#well-written goodies happening here!
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She’s Trouble
(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)
Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
Word count: 16,185
Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!
A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?
I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️
Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)
Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen
~*~
You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.
This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.
And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.
“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.
“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.
It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.
You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.
“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.
You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”
It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.
Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.
Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”
You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”
You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”
The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.
~*~
Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.
The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.
~*~
You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.
It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.
Maybe I’ll get lost…
You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.
Skull Rock it is.
~*~
One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.
In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.
~*~
Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.
That leaves one place. Skull Rock.
~*~
The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.
Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.
He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.
Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?
Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.
Fuck.
~*~
In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.
I dare you.
Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.
Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.
“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.
Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”
A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.
“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”
Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“
“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.
Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”
Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”
“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.
Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”
Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.
“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”
“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.
“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”
Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.
Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”
“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.
Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”
Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.
“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”
Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.
Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”
Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.
“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.
Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.
~*~
He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.
Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.
He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.
~*~
By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?
Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.
You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.
The freak got dumped
You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.
~*~
By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…
“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.
It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.
Good.
What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.
Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.
Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.
He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.
“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.
“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.
“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.
Fuck it.
You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.
Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.
“No.”
You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.
“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.
Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.
Coward.
“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.
“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.
“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.
“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.
Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.
You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.
Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”
Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.
~*~
If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?
Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“
Great.
Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.
“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.
“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.
“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.
She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.
“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.
You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.
“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”
“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.
You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”
“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.
Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”
You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.
“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”
“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”
There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.
“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.
Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”
“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”
Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”
You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”
She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”
Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”
Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”
She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.
~*~
Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.
Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.
It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.
His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.
As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.
Fuck…
You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.
You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.
Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.
“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”
The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.
And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?
“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.
~*~
Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.
“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”
“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.
“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“
You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.
“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”
His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.
He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.
“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”
You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.
Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”
“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.
“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.
Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.
Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”
It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.
He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.
As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.
How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.
“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.
He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.
That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.
“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”
“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”
“Because, I… Eddie, I—“
“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“
You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”
You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.
“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”
You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.
Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.
You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—
“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.
You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.
~*~
You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?
Want.
A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.
His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.
With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.
That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.
Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…
Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.
You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.
Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.
His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.
“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.
Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?
You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.
Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.
Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.
Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.
You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.
Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.
Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.
Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.
“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.
Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”
“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.
You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.
His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.
“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.
He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.
You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.
“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”
You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”
When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.
“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”
His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.
His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.
“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”
“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”
Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”
You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”
Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”
You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”
You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.
“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”
Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.
Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.
Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.
Fuck me.
“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”
Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”
You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.
“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.
“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”
You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.
“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.
You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”
Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.
“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”
You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”
At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.
His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“
He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.
You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.
Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.
It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.
Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.
The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.
“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.
You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.
“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”
Yet… Fuck me running.
Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.
“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”
Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.
“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”
You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.
He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”
You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”
You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.
He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”
There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”
And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.
Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”
You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”
Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.
When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”
This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.
“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”
He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”
You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”
You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.
Love… You don’t have to think twice.
Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”
At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”
“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.
He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”
And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.
Holy shit and fuck me…
Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”
He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”
And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“
He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”
His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”
Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”
While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?
Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”
“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.
Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”
The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”
There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”
~*~
Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd
-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-
Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)
#kristenwrites#eddie munson#my work#my writing#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#stranger things 4#stranger things#stranger things 4 fanfiction#stranger things 4 fic#stranger things smut
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omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well
tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!
this december
jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader
it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.
content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry
word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)
click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!
it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.
“why me?” you groan.
gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.
“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”
“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.
satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”
you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.
“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.
satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).
satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”
your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”
“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”
“i appreciate your honesty, but—”
“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.
“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”
“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”
“gojo!” you whine.
“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”
and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).
so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.
megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.
“i think we should break up.”
and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.
now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.
“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.
you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.
“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.
the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.
what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.
if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.
megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.
you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.
“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.
it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.
you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.
“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.
“i can take the couch,” megumi says.
it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.
“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”
“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”
we’ve shared a room countless of times before.
megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.
“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.
megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”
he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.
“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.
“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”
to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.
and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.
december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.
“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”
you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”
he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.
by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.
you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.
your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.
you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?
“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.
with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”
you pale. “this sucks.”
“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.
“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.
he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”
your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”
“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.
“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.
you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?
there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.
that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.
so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?
you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”
you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.
it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.
you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.
when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.
“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.
you smile and nuzzle closer.
it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.
to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.
tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.
it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?
“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.
you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.
“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.
the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.
“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.
you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.
“don’t touch my wife.”
the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?
“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”
“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”
the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.
“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”
“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”
you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”
“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”
“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.
“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”
“i don’t want to,” you argue.
“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”
“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.
“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”
from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.
you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”
“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.
“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”
the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.
when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.
the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.
there’s nothing to do anyway.
you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.
you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.
without much thought, you buy the gift.
the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”
you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”
she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.
you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.
reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?
you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.
you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.
you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.
he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.
“is this for me?”
“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”
he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”
“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.
“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”
you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”
“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.
you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.
he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.
“thank you,” he whispers.
december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.
“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.
“huh? why not?”
“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.
“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”
“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”
your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.
“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”
“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”
“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.
you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.
“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.
he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”
why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?
your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?
you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.
“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.
he stills completely. “what?”
“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”
his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.
“i do care,” he admits sorely.
“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.
“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”
you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.
“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.
“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.
“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.
he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.
“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”
“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”
he flinches against you. “but i…”
“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”
he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.
you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.
“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”
“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?
“w-we gotta report back to—”
“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.
the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”
“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.
all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.
it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.
“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.
“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”
megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.
your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.
"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.
satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”
“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.
“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.
“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”
megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.
“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”
“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.
“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”
“watch me!”
“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#megumi x you#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk megumi#megumi fluff#not my best work tbh
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exhausted
pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)
summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest
warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares
notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep
masterlist
You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.
With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.
Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.
It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.
You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.
Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.
They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.
“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.
“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.
“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.
It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.
“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.
“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.
“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.
“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.
“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.
“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.
-
The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.
Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.
“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.
“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.
“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.
“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.
“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.
Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.
And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that.
He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.”
You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life.
“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.
“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.
“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.
“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.
“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.
“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.
“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.
“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.
“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.
“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.
“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.
“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.
“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.
“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.
“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.
Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.
“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.
“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.
And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.
“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.
“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.
“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.
“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.
“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.
A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.
“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.
“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.
<3
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#the punisher#frank castle x you#frank castle fluff#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle x female reader#the punisher fluff#the punisher x reader#reader-insert#matt murdock#daredevil
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Woe out the Storm (10) - Crying Lightning
Wednesday Addams x female Reader
Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.
Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn
Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
Word count: 4.4k
-Uninviting, but not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are-
“Are you going to tell me what happened two nights ago?” Wednesday’s question made you lower the book you were reading.
You sighed and got up from your bed. The lights in Wednesday and Enid’s part of the room were already dimmed as Wednesday set up candles and whatever else she needed to hold a séance. “I got attacked,” you knew better than to try and keep silent. Frankly, you were surprised Wednesday didn’t bring it up sooner.
She just turned to look at you, obviously not impressed by your very detailed explanation.
The look in her eyes made you look away as you leaned against the wall in her part of the room. “I went to mayor’s office, I thought I could dig up some information on all of this in the archive. Maybe figure out how all of this connects? Crackstone, the Gates family, that message burned onto the lawn, that monster, it can’t all be a coincidence, and then when I typed in ‘Fire will rain’ I felt that…” you still didn’t know how to describe whatever or whoever you saw.
“The one that attacked you,” Wednesday spoke up, causing you to nod.
“Can’t you give up? I don’t want that to happen to you as well and I’m not dumb enough to think it was an accident,” you finally looked at her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d let this case go. But she didn’t see that. Those eyes. The chill… it felt as if you were one moment from dying, as if your entire existence was left to the mercy of the one who attacked you.
No. Attack would imply actual effort. You didn’t even see it coming, you were effortlessly, utterly defeated and outclassed in every possible way.
Your dad was stronger than you, faster than you, had better range and control over his lightning. Being a raiju meant you were more dangerous than most outcasts, but as far as other raiju went, you weren’t even average.
