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goldenbuckyyy · 1 year

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BAD THINGS

Summary: You’re the head cheerleader and you fuck Eddie Munson in a bathroom at a Halloween party.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1kish

Warnings: SMUT(!!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, raw sex, cream pie, shameless smut between two 18 year olds (seniors in HS), set in the s4 universe. Anything else? Let me know!!

A/N: Just because I wanted to write a Halloween fic for the spooky season! 🫶🏻🎃Song inspo: “Bad Things” by Jace Everett.

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Masterlist

Your head hits the glass mirror behind you hard as you grip onto the head in between your thighs, a loud moan crawling out of your throat, and you feel him move away from your core.

You look down, panting, mouth parted, and feeling high. “Why’d you stop?” You question with a pout. Your body feels hot and euphoric. You don’t want this to end, but you know it’s barely beginning.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Princess.” He says with a smirk as he proceeds to bite and suck on your right thigh. Leaving bright red marks as he makes his way into your inner thigh, fingers dancing along the fullest part of your hip.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you stumble out as you let out a gasp when his tongue licks your folds as his baby chocolate brown eyes, rimmed with smugged eyeliner, lock with yours. He’s teasing you, slowly, and he smirks again up at you.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I know what this is,” he states as he slips another finger into you which causes you to buckle your hips up at him, your hands gripping onto the pale yellow countertops now.

“Good,” you declare as you close your eyes to allow yourself to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel right now.

His head slips back to your core and his mouth latches onto your wet area. His fingers slipping in and out of you so easily from how drenched you are. His lips wrapping over your clit so sensitively and passionately. He sucks your clit in between his lips, which causes your legs to convulse around him from the electricity that rushes through you, and his free hand clenches your thigh to hold you down.

“Oh my god,” you cry out over the loud music outside the bathroom door. You truthfully can’t believe you’re doing this right now.

With Eddie fucking Munson.

But fuck, you’d be lying if you said you never thought about what he’d look like in between your thighs or about how you imagined what his curls would feel like in between your fingers.

And now you know exactly how it feels.

“Holy shit,” you sputter out as you feel your lower belly starting to build up with your impending pleasure. You look down to watch his head bobble in between your thighs, your red dress bundled up on your hips, breasts exposed with your nipples hard against the cold air, and you watch him as you feel your orgasm nearing.

Moans fall out from your lips, your hands moving to intertwine into his curls, tugging gently, reveling in pride when he moans against your core, and your hips start moving against his mouth.

His fingers speed up in you, which makes your thighs clench harder around him, trying to catch your orgasm, and once it does… you let out the loudest moan of the night. Head tilting back, ears ringing, hitting the mirror loudly, fingers pulling his hair, and your entire body is shaking with pleasure.

Your orgasm overtakes your body and he can only admire you as he sucks on your clit, still moving his fingers in and out of your tight pussy.

Once you come down from your orgasm and your vision isn't blurry anymore, you fall limp against the mirror. Your loud panting fills the room as Eddie pulls away from your core, fingers slipping out of you, and he keeps eye contact with you as he sucks them dry.

He licks them casually as if this isn’t the first time he’s done this with you and it drives you mad.

You bite your lip at the sight, smiling slightly, and rest your hands against your chest. You reach over to him to thumb over the witness you left on his chin and suck your thumb into your mouth with a moan.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

He’s smirking at you, full of pride at how hard he made you cum, and his eyes take in your naked body in front of him.

“Like what you see?” You tease as you spread your legs wide open, feeling the cold chill run over you, and you tap your fingernails on the counter top when he gets distracted by your actions.

He looks away from your core, palming himself over his jeans, and meets your eyes once more.

“Fuck yeah. The head cheerleader spread wide open in front of me? Only for me? Fuck yeah, I do.”

Honestly, Eddie doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful. He’s been with other girls, of course he has, he isn’t some innocent virgin. But fuck him if he says he doesn’t feel like one right now.

He watches your pretty legs spread wide open, your fishnet thighs ripped open around your core from when he ripped them apart earlier, small tiny red bites spread over your soft thighs from his mouth, your exposed breasts in all your glory, your perky nipples hard, and the silk dress he had hastily pilled down and up is now resting against your hips.

Your long red nails are tapping against the countertop as you watch him watching you, but he only looks mesmerized. His eyes take in the features of your face as if it’s the first time he’s really looking at you. Your pouty red tinted covered lips are smeared because of the make out session earlier, your cheeks are flushed, and your long hair is falling down your back. Your horns are still intact on top of your head and Eddie swears you’re the prettiest devil he’s ever seen.

His eyes go back down to your pussy and he almost moans out loud when he sees her. Your pretty pussy spread out from him, waiting for him to do something, and he feels his hard cock pulsating from underneath his jeans. He wonders if he’ll remember this moment forever. He tries to imprint this picture in his memory.

Suddenly, he feels your leg against his naked chest right next to his spider tattoo. His shirt has been discarded on the floor since you both entered the bathroom, he feels your bright red heel sink into his skin, and he hisses from the feeling.

He smirks at you when your eyes meet his, he gently cups your ankle in his hand, pulls your leg up to kiss your calf, and you smirk back at him.

“Come on, Munson. I don’t have all night,” you joke as you reach for his belt to unclasp it.

He lets you, pushes his hips towards you for easy access as you jerk off his belt, tossing it to the floor, and unbuttoning his black jeans. You bite your bottom lip as you unzip them, leaning over the counter to pull them down in a swift motion. Taking his boxers down as well.

His thick cock bounces up and down from the fast movement. Your eyes go wide when you finally see him, you look up at him, and he’s already smiling cockily.

“Good enough?”

“Depends if you know how to use it,” you reply with a teasing tone in your voice and he raises his eyebrow in a challenge.

Both of his hands grip your thighs, his pretty eyes lock with yours, and you lick your lips as you give him a drunk wink.

He shakes his head with a chuckle and slowly starts tugging off his jeans with his feet, tossing them to the side. You lean back down towards the mirror, your pussy pulsating with anticipation, and pure desperation. You stare at his cock, your mouth watering at the sight of him, and his tip is already leaking with precum.

Eddie moves himself to your center, his big hands still on your thighs, and he aligns his hard cock with your entrance. He doesn’t even have to hold himself steady from how hard he is.

Your thighs spread easily for him as the tip of his cock moves up and down your folds, soaking up your wetness, soft moans escaping your sweet lips, and his fingers run up and down your thighs.

“You want me?” He asks you in a whisper. Almost sounding insecure. Your hands immediately going to his neck, pulling him down to your eye level, and his eyes meet yours instantly.

You nod at him, kissing his pouty lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you reach down to wrap your fingers around his length, and Eddie almost convulses when he feels your hand wrapped around him.

He moans loudly into your mouth which only allows you to deepen the kiss as you rub his cock in between your folds again. Eddie almost feels as if he’s going to explode as his cock is rubbing against your hot, deliciously warm pussy. Waiting for him. Aching for him.

You center him into your opening, adjusting your hips to his, and once Eddie feels your opening against his cock, he pushes into you.

As he pushes into your tight hole, you feel yourself stretching around him. Your pussy to accommodate his size. Your hands are trying to grasp onto every part of his skin, trying to feel closer to him, and he’s doing the same.

You both moan into each other’s mouths, eyes closed, tongues dancing together, and he bottoms out inside your drenched pussy.

You’re both panting loudly now, your tight walls clenching around his thick cock, and Eddie grips onto your waist to hold you steady as your hips try to move against him.

“Easy, Princess.” He whispers into you as he pulls away from your lips, leaving you wanting more of his mouth.

Eddie feels as if he could cum right then and there from how heavenly you pussy feels around him. He can feel you throbbing and he groans out loud.

“You okay?” He croaks out as you nod rapidly, wanting him to move inside of you already.

He slowly moves, feeling you out, and bites his bottom lip as you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he mutters out, sweat coating the back of his neck as he tries not to cum, and his hands tighten on your hips. The feeling of being inside you is almost indescribable to him. The best pussy he’s ever had.

His hips slowly start to move in and out of you, your fingertips digging into his forearms, and your head is tilted back in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight. You feel so fucking warm around my dick,” he whispers to you as he continues to thrust, “H-hooolyyy s-shit,” his speed increasing, head tilting back as he bites his lips, and your pussy is taking him so good. So fucking good. It makes him feel as if he’s in heaven. This can’t be real.

Your whines increase at the same speed as his thrusts. Your head repeatedly hits the mirror, but you can’t even allow yourself to care right now.

Because you’re finally getting fucked by Eddie Munson.

Your hands reach to hold onto his shoulders as he fucks your pussy in a rapid pace, his hips moving against yours roughly, and your hips moving with him to allow him to go in deeper.

His curls are falling down over his face, his lips are formed into a smirk as he watches you fall apart underneath him, and he fumbles out praises.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Head cheerleader with the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“You’re taking me so fucking good.”

He reaches down to lick and suck each of your nipples which makes your skin erupt into goosebumps. Your abdomen tightening once again as you start feeling the familiar feeling of your orgasm.

He kisses you quickly before he pulls away again, leaving your lips reaching out to him, and he moves one of his hands towards your core.

His thumb finds your swollen clit and puts gentle pressure against it. You cry out at the feeling, your breasts bouncing against your chest as his thrusts increase, and his thumb only follows the pace.

You adjust your hips once more, wrapping your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together behind his back, and pulling him into you.

His movements don’t falter at the change of position, he only continues to pleasure you, and you push yourself up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. You bring his face towards you and roughly kiss his open mouth.

He moans into you as his free hand grips onto the curve of your back. One of your hands is behind his neck and the other wrapped around his shoulders. Open mouth kissing, tongues playing together, and both panting loudly. Your lips feel swollen against his, but you can’t even manage to stop.

Your body starts shaking slightly from your impending orgasm and it’s as if Eddie already knows your body so well. He doesn’t stop his rhythm, his thrusts still hitting you deep and filling you up so good.

He pulls away from your lips, his hand moves from your lower back, and he grips your chin in his palm. You’re feeling drunk on his dick and you know you must look it because he groans when your eyes meet his own.

He looks absolutely fucked.

But then suddenly, he slips two of his fingers into your mouth. You instantly react by moaning loudly and sucking his digits.

Then his thumb increases speed slightly against your clit which triggers your orgasm.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pussy clenching against his cock, and your mouth falling wide open with a withering pleasure filled scream. Your legs are shaking around him as he follows your release.

Loud slick noises fill the room with your yell, his loud groan of release falling into the sound, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can feel him coating the inside of your walls with his warm cum. Filling you up to the brim.

Your body melts into his as you relax from your incredible orgasm and his thrusts start slowing down, his cock slowly softening inside of you, and his fingers slip out of your mouth.

His hand eases itself behind your neck and his lips are against yours. He kisses you softly which makes your insides melt. You feel heat in the pit of your stomach.

The way he’s kissing you feels the way a man would kiss his lover. Not a random secret hookup at a Halloween party. But you can’t help it. You match his pace and reciprocate the kiss with softness. His wet lips move against yours. One of his hands is gripping your neck, but he isn’t rough or hard. Only soft.

His other hand cups your face to hold you close and you almost feel like you might burst right then and there from how intimate this feels.

Your hands reach out for the closest piece of his skin and you land on his waist. Touching his skin with your fingertips, you feel him break out into goosebumps, and he chuckles into your kiss.

You pull away with a giggle, you slap his chest lightly, “Why are you laughing?”

You swear you can see a twinkle in his eyes as he watches you, biting his lower lip, his eyes taking you in, cheeks flushes, hair a mess, and he starts reaching for some toilet paper.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all,” his husky voice filling the loud room with ease.

It’s quiet as you both clean up after he hands you some toilet paper. You scavenge the drawers for wipes and smile triumphantly when you find them, giving Eddie a big grin, and he only follows your giggles.

You suddenly feel shy as you both clean up next to each other. You feel your cheeks flushing. You adjust your dress back into its rightful position, fixing your breasts, and getting confused as to where your red thong had landed.

You peer down to the floor, into the corner of the toilet, and huff when you can’t find them.

You watch Eddie from the corner of your eyes, he’s zipping up his jeans, and smirking down at you.

