that he doesn’t know Will and flirts with him and tries to get his number.
Mike: so. you come here often?
Will, wearing an apron and very obviously employed: mhm. I work here.
Mike: you remind me of coffee.
Will, slightly confused: oh?
Mike: hot.
And eventually, some of Will’s coworkers start to notice the flirting and are like “who IS that guy, he’s really heavy handed with the flirting but also kind of awkward??” and will just laughs it off. And then his coworkers see Mike pick will up from work one day and it all Clicks.
And I also offer: barista Mike and artist Will and Will comes into the coffee shop to work on art sometimes & Mike eventually starts putting Will’s art up all over the coffee shop because he loves it.
Thank you!!! I hope you have a wonderful day too! 💗
26 notes · View notes