You could still follow your dad. You could still understand and somewhat quantify the difference between the two of you.
You couldn’t even comprehend the difference between you and the one who attacked you.
“I’m not going to give up just like that,” yet Wednesday remained stubborn.
“Why do you even care about Nevermore in the first place?” you still couldn’t understand why it mattered to her to stop the school’s demise. She hated this place when she came here, saying she was forced to be here, she planned on running away and now she wanted to save it?
Wednesday paused for a moment. “It’s a challenge, I’m not backing away from one. You are free to stop involving yourself with me. In fact, I would prefer it if you did that,” she began lighting the candles and from where you were you couldn’t see her face.
Well, that stung. It stung way more than you were willing to admit to yourself. It wasn’t like you needed Wednesday’s approval, but her all but telling you to leave her alone just like that didn’t leave you entirely unaffected. “Right, I’ll leave you to,” you motioned to the candles and the Ouija board with the name ‘Goody’ written on it. “this,” maybe she just wasn’t in the mood.
Well, if that was what she wanted, maybe you really should give her some space. So, with that in mind, you went outside through the window and zapped to the roof. It was a nice, slightly cold night, with clear skies, meaning there wouldn’t be any storms tonight. Hell, you might even spend the night there.
You didn’t think you were delusional. In fact, you thought you had a fairly acceptable read on people, even ones as closed off as Wednesday. She cared, in her own way, and maybe she only showed it when you couldn’t see it, but she did. She stayed by your side the whole night, and for Wednesday that was huge. And the dance, and letting you keep her knife, and all the other small ways you managed to catch her showing you she cared.
You frowned, glaring at the stars and the Moon. Tomorrow was thirteenth, Wednesday’s birthday, and somehow, something just shifted between you two and there was a rift you weren’t sure how to deal with. Wednesday preferred being alone, sure, and you figured she wasn’t used to caring about people. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but a part of you thought that maybe, just maybe, she was trying to push you away because she wasn’t sure how to deal with those emotions. Or maybe you really were being delusional and were coping with the possibility that Wednesday plain and simple didn’t care and that she found your presence in her life annoying.
But she showed she cared. Thing said she cared!
You couldn’t help but groan, closing your eyes in frustration.
Why was she so complicated?!
~X~
Annoyed.
That’s what Wednesday was right now.
A surprise birthday party? A complete waste of her time, though an impressive subterfuge by whoever came up with this plan. Why were all these people here, anyway? They were Enid’s friends, well, most of them, she was sure Xavier was there because he liked her for whatever reason.
Still, she should have realized something wasn’t right when she saw the magazine cutouts used for the message. She didn’t pay enough attention to all the possibilities.
You not being there threw her off. Since it was Cracstone’s crypt going there would mean taking the boat and you wouldn’t approach that much water to save your own life, let alone for a surprise birthday party. So, despite Thing missing and suspicious invitation, she assumed you’d be there as well if her birthday was the reason behind the invitation.
Perhaps that was the logic behind your absence as well. That you being there might tip Wednesday off. Or perhaps she was giving whoever thought of this too much credit and you simply refused to face your greatest fear just to attend a party you probably knew Wednesday would despise.
Either way, her time was wasted, she was pushing you away successfully, and while that should have made her happy it was actually making her feel very irritated, and people she couldn’t care less about expected her to celebrate her birthday with them. If Enid absolutely had to throw her a surprise party, couldn’t she have done it in your own room, with just the four of you there. Wednesday might have even tolerated that enough to cut the cake.
Writing on the crypt caught her attention. “Wait, that’s Latin,” she knelt on one knee to take a better look. “Fire will rain, when I rise,” she translated.
“Okay, that’s not really a wish,” Enid said, but Wednesday was already too focused on the phrase to consider that. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.
“The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore’s lawn, it can’t be a coincidence,” she reached forward, touching the stone with the tips of her fingers and then it happened. The same sensation as her other visions overtook her and she found herself on the ground.
“Crackstone is coming,” she heard as she opened her eyes and realized she was in front of a gate she didn’t recognize.
“Goody,” she recognized the woman behind the gate and now that she wasn’t focused on other things happening in her vision, she realized it was almost like she was looking in a mirror. The only actual difference was the blonde hair. The height, the face, the resemblance was undeniably disturbing.
“You’re the Raven in my bloodline,” she spoke and disappeared. “Wednesday,” she appeared next to Wednesday.
Wednesday turned to her, finally she could ask what she wanted. “I was told you could teach me how to control my ability,” maybe that way she could at least predict when a vision would happen.
“There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side,” she turned to the gate. “To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek.”
No teaching then, the dead were as disappointingly insistent on wasting her time as the living. “Do you always speak in riddles?”
“Do you always seek simple answers?” Goody replied immediately.
That irked her, for more than one reason. “Like using a raiju? I won’t do that,”
“You have no time for other solutions. Raiju is your best weapon,” there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation, just because Goody more than likely used her raiju. Not even her mother telling her many believed Goody was in love with him persuaded Wednesday to understand Goody.
She wasn’t in love with you, yet she refused to use you, to put your life in danger. “Y/N isn’t my weapon,” she wasn’t budging on this, she was adamant on standing her ground on this, no matter how unreasonable it would sound to Goody.
“She will be, when you realize this is bigger than one life,” driven mad by her desire for vengeance, Goody couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t stop even if stopping meant she could keep her raiju by her side.
Wednesday glared, not only did Goody say she couldn’t teach her, but she also spoke as if Wednesday should just throw you into danger and Wednesday wouldn’t do that. No matter what Goody said.
“Do not grow attached to your raiju. The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up alone, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them,” Goody warned her.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” she could already only see darkness in most people. And being alone was the best outcome for Wednesday.
“It should,” she vanished as if she was made of smoke. “Use your raiju,” her last words echoed and Wednesday despised how Goody went from saying ‘a’ raiju to ‘your’ raiju.
~X~
Wednesday’s attempts to push you away seemed to be failing miserably, as you casually approached her first thing in the morning with a long black box in hand.
“Hey, birthday girl,” you offered her a cheeky grin, confidently striding over to her table. At least you didn’t wish her happy birthday or open with the song, though being called ‘birthday girl’ was nearly as bad.
“Don’t call me that,” she warned, causing you to raise your hands in mock surrender.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you set the box on her table and took a step back. “I know things have been a bit, awkward, I guess, between us, but it’s your birthday, so I figured we can set it aside?” maybe she misread your confidence, because now that she properly looked you in the eyes she saw a hint of weakness, an uncertainty you were trying to cover up.
Doubt.
Her attempts were working, it wouldn’t take much longer to break your resolve.
It still didn’t feel as good as she hoped it would.
“Thank you,” she still thanked you as she carefully took the box, feeling the weight in her hands, it wasn’t too heavy, it was definitely lighter than it looked, so likely something that couldn’t be packed in a more convenient package. She glanced at you once more before opening the box. When she saw what was inside it not even she could hide her surprise.
“I did take one of your own, so I figured this was only fair,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly as she pulled the knife out of the box. It was a work of art, its weight perfect and handle perfect for a firm grip regardless of the intended use of the knife. The sheath was made of leather, light gray with black stripes. Wednesday pulled the knife out of it and slid her fingers across the side of the blade. The pitch-black steel looked sharp and the handle, decorated with light gray stripes, similar to those of a tiger, looked as if it was personalized. Was it one of your own knives? Wednesday knew you had your own collection, because you used them to zap around so you naturally developed an interest in knives, at least that was how you explained it when she asked.
“Was this your own knife?” she asked.
“It felt like the only gift worth giving,” you still wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and you clearly weren’t going to explain any further, so Wednesday didn’t push, at least this time.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, setting the knife next to her typewriter.
You smiled, as if realizing how sincere her gratitude was, and took a couple of steps forward before crouching down and resting your forearms on her table. “Okay, I’m not going to ask you to confirm this, but I’ve been thinking, and I think you are dealing with something in your own way, and I might be wrong, but I feel like I should give you space.”
Somehow Wednesday’s cold dead heart sped up, hammering nails into her chest from the inside so hard she nearly looked down to see if nails were really coming out of her.
“I’ll give you all the space you want, but I’ll be right there,” you pointed your thumb behind you, toward your part of the room. “So, if you need or want me to go somewhere with you, I will,” you paused, or finished, but it sounded like you were just pausing. Still, you got back up so maybe you were done. “Just, if you think it might be dangerous, please let me come with you,” you requested, your gaze so soft Wednesday was now absolutely certain nails were about to pierce through her chest.
She needed to put a stop to this, because she had no control over what was happening between you two and that disturbed her, and not in a good way.
“Oh, yeah, uh, I shouldn’t say this, but heads up, Enid’s gift is… something, yeah, let’s go with that,” you chuckled uncomfortably, and that was the only warning Wednesday would get. Granted, it was more than enough for her to mentally prepare, but nothing could have prepared her for what Enid called a snood.
Not even her composure kept her jaw from dropping.
She wondered what kind of threat or blackmail you managed to use to avoid wearing one too, since the blonde werewolf clearly complained about you refusing to wear your own.
~X~
Wednesday Addams was a constant source of worry and you were just fully realizing that. “Did you just say she was in the back of mayor’s car when he got hit by a car?” you repeated what Enid just told you with your head clutched between your hands. How could one person go through so many things? That would probably remain a mystery to you.
“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed when Wednesday came back, looking like nothing happened. Like there was no need to worry about what she saw. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m perfectly fine, in fact, it was on my bucket list,” of course it was. She met your worried gaze just for a moment and then made her way to her table to, soon enough, start her writing time. You figured you could give her some time, just like how she gave you some time after you were attacked.
You knew it wasn’t entirely fair to make a fuss about Wednesday sneaking out, when you did the same thing. Still, you were a raiju, in theory you could have dealt with almost anything, or at least escaped if needed. Wednesday was, aside from her vision, almost a normie.
So, you decided to give Wednesday a day to process every thought she had regarding what she saw.
You didn’t expect the next time Wednesday would speak to you would be while she was in the bathroom, calling you to come inside. And then, just as you stepped inside, the world went black.
~X~
You woke up to the feeling of excruciating pain as your body instinctively held the lightning in from bursting through. “Damn it, Wednesday!” you yelled, feeling the anger rise as you realized you were tied up in a bathtub filled with water. At least she placed you there in a way that didn’t allow you to drown.
She should have. Because you were going to be beyond angry when you got out. That is if you could. Sure, you could probably damage the ropes, but Thing was right there, guarding you and making sure you weren’t capable of bursting through with lightning. He was too close for a burst of lightning to actually work and set you free without hurting Thing in the process.
“Thing, buddy come on, get away so I can get free,” you pleaded, gritting your teeth as the pain increased. You were submerged up to your chest, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay in control over your lightning. If it continued like this you might actually shift right in the bathroom. Thing, however, refused, leaving no space for arguments as he confirmed his loyalties were primarily to Wednesday.
“Wednesday when I see you again,” you didn’t intend to give her space like this! How could she even do this to you?! Knowing full well what leaving you in water would mean for you! Insistent knocking on the window made your eyes widen. Maybe this torture could end.
“Wednesday!” Xavier called out, clearly from within the room. Usually, you’d complain about his nerve, but now you really didn’t care.
“Xavier! Get over here and grab Thing for me!” you yelled back and took a couple of deep breaths to make sure you were still in control over your lightning as he came in with his eyes covered. “You kinda need your eyes, and I have my clothes on, you dumbass,” you rolled your eyes, no longer having patience for any of this.
He opened his eyes and rushed outside the bathroom right away. You were expecting too much. “How did you even end up in that situation?!”
“Wednesday happened to me!” you snapped at him, glaring at Thing since he was the next best option with Wednesday gone for now. “Thing probably knows where she is, so go ahead and deal with that, just get him out of the bathroom,” you demanded.
You could hear Xavier taking deep breaths before rushing in and trying to grab Thing. Thing easily dodged him, but Xavier remained persistent and a few minutes later you could set yourself free. Now all that was left was to deal with Wednesday.
Thing gave in and revealed to Xavier Wednesday’s location, and you couldn’t help but glare at Thing. Seriously? Xavier got to know and you didn’t?! “I’m going after Wednesday. Do you want to come with me or-“ he stopped talking the moment he saw your glare. “I guess not. That’s fine! I’ll leave you alone!” he raised his arms, surrendering as he back away as quickly as he possibly could.
Xavier left you alone, knowing better than to stay close to you right now, especially since you were seething. Pushing you away was one thing. This? This was a whole other thing. You nearly tore your clothes off before grabbing a towel to dry off. And then you sat down at your table, your anger not fading even a fraction by the time Enid came back into the room, clearly distraught.
“What happened?” you were honestly surprised with how calm you sounded.
“Wednesday happened! She took me and Tyler to the Gates mansion and the monster was there! We could have died, Y/N! Tyler got hurt! Wednesday doesn’t care, she just wants to solve her mystery!” Enid cried out, and any other time you would have comforted her, you would have tried to calm her down, this time you just left the room, nearly slamming the doors behind you.
~X~
Somehow, Wednesday managed to avoid getting expelled, and she managed to avoid getting Enid and Xavier into trouble. It was a close call, and Tyler could have died, but she was one big step closer to solving this case. That was all that mattered, and she’d figure out how the mansion got cleared of all the evidence so quickly, she just needed to sit and think about it.
“Wednesday!” she froze near the top of the stairs. This was the first time she heard you that angry. Thing warned her you would get angry at her over what she did, she just didn’t realize just how angry you’d get. She didn’t see this kind of anger even when you faced Rowan.
Wednesday guessed your eyes were red and she was… wrong. They were flashing between red and orange.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you stopped right at the top of the stairs as Wednesday climbed up the rest of the way.
“I was making sure you were giving me space,” she wasn’t going to show weakness to you. She wasn’t afraid, but she didn’t feel good either.
You snorted at that, clearly not happy with that response. You turned away from her, perhaps not even able to look at her with how angry you were. “It that how you call it? First you put me through pain and nearly forced me to shift and now you put Enid in danger! Both of you could have died!”
“No one died and-“ before she could finish her sentence you spun around and pointed your finger at her, nearly jabbing her in the chest.
“No! This is where you shut it! You’ve seen what that monster did to Rowan, you’ve seen what happened to me, yet you chose to take a normie and a werewolf that can’t wolf out with you to a place that is clearly connected to this entire mystery of yours,” you stopped yelling, but your words were still laced with so much rage you didn’t even need to yell for Wednesday to feel it. “And you might as well be a normie as well, since all you have are those visions. Why am I even trying, you won’t listen to me no matter what I say,” you took a step back, getting closer to the stairs. “You know what? I’m done. You win, Wednesday,” you pulled out the knife she threw at you, the same knife you decided to claim as your own and pushed it toward her. You waited just enough for Wednesday to figure out what you meant and wrap her fingers around the handle. “At least try not to die.”
You turned around, intent on going down the stairs. Against her every instinct, against her dislike for being touched or touching someone, she reached out and grabbed your hand. “Where are you going?” didn’t you hear the rain?
“To my shed,” at least you were still answering her questions even if the way you glared back at her made her uncomfortable.
“It’s raining,” she couldn’t look at you, yet she couldn’t let go of you either.
You pulled your hand away, yanked it out of Wednesday’s hold and for a moment Wednesday dared to think she would have preferred it if you electrocuted her. “Don’t,” you warned and you didn’t need to finish that sentence. She got the message loud and clear, she shouldn’t even think of interfering. Not after what happened tonight.
The words she should have said remained stuck in her throat, as if someone wrapped them in a barbed wire and forced Wednesday to swallow them. “Wait,” it wasn’t enough, you were already halfway down the stairs by the time she managed to force even that one word out.
And it was just the start. Not even ten minutes later she was left entirely alone. After you, Enid left as well, not as angry as you were, but upset nonetheless.