You turn to look at him, raising your eyebrows, and smacking teeth together. “Do you have them?“

He licks his lips, “Have what, sweetheart?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, turning back into the mirror to fix your hair, but keeping your eyes on him. Watching him as he shoves his hand into his back pocket and pulls out your tiny thong that honestly barely even covers anything but you still wanted to be a little modest.

He holds your thong by the string on his index finger, “S’this what you’re looking for?”

You try to be fast and snach it away from him, but he’s too quick for you.

He immediately puts the thong in his fist behind his back as you shove your entire weight into him.

You push him against the wooden walls loudly and he laughs loudly, his head hitting the back wall, and he shakes his head as you demand he hands them to you.

“Finders keepers, Princess.” He says as his thumb is on your chin with a loose grip, he winks at you, and kisses your lips in a peck.

You stand there with your mouth agape because you can’t believe he’s actually stealing your panties.

He shoves on his ripped up t-shirt and jean jacket, ruffling his hair in the mirror, and wiping away the excess of your lipstick on his face.

“Can’t let anybody be suspicious, right?”

“Right,” you breathe out. You feel memorized right now. Not knowing what to say or do at this moment. It feels almost surreal.

He kisses you again and you almost buckle, knees feeling weak when his hands grip your waist, and then he pulls away before you can deepen the kiss.

You whine slightly at the loss of contact and you hear him open the door behind him, you watch him carefully as you fix the hem of your dress, and before he walks away.. he looks at you again.

“We should do this again,” he says over the loud music blasting fully now behind him as he locks eyes with you. You can see a few people in the hallways trying not to look at you guys.

“In your dreams,” you automatically reply to him. Your mouth working before your brain.

He smirks at your comment as he lets his eyes travel down your body one more time.

You want to kiss him again.

“I’ll see you in them, sweetheart.”

And with that he turns on his boots and closes the door behind him.

You take a minute to calm down and wrap your mind around what just happened.

A small giggle bursts out of your lips, your hand immediately flying to cover it, and you break out into a cheesy grin.

You back up into the wall, butterflies erupting in your belly, and you look up at the ceiling with a smile.

“Holy fucking shit.”

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ficsilike-reblogged · 1 year

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Snow Over Hawkins

A/N: Another holiday fic? From me, after not posting in months? Who would've thought. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday or simply a peaceful winter! Thank you for reading! This jumps between 1996 and 1986 (the events of S4). Reader does celebrate Christmas in this and there is a lot of Christmas imagery. Also, I make Eddie a rockstar. Because it is what he deserves. :)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/F!Reader

Rating: PG-A soft little, melodramatic thing

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: Perhaps coming to your ten year high school reunion was a mistake. But, as a blizzard rolls in just in time for the holidays, you may have to confront a specter from your past: Eddie Munson.

**1996**

Oh no.

There were too many people. Maybe if you just…turned right around and left, no one would know you had even come and-

A shout of your name quickly quashed that plan but your shoulders fell a fraction from around your ears as you spotted Robin weaving her way through the crowd to get to you. She was quick to throw her arms around you in a tight hug as if she hadn’t just seen you when she dropped you off at the hotel an hour ago and you two didn’t have a standing agreement to get together every two weeks at the little café down the street from your apartment in New York.

“God. Why did we come here?” She mumbled into your hair before pulling back.

“You were the one who said we should rub it in everyone’s faces that we are rich and successful and they peaked in high school.”

Robin groaned. “Must you remember everything I said?”

“I must.” You sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the milling crowd. The gigantic Christmas trees were bleeding green and red lights all over the large space. The event center for the reunion was an abject holiday wonderland, complete with fake flickering candles and artificial snow. Christmas songs were playing over the speakers, muted beneath the conversation between old classmates. Even the sign that read, “Welcome back, Tigers! Class of ‘86!” was made of red and green paper. “Nancy said she and Jonathan would be here, too. Have you seen them? Their flight left before ours.”

“Not yet. But you know who I have seen?” There was a conspiratorial gleam in her eye that had you frowning.

Before she could answer, someone darted by you with a squealed, “oh my god, I can’t believe it! I thought they were on tour!”

Your heart dropped to your feet. “Robin-”

“Nothing has to happen. He just happens to be in the same room as you for the first time in over ten years and-”

“And it changes nothing. He’s still…” The words trailed off as you dropped your chin to your chest. Robin rubbed a hand on your arm with a hum, she was always tactile with you, knowing when you most needed a friendly touch. “Pathetic, right? Ten years and thousands of miles and he still makes me feel like a little girl with an unreciprocated crush.”

“It has always been more than that.”

You winced. “That doesn’t help, Robs.”

She linked her arm with yours and started tugging you toward the table set up with hot chocolate and all the fixings, dodging a hulking pair of men in ill-fitting suits who you were sure never went to Hawkins High. Someone had been “kind” enough to leave little bottles of alcohol in a messy pile, too, so anyone could spike their own drink if wanted.

A glance back at the crowd nearly had your heart stuttering, already bruised. A headful of dark curls and warm eyes immediately caught your attention and suddenly you were a teenager again. Turning your head away felt like a herculean effort and you reached for one of the small bottles of whiskey and dumped it into your cup.

**1986**

Your head was spinning. There were monsters in Hawkins. …or not in Hawkins, but in a different dimension that you were currently trapped in. Running the school paper with Nancy was supposed to be a safe extracurricular activity—something to bolster your applications to your dream university. But after watching Fred fucking

levitate

and hearing his bones snap under the power of something unseen, you were sure it was one of the worst decisions you’d ever made. And now you were here after jumping out of the boat, your hand in Nancy’s. At least now you know why Robin and Steve had been extra cagey about the mall fire over the summer.

“You’re bleeding a bit,” Eddie said, crouching near you as you huddled beneath Skull Rock.

“What?” Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming you’d just done, arms aching from beating the damn bat creatures with a broken oar.

Eddie said nothing as he tore at his shirt and then pressed it to your temple, wincing alongside you. “Sorry, sorry. Just didn’t think you’d want a bleeding head wound in a place like this.”

You almost snorted. And it was probably the head wound and the adrenaline coursing through your system but your tongue didn’t tangle as it so often did around Eddie. “Oh? You come here often?”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color, visible even under the grime. “Oh, c’mon. Can’t have a pretty girl bleeding.”

**1996**

“Gimme a sip of that,” Nancy said instead of a greeting as she stormed to your side. She took a hearty swig of your spiked hot chocolate and nearly spat it out. “What did you put in that?”

“Whiskey.”

“Jesus!” She wiped at her mouth, eyes watering.

Jonathan was a few paces behind her, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug before doing the same to Robin. “Seems to be quite the turnout even with the storm rolling in.”

“Imagine if we all get snowed in. Trapped with all these people,” Robin said, dread dripping from every syllable.

“I’ll walk back to my parents’ house in the snow. I don’t care,” Nancy said, only relaxing when Jonathan stepped to her back and wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

“Tough day?”

“My editor called and said he wanted a rewrite by midnight for this article-”

“You got it done,” Jonathan quietly murmured.

“But I shouldn’t’ve had to do it at all! No one else’s articles get that kind of treatment. Goddamn Greg can write a puff piece about when to watch the cherry blossoms in each borough and use the wrong ‘there’ but he doesn’t even get a sternly worded email.”

You and Robin wore matching winces and hid behind your hot chocolate. “Didn’t you say The Economist was trying to poach you after your big editorial about that governor?”

Nancy nodded and sunk a little further into Jonathan’s grip. Her engagement ring sparkled in the twinkling lights. Their long-awaited engagement party just a few blocks from your apartment had been hosted a handful of months ago where you’d readily accepted Nancy’s invitation to be a bridesmaid. It certainly took them long enough. “And I’m considering it. But we’d have to move to London.”

Another twittering laugh drew all of your attentions and you saw Eddie stand and wrap and arm around someone you vaguely recognized as someone from the debate team as another person took a picture, the flash of their disposable camera nearly blinding even across the room.

Nancy’s blue eyes quickly zeroed in on you. “Have you talked to him?”

“No. He’s surrounded. Has been all night. I don’t want to be…that girl, anyway. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

**1986**

“Look, I’m all for you, like, actually telling Eddie how you feel but maybe you could think of a more romantic setting for all this?” Robin nearly hissed as you continued on through the rotted forest of the Upside Down.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are making googly eyes at him—and he’s reciprocating! That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you once since you beat that bat to death.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what really gets him going, Robs. Sure. Keep your voice down!” You grumbled in return, trying to ignore the heat in your chest.

You’d had a crush on Eddie since last year when you were paired up in History for your final project. Your sessions in the school library had become the highlight of your week pretty quickly after you realized how kind and funny he was, how brown his eyes were, and how they really sparkled whenever he spoke of something he was passionate about (which was never history, but you would let it slide because you loved his smile). You didn’t even mind that he gently teased you about your favorite song, Flaco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” and promised to “teach you about real music.” After passing the final project with flying colors, Eddie had gifted you a mixtape with a shy smile and pink cheeks “Just to say ‘thanks,’ you know, for helping me pass. I might not graduate this year, but I don’t have to repeat this class again and that was all because of you. But here’s your first lesson on real music, Amadeus.” Before you could say anything, he kissed your cheek and turned away, letting you get swallowed by the moving bodies of the hallway. And Robin, who you’d befriended while working at the mall over the summer (you worked at the lingerie store right next to Scoops Ahoy) had been your first confidante about your feelings. Steve, bless him, had guessed correctly after you came into the ice cream shop moping one Wednesday after you’d watched Eddie flirt with the bartender (again) at The Hideout during a Corroded Coffin gig. And then he was offering his “advice,” too, and telling you that your secret was safe with him, even if he didn’t really understand your feelings for “The Freak.” At all.

The feelings that hadn’t faded for over a year.

Steve and Robin hadn’t judged you, as so many others would, and you had earned Robin’s secret in return, an easy friendship blossoming right before the mall burnt down. As your senior year started and you once again found yourself at Eddie’s side more often than not in the hallways and shared classes and your easy comradery with the three-peat senior developed into inside jokes and more mixtapes disguised as ‘lessons,’ Robin and Steve had always encouraged you to at least try. And you never did. You’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. And he was…he was your friend. A good friend who always smiled at you from the stage at The Hideout, who seemed to actually do his homework when you jokingly said you wouldn’t hug him anymore, who always made you smile when you had a shit day. Confiding in each other about your shitty parents (his were felons, yours were drug addicts) and then being raised by others had been another thing that bonded you. You had your aging grandparents and Eddie had Wayne but you both knew that it was different. Always. He’d hold your hand when you cried about feeling like you were missing something and you always told he’d amount to more than his parents when he struggled, too. You were there for each other in ways your other friends couldn’t understand. And that almost made it worse.

“All I’m saying is that he is obviously into you. Like a lot. But maybe wait until we aren’t in the sixth circle of hell to act on it.”

“This isn’t the sixth circle…this would be, like, the tenth. I think.”

Robin smacked the back of her hand into your arm with a pointed look “You’re avoiding the topic.”

“I’m avoiding nothing except these stupid vines!”

Eddie jogged to your side with a tired smile. “Hey, think we’re getting close to the Wheeler house?”

You nodded and glanced ahead where Nancy was leading the way, ignoring how Robin pinched at your side. A quiet shout of Robin’s name had you all turning and Steve was waving her back to his side and she darted away, leaving you alone with Eddie. Heat bloomed in your chest as he smiled at you, as it always did. A comforting warmth like settling in front of a roaring fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

Eddie knocked his shoulder into yours as you all continued on, another smile on his face. Only Eddie would be able to smile in a place like this. “You know, I’m glad you’re here with me in all of this.”

And now you had to smile, too, despite everything. “In the Upside Down?”

He blushed and stuttered something unintelligible before knocking his shoulder into yours again, pulling a quiet laugh from you. “Yeah, next time we have to fight monsters, I’ll make sure we’re at Enzo’s.”

“It’s a date.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to shove them back down your throat. Dammit. “I mean, you know, not a date, but yeah, we can keep fighting monsters together.” You winced at your messy jumble of words. Great. “I’m…For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here with me, too.”

**1996**

“What do you mean you didn’t listen to any of their music?” Robin asked, taking your hot chocolate away from you.

“I tried! But then he started singing about this person’s pretty eyes and wanting them to leave lipstick stains on his throat and I turned it off.” You sounded like a petulant child but you couldn’t help it. Hearing about how Eddie wanted something like that with someone who obviously wasn’t you hurt. It ached like a dull knife twisting between your ribs. The years hadn’t lessened the pain at all.

Robin and Nancy looked at each other, some silent communication that had you gritting your teeth. And then Jonathan patted your shoulder like you were some sort of idiot. “You really should have listened to it.”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you muttered. “It has been ten years. Look at him.” Waving a hand at the ever growing crowd around Eddie, you tried to ignore the burn of tears at the back of your eyes. “He is a rock star. How many Grammy’s does he have?” (You knew he had two.)

Despite avoiding listening to any of his music, you had watched his meteoric rise to fame with a bittersweet happiness. It was what he deserved after everything. Being accused and then cleared of murder actually seemed to bolster his image as a rock god and helped Corroded Coffin land their first record deal. There was always a quip about it in every magazine or gossip rag that interviewed him or ran an article with his face at the center. It was part of his “mystique” as one journalist called it.

And the town that had always hated him now celebrated his success as their own. There were former football players and cheerleaders waiting their turn to get his autograph or take a picture with him, arm slung over his shoulder as if they were old friends. As if they hadn’t tried to hunt him down after Jason fucking Carver branded him a vessel for Satan. The lights caught on his hair, shining and soft, and a little shorter than it had been in school. Red then green then red again. Still so handsome. Even more so now, with a bit of stubble lining his jaw. He’d always be handsome, wouldn’t he?

Just as Bing Crosby started to croon, a woman with an orange tan stepped onto the small stage and tapped the microphone. “Hi everyone! My name is Tina-”

“We’d never forget you, Tina!” Someone shouted from the middle of the crowd.

She laughed and the microphone protested, screeching with feedback for a moment. “Well, as head of the Hawkins Alumni association, I welcome you all back to Hawkins. Can you believe it’s been ten years?”

As she prattled on, you and your friends grabbed seats at a table toward the back. She started to go through a slideshow of pictures from your senior year, taking an overly dramatic pause “in remembrance” for “Jason’s” victims and everyone else who died or was injured during the earthquake. Nancy’s foot knocked into yours beneath the table and you both rolled your eyes as Tina wiped a tear from her eye. Then, to your horror, she clicked onto the next slide that was a picture of you, holding Eddie’s leather jacket, exiting the hospital covered in bruises and blood and the grime of the Upside Down and patched up like a terrible pantomime of healthcare.

“But we have always been a class of survivors!” She continued on, speaking about the “tragedies” that befell Hawkins as if she knew anything about them. It was all a dull roar in your ears as she clicked through a few more pictures of the town being rebuilt. She’d just glossed over one of the worst days of your life as if it was nothing. Just another picture for her welcome speech.

“I need some air.”

Nancy squeezed your arm as you stood, slipping out of the room without a look back.

**1986**

You handed Dustin his nail-riddled shield and watched him and Eddie pretend to block invisible enemies, laughing with each other. You wanted to join in. Wanted to laugh and revel in being alive a little longer but the sinking feeling in your gut kept you from doing anything other than continuing to batter nails in through a trashcan lid and hope it would be enough.

Would it be enough?

Even if you all lived through this, would the alibi you and Nancy cooked up to cover for Eddie be enough? It was already set in motion when the police had questioned you after Fred’s death and you made no mention of Eddie, but would they believe you?

“Hey.”

You looked up, fingers curled painfully around the hammer, to see Eddie standing in front of you. The dying sunlight framed him, casting an ethereal glow around him and piercing your chest. Beautiful.

He moved to sit on the carton beside you, knee bumping yours as he swiveled toward you. “Gonna tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, Amadeus, or should I guess?”

Despite everything, you felt your lips curling up the slightest bit at the sound of the ridiculous nickname. “Guess.”

He hummed, stroking his chin with a dramatic flair. “You’re wondering if I have any weed on me and the answer is yes.” Then he pulled a (decidedly damp) baggie from the pocket of his jacket and dropped it onto your lap. “I wouldn’t smoke that though. I’m not entirely sure what lake water and…those spore things have done to it.”

You tossed the bag back to him and he almost caught it. “Try again.”

And so, he tried again and again, his guesses getting more ridiculous as the time passed until you were giggling, heart a little lighter and the final shield finished.

“Would the fair maiden take pity on her poor jester and tell him what made her so sad?” He asked, his warm hand curling over your knee and squeezing twice.

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “Just worried, ‘s all. Worried about Max. Worried about Robin. Worried about Nancy. Worried about Dustin. Worried about Lucas. Worried about Steve. The only person I’m not worried about is Erica—she’s going to rule the world one day, I know it.”

“Worried about me?”

And that just about broke you. “’Course I’m worried about you, Eddie. I’m always worried about you. Even without Jason and Vecna looming over everything, of course I worry about you.”

He squeezed at your knee again until you looked at him and then he was reaching out to cup your face, thumbs gently swiping against the slope of your cheeks. “Always, huh?” His grip didn’t falter even as you nodded. “Well, it sounds like you have enough to worry about, don’t need to add me to your list.”

“Eddie-”

“Hey.” Gently, he angled your face up so he could look at you properly, dark eyes staring into yours. “I promise you, I’m going to be fine. And you are, too. All of us are getting out of this.”

“Promise?” You whispered, the syllables cracking in your throat as your shaking hand covered his.

Eddie leaned forward to press his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering shut. “I promise.”

**1996**

One look out the window let you know that this snowstorm was probably one for the history books. Giant white flakes were falling in a rush from the dark sky, already sticking to the sidewalks and hazing the light of the lampposts. The outdoor Christmas trees just a few feet outside the window were nearly covered, too, the snow making their lights glow like candles. It was pretty. Sure, you’d grown accustomed to the holidays in New York, but snow in Hawkins during the holidays? Almost nothing could beat it.

Nat King Cole’s voice echoed down the hall, providing a soft melody to the quiet moment, and nearly had your wounded heart calming. Nearly.

The door opening behind you pulled a sigh from your throat, expecting to hear one of your friends call out to you. Instead you heard a loud giggle and the tapping of heels against the linoleum tiles, steps unsteady and uneven. Nancy knew how to sprint in heels and Robin didn’t own anything other than sneakers and brightly colored flats so it wasn’t them-

“-can’t believe how she just got up and left!”

“I know! So rude!”

While obviously drunk, the women who probably called you names in high school for being a little socially awkward and not having the newest clothes, were not high on your list of potential “catch-ups.”

God. Why did you even come here? All the people you wanted to keep in touch with from high school, you already did. You had a small group of them in New York and you had scheduled phone calls with Steve and the kids, too. You didn’t need to come here. You definitely should not have.

But it didn’t matter now anyway. As the voices grew louder, you skittered further down the hall and wrenched open the nearest door and all but threw yourself inside, leaving the door open just enough to let a bit of light in, waiting to hear the women pass. You nearly stepped onto a tangle garland as you slunk into the shadows. The closet was filled with extra decorations. Stockings, wreaths, and tangled bundles of lights lined the shelves and had you flinching as something snapped beneath your shoe.

“Oh, but did you see Eddie?” One of the women asked. You immediately hated her tone. It sounded like something you’d accidentally come across late at night, when a few of the channels played more risqué films.

“How could I miss him?” There was a strange noise, it almost sounded like groan. Was it supposed to be a moan? “If I had known he’d be a rock star and looked like that, I wouldn’t have called him a freak in high school.”

“Oh, shut up Carol, yes you would’ve! Probably just not to his face!”

Their answering cackles echoed down the hall and you grimaced behind the door—the one small victory was that they seemed to be walking away from you, rather than toward. Still, you didn’t understand how people could still be so needlessly cruel. Eddie had always been handsome. Always. And he’d never been a freak. He just liked his roleplaying game and making his music. Sure, he was outspoken and a little abrasive to some…but he was a good man. He had always been a good man.

And those women obviously learned nothing from how they’d treated him in high school.

Your forehead knocked against the door as you continued to hold it barely open, and you tried to suck in a steadying breath. You never should have come. Even without talking to him, Eddie was still looming like some sort of Ghost of Christmas Past.

You sounded pathetic, didn’t you? It had been ten years since you’d parted ways and lived separate lives. You were one of the curators up at the Met in New York; your dream job in a vibrant city. You were paid well and had an ironclad support system with your friends. But Eddie still ached, a pain with a beautiful face. Wasn’t it time you moved on?

Yes. It had to be. (But how many times had you told yourself that?)

Straightening your shoulders, you moved to open the door only to have the knob ripped out of your hand as the door was thrown open and then you were all but shoved into a stack of wreaths and the door shut with a sharp snap.

“Jesus!” You nearly shouted, scrambling to stay upright in the dark and only mildly succeeding, your palm slapping against a shelf and toppling a neat stack of ribbons.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” A familiar voice answered and your heart leapt.

In the dim light of the closet, you recognized the curls and the soft cut of his jaw. “Eddie?”

**1986**

“Don’t try to be cute.” Steve’s warning only made you roll your eyes, pushing at him to rejoin Nancy and Robin.

“You’re the one who managed to accessorize before going into battle, Harrington. You’re cute enough for the both of us.”

Steve huffed and tugged at your wrist to press a hard kiss to your forehead. “Take care of Dustin, okay? Take care of both of them.”

“I will. Take care of my girls, too.”

“Hey, Steve?” You both turned at the sound of Eddie’s voice to see him take a few steps forward, mouth set in a firm line. “Make him pay.”

Steve nodded, intentions clear. But, just before he turned back toward Nancy and Robin, he reached for you again. “Tell him. Tell him and fight like hell so you can actually do something about it.”

And god…you wanted to scoff, tell him that now as definitely not the time for confessions of any kind. You were trying to stay alive! But you couldn’t scoff. Couldn’t roll your eyes. All you could do was tap at his chest with a grimace you hoped looked like a smile. “Stay safe, Steve. Come back. All of you. We’ll see you on the other side.”

Then, he was jogging back to the others while you turned to see Eddie and Dustin waiting for you. And their hopeful smiles were a knife between your ribs. “Let’s get this started, okay?” You said, clapping your hands together. As you busied yourself with trying to fortify the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, you tried to tell yourself that this was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. In a few hours, you could walk into the police station, clear Eddie’s name and no one would realize how close you all came to apocalypse.

But it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel…safe.

“Hey…”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a warm hand closed over yours, halting your attempt to screw in a bit of sheet metal over a window. Your next breath wheezed out of you as you looked into Eddie’s molten brown eyes. “Eddie.”

“You okay?”

“I’m, yeah, I’m fine. As fine as we can be, about to provide an absolutely insane distraction so our friends can kill an interdimensional super villain. Yeah. Fine.”

Eddie stepped a bit closer, gentle hands sliding up your arms to cup around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to rest his forehead against yours again. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? We are going to be fine.”

You could tell him right now. Just open your mouth and say it. But the words turned to molasses at the back of your throat and you could only nod, tugging at the bottom of his vest and zipping it up properly.

“C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve got a concert to play.”

**1996**

“What’re you doing in a closet?”

“What are you doing in a closet?” You quickly retorted, embarrassed heat starting to curl around your throat.

“If I had to take one more picture with someone who called me a freak in high school, I might actually set something on fire.”

You laughed, clapping your hands over your mouth before the noise could truly escape. “Jesus, sorry. I thought you…were doing well.”

“I just needed a break.” You could hear the exhaustion dripping from each letter. “Gimme a crowded stadium any day over that.”

Before you could do anything else, you were nearly knocked onto your ass by Eddie abruptly turning and throwing his arms out, fingers dragging against the wall in search of something. “What’re you doing?”

“I need a light. I want to talk to you in the light—need to see your face.”

Oh, the heat was nearly suffocating now. He could still make you feel like a teenager. When it seemed he wouldn’t be finding the switch, you went to open the door and then felt your heart drop to your toes. “Eddie.”

“What, Amadeus?”

Despite the smile you felt pressing at your lips, muscle memory and Eddie’s ineffable charm slotting between your ribs like a missing piece of a puzzle, dread pricked at the back of your mind. For good reason. “I think we’re locked in.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before his warm, guitar-string-roughened hand closed over yours as it continued to jiggle the door knob and then he tried, too. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agreed.

“J-just hang on.” He stepped back and you heard him rummaging blindly in the dark before twinkling white light nearly blinded you. Somehow, he’d found a strand of Christmas lights and an outlet, illuminating the cramped closet in their butter yellow light. “There we go,” Eddie said, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. He stood straight, still holding the bundle of lights like something precious. His dark brown eyes reflected the soft light, almost making them sparkle.

And your poor heart could scarcely handle it.

“God, Amadeus. It’s been too long.” He moved forward like he wanted to do something else, maybe hug you, but stopped short.

Your smile faded as you glanced down to the cluttered floor beneath your shoes. “Yeah, um, ten years or so. B-but you’ve done well for yourself, Mister Rock Star.”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color but he did not look away. “You listened to my music?”

If the world could open up and swallow you whole, you would appreciate it. But apparently Hawkins had had enough of earthquakes and you were forced to tell Eddie the truth, your feet on solid ground, in a small closet filled with Christmas light. “I…I couldn’t.”

His smile wavered. “Oh.”

“I-it isn’t that I think you make bad music. I actually quite like it! It…it is just…” God. Stupid. So stupid.

“You still prefer your pop nonsense, yeah?” Eddie drawled, dropping the bundle of lights onto a shelf.

“I mean, yeah, but tha-that isn’t what I’m trying to say!” You turned away from him, trying not to hate yourself more. You missed the days when you could talk to him easily. You missed the early days after everything blew over and the gates were finally closed and you’d talk for hours on the phone after you settled at NYU, trying to keep each other up-to-date on the happenings in your lives. They’d been a highlight of your week, dashing to the phone in your dorm at exactly six o’clock to make sure you’d never miss the call. But the calls had dwindled after Corroded Coffin’s first single topped the charts. You tried not to feel rejected when he missed more and more calls. But the nail in the metaphorical coffin had been when Wayne, good and sweet Wayne, had picked up the phone and told you, gently, that Eddie was going on tour and wouldn’t be back again. You received a postcard here and there after you graduated from university, from different cities around the globe where Corroded Coffin was touring. The ink would be smudged and faded by the time it got to you, but you kept all of them just the same. Pressing your fingers against the messy handwriting, stilted letters saying he missed you, as if that would be enough. And it never was. And then those stopped, too. He’d left you behind.

“You just have it all, Eddie. And I don’t know how you ever...” The words trailed off and you shook your head. None of this mattered now. He’d moved on. You were a ghost to him, too. Fruitlessly, you tried to open the door again with the same result: you were still locked in. And then the closet was too small, too warm all at once. The handle jiggled uselessly in your grasp. Were the walls inching closer? Had the lights caught fire? “Can you open this lock?”

“Just because I can hotwire a car, doesn’t mean I can pick a lock, Amadeus.” There was almost a hint of a tease in his tone. Almost. “Must’ve missed that lesson.”

You nodded, eyes trained on the unopened door. “Right. Sorry.” You needed to be let out. Needed to run far, far away before you made a complete ass of yourself.

“Good to know what you think of me.”

You turned abruptly, nearly falling—again—as you reached for him with uncoordinated fingers. “That isn’t what I’m saying, Eddie! I…” The words were sticky toffee at the back of your tongue. Unmovable and hard. “I…”

“Why didn’t you listen to my music?”

**1986**

Everything had gone wrong in a matter of moments. You had watched, heart in your throat, as Eddie played his heart out—you recognized the song. It had been on the tape he’d given you just last week.

Lesson 17

was scrawled across the shell’s spine alongside a smudged demon. Eddie had been glorious and every inch a rock star and the plan had worked and it still all went to shit.

The bats were coming too fast. There were too many of them. You and Eddie all but shoved Dustin up the knotted rope and then Eddie made sure you went up next. But then he had the stupid, beautiful, tragic idea that he needed to be a hero. He was already a hero. Had always been a hero. But he still cut the rope as you and Dustin yelled and pleaded for him to stop.

He didn’t.

Then you were dragging the small table near the door under the gate and leaping leaping leaping until you could grab at the edge and haul yourself up and through. The world swam in front of your eyes as your skull bounced on the dirty floor but you still got to your feet and rushed out with a scream of Eddie’s name. Bats swarmed in the distance, too preoccupied with something else in the distance—and you knew exactly what it was…or who.

The first bat nearly took you off your feet with a screech, tail looping around your ankle. But you pushed forward, even as another tore at your neck and another burrowed between your jacket and your shirt and ripped through the fabric like a red-hot knife through butter. But you only saw Eddie. You continued to push through until you could fling yourself over his prone form. The serrated teeth of the demobats continued to try to devour you both as you tucked Eddie’s face into your neck and hope it was enough. Even in your scrambled state, you tried to keep the important parts covered.

And you hoped.

Because that was all you could do aside from scream.

Blood coated the back of your throat, either from the force of your screams or from the blow to the face you’d taken earlier. But it didn’t matter when you heard the bats suddenly go silent before falling to the ground in a terrible downpour. The last one hit the ground with a splat and you were surging to your knees to look Eddie over.

“C-can you stand for me?” You asked as you knelt beside him, already shoving your hands beneath his shoulders.

Eddie struggled for a moment, blood-caked teeth gritting, before falling back to the ground. “Just…give me a minute.”

This was not good. Not good. Even if the bats dying meant that the plan might’ve worked, Eddie was still… You shifted, putting his head in your lap as you pressed down against the larger of the bites on his chest, feeling his blood soak your skin immediately. “Take all the time you need, okay? I’m not…I’m not leaving without you.”

Eddie made a noise. It almost sounded like a laugh. “Was just trying to buy more time.” Each word had his chest heaving.

“You were trying to be a hero, Eddie,” you almost scolded. “You didn’t need to do that. Y-you were already a hero. You already helped.” Tears started to blur your vision but you blinked them back, trying to keep him in your sight even as the strange spores, the bastardized Upside Down version of snow, started to coat you both. You wouldn’t take your eyes away from him. Not now. “Silly boy.” You pulled him a little closer, trying to ignore how slick your hands felt, pressing tighter against whatever you could reach. “You made me a promise, Eddie,” you whispered. “You promised.”

“I know.” The words were garbled. Wet. Teeth stained red. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The tears stung and burned but you didn’t have the energy to will them away this time. He could feel it, too. “Dust-Dustin’s on his way. He can help. And Steve an-and Nancy and Robin. They’ll be here soon, too.”

Eddie nodded and you could feel his next breath stutter and stall beneath your hands. “I’m…I’m glad it’s you with me.”

“Eddie. Don’t. Don’t talk like that,” you pleaded, voice cracking. Your vision blurred even as you pressed tighter, crimson bleeding across white. You just needed him to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer. You could help him get better if you just had a little more time. “You’re going to be fine. You have to flip off Higgins, remember?”

“Y-yeah, Amadeus. I remember.” He sighed and his dark eyes found yours through your tears. “But at the end of the world? I’m glad I get to see it with you.”

“We can see everything together. Okay? Anything you want, we can go see it together.”

He nodded and then a shaking, bloody finger reached up to barely graze against your neck before falling back down to the ground. “You’re hurt.”

The adrenaline was keeping most of it at bay, you were sure. The bats had done a number on you. But right now? Right now it didn’t matter. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Eddie’s mouth opened, some retort on his tongue but all that came out was a wet wheeze and you felt his heartbeat stutter beneath your palm. “Eddie, no, Eddie, no, no, no. You gotta stay with me, okay? Stay with me!” You pressed harder at his chest and looked out to the grey horizon, hoping to see your friends, hoping to see some sort of salvation. “Help me,” you screamed. “Help!”

But all you saw was the strange snow.

**1996**

It was a simple enough question, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you listen to his music? Maybe now really was the time to move on. Your hand slipped from the doorknob and you crossed your arms over your chest as if that would protect you or offer comfort. Bing Crosby was singing now, muffled behind the door.

“You are a rock star, Eddie. I always knew you’d make it. Always. You were destined to be one of the good ones, one of the greats. Do you remember me bribing the guy at The Hideout just to let me in because I was underage? I just wanted to listen to you play. I wanted to see you the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I sang every song. I studied every mixtape you gave me like my life depended on it. And then you…made it. You made it, Eddie. And you left me behind.”

Eddie’s face fell, all traces of anger draining away in a second. He murmured your name.

But you weren’t done. “And I told myself that it was okay. It was okay because I just wanted you to be happy. And I thought I could, I don’t know, move on or something. I got my dream job. I live in the best city in the world. I have good friends and my grandparents finally got out of this shitty town and are living it up in Albuquerque.” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Eddie reached out to you, gentle yet roughened fingers pressing at your cheeks to catch your tears. And your poor heart stuttered at the simple touch. How long had it been since he’d touched you like that? “And I heard about your adventures through Jonathan or Steve. Nancy even did an editorial on your band the first time you headlined at Madison Square Garden, remember that? But you never asked for me. Never reached out.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, still holding you close. His voice was low but strained, like he wanted to pull away but couldn’t force himself to do so, as if his fingertips had seared themselves to you. “You could’ve asked any of them for my number, my address, anything-”

“You were the one who stopped taking my calls, Eddie.” The simple sentence was ripped from your throat between sobs, over a decade finally cracking open. “And then you were singing about girls leaving lipstick stains on your throat and it would never be me. Never me no matter how much I loved you.”

Eddie’s face twisted and something you didn’t understand flittered across his face, something almost like heartbreak. Something almost like betrayal. Something almost like self-loathing. “You think I don’t-”

And then the door opened.

**1986**

Hawkins had been ripped open. While Vecna had been killed by Nancy and Eleven, he’d made one last ditch effort to bring the Upside Down to your world and had cracked open three gates; earthquakes shattering the small town.

Max’s knee was broken and she’d need physical therapy to walk normally again.

Lucas had a concussion from his showdown with Jason.

Steve needed a skin graft.

You were finally able to pull the three dozen stitches out of your skin after a few weeks but the doctor’s harried voice had echoed cruelly in your mind, “if that cut had been any deeper, you would’ve been dead in seconds.” Comforting. You’d been all but shoved onto a hospital bed and rubbed down with alcohol pads before dozens of stitches were sewn through your skin and you were told to leave to make room for others. The hospital had been a mad house when you’d stepped out into the hall, filled to bursting with people needing attention, battered and bruised and bleeding.

But it had been okay. It had been okay because your little ragtag team of friends had won and Eddie was alive and he gave you a slow, sleepy smile as you slipped into his room. “Hey, Amadeus.” He didn’t seem to care about the handcuff chaining him to the bed.

It didn’t last long, anyway. Your and Nancy’s alibi, Jason’s mysterious disappearance, his goons’ ramblings about seeing Max lift into the air, coupled with the well-timed reappearance of Chief Hopper helped the town begrudgingly accept that Eddie was innocent. There were still whispers, of course. Some thought that Eddie used his “satanic powers” to possess Jason into killing Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick, but you made it no mind after the cuff around his wrist was removed and you sat in his room, waiting for him to wake up between surgeries. You passed the time by doing the take home work your teachers had given you with the promise that if it was completed, it would take the place of any final exams and you’d graduate with no problems. Then, when that was finished, you did Eddie’s stack, too. You met his Uncle Wayne and he gave you a small smile when you introduced yourself, like he knew something you didn’t. He had been the one to give you Eddie’s jacket, saying he knew you’d keep it safe, on the first night at the hospital.

“He’s gonna be mad when he learns you did all that for ‘im.”

You shrugged and took the proffered hot chocolate he got for you at the hospital cafeteria. “He can be mad at me all the way across the graduation stage.”

“He did say you were a stubborn, sweet thing.”

The pencil nearly fell from between your fingers and you gaped up at Wayne before looking at Eddie at the bed, looking healthier by the day and just out of his third surgery. “He said that?”

Wayne only gave you that same, secretive smile. It was the same smile he gave you as Eddie dragged you over to take a picture, your green graduation caps and gowns shining in the summer sunlight. Your grandparents were close behind, each brandishing a camera and telling you to smile. It was redundant as you hadn’t stopped giggling since Eddie flipped off Higgins, as he’d promised. But, just as Wayne raised his camera, Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek and knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“That’s a framer,” your grandfather said, clapping Wayne on the back and inviting them to a celebratory lunch.

Their acceptance was on the tip of their tongues—you knew it—but a man in a dark suit loomed at your side and drew everyone’s attention. “Edward Munson?”

Questions upon questions ricocheted in your mind. Who was this man? Was Eddie in trouble? What-?

He held out a small card with a smile, looking at Eddie over the rim of his probably-expensive sunglasses. “I’ve heard good things about you and your band.”

**1996**

The two hulking figures you’d spotted earlier were crowding the doorway and all but pushed you aside to reach for Eddie. You stumbled, elbow knocking against one of the shelves and pain rippled up your arm with a hiss. “Jesus.”

Eddie was quick to grab at your other arm, trying to keep you stable and you hated how you liked how warm he felt, even through the thick bulk of your sweater. “Guys, c’mon, be carefu-”

But they paid you no mind. “The party’s over, boss. You can get your dick wet later. We gotta get out of here before…” The rest of the sentence was drowned out in the scuffle as he was yanked out of the closet and into the surprisingly busy hallway. Elvis was warbling about a Blue Christmas but you barely heard it over the bustle of everyone leaving in a rush. You blindly stepped out into the hall, feeling like someone had stuffed rumpled tissue between your ears. The entire world felt off kilter as someone ran by you, knocking into your shoulder. What was Eddie going to say? Why had finally telling him how you felt leave you aching?

A hand wrapping around your arm pulled you from your reverie and you looked up to see Steve Harrington giving you a familiar, soft smile. “Time to go, sweetheart. The others are waiting.” He quickly explained that Robin called him, asking him to pick them all up after all the taxis (not that there were many in Hawkins) had refused to take them anywhere in the storm.

As soon as the others reached your and Steve’s side, a feat considering the mad rush toward the door, he was all but shepherding you out to the startlingly white parking lot, the snow now up to the middle of your calves. Robin claimed the passenger seat, leaving you, Jonathan, and Nancy to squish into the back seat. The others chattered about how ridiculous the reunion was as you all waited your turn in the long line to exit the parking lot, more than a few cars already sliding or getting stuck in the snow. Steve was patient enough. You knew their conversation was mostly just to pass the time, to let you know they wouldn’t pry (yet), giving you an escape. You gave an anecdote or two, making them laugh when you mentioned how drunk everyone seemed to be. Steve nearly beamed as you commented on how nice the car seat digging into your leg was. “I read, like, six different books about what the best car seat was! The little lady loves it,” he said, using the nickname he was fond of for his daughter.

Robin was the first to be dropped off, after chattering about her PhD program, giving you all awkward hugs from her seat so you wouldn’t have to get out into the cold. She suggested that you all go to Paris the next time a reunion comes around, “you know, so I don’t want to contemplate murder again,” before scrambling out of the car and into her parents’ house. The snow had nearly blotted out the simple line of Christmas lights along the roof, but still shined through in twinkling greens and reds. You took her seat with a sigh, crawling over the center console as Steve shouted about seatbelts, sounding like the mom you knew him to be. Nancy leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek as soon as Steve slowed to a careful stop in front of their hotel—they’d told you, repeatedly, that they were not about to stay at either of their family’s houses for the holiday, no matter how much they loved them. Jonathan squeezed your arm and the pair murmured their thanks to Steve and they reaffirmed the plans to get together with all the kids at the Byers-Hopper house tomorrow, weather permitting, for the party you knew had been planned for months.

That left you alone with Steve and it took exactly forty-two seconds for him to ask, “so, you and Eddie in a closet, huh?”

“It-it wasn’t as salacious as you’re thinking, Steve. We both went in there to hide—separately, you know—and then the door somehow got locked and it was just a…fucking mess.” Slowly, an embarrassed heat pooling in your neck, you told him everything about how you’d finally, pathetically, told Eddie what you’d felt for over a decade.

Fat, white flakes continued their downward parade and the windshield wipers provided a steady beat to your disjointed story until you fell back into your seat, drained and tired. You could spot a few Christmas trees lit up behind half-closed curtains, their decorations a festive break against the growing snow. You frowned as Steve clicked off the radio, Wham’s Christmas earbug suddenly halting. He leaned over and grabbed something from the glovebox.

“Steve?”

He popped a tape shell open and pushed it into the tape deck before tossing the shell onto your lap. You turned it over to see a familiar album cover—it was Corroded Coffin’s latest album. Will Byers had been the one to draw the artwork, filled with bats and broken guitars. “Just listen, okay?” Steve asked, hand on the volume dial.

It wasn’t as if you had a choice, was it? But maybe it was time to finally do it, another way to close the chapter. So, you nodded, and Steve cranked the dial as soon as he fast-forwarded enough to the song he wanted.

The music started low and then quickly roared with heavy guitar and bass and an incessant drumbeat. It was all Eddie. It was Eddie. It was all Eddie and your fingers almost hurt as you clutched the little plastic case. The lyrics were good, and you could imagine this song getting your stuck in your head for weeks, painting a story about the a looming apocalypse, something you knew well. Then, Eddie’s voice came through, clear as day with the chorus, “at the end of the world, I’m glad it’s you…”

Oh.

Shaking fingers pressed to your mouth as the song continued on, filled with lyrics about blood and darkness and looming death…and the saving touch of someone’s hand.

“I’m glad it’s you…”

You flipped the case over and cursed the tears that blurred your vision as soon as you spotted the name of the song. The only song it could be.

Amadeus, at the End of the World

It was for you. But then Steve ejected the tape and put another in before you could truly let it sink in, a million and one thoughts coursing through your mind.

“Remember when you held me close with bloodstained hands?” Eddie sang on another song.

“Remember when you kept me breathing?”

When that song finished, Steve switched to a different track.

“Who worries over you, my girl?”

“Let me be the one to feel your heartbeat…”

And then he switched to another tape, never taking his eyes off the road.

Through raucous rifts and a bassline you could feel rattling your bones, Eddie sang, “you’re sunlight sweet and I’m your freak-Just give me your lips!”

Steve clicked off the radio as the song ended and you wiped fruitlessly at your cheeks; the tears had started during the first song and hadn’t stopped. “I’m so dumb.”

“You both are,” Steve agreed with a smile. He even patted your arm in consolation. “He asked about you all the time and then swore us to secrecy about it. He kept saying that if you wanted to reach out, you would have.”

You sniffled, the burn of the bright snow blurring. “I didn’t have his number. I don’t even know where he lives.” There was a small mess of tapes and their shell cases in your lap by the time turned the Christmas music back on and you fiddled with each of them, as if the pieces of plastic would let you turn back time and make different choices.

“Don’t worry about that,” Steve said with a conspiratorial smile.

It was only then that you realized you weren’t anywhere near the hotel where you were staying. “Steve?” You were clear across town, actually, near the newer developments and high end houses that had been built after the earthquake and property prices had plummeted. Now, years later, you were told that these houses were easily worth over half a million dollars. Each were spaced out, with plenty of land, with brick and mortar mailboxes near the street.

“Just trust me.” He pulled down one of the long driveways and parked in front of a tasteful, craftsman-style home. Sparkling white lights were looped around the porch’s banisters and bloomed soft light across the growing snow. The large bay window near the front door had its curtains opens and a large tree was at its center, decorated with ornaments that looked homemade and adorable. But that wasn’t what caught your eye.

It was Eddie, adjusting the sparkling tree-topper as he chatted with someone you couldn’t see.

“He has a house here?” You asked, feeling even more stupid.

He shook his head. “He bought this place for his uncle after their first album won him that Grammy. Apparently, Wayne was almost too proud to accept it. But you know how stubborn Eddie can be.” He turned to you and gently squeezed your arm, comforting. “Go in,” Steve said. “I can come pick you up, if needed.”

You sniffled and nodded, giving him a watery thank you and another promise to see him tomorrow for the party, before climbing out, the tapes still in your hands. The snow crunched beneath your shoes and you nearly stumbled at the top step of the porch but continued on until you knocked at the front door. Your cheeks were cold but at least your tears had stopped. You must look a mess. But there was no turning back now. The door swung open a few moments later and Wayne stood in front of you, eyebrows pinched. As soon as he recognized you, he was quick to grab at your arm and urge you inside with a murmured, “now what’re you doin’ outside in this kinda weather?” Familiar affection dripped from each word. The door shut with a soft snap behind you. The inside of the house was beautiful and warm; a wall filled with hats and mugs almost had you tearing up again. Eddie must have never stopped buying him those for every birthday, Father’s Day, and Christmas. One of Burl Ives’ Christmas albums was playing on the record player in the corner and two mugs of hot chocolate were set on the table near the tree, steam curling above.

“I…” You rubbed at the end of your cold nose, jostling the tapes in your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

A smile started to push at Wayne’s face as he noticed what you were carrying and then glanced at something behind you. “Well, you know I’ve always been happy to see you. But I don’t think you’re here for me.” He waved a hand and you turned to see Eddie a few paces away. The light from the Christmas tree was behind him, making his curls and waves nearly glow. His dark eyes darted down to the jumble of tapes in your hands and then he looked back up at you.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

“‘Course we can, Amadeus.” Gently, he took your hand and pulled you into the living room. A handful of presents were under the tree and two stockings were hung over the roaring fireplace. Wayne, bless him, shut the door quietly and made himself scarce.

You sat on the edge of an overstuffed leather couch and Eddie settled beside you. One by one, he took the tapes out of your grip and set them on the cushion beside you before reaching out to curl one of his hands over yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles softly, the simple touch making you shiver.

“Eddie, I…” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. I-I just-”

His gentle grip tightened a fraction. “I think we both have been a little less than stellar at this.”

You laughed, a low raspy thing. Your other hand folded over his and you tried to keep your heart from lodging itself in your throat. “Did you mean all of it? All that stuff you sang?” Eddie moved a little closer on the couch and his knee knocked into yours. “Every word.”

“It’s been over ten years, Eddie,” you whispered, not moving your gaze away from his face. His dark eyes reflected the lights on the tree and you almost wanted to cry again. He’d always been so handsome.

Eddie raised your joined hands to press a kiss to your fingers and your poor heart hammered behind your ribs. “It’s always been you, Amadeus. It will always be you.”

You sniffled and winced but didn’t pull away. “God, I’ve cried too much today.”

Eddie, gentle as ever, dropped your hands to grasp your face and wipe your tears away. “I’ve never wanted to make you cry.”

You shook your head and sighed. “And I never wanted to hurt you, either. Those songs…god, all those songs, Eddie. They were beautiful.”

“Not your pop nonsense,” he teased, thumbs smoothing against the half-moons of skin beneath your eye. “But you like them?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I really did.” You paused, licking your lips. Now or never. And you didn’t want to wait another ten years. “I love you Eddie.”

He chuckled, low and soft and your heart jumped. “I know, Amadeus. You told me in the closet.”

A terrible, familiar heat burned at your throat and you went to pull away but Eddie’s grip tightened just enough to keep you still. “Eddie-”

“And I have loved you since you sat next to me in history class, humming that awful song. And I will write you another six hundred songs if it meant you finally believe me.”

He loved you.

He had always loved you.

“We certainly wasted enough time, didn’t we?”

He smiled and it’s as bright as the lights on the tree, near blinding. Heart stopping. Perfect. Then, slowly, he leaned and brushed his lips against yours. Finally, finally, finally. He tasted like peppermint chocolates and smoke. And it was fucking perfect.

**1997**

It was snowing again. The weatherman said to expect another six inches before dawn and for the roads to be a nightmare for a few hours, too, before the plows were able to clear everything up. But you didn’t mind. You adjusted the star atop your Christmas tree right before a familiar pair of arms looped around your waist. Lips skimmed up the back of your neck until you were giggling and squirming in his grip.

“We’re gonna be snowed in, sweetheart. Just you and me for days. Maybe even a week.”

You swatted at his hand with a laugh, loosening his hold just enough for you to turn around and sponge a kiss to his jaw with a hum. “Nice try, big shot. There’s no getting out of Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding tomorrow. It’s just up the street. We can walk.”

Eddie groaned, melodramatic, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Remind me why we have to go?”

“I am a bridesmaid and you are a groomsman. There’s also going to be lots of fancy food and all of our favorite people are already in town and will be there, too. You promised Nancy that you’d keep Dustin in check. You know how he gets about weddings.”

He sighed and you bit back a smile, knowing he was teasing. “I’m not convinced.”

So, you leaned closer and pressed another kiss against his jaw, and then another and another until you made your way up to his lips and steal a kiss there, too. Eddie chased your mouth to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “And, my bridesmaid dress is really fucking sexy. If you’re good-”

“I’m always good,” he whined, halfheartedly pinching at your side just to make you squeak.

“-I’ll let you peel me out of it as soon as Nancy and Jonathan leave the reception. Deal?” You squealed as Eddie suddenly dove for your neck, kissing at the scar over your pulse. You sagged in his grip and moved to kiss the matching scar on his neck, too. It was a strange routine you’d settled into by accident. A gentle reminder of what you’d come through. Together.

“But what about tonight?” He whispered into your cheek, the beginnings of a smile pressing into your skin.

“Well, tonight…” You started to tug him away from the tree with a smile and toward your shared bedroom down the hall.

(Eddie’s plan worked. You hadn’t spotted the small box he’d hidden in the branches of the Christmas tree. He’d waited over ten years to finally call you his. He could wait a few days more.)

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson #female reader

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jamie-dinow · 30 days

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Cozing up with chocolate (closest thing to hot cocoa) and listening to s4 finale!!

#the amelia project

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yourlocaldragonz · 4 months

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this is just gonna be a huge eva rant btw

I love her character and honestly after getting my hopes up to roof above i honestly have doubts that tot is really going to actually fulfill her character in s4.

In s3 her whole character was just shoved aside fully, and one of the things about that is they're, you know, supposed to save or go get her and flopin or whatever but the thing is that happens 3 episodes before the end of the season, which I understand is because they couldn't get as many episodes as they needed and its sought of a final thing because its set as a goal but its not even when they make it to her back up to her fully because the tower gets wrecked basically putting everyone on an equal level and its not like she really got full on involved in the fight for obvious condition reasons but still she wasn't really given anything much except for the fact that that she's just there.

In a lot of season 4 trailers you won't really get much of her so I'm just hoping it's because they haven't put the good scenes of her in the trailers and not because they're gonna slack off on her character for the 100th time. Not to mention how in one old interview they proceed to say that they want to give the brotherhood more focus and not bring in too many characters to focus toward random characters but then proceed to have already brought in a shit ton already and even more returning back BUT some like qilby, nora, ect. are there as they're important to the lore and I get that and they're there to not leave plot holes and say as much as possible about the lore.

I'm literally just full on hoping that she's actually involved and they'll actually use a fucking ounce of budget on some cool scenes of her and separate some focus from characters that don't need that much of that huge amount focus that they've had plenty of to the point where even tot says they're basically a main character cough* cough* percedal. Plus one thing is it's kinda going to be a struggle for her to actually be involved when her fucking bow is destroyed and how the wakfu ability she has besides arrows for her bow that's broken is vision which I can respectfully say will not be very helpful to when it comes to more serious things, so one thing I would literally get down on all fours praying for is for her to get a bow repair and actually get some actual involvement without an excuse being shoved in the way each time and when i say involvement i mean with the actual backstory and depth that they don't give her. If they can squeeze in a whole ass backstory for a ton of random characters they can and should for a character that's quite literally a main character with potential that needs to be used.

anyways thnx for reading, luv eva and byeee!!! ^_^

plus please don't judge if anythings off it's like the middle of the night im tired and driven off of pure annoyance and no longer hot hot chocolate that got left to cool for too long

#wakfu #evangelyne #wakfu evangelyne #wakfu season 4 #rant post #wakfu fandom

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flufflepuffle296 · 1 year

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The Perfect Day

Hello!!! I wrote this prompt post-(ish)-s3 pre-s4 era where there was a lot of salt so this is about 3 years old I wanna say? So that’s why it’s so outdated so HEAVY Alya/Lila/Adrien/Tom and Sabine salt with a lot of Chloe sugar and slight Marigami (best ship) because *this was the vibe at the time* (ayyyy Kendall Jenner) on this page SO if that is not for you fair enough love that for you now SCROLL ON you have had many warnings about how old this is.

Also because this was written before all of s4/a few s3 episodes the lore is very much not present here and outdated so tough luck!

⚠️trigger warning!⚠️

Talking about s*icide here. Please stay safe and do not read this if you think it may trigger you even the slightest bit. Look after yourself! (Also I’m not trying to romanticise sewerslide in any way here (if you want the trauma dump version of how we came up with this you’re welcome to it) but if there is something that shouldn’t be in a post please do let me know and I will remove it but HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING).

SALT FOR (almost) EVERYONE

The Perfect day:

Marinette alarm startled her eyes open at exactly 4am. She scrunched her face up at the prospect of consciousness, but her expression softened slightly when she remembered: today was going to be the perfect day.

The perfect day, to die.

She clambered out of bed, and went downstairs to make her favourite breakfast, with a hot chocolate on the side and mountains of whipped cream, just how she liked it. She had spent the last week trying to convince herself out of this, but it was the only solution.

She was numb.

She was always going to be numb.

Nothing made her feel (that being a full sentence in itself) truly, wholly happy in her being anymore.

She went back upstairs to her balcony and ate her breakfast as the sun rose, squinting at her city. As she finished the last bite, she realised a good swing around Paris was just what she needed, so effortlessly transformed and pulled out her yo-yo, setting out for the Eiffel Tower, the source of so much inspiration for her designs.

Or rather, her *old* designs. She hadn’t the energy or mental strength to do anything she loved recently, nothing sparked much happiness or felt worth it. Her last design was about 2 months ago, but all it did was make her sob at the realisation that she was a failure and a fraud; nothing matched or was cohesive in any way. But in a way, realising her lack of talent when it came to her recent designs was sort of a net positive she concluded.

It meant it stung less when Lila spilled juice all over them, when Alya said they looked better smudged and ruined, or when Adrien delivered his father’s disapproval.

So instead she just watched the rest out the sunrise from her favourite spot, not picking out the different angles in the monument for a ridiculous geometric gown, or whatever her most recent fantasy was.

After another half hour, she sprung back home and got into her favourite Sunday dress, twirling her hair into her cutest hairstyle that the night before she had meticulously studied for hours on Pinterest, that she had always wanted to try. She packed her bag, three letters included, and ran out to catch up with her only real friend at a Francois DuPont.

Alya had left her a long time ago. After all, Lila had “no reason to lie”. She was “perfect”. Marinette was “just jealous” and “refused to cooperate”.

Because after all, it was always Marinette’s fault.

Marinette wished Alya the best in life, but she wasn’t going to waste much more energy on her. She was drained enough as it was.

Chloé was waiting for her, grinning ear-to-ear as she held up her first try at macarons for Marinette to critique. Marinette bit into the surprisingly good attempt at the cookie as they walked up to school together, laughing at Chloe’s sudden inability to swallow a cookie without choking. They walked to the back of the class and sat in their seats, ignoring their classmates.

It’ll all be over tonight anyways.

She spent the lessons talking with Chloé, as it wasn’t like she’d ever need the information after tonight. She encouraged Chloé to reminisce on their favourite times together, such as the day they realised they were different enough to be the same, or the day they realised that they (platonically) loved one another, and were the closest thing each other had to a soulmate.

That was also what Marinette considered a “perfect day”…

…Was Chloé going to be alright tomorrow?

At lunch, the pair met up with Luka and Kagami and went out to a cafe for food and orange juice, before sprinting after André the ice cream man and getting sweetheart ice cream together, Chloé paired with Luka, and Kagami with Marinette (“platonically” of course!). They parted ways once the hour was over, as they had to return to school, where Marinette spent the time daydreaming, recalling childhood memories from before Francois DuPont. This was going to be the last time she would ever remember them, after all.

They were let out of school at their usual time, thankfully no akuma that day, and Marinette, Chloé, Luka, and Kagami briefly chatted outside the gates, before parting ways. Marinette hugged them all tight as she left, handing them her letters and telling them not to open them until midnight AT LEAST.

She returned home, and watched her favourite films, favourite shows, and had her favourite meal for the very last time.

She kissed her parents on the cheeks, which was the most contact she’d had with them in a while, after Lila decided the bakery was her favourite Boulangerie, and she went upstairs to peacefully watch the sunset.

She would never have to deal with Chat Noir again and his flirting sexual harassment, so she decided to enjoy being Ladybug one last time. She transformed and went her usual route, ending up at the Eiffel Tower to finish watching the sun go down, swinging back home whilst it was still just barely light, taking notice of the cool air stinging her cheeks; the first real feeling she’d had in months.

Tikki begged her not to go through with it, but Marinette had made her decision, and renounced Tikki, telling her to find a new Ladybug; her only real plea being to warn them about Chat Noir prior.

Tikki was distraught, but Marinette used her guardianship to send her off and push her away — she needed to be alone for this, she wouldn’t let Tikki under any circumstance.

But Marinette didn’t want everything to be over quite yet, the air was too still, so she turned to her dust covered mannequin, and slowly stitched the zipper onto her old project that she never had the creativity or energy to finish. She tied a figure of 8, and snapped off the thread, taking notice of how it frayed.

Looking at it finally finished, it wasn’t as horrific as she made it out to be in her head a couple months ago, but still, not good enough to convince herself she had any worth.

She looked over at her clock.

10:30

I guess it’s time…

Marinette climbed up to her balcony and stepped over the railing, peering down. She took a deep breath…

And jumped.

She lay in the air, feeling as if she was floating for a second, waiting to to hit the ground. She thought she heard her name, but knew no one was around…

“MARINETTE!”

She felt a clawed hand grab her waist, knocking the air out of her as the two beings shot into the sky, the black figure clutching her tight.

She opened her blue eyes, and stared into Chat Noir’s brown ones.

…Brown?

…This wasn’t Chat Noir?

The black cat landed on a roof, hurriedly demanding to know if she was okay, in a voice that Marinette recognised must be —

“Kagami?!”

The black cat set her down on her balcony and explained that when Tikki was renounced, she was so distraught and furious she renounced Chat Noir of Plagg, revealing Adrien Agreste. The two Kwamis sailed around trying to find someone when they came across Kagami coming back from late night fencing. They quickly told her to read her letter as they were near incomprehensible from stress. Kagami briefly skimmed the letter before immediately snatching the nearest miraculous - the ring - and transforming into the black cat before sprinting across the rooftops as fast as she could, rushing to Marinette’s aid still clutching her letter. She arrived just in time to see her topple over, and saved her just before she hit the ground.

Marinette started sobbing in Kagami’s arms. Kagami sobbed with her a few minutes, promising to never let her go. She eventually picked her up once again and carried her to Le Grand Paris, where she banged on Chloé’s window. Chloé opened it and let the two crying girls in, announcing Luka’s presence as he happened to be in the room teaching Chloé guitar. He rushed to the girls when he saw them collapsed in each other’s arms. Marinette was feeling the first emotions she had felt in months, refusing to leave her saviour’s side, clutching to Kagami. Luka and Chloé listened as Marinette vented how she had been feeling, or rather the fact that she hadn’t been feeling anything, whilst Kagami stroked her hair and wiped her face, kissing her forehead every so often to remind her she was safe.

Chloé had a room prepared and the four of them off school the next day, booking Marinette in for a highly rated therapy appointment. The four friends snuggled in each other’s arms, Marinette in the middle. They fell asleep immediately, crashing from the excitements of the past hour, except for Marinette, who lay awake just a few more moments to make a promise to herself.

Every day, from today, I will make into the *perfect* day.

—————————————————————————

Hello me again!!!! I had a few other endings in case we weren’t feeling this one so just quickly:

Alternate ending 1) She jumps. When midnight comes around her friends open her letters and rush to her place, only to find police and an ambulance declaring her dead, and if you want some more angst, Chloé and Kagami storm into the school the next day scream-crying at their classmates whilst Luka repeatedly whispers “I couldn’t save her” crying in his mum’s arms. (Very depressing)

Alternate ending 2) Marinette realises that she doesn’t want to die. Why should she? She’s just spent today just doing what makes her happy? She should live like this everyday! She has so much to live for! Sure therapy is needed and some communication too, but she can do it. (Yayyy happyyy)

This was for the most part written when I was around 14/15 so if the sentence structure is a bit shit I’m gonna blame it on that (and not my lack of progress in writing in the past 3 years!)

#Alya salt #Lila Salt #Adrien salt #Marigami #marinette deserves better #mlb salt #Chloe sugar #cat noir salt #mlb salt fic #chat noir salt #tom and sabine salt #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #kagaminette #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi

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wereoz · 2 months

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YAY when i saw u tagged me my mouth literally dropped open THANKS @belleandsaintsebastian

last song: dancing barefoot!! was so obsessed with that song around… 2022? and about every other time i encounter it

currently watching: twd & the mentalist!! love twd sm i love long series and how they become homey and i love thinking abt constant underlying messages which twd is RIFE with. i am watching this season quite infrequently tho just cuz i don’t enjoy it as much as the others and i have been angry ranting abt it tbh………

the mentalist is quite frankly…… bad. 😭😭 WELL actually idk…… like it has strong points and obviously something abt it hooks me cuz hello i’m on s4 but in s1 & 2 i was like thats so cliched and annoying and that’s literally just police brutality so….. but in s3 i was enjoying parts & building little fantasy worlds abt it in my head & oh my god im obsessed w teresa lisbon & i LOVED the finale because it had DRAMA!!!! but then all the drama surrounding one plot avenue is just SUCKED OUT (imo) in the beginning if s4 so??? and one plot thread was just left so like thats annoying….. and the main guy at the last few minutes of an episode was literally told. i’ve diagnosed u with aspd (well. he said ‘psycopath’ i think but then when he lightheartedly asked a coworker he used the term ‘anti social personality’ so) and its like…. a joke basically so…… thank u very cool. literally that one house autism GOTCHA moment i had flashbacks

currently reading: love and marriage by monica ali, i got it from my english teacher cuz she brought in her favs. it was funny cuz last minute she was like oh no i forgot!!!! theres a lot of sex!!!!ask if u have questions i’m ur pshe teacher!!! very earnest & giggly shes great. i like it so far and the style of writing, im VERY interested in where its going, so glad i’ve found a book i enjoy sm

‘how far we’ve come’, for a competition…… ough i need to pick that up again before time runs out.

fever wake, very interesting to read, especially cuz i always read it before bed , all hazy and tired lmao

lesbians guide to catholic school, just for the mandatory 10 mins reading at my school in english. don’t really like the writing style, but i find the main character, yamilet’s, unique relationship w her family SO interesting. being the second favourite just bc shes a girl, how she reconciles her love for her brother with how frustrating that is, homophobia from beloved family members, and her dad being deported all interest me a lot

current favourites: …..always hot chocolate & whipped cream, my binder!!!!! oat biscuits, pasta, painting in acrylics & just working in my gcse sketchbook in general, collaging, imagining scenarios & fic scenes in my head especially w music, listening to music to and from school, when i make people laugh, that i’ve become more social and less afraid to talk to people,

no pressure tags <3 : @gayfilmbro @preordainedplace (again!! no pressure esp for u!! cuz ik were not mutuals but i love ur blog & art <3 and with it being so hard to find anyone posting abt one deranged movie released 13 years ago it feels like were locked in the same cage already lmao) @1985houndsoflove @thelastdaysofrocknroll @thepunkmuppet @doctorgregoryhouse @pnt03prcnt

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anonym-potato · 2 years

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The Entire Main Cast of Stranger Things are Autistic have some headcanons - Part 3!

Boy, this took too long. S4 really stuck up on us, huh? I imaging I’ll have thoughts about the new folks once the season airs. Parts 1 and 2!

Joyce:

Just sort of Knew her boys were Like Her and never questioned it.

She’s the biggest advocate for self-advocacy, if that makes sense. Like, if someone tells her they need a break she will give them a quiet space and hot chocolate if they’d like and HEAVEN HELP anyone who tries to interrupt. Lucas is Resting. Don’t You Dare :)

She did not intend to develop a special interest in magnetism and electromagnetic power but Here We Are Karen did you know that-

Made herself a small weighted blanket by sewing a bunch of smooth river pebbles into an old quilt. The Nice Clacky Sound is a Bonus.

Paces to stim. At this point she’s worn down paths in the floorboards.

Masked her way through high school and then just…dropped it as an adult because she had more important things to spend spoons on. The Hawkins General Public was…opinionated.

Food is better when it’s Cold. It just is. She and El bonded over unmicrowaved Eggos.

Hopper

Guess who has no idea how emotional regulation works YOU DO YOU DO

What do you mean everybody doesn’t secretly hate talking to other people and just never talk about it. What do you mean people actually think small talk is fun.

He needs the Rules and he needs them to be followed. It’s why he joined the police and why he can be so strict with El.

Facial expressions are overrated.

Music is stimmy as heck and he blasts it super loud when he’s alone in the cabin

Also rubs his hands all over his beard because the scruff is nice.

Either hyperverbal or completely nonverbal, no in-between.

Murray

Okay first of all this man lives in a quiet, dark, solitary bunker where he can just do his job and never has to interact with anyone he doesn’t want to. Dude’s living the dream.

The brain-to-mouth filter is selective at best.

He can only read the others as well as he can because they’re also on the spectrum so they’re all on the same length. This makes him feel very impressive and professional.

What does that facial expression mean. Hell if he knows. You get it, right Jim? Jim?

Hypppperrrrrrfocussssss

He kind of hated these kids up until the point he realized they Get It, and now he’s dubbed himself the Teacher of Not Giving A Fuck. Joyce and Hopper have...mild concerns, mostly because he’s usually half-drunk when trying to teach these lessons.

Food textures...Bad. Except when they are Good. But usually Bad.

#stranger things #Joyce Byers #Jim Hopper #Murray Bauman #autistic headcanon

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notquitecogent · 2 years

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baby, i'm yours now (dreaming a connection)

EDIT: A quick update to say this one is now also available on Ao3, in glorious high-definition.

BEHOLD! My first-ever (public) attempt at fic – and smut, no less! (#allin) – inspired by, and written for, the incomparable @majicmarker. It's Hellcheer. It's demisexual. It's soft as hell. It's stream-of-consciousness ADHD vibes (not my usual style but I feel like it works for Eddie's POV, which this is).

Anyway, I'm terrified of posting this (see also: the crippling fear of being known) but I'm biting – nay, tearing – through the proverbial bullet because this was fulfilling to write and perhaps it will fulfil others?? TITLE: baby, i'm yours now (dreaming a connection) PAIRING: Eddie x Chrissy (F/M), Stranger Things s4 RATING: Explicit WORD COUNT: ~4,000 CHAPTER COUNT: 1/1 WARNINGS: Heterosexual sex, mild drug references, swearing, overusing italics for emphasis, run-on sentences as a stylistic choice Ok. So. It really, really wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

After nearly 20 years on Earth, Eddie was well and truly used to getting carried away; his out-of-control imagination would grab a concept in its greedy little hands and bolt – catapulting between ideas, fantasies and ever-more-complicated scenarios before he’d even had the chance to really think.

It was an uncontrollable kind of thing, the way his brain just seemed to latch and run with it.

And, well, sometimes it worked out; there were song lyrics (Corroded Coffin’s finest, if he said so himself), D&D campaigns (more than a few inspired narrative twists) – even poems (shut up).

And sometimes, like now, it really, really didn’t.

Because his brain’s latest obsession was one Christine Elizabeth Cunningham. Oh yes. Queen of Hawkins High, almost certainly Prom Queen, captain of the cheerleading squad, Chrissy Cunningham. A very nice, very pretty, very most definitely off-limits, unavailable, do NOT under any circumstances even think about it, you fucking idiot, type of girl.

The picture of loveliness and wholesomeness and everything bright and good in the world, but with big sad eyes and a laundry list of trauma oh, about 50 feet long.

Unlike her certified dropkick Conformity Ken boyfriend, Chrissy was sweet as a peach, and just as easily bruised – she’d been so nervous when they’d met up at the picnic table, and it had made him want to wrap her in cotton wool and tell her everything was going to be alright. Made him want to slay all her demons and keep her safe forever.

You know – real righteous Paladin, white knight shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because she already had a guy for that (the aforementioned dropkick, Jason Carver – god, even his name was like something out of Tiger Beat).

It was Jason’s job to take care of her; to hold her tight and stroke her silky is-it-reddish-blonde-or-blondish-red hair and oh, probably make her cups of hot chocolate with the tiny marshmallows she probably loved because she was probably just that cute.

Except she hadn’t gone to the King of All Tools when everything got bad, had she? She’d come to him – in secret, might he add – and she’d gotten into his van and come back to the trailer and stood inside and then chickened out of taking any drugs and just sat there and cried and poured her little sugarplum heart out to him.

And, well, he couldn’t help how he felt about that, could he? Eddie wasn’t made of stone – in fact, he’d been reminded far too many times that his heart might as well have been made of those same tiny hot chocolate marshmallows, for all the soft, squishy, tender, sweet feelings that seemed to pour out of it whenever someone in his vicinity was upset.

He’d wrapped her up in a threadbare blanket and awkwardly rubbed her shoulder and she’d smiled and said, “Yes, please, Eddie,” when he’d asked if she needed a hug. And he’d held her in his arms and she’d rested her no-it’s-definitely-reddish-blonde head on his chest, right above his black widow tattoo and more importantly, the marshmallow heart – and his foolish, ridiculous, idiot brain had decided Chrissy Cunningham would be all it would think about every minute of every hour since.

He’d dropped her off at the big, beautiful house in Loch Nora (that she lived there and he lived in the seen-better-days double-wide in Forest Hills Trailer Park was such a cliché it was like a fucking Billy Joel song come to life).

Then he spent the next two hours chain-smoking and scarfing down handfuls of cereal and gas station candy while his imagination made her the centre of Corroded Coffin’s next hypothetical concept album, right down to the cover art (she’d be in one of those long chiffon nightdresses, floating about an abandoned castle as he dispatched her ghoulish nightmares back to Hell with a truly vicious riff).

And then she’d somehow got his number from Dustin Henderson and called him up on the phone, just to say hi, just to make sure he wasn’t too freaked out by her the other night. And they’d made plans to hang out again – had gone for a walk in his neighbourhood where no-one of consequence would see them together, and his stupid blabber mouth had told her some of his secrets, like why he didn’t have a mom or dad (abandoned him and in prison, respectively) and why he was repeating senior year yet again (at this point it’s just habit, he’d joked, ha ha ha, and she’d given him this half-grin like she couldn’t tell if he was trying to make her laugh or not – but he was, he always was, he’d never stopped trying after hearing her delightful little giggle for the first time).

Then it was very much sharing their hopes and dreams – all very teenage American heartland, John Cougar Mellencamp bullshit, he thought with shame (excitement) and disgust (delight).

But it had kept going like that; the calling up, the meeting up. “I can’t talk to anyone the way I talk to you,” she'd confessed once, so matter-of-factly it broke his heart a bit. She brought him a little cross-stitched Corroded Coffin bandana for his birthday in May, and he’d made her a mixtape for hers a few weeks later in June.

“This is so sweet, Eddie,” she’d said. “I’ll listen to it every night.” And his brain had melted out his ears imagining her in her frilly pyjama set, under the covers with her headphones on and thinking of him.

They didn’t talk in school. Prom came and went, with Chrissy and Jason predictably crowned Queen and King and Eddie spending the evening getting excruciatingly high and trying not to think about them going up to the suite Captain Haircut had probably booked at Hawkins’ only nice hotel to celebrate, just the two of us, like the walking cliché he was.

Before he knew it, graduation was upon them. He’d already resigned himself to never seeing Chrissy Cunningham again, once she moved away to IU with Darling Jase. They should start a new war and bring back the draft, Eddie thought uncharitably, and then felt immediately guilty because Uncle Wayne had been in Vietnam.

Except, as it turned out, Eddie didn’t need the United States Armed Forces to get involved because Chrissy voluntarily broke up with Jason four days into summer break, telling him she’d be going to Illinois instead for her legacy place at her dad’s alma mater.

A little after that, she’d come to the trailer unannounced and out of breath, chipmunk cheeks flushed and an unreadable expression (strangely like hope?) in her lovely, lovely eyes that were bluish-grey-or-were-they-greyish-blue.

Which brings him to the present moment, in which he is entirely unsure what exactly the fuck is happening – but what else is new?

“I’ve realised something,” Chrissy tells him at the door.

“What?” he asks dumbly, and then she grabs the collar of his lucky Black Sabbath T-shirt and pulls him into what is, to date, the best and most Earth-shattering kiss he’s ever had, until she plants the second one on him.

“I’m in love with you, Eddie,” she says between that first and second kiss (and on the third, she slips her tongue in his mouth).

And while his brain seems to have fallen into an LSD-like trance amid the insane sensory overload he is currently experiencing, Eddie’s hands have a mind of their own; they make a valiant attempt at overloading his senses even more, skimming Chrissy’s waist, then sliding around to cup her ass through her little corduroy skirt.

And then he realises he didn’t say anything when she told him she loved him (she is in love with him!!) and he has to break away – panting, hopefully not too embarrassingly, and rest his forehead against hers.

“Do you love me too, Eddie?” she says softly, gazing up at him through her delicate little eyelashes, with her shining definitely-bluish-grey eyes. “It’s alright if you don’t. I just needed you to know I love you.”

She’s holding his wrists as he cups her face, and she closes her eyes for a moment as if dreading what he has to say next.

Eddie can’t help himself; he bends and kisses both cheeks, in the place where tears might fall if she were crying.

“I think,” he says, kissing one, “I might love you more” – he kisses the other – “than anything in the world,” he concludes, brushing his lips softly against hers.

With his eyes closed, he can feel her break into a smile a mile wide and an ocean deep, and she kisses him back like a sunbeam.

And though his brain is barely coping with finally, finally having Chrissy Cunningham’s mouth on his mouth, he's becoming rapidly aware that they are still standing in the doorway of the trailer.

“Would you like to- to come inside?” he asks as she softly sucks his lower lip. Chrissy nods, and he pulls her in and shuts the door. “Um, I have, I have water and coffee, I think, and maybe juice, I don’t know if Wayne went to the market yet, but if you’re thirsty I can-“

Chrissy cuts him off. “I’m not thirsty, Eddie,” she says with an unfamiliar, deeper note in her voice, staring at his lips and running her hands under the back of his T-shirt.

His throat goes dry, his skin erupting in furious tingles wherever her fingers trace – oh Jesus she’s touching his front now, smoothing her palms up to his chest, and what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

“If you want, could I- could I see your room?” she asks him, the same – yes, he will say it, sexy – voice as before, but a little shy, and it is, once again, a melting-brain situation.

He nods and kisses her again again again, arms winding around her waist in a soft hug before taking her hand and leading her down the narrow corridor to his – oh no, fucking filthy – bedroom, kicking the door behind them.

It is, predictably, a mess of discarded clothing, screwed up paper, magazines, loose cigarettes, several cups in various states of emptiness, and he only has one pillow, and that blanket has seen better days, and Chrissy is running her hands over his back, she’s tugging him around to face her, she’s rocking up on her tip toes and there’s her tongue again.

He shuffles awkwardly back onto the unmade bed, sitting down when his legs hit the mattress, and he must be dying, must be dead, because Chrissy is climbing onto his lap and lifting off her top to reveal, in full, the lacy white bra he had tried to pretend he couldn’t detect through the cotton.

She cups his face and pecks his lips and grabs his wrists and moves his hands from the bed back to her waist. “You can touch me, Eddie,” she says, and it’s the single most erotic thing he’s ever heard in two decades of life.

He brushes her bare skin and she shivers – god, he hopes his hands aren’t too cold – and moves up to slip her bra straps down her shoulders, and now there is very little keeping her breasts from being fully exposed. He pulls down one cup and he can’t help it, he really can’t – he bends to take her dusky pink nipple into his mouth, licking it experimentally before giving it a gentle suck. And his instincts are apparently spot on, because Chrissy’s hands fly to the back of his head, and he does it again, and then he does it to the other one, and his hands are tracing the soft skin of her thighs and her back, and her hips start to shift and rock as she breathes out his name.

Can she feel that he’s hard? Because he is. Achingly so, he realises, his erection pushing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. He needs to relieve the tension, needs to grab her ass and lift her up and get his dick out and then put her back down again, right on top, slip inside her and let her rock herself back and forth until she comes, and he comes, and they live happily ever after.

He doesn’t do that – instead, he fumbles down between them to try and get his fly undone, except his hands are too big and shaking and he can’t seem to twist the button the right way and this is a fucking nightmare. But Chrissy just giggles, the sound clear like a bell ringing, and slips her own fingers under his. She undoes the button easily, pulling down his zipper and sliding her hand over his hard cock oh my god.

He must moan or something because she keeps smiling and does it again, pulling down the band of his boxers to get her palm around him. She’s stroking him up and down, grinning against his mouth, and he should do something, right? Should be touching her back, should be doing something other than falling apart in ecstasy.

He moves his hands from where they’ve been glued to her hips and traces up her inner thigh, brushes the front of her panties (also lace, it feels like – a matching set???). Then he feels a damp spot and almost passes out. That means she’s wet – what they are doing is making her wet. She rocks forward against his fingers again, making this little needy humming sound.

“Please, Eddie, I want it,” she murmurs into his mouth as she kisses him and strokes him and presses their bodies even tighter together, and he thinks he’s getting the hint.

He rubs her through the lace, dragging the damp fabric over the spot underneath, and her eyelashes flutter. Uh huh, she says, almost involuntary, almost a nod. So he keeps doing it, trying to focus and not look down at her pretty little fingers with their pink nail polish wrapped around his dick.

But after a few minutes of bliss, his own hand begins to cramp and he slips his fingers under the elastic, says against her mouth, “Can I take these off?”

Chrissy quickly clambers off his lap and stands in front of him, bringing his fingers to the sides of her underwear, helping him drag them down her smooth thighs and skinny legs – and he can’t help himself again because it’s all basically eye level, so he rests his head against her stomach and kisses her there and he wants to kiss her lower, wants to lick his way between her thighs and make her shake and say his name again.

“Can I- can I? With my mouth…” he says haltingly, brain thoroughly useless at this point. But it’s not like he has much experience to go off, anyway – has no idea what he’s supposed to say.

Chrissy blushes scarlet from her forehead to the tips of her breasts and nods. “Ok, ok, uh... lie down,” he tells her, and he’s never been more thankful for being barefoot, because now would be the worst time to have to unlace his Docs or his Reeboks, and instead all he has to do is pull off his T-shirt and his jeans and his boxers and then he’s naked and he looks up and Chrissy is shimmying out of her skirt and unhooking her bra and then she’s naked too.

Not only is she naked, but she is lying back against his one disgusting pillow and looking up at him, nervous, excited, but overall fucking joyful – and it occurs to him that this is the absolute pinnacle of his existence so far.

So he eases her legs apart and begins kissing her thighs, where his fingers had traced before, and she shivers again and gulps as he gets closer and closer to where she’s so hot and wet. God, he wants to make her come so badly.

He tries to remember what he’s read, what he’s seen, what he’s heard. He spreads her with his thumbs, licks up the centre, brushes what must be her clit because she lets out a shocked little sound when he does it, so he does it again and she squeaks.

He tries to form some kind of rhythm, and she starts panting, gasping, “Eddie, don’t tease me.”

Shit, fuck, was he? Is that what he was doing? And what is he supposed to do next?? Well, there's really only one option; he closes his lips over her clit and sucks, trying to keep flicking the same spot the same way as before, and Chrissy lets out a sound that is halfway between a scream and a moan. She buries her fingers in his hair again, holding him in place while she grinds up against his mouth. It’s so hot he can’t stop pressing his dick into the mattress.

He keeps it up, and soon she starts shaking again and chanting Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and then his face feels very wet because she’s coming, Jesus Christ. She’s got his name in her mouth and his mouth on her pussy, and he’s making Chrissy Cunningham come, and this is – without doubt – the best of all possible worlds.

He’s about five seconds from coming himself, if he’s honest. She tugs on his hair slightly and he pulls away, mouth and chin shiny, looking up at her.

Chrissy is red-faced, her hair a tangled halo, muscles lax, every part of her screaming afterglow.

She’s fucking radiant.

“Eddie, that was… I’ve never done that before,” she turns away all shy, and he shimmies up and settles himself between her legs, so they are chest to chest.

“Neither have I,” he says, tilting her chin up to kiss her, and she looks surprised for a second before winding her arms around his shoulders and whispering, “Do you want to…?”

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Except… “Condom?” God, could he be any more blunt? Stupid, so dumb.

“In my skirt,” Chrissy says into his neck, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. She really wanted this, planned for it, even – as if the love bite she’s currently sucking over his thundering pulse wasn’t evidence enough of that.

He blindly reaches down, fumbles for the pocket amongst the corduroy, and grabs the shiny metallic square.

“Uh, I’ll just be a second,” he says awkwardly, kissing her nose as he sits back on his knees. Jesus, his dick really is front and centre like this. He’s definitely blushing, and his hands shake slightly as he focuses on ripping the package open and rolling the Latex down. If Chrissy notices how nervous he is, she doesn’t show it – she just looks at his hard-on and licks her lips and then bites them and looks up at him again through her eyelashes, and god it’s so sexy this whole thing will probably only last a minute.

He leans forward, lining them up, watching Chrissy’s face to stop himself squeezing his eyes shut as he slides inside her for the first time. She’s biting her lip again, and breathing heavily, and he forgot to ask her if she’s ever done this part before – but of course she has, right? It’s him that’s the clueless virgin.

She’s cupping his face as he’s buried within her. “Kiss me, Eddie,” she says, so soft and sweet his heart might break again, and so he does. “You can move,” she whispers, and then – marvellously! – adds, “You feel good.”

“Yeah?” he says back, keenly aware of how little he’s spoken while they’ve been doing this – uncharacteristically so. Usually he can’t just fucking shut up, but apparently sex is the exception that proves the rule. Does she wish he was talking more? Should he work on that?

“It’s so good, Eddie,” Chrissy smiles. “You’re so good.”

And oh, that’s doing it for him. What an egomaniac he’s turned out to be.

“You’re so good, you’re so beautiful Chrissy, I feel like I’m going to die,” he stammers, and she huffs out a giggle and says, “Not yet,” as she rubs their noses together.

He starts to move, experimentally, trying to keep it slow, trying not to hitch her knees up and just pound her into the bed. It’s so overwhelming, he’s right on the edge already, desperately trying to hang on and make it good for her. He leans back and wedges his hand between them, thumbing her clit in time with his thrusts, and she’s moaning softly again, her head back and eyes shut.

It’s too much – he can’t stop watching his cock disappear inside her, watching her perfect, perfect tits jiggle and bounce with every movement, her lovely face, still blushing pink with a sheen of sweat from the orgasm he gave her, a second ago, when she was riding his face and coming, so wet and hot all over him, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

Oh no. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m going to come” – the words fall out as he speeds up and just fucking disintegrates, just shatters apart, buries his face in her neck as he moans like it’s being ripped out of him.

Moments pass. Consciousness returns. He’s dimly aware he’s panting, his probably extremely annoying heavy breaths hitting her soft skin. But she’s stroking his hair, running her fingernails over his scalp, and he must be in heaven; he’s ascended to the fucking astral realm, because he can’t remember ever being so content.

He lifts his face and nuzzles her nose with his nose again. “That was… uh, that was great,” he says lamely, adding a sheepish, “Fast – but great.”

Chrissy giggles, and he can feel the vibrations through her body into his.

“I’ve had faster,” she winks, adding, “But, um, that was the most fun I’ve ever had, doing that, so…”

“Well, that is the goal,” Eddie grins, pressing another soft kiss to her cheek and reaching a hand up to tuck a tendril of golden hair behind her ear.

“What now?” he asks.

“Oh,” replies Chrissy with a fond smile. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

#hellcheer #eddissy #first-time fic writer #crippling fear

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