Wednesday couldn’t blame her. She didn’t ask for friends, but Enid became that to her regardless. And you… it felt different with you, it felt different than anything she ever felt before, and it was a powerful feeling she couldn’t even begin to handle.
For the first time in her life being alone didn’t feel so good and Wednesday curled up against the window, right at the middle of it. She shouldn’t feel like she was feeling right now, she should have been fine with this, happy that she got what she wanted, at least with you.
Enid leaving hurt as well, even if the kind of pain wasn’t the same, but that hurt as well. Wednesday realized far too late that somehow, the two of you tore your way into her heart and now your very absence hurt her. Thing came up to her shoulder, offering a comforting pat. Telling her that he was right would have hurt less than his compassion and reassurance that both you and Enid would come back.
Wednesday pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face as she curled up as much as she could. The rain hitting the window, and lightning in the distance made her cover her ears. You were out there in the storm and it was all her fault. Abruptly, Wednesday got up and went to your part of the room, hoping that some distance from the windows would let her ignore the storm outside.
She wasn’t entirely sure how it got to that point, but in one moment she was standing in front of your bed and then she was taking her boots off, leaving them next to your bed and lying down, not even in her usual position. She just curled up once again and clutched your pillow.
She should have been honest with you, she should have told you about what her mother told her, she should have told you she wanted you to stay.
Somehow, she kept doing everything she shouldn’t have with you, or in some way connected with you. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed, but she did it anyway, and she didn’t wake up even when Thing pulled your thin blanket over her. And there, completely alone yet more surrounded by you than ever before, she remained for the rest of the night, her senses and emotions overwhelmed.
A/N: Four chapters in roughly a week? Honestly, I’m very happy with that. Please tell me what you think about this chapter, I’d really like to know if you think I’m making Wednesday seem OOC? Especially with the last scene.
#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams#wednesday netflix#enid sinclair#jenna ortega x reader
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Dirty Thirty
Prompt Day 24: Birthday | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Childhood Trauma, Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Steve & Gareth, Eddie Turns 30, Birthday Blues, Hurt/Comfort, Steve POV
"It's his dirty thirty," Steve says, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear, "We have to do something."
Gareth laughs through the receiver.
"Well, you can dig your own grave if you want to, but I'm definitely not crawling in it with you," Gareth says, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut.
Eddie usually loves his birthday, but several weeks ago the decree came down that he wanted nothing for his birthday. He wanted to pretend it didn't exist. But is Steve really supposed to do nothing to celebrate Eddie's thirtieth birthday? That's a milestone.
Eddie almost didn't make it to twenty-one. But he did, and that birthday party was so fucking wild that Steve still doesn't remember everything that happened. All he knows is he woke up with a tattoo on his arm that looks suspiciously like Eddie's handiwork, though Eddie still denies it.
So, Eddie turning thirty should be celebrated. Maybe not a kegger that ends in beloved, if unplanned, tattoos. But still. Something special.
"What if-"
"No," Gareth says, "whatever you're thinking. No."
Steve sighs, in disappointment.
Gareth's right, is the thing. Eddie isn't one to say he doesn't want something, but secretly does. He said he didn't want anything, so he really doesn't want anything this year.
Steve knows Eddie isn't the type to dwell on getting older. He usually loves that shit. Loves that he lived, and has kept on living. So, this is out of character, and hard for Steve to swallow.
"I know," Steve finally says, "you're right."
"What was that? Say it again, a little louder. You know my hearing is shitty from years of drumming."
Steve laughs, "Gareth, you're right. Even if I loathe to admit it."
Gareth cackles, but then turns serious.
"I know you mean well, Steve-o. But let's just do what he wants, okay? Not what we want. Of course, I'll want you to throw me a huge dirty thirty. Strippers coming out of the cake, the whole nine yards," Gareth says.
"I think your wife might have something to say about that," Steve says, dryly.
Gareth just laughs.
Steve finally relents, "Okay, I won't plan anything."
"Smart man," Gareth says, and hangs up the phone.
Gareth is Eddie's best friend, but maybe Steve should float this situation past Jeff and Goodie, too. Just in case. Get a second and third opinion. Gareth isn't the be-all and end-all.
So, Steve gives them each a call.
Jeff is kind, but firm, with his hard no vote.
Goodie is a hard yes, but it's a trap, and Steve knows better than to fall for it.
It doesn't take long for Gareth to call back.
"Steven."
Steve hangs his head, "I just had to ask them, okay?!"
"No means no!" Gareth shouts.
"I won't do shit, I promise," Steve says.
"You better not," Gareth says, and hangs up on him for the second time today.
And Steve doesn't plan anything.
Eddie turns thirty, and nothing happens. Steve hates it.
He takes Eddie out to eat, but Eddie wouldn't even pick somewhere nice. No, he just wanted to grab food from the taco truck that always sits in the parking lot of the hardware store.
So, they eat messy tacos, standing up, outdoors, in January, while people carry lumber to their waiting trucks.
Eddie never mentions it's his birthday, and nobody else does either.
It's weird.
That night they lay in bed, and Steve feels like he's missed something big here. It's a gnawing sensation in his gut, and he hates it. Eddie doesn't even seem in the mood for birthday sex. Not that he needs a reason to get Steve into bed, but he usually likes to pretend it's a special gift, just for him, and Steve always goes along with it.
Not tonight.
Tonight, they lay in the quiet, and Steve feels like this whole day, this whole week, has been off. He's running through every damn thing that could have led up to this, when Eddie finally speaks.
"I'm older than my mom ever was, now," Eddie says in the dark.
And there it is. The piece Steve was missing. Of course.
Steve rolls onto his side, wrapping his arm around Eddie. Hugging him tight.
"I'm sorry, honey, that must be weird."
Eddie nods, and then tucks his head into his own chest, and cries. Steve can feel his back shaking with the movement.
Steve presses his face into Eddie's back, holding him. There's no fixing this kind of hurt. Steve knows. Eddie has to feel it. But Steve holds him tight, and Eddie lets him, leaning back against Steve's chest, seeking comfort. They've been that comfort for each other for years, a decade now, even if Steve gets it wrong sometimes. Still can't read Eddie's mind, as much as he'd like to, especially in times like these.
"I'm sorry I've been so weird," Eddie says, his voice thick.
"I love you," Steve tells him.
Eddie suddenly rolls in his arms, pressing his face into Steve's neck. Steve just hugs him tighter, rubbing his back.
"I feel like I'm a little kid again, crying like this," Eddie says, and Steve presses his face into Eddie's hair.
"It's okay to cry," Steve tells him, because it is. It took Steve a long time to realize that, because crying wasn't okay growing up in the Harrington household.
But as an adult? If he wants to cry. He'll fucking cry. Steve finds he always feels better after he's let it all out.
"I know," Eddie says, "but it hurts today like it's fresh, and not decades old. I hate it."
Steve rubs his back, then pulls back, "Put on your shoes."
"What? Why?" Eddie asks, and Steve touches his arm, urging him on.
Twenty minutes later, Wayne is holding Eddie as he cries, and this is definitely what Eddie needed. Steve's absolutely sure.
Eddie can't have his mom, but he still has Wayne. His dad, in all the ways that matter.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!
If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
#steddieholidaydrabbles#birthday#hurt/comfort#steddie#steddie ficlet#birthday blues#steve harrington#gareth (stranger things)#eddie munson#wayne munson#gareth & steve harrington#stranger things#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles
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Fic recs! (Mostly NCT)
I’m finally making a fic rec post! Most of the time I read a good fic, I don't save it which I then regret if I want to come back to it so here we are.
Mostly NCT Dream and mostly smut. I’ll put the fic description and my own opinions for each one, but I don’t read for all members so sorry about that haha. Hopefully I can build it up and add more people as we go.
I added genre and descriptions too, hopefully its helpful to others even if I added it for my memory’s sake!
NCT
김도영 - Kim Doyoung
Under the Stars (8k) @jinjikook
Genre: smut + a tiny bit of fluff at the end; domestic AU + church boy! doyoung
Description: you’re forced to go to the equivalent of bible camp, out in the forest. unfortunately, you’re also forced to share a tent with a resident goody-two-shoes and you decide to have a little fun messing with him. turns out, it brings him to his limit and pushes him over the edge.
My notes: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT THIS IN MY ORIGINAL LIST I love this fic. I love it. It’s SO GOOD like its the only fic I didn't have written down because the name and the author are engrained in my brain.
이마크 - Mark Lee
Delphinium. @ncteez Part one (16.3k), part two (23k)
Genre: Smut, angst, some fluff in pt1, lots in 2. virgin religious mark, pagan reader, mentions of questioning faith, un-holy behavior, coming to terms, making out, holding hands, mark’s first ever orgasm ect....
Description: It wasn’t intentional. You don’t even know why you cared that he didn’t believe in pre-marital sex, but it didn’t stop you from arguing with him about it. You didn’t intend to win the argument either. Then again, he kind of let you.
My notes: Basically Mark who's done nothing - never even kissed a girl - fighting and questioning his own morals regarding religion. I was so hooked, once I started I could not stop and I’ve read both parts more than once since. The smut is sensual and the feelings are displayed well. Very well written, but anything from this author is honestly her whole masterlist is worth checking out.
Watch Me. (14.6k) @sluttyten
Genre: non-idol au, voyeurism, masturbation, snowballing, squirting, blowjobs
Description: you pick up the voyeuristic habit of watching your neighbor that never closes his curtains and whose face you never see. on an unrelated note, you start dating the cute barista from down the street that also happens to live in the building across from yours. what could happen?
My notes: Pretty self explanatory but two horny people who live across from each other and Mark who doesn’t know how to shut curtains. The tension is immaculate. Another author with a top tier masterlist to look at too.
Gorgeous @lucyandthepen Part one (12.4k), part two (16.6k)
Genre: college / football au, romance, humor, smut.
Description: you don’t know what in the football uniform mark is wearing is so attractive. maybe it’s how broad is shoulders always look in that jersey. maybe it’s how nicely accentuated his ass is when he’s running. or, maybe, just maybe, it’s how painfully conspicuous the outline of his cock is through those pants. or, you know. all of the above.
My notes: Best friends to lovers with jock Mark! I prefer part one, but I thought I’d add part two in there since it’s still very good (I just don't like daddy/mummy kinks). Part one is shower sex with Mark (soososososo good) and part two is a threesome with left out, best friend Hyuck. I loved the writing of emotions, such as nerves, arousal, fluster and admiration throughout both parts. Honestly when an author makes the feelings tangible it just adds so much dimension to writing.
황런쥔 - Huang Renjun
Art Of Innocence (11.8k) @jenonctcity
Genre: Fluff, smut, angst, loss of virginity.
Description: Art and gaming. That’s all Renjun found himself doing. Of course he spent time with his friends, but he had to be dragged away from his games console or easel first. Renjun had been brought up around art, his mother being an artist and his father being a drama teacher. So it wasn’t a shock to anyone when he decided to study art at university. His quiet, shy, nerdy nature meant that he didn’t get much attention when walking around campus, which is just how he liked it. You however, had found him on your first day of university and had stuck to him like glue. He pretended as if you didn’t mean that much to him, but you and him both knew he would be lost without you. Only, you didn’t know he was a virgin. So after you found out about the pact from one of the other boys, you couldn’t wait to intercept his gaming session and quiz him on his innocence. You couldn’t help it, but you suddenly saw him in a different light, one that had your fingers tingling and stomach flipping. The same way Renjun had felt looking at you since the first day he’d met you.
My notes: Description sums it up. I have read this an ABSURD amount of times. I want this fr omg its so <3. There is a Jeno instalment to the series (The Virgin Diaries) too, also recommended!
50 Shades of Paint (17.3k) @sparklysung
Genre: smut, fluffish, angsty, a bit of crack | non-idol!au, best friends!au
Description: teaming up for an artsy tiktok trend with your best friend should be a fun and wholesome experience. but when it quickly turns into paint wars, you and renjun find yourselves involved in a rather messy situation, especially if your innocent video turns out going viral for all the wrong reasons.
My notes: Fucking in Taeil’s art studio (poor Taeil) after Renjun can’t hide his attraction for you... Very hot and I love how Renjun’s portrayed in this (I also just love Renjun)
이동혁 - Lee Haechan
Swallow Your Words (6k) @sparklysung
Genre: enemies to lovers!au, smut, switch!donghyuck, switch!reader.
Description: it only took a couple of words to make the blood boil in your veins and being the competitive individual you are, you had to prove lee donghyuck, your all-time enemy, wrong.
My notes: Well my original description in my notes app was “FVGBHJKEVYWGGYEFTGRWYTFGYWRGYFRGVFRVWVQEVRGYRW” if that explains how I felt about this in any way. I come back to this fic frequently, it has to be the best written lap dance I've ever read.
Pussy Fiend @domjaehyun Part one (28.2k), part two (40.7k)
Genre: smut, humor, fluff; college au, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, roommate au.
Description: uhhh he likes you and is a fiend for pussy idk bestie.
My notes: Such a small summary for such a long fic, but definitely one of the best smuts I’ve ever read. Basically roommate Haechan and you are always bickering, and he's always making sexual jokes until one day, you fuck. I really love cocky Haechan. Part 2 is pretty much 40k of pure smut like holy shit, consider donating to the writer because nearly 70k of writing so well is truly amazing.
Hot & Cold (36k) @ddeonuism
Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, comedy (crack treated seriously), mild angst, “opposites attract” kinda trope, non-linear narrative, slice of life (kind of), no smut but suggestive.
Description: Donghyuck and Y/N, Y/N and Donghyuck. Whatever the order was, everyone knew it wasn’t the same without the other; everyone knew that you two would end up together, one way or another. Only, no one ever told Donghyuck that it would take this long. It took an unnecessary long time for him to get where he wanted you to be, but it was worth all the years if it meant he’d get you in the end. After all, he wouldn’t spend all of his time and effort to plan on confessing with an old pink Nintendo DS Lite and a Pokémon Pearl cartridge.
My notes: Made me feel so loved. Shed a tear. Made me delusionally in love with an unobtainable person. When will it be MY TURN?!!! I loved how Hyuck was portrayed, it was just so <3.
I’d Like To See You Try (6.7k) @yutasbellybuttonpiercing M, A.
Genre: non idol!AU, smut, enemies to lovers, switch!Haechan, switch!reader
Description: Once Donghyuck shows up in your Discord to game with you and your friends, a dispute arises quickly. Donghyuck gets on your nerves, though he’s hot as fuck, and you wonder how far you can push him until he breaks.
My notes: Gamer Hyuck fucks you in front of yours and his friends (dream) who are watching via stream. Holy mf shit. Oh my god. What the fuck.��
Started With a Kiss (10k) @sundaysundaes
Genre: protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N
Description: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?
My notes: “practicing” sex always does well. Lighthearted smut scene, just fun to read!
나재민 - Na Jaemin
Cherry Girl! (16.7k) @tyonfs
Genre: smut, fluff, crack, college au, gamer au (twitch streamer!jaemin), friends to lovers, fuckboy au, friends with benefits au, a little bit of angst
Description: virginity is a social construct, so it’s not like na jaemin had to know you were a pure, untouched maiden. okay, so maybe you should’ve told him that before he was knuckles-deep inside you. or, in which progressing from best friends to best friends with benefits is hard, especially when you both have feelings for each other.
My notes: One day I'll experience head as good as it was written in this.
EXO
도경수 - Do Kyungsoo (D.O)
Across the Way (10k) @kpopfanfictrash
Genre: Voyeurism, semi-public sex, masturbation, dirty talk, kyungsoo in glasses.
Description: Kyungsoo has always been a guy who abides by the rules. He makes decisions based on logic, not impulse; he is the type of guy who wears a suit to work and plans his meals out for each week. Which is why it’s so strange, when Kyungsoo’s neighbor moves in and, rather than be turned off by her games, he finds he can’t look away. Worse, sometimes he even plays along. (Loosely inspired by EXO’s 24/7).
My notes: I think I just really like the idea of having a hot neighbour idk... but uh yeah Kyungsoo gets off by seeing you across from his window but he doesn't know you see him, so naturally you keep riling him up until you're together in person. I love this fic, the internal battle Kyungsoo faces and the smut is really good.
BTS
김태형 - Kim Taehyung (V)
Heatwave (12k) @curly-bangtan
Genre: roommate au, friends to lovers au (f2l), smut, angst if you squint, attempt at sparse crack
Description: When your town is hit with a heatwave, and the air conditioning at your shared place coincidentally malfunctions, you start to go a little crazy at your shit luck because there’s nothing you hate more than clammy pits, while Taehyung goes a little crazy thinking you’re trying to seduce him with your tiny shorts and popsicle-sucking skills.
My notes: Ah the very first fic that made it onto my notes app ‘top tier’ list because it really is top tier. Its hot, clothes come off, popsicles are consumed and then its another type of hot, clothes continue coming off and popsicles start being used for more than just consumption. The desperation was so gtrefjue I could overlook my dislike for daddy kinks. Its a shame, because I used to read lots of BTS smut as there's so much of it and its so good, but I never saved any... maybe its time to go back for a second.
#nct dream#nct#NCT 127#nct dream smut#nct smut#nct 127 smut#mark lee smut#renjun smut#Haechan smut#jaemin smut#bts#bts smut#taehyung smut#v smut#exo#d.o#kyungsoo#exo smut#d.o smut#kyungsoo smut#Kpop smut#smut recs#fic recs
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My Lotus Tower model kit arrived, and I am ridiculously excited! I haven’t started assembling it yet, but I wanted to share some of the other goodies that came with it!
First, adorable mini figures of the lotus trio!
It also includes a booklet that has the Yangzhouman instructions Li Lianhua left for Fang Duobing!
I’m also very intrigued by this letter that was included (in an envelope with Li Lianhua written on it), that seems to be about what happened to Li Lianhua and to maybe say something about his future? (My knowledge of Chinese characters is not nearly advanced enough for me to read this, and I have my doubts about how well Google Translate worked on the image.)
Here it is, in case anyone wants to translate it!
I’ll post images of the model itself once I start assembling it, but it needs to wait for another night when I have the energy to try to translate the instructions (at least there are images and not nearly as much text)!
(Tagging @dramaloverrants who wanted to see some images.)
#mysterious lotus casebook#mlc merch#lianhua lou#lhl#translation#li lianhua#di feisheng#fang duobing#model kit#lotus tower#I am so curious about this letter#google translate says the end of the letter mentions him returning to Lotus tower in 10 years
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PLEASSEEE TELL US ABOUT YOUR MYTHIC MUMBATTAN AU PLEASE PLEASEE
>:) very well, my people
(currently screaming because i wrote a response but i accidentally CTRL+Zd everything out of existence lmao)
The Mythic Mumbattan AU is me pouring the following ingredients into an explosive mess:
Hindu mythology and Indian culture overload
college!Spider-Man shenanigans
revamping the original Spider-Man: India plotlines and expanding the lore
character studies!!! my favourite :)
a potential and self-indulgent crossover with another indian superhero (if we ever get there)
the horrors.
Pavitr and his personal cast!!! just!!!! THEY!!!!!!
(keep reading if you want more goodies >:D)
So the CoffeeBean is a coffeeshop that existed in the mainstream Marvel universe and in real life but that's another thing; the cast below frequently drop by to hang out with one another. The Mumbattan-equivalent of the CoffeeBean is actually the TeaHouse which is another real life thing but shh and so in-universe they're called the TeaHouse gang, but in my heart they'll always be the CBG 😌
Everyone goes to Brihanmumbai State University (BSU). Lots of crazy things happen here. Pavitr's relationship with the others is always in flux but ultimately they're super close with one another (fuck it, they might as well be poly). Their personalities I try to keep as close as I can to the mainstream universe E616 comics, but I'm being creative and letting a few things from the SMI comics and ATSV influence them:
Pavitr Prabhakar — Tamilar (Tamil); he has the charm and skills from his ATSV counterpart and the smarts from his SMI counterpart; he can be a bit of a jerk and a flake, but he tries to be a good friend, and is much more open than he was in high school.
Meera Jain — Kannadiga (Kannada); basically how I've written her in tibim: everyone's first impression of her is that she's carefree and seems to not worry too much about life. She secretly deals with a lot of self-doubt and personal fears, but the gang's presence is enough for her to push them aside.
Gayatri Singh — Gujarati (Gujarati); she's probably the most quiet of the gang, but undeniably the kindest. She's more similar to Pavitr, in that she's stubborn and quick to judge. She's the glue of the gang and always willing to extend a hand to others
Hari Oberoi — Maharashtrian (Gujarati/Marathi/Hindi); the son of the man who tried to bring literal hell to earth, but other than that he's okay. He's a people-pleaser despite having everything, and struggles with his own self-image and who he should become
Ekansh "Flash" Travasso — Goan (Marathi); the high school jock who's grown more understanding and compassionate. He knew Pavitr the longest, so they have quite an interesting collection of interactions. (ALSO I'M SO SORRY I WROTE THOMPSON IN THE ART POST INSTEAD OF TRAVASSO 😭 maybe i should go back and edit that)
Spider-Man is Spider-Man'ing. Mumbattan loves him (sort of. Inspector Singh has mixed feelings). But another question: why is that every where Spider-Man goes the demons of yore all start showing up and begin wrecking havoc? Why is that? I am taking the magic in Spider-Man: India and dialing it up to five million — horrors and magic of every kind! I can get my hands real dirty and /really/ push Pavitr to his limit >:)
That is all for now. There will be more characters, but they'll show up in time. Lots of stories too, all old and new and revamped and crazy, but they'll be told when they're ready. Perhaps this is enough to satiate everyone's hunger? (unless you want to know something else, then by all means go ahead and ask!!!)
#sorry this took so long i was procrastinating#and then all my words disappeared and i had to physically go and touch grass. sometimes technology and i don't mix#but anyway#mythic mumbattan au#my beloved#i am soooooo insane about these guys. you have no idea#me waiting for all the words to come pouring out of my brain ykykyk#coffee bean gang#spider man#pavitr prabhakar#gayatri singh#meera jain#hari oberoi#flash travasso#spider man india#agni of wisdom#agnirambles
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Costume Meta 6x13
Was that real - did that episode actually happen or was it all a collective fever dream?!! I”m still sat here with my jaw on the floor trying to process all of the epic goodies we got in that episode, and the costumes were no exception!!!
I’ve spent far too long trying to figure out how to assemble my meta this week, but I’ve just gone with the flow and seen where it take me! Also this beast did not want to be wrangled and my ADHD decided side quests were far more fun and so getting this written has been a real struggle (I came out victorious though which is all that matters) and why its a bit later than normal (we’re not going to talk about my laptop deciding to crash and rebooting to a document that was missing half of what I had written - I couldn’t get it back so sad times!)!!
its under the cut - because as always - its a loooonnnnggggg post!!
We’re starting with the Wilson family (and Chimneys first costume!) because they actually sit separately from the rest of the characters from a costuming perspective this week!
There are a couple of things to note for the opening Wilson family scene which are kind of overarching things. Firstly the fact that Chim and Denny are both dressed in black and grey - a really clever choice when you consider their topic of conversation - fathers and things that have happened that cannot be undone - the grey acts as a form of fade out - kind of like a greyed out button on a computer screen - preventing you from clicking on it. Both Chimneys semi resolved arc (the decision to make his peace with his father and he reality of the situation) and Denny’s current arc echo each other up to this point in time - Chim’s father came back into his life and he made peace with it, Denny’s father is currently (and unknown to everyone) back in his life.
Both Chim and Denny are also wearing chack pattern - chims more hidden and Denny’s down the side - but Hen is also wearing a very loud and bright check pattern - she is the nly one in colour and the test card patterning of her jumper says so mcuh about both check theory and the fact that at this moment in time, she is not active in the plot - not in the conversation Denny and Chim have just had, and not in the Nathaniel of it all either. We know Denny is in danger later on so his check is also foreshadowing that, Hen is also in danger (emotional danger is just as vaild as physical danger) and Chimneys danger is more low key - its closer to his chest - his home being ‘invaded’.
However when Hen does come into play, we get a much more muted tones and we get these, whites, dusty pinks, lilacs and dusty purples, along with teal green trousers. Karen is in a black silk blouse with lilacs in a lilac colour on - this pairs her and Hen up in their respective styles and shows us they are on the same page. Lilacs are an interesting choice of floral and colour - it symbolises youth and innocence as well as love and purity. However Lilacs also mean old love and were often given to and worn by widows in the victorian era as a symbol of lost love and lost innocence! so the black paired with the prolifferation of lilacs (both colour and flowers) are telling that Hen and Karen are no longer ‘innocent’ (by which I mean they have gained knowledge) and they are also mourning the loss of the stable family life they thought they had created.
the choice to have Denny in army green continues a theme we’ve seen with him so far this season - the use of camouflage and army colour-ways to show him as sneaking around going undetected, and now the full on army green reads as an act of aggression - to the family life Hen and Karen have created, as well as to the agreement they had put into place with Nathaniel back in season 2.
I found the choice to have Karen in black with some yellow in her trousers and Hen in very bright emerald green (also with some yellow in her trousers) very interesting. Karens black is carrying on that theme of mourning, but its also a power colour - so its Karen still angry and grieving, but its also her pushing forward. the yellow is her communicating (on a low level) her anger and upset over what has happened.
Hen meanwhile is going full out into jealousy mode - we are seeing a Hen who is feeling threatened by Nathaniel and is jealous of the relationship her son has secretly been building with his bio father. THis is the culmination of all those little hints about the role Hen fills in Denny’s life - that she has been the one supporting and encouraging his sporting interests - thats why we saw Eddie and her throwing a baseball - so she could continue to share a sporting connection and interest wit her son. Hen feels threatened and jealous of Nathaniel’s stepping into that area she previously filled.
The wardrobe department just keep knocking it out of the park with the kids clothes this season. Denny’s mushroom shirt is amazing. Mushrooms are about duality - they represent both decay and deterioration, but also transformation and growth in the darkness. so Denny wearing this shirt here is perfect - he is going through puberty - a time of transformation and his acting out in his sneaking around etc is a symbol of that transformative time. His relationship with his mothers has deteriorated and decayed - they no longer feel like they can trust him, but his conversation with Toni brings him hope and the opportunity for all to grow through this dark time. its a really clever piece of costuming and I love it so much.
Karens dark teal green is interesting - there was actually quite a bit of teal at play in this episode. teal is a colour of clarity the darkness of it here suggests that clarity is coming but not fully in place yet - that Karen is more aware, but not yet fully accepting of the new reality she lives in.
Hens black and beige jumper is a wonderful choice as well - the beige representing neutrality and its being a soothing colour is important - accompanied by the black spots it has the affect of suggesting that the initial anger is passing and giving way to a more open time - one where calmness and the ability to see things more clearly come into play. the fact that this jumper has runs and frayed edges still maintains that idea that this has damaged Hen - that she is scared from this turn of events, even if she is more open to moving forward and accepting of Denny’s desire to have a relationship with his father.
Here we have a Denny in navy blue shirt and a yellow and green palm frond pattern - I thought originally they were bird of paradise flowers when I was watching live, but they are more obvious in the stills! palm fronds are an iinteresting and perfect choice - they are a symbol of peace and triumph - exactly what Denny is experiencing here - triumph in being allowed to see and build a relationship with his father and the resulting peace in his family dynamic that will come as a result.
I know I talk a lot about yellow being a colour of communication - and that still holds - but it is also a colour of anxiety and that very much matches up wit the look on Hens face. Her patchwork camouflage trousers hint at her uncertainty about the situation - she is trying to mask her nervousness and misgivings. These trousers are the same ones she was wearing at her leaving the 118 party - a time when she was also feeling nervous and had misgivings about becoming a doctor. Karen being in a navy jumpsuit with a variety of headdresses on is, again, an interesting choice - headdresses like those depicted are ceremonial (for the most part) and are a symbol of leadership, strength and bravery - perfect for Karen in this moment (and in general).
Just a quick aside before we move onto the ret of the mains! I don’t normally focus on the side and guest characters, but the guy whose wife got a vibrator lodged inside her is wearing the shirt Buck was wearing in his coma dream and that has me both cackling and wide eyed!
The scene in Bucks coma dream where he is wearing this shirt is one of mostly confusion and uncertainty for him - loosely speaking - its when he’s really trying to understand what exactly is going on in this world his mind has built for him - one where after that initial confusion we see him essentially embrace this new reality where he has what he thinks he wants - but what actually turns out to be something else - something that he doesn’t want/need. And here in this scene we have a guy going through the sexual version of the same thing - thinking that this different version of his sex life with his wife will be better - make things better and make her happy, when the reality is that if he’d had an actual conversation with her about it things would more than likely turned out differently. So major props to the wardrobe team for this little gem of a costume reuse!
Maddie rocking the layers here in Black, grey and red - very telling for this scene. layering is generally about protection - in an attempt to deflect something that is making you uncertain or causing anxiety. This is very much what is going on with Maddie here. the red top being the one closest to her skin - the bottom layer, shows that she is happy, in love and in a good place - the red of romance and passion, but it can also be a sign of danger and I think its is a combination of these two meanings here - the danger element coming from the fact that this new neighbour has got Maddie’s spidey senses tingling. The grey hoodie is a little bit of foreshadowing for her later silver top - the grey transforms into silver and becomes reflective (more on that in a moment). Then there is the black blazer - power and mystery. the mystery element is connected to who this woman is/ actually is while the power element is connected to Maddie having the power to control her own destiny in this moment - her returning the muffin tray is about her attempting to assert some authority over the situation. it is worth mentioning that aside from the Black blazer, they have Rhonda dressed in slightly darker versions of the the same colours when she gets caught - red high neck top with a darker grey jacket than Maddie’s hoodie!
Maddie in silver and being reflective is actually kind of a jarring outfit for her -and thats rather the point. Its not a colour we see her in and she wears greys infrequently as well - she tends towards a warmer and brighter palette with the accompanying blacks, so this is out of place for her - it highlights her discomfort and actually there is something in the reflecting of that discomfort towards Athena - the one person who knows exactly what Maddie means about not feeling safe or comfortable in ones own home. The metallic top is also reminiscent of plate armour and suggests Maddie is arming her self - getting ready to protect herself iff needed. Its a top that represents her trauma response bubbling beneath the surface ready to reassert itself if needed.
Buck in yet another grey jumper! honestly I’m beginning to wonder how many more grey jumpers they can find for him to wear!! This one is a much lighter grey than we saw him wear in season 5, and its also lighter than any we’ve seen him in so far in season 6. It follows on nicely from the one we saw him in in 6x12 when he was sleeping on Eddies couch and having meaningful conversations in the kitchen late at night! but it is also tv static grey - it has that fuzzy appearance, which in Buck terms means uncertainty and confusion. This is such an interesting choice for this scene and its vitally important for it as well.
This is Buck outright parenting Chris - completely on his own with no Eddie to be seen. The only other times we’ve seen this happen are during the shooting arc and in 4x08 when Chris runs to Buck after Eddie reveals to Chris he has a girlfriend. Before you all shout at me about the tsunami it doesn’t count because Eddie actively sets up that Buck and Chris time on screen, so his influence remains a part of the scene even if he isn’t present (It is also a trauma event and that means it sits separately). The shooting arc sits separately from this new scene and the 4x08 one by virtue of it being a trauma event - like the tsunami. We also know that Buck looking after Chris like this is a common thing from the canon text, however this is one of the few times we’ve seen it on screen and the first time we see it where Eddie is not even remotely present - making it a step up from the 4x08 scene where he is present via the tail end of a phone conversation.
The grey fuzzy jacket Buck wears in the 4x08 scene is darker and the fact the cookie scene has lighter grey is telling about the level of uncertainty Buck is feeling. this scene is one fraught with potential danger for Buck - his choices could anger or alienate Eddie and erode their relationship if he gets it wrong - he could get accused of stepping in where he doesn’t belong. It could also land a critical blow to his relationship with Chris - what he says could upset him or make Chris feel like Buck isn’t supportive etc, it is a fine line Buck has to tread and he does it masterfully here - giving him the confidence going forward. WE see the results of that in the cookie kitchen scene - Buck bantering with Chris and successfully parenting him - and not being good cop! So here we have costume highlighting the development of Buck and Christophers father son relationship!
The Poker Game!!!!
This gets its own little section because there is a lot going on! to start with I’m going to link to this meta about Bucks costume and this one about Eddies costume, because they still, for the most part, ring true. getting the full scene hasn’t really altered my opinions on their costumes per-say. I’ll add a bit more to them once you get to the stills of them!
We have Chief Miranda Williams in a black sequin and slightly sheer waterfall front top with gold jewellery, and Captain Jeshan Mehta in all black with this dark plum striped tie. A very deliberate choice to have the both of them in full black (except the tie). All of the characters wear black in this scene (Julie only has black shoes so kind of doesn’t count and I’ll explain why when we get to her) Both Buck and Eddie are wearing black shirts/turtlenecks and they are the ones with the power in the game (thanks to Bucks new found math skills) while Chief W and Captain M both have seniority in the real world and therefore power of a different kind. I’d even argue that Chief W has the ultimate power because she wises up and allows the boys to have their fun and thus the power remains with her regardless! the use of a waterfall front top is just another subtle reference to the water theme. the purple tie is also a deliberate choice - purple is the combination of the two jackets Buck and Eddie are wearing - red and blue! Purple is a colour of mystery (much like the black they’re all wearing is) but it’s also a colour of enlightenment and understanding our inner most thoughts and feelings. It being worn by Mehta connects this concept to the shooting and Buck and Eddie finally coming to terms with the realities of it and what it means going forward - them acknowledging their feelings etc and what it means for them, both individually and together.
Julie Rosen in a dark teal asymmetric dress with a high front slit and silver jewellery. Ok so things to focus on with this costume are the asymmetry and the colour teal. Asymmetry represents unbalance (for obvious reasons) and there are a couple of ways to interpret that in this scene - obviously things are unbalanced because Buck has an advantage with his math skills. there is also the fact that Julie is in on the hustle (her comment about Buck being bad at math is deliberate and pointed!) which pits the 3 members of the 118 against Chief Williams and Captain Mehta so its 3v2.
Then there is the teal - a colour of clarity, objectivity, support, earnestness and of being true to oneself. the other thing about teal is that it is a combination of blue and green - a combination of Buck and Eddie’s colours! As a side character and one who is in on the hustle, her costume is supposed to give us more information about our main characters and her dress is really doing that!
So here we have a scene centred on them where we have a connected character wearing a colour that is a combination of their individual colours and one which means clarity etc, the return of Captain Mehta whose name literally means crystal clear and Chief Williams - whose first name is Miranda - which means to be wondered at - can they make it any louder that Buddie is happening if they tried???
Well yes actually they can - because I seem to be doing nearly all of the non main characters tonight, lets talk about the croupier as well! Firstly we need to note her location at the table in relation to Buck and Eddie - she sits opposite them and directly in between them. She is wearing a black shirt with a rusty orangey brown rope pattern woven across it.
I know its not red, but this is yet another example of the show making use of what it can to keep the red string of fate metaphor active. Here we have the rope/string twisted and looped, suggesting things are being tied together and because of her location and the implication is that this poker game is ting Buck and Eddie even more closely together (it really is a date even if neither of them actually realise it!!)
We’ve had so many game, cards and fate metaphors thrown at us across the series, but especially this season, now we’re getting to the business end of things. We have all of the metaphors at play in this one scene - the universe screaming at you (as represented by Mehtas presence), the idea of playing a game to win - when you can’t lose, making the most of the hand you’ve been dealt, the gaining of knowledge and it all being tied up together by the red string of fate - represented by the croupier - who is, like I said, sat in front of and between Buck and Eddie - in front of being the operative point (the future)!
Do you want me to go on with all the subtext in this scene?!!
Then we get to Buck and Eddie - Buck sticking to type and rolling up his long sleeves - taking off his jacket and dressing himself down (a nice touch to add to the mini dressing down he gets from Chief Williams!) but him removing the red jacket is symbolic of him stepping back into himself and his normal role - cracking dumb jokes, being a golden retriever and also reasserts his uncertainty about his future - his desire to become a captain - the theme that has been bubbling along all season.
I will make a more full meta post specifically about Buck and Eddies watches, but for now - we get a better still to scream over! The watch that had been more or less hidden under Bucks sleeves for the duration of the poker game, is now revealed to us once Buck has won his steaks. black leather strap and a white face. black and white - things are black and white - time is black and white - its telling us that Buck is no longer in the dark (all his watches have been fully black up to now) and also that there are no grey areas!
Also they just look epically good so why wouldn’t I add in extra pictures of them for us all to appreciate!!
Everything I said about the choice to have Eddie in a turtleneck holds true - thanks to Joaquin Sedillio telling us that they were inspired by George Clooneys look in oceans 11 - a look that was inspired by golden age Hollywood.
I do want to mention the use of texture in the poker scene and this connects into Bucks burgundy velvet jacket. the scene uses texture very deliberately, only Buck and Chief Williams are wearing anything textured - her texture is rough, while Bucks is soft and smooth (as long as you brush it the right way!) they also contrast each other in terms of look - velvet is a very flat texture - its matt and absorbs light, unlike the sequins which bounce light around and sparkle, drawing the eye and reflecting light. it is the absorbing/ reflection aspect that is the mist interesting because it lays into the idea of showy versus understated - and that is actually giving us hints of Bucks growth - before he was all about being showy - bright and bold and going through the whole fake it till you make it thing and seemingly lacking substance. Now though we see a Buck who is more considered - his brush with death has made him less flashy and more internalised. (I also love that this absorbing concept plays on the fact that he ‘absorbed’ a lightning bolt and lived to tell the tale!!). the other thing about the velvet being absorbing is that it places the focus onto Buck - this scene is all about him and he is absorbing the attention (and revealing in it!)
I’ve put the photo above where I have because of the Athena and Buck connection. Athena wearing a reverse of Bucks poker suit - burgundy top black jacket. The Burgundy has the same meaning that we get with Bucks jacket - the deep love and passion and romance - it is telling us that Bathena are very happy and very in love - that its a deep love. The black leather jacket contrasts with Buck as well - it has a more reflective surface - this scene isn’t about Athena, its about Madney.
So we have a reverse parallel going on between Buck and Athena - something we’ve seen at play many times throughout the seasons combined with Bobby wearing a very Eddie shade of green - that khaki shirt is straight out of the Eddie Diaz playbook and isn’t a shade we see Bobby in that often - he’s often dressed in similarly muted shades to Eddie, but they are never that much of an army colour like this one is. In an episode that shows us Bobby and Athena being in love and happy and finding new things out about each other without any children being a part of the narrative. the show is being pretty on the nose about asking us to draw the parallel - especially when we’ve seen Christopher seeking his own independence.
The blue and green of it all
Honestly the amount of blue and green paralleling going on in this episode was insane! I spent a long time uhming and ahhing about how to present this - to put all the green together followed by the blue, or to keep the coupes together! I’m going to keep this fairly brief as this post is already reaching epic proportions (I write in a very scattered manner so thats how its already super long!!)
Green
First thing to note is that the greens get darker as the episode goes on - we start with Eddie in his khaki olive green, only this one is a much lighter shade and tonally has a lot more yellow going on which actually helps connect him to the first dining table scene and his yellow shirt. Its also important to note that he has his blue face watch on - which I’ve started calling his Christopher watch
This henley is the same one we see him wearing when he is at the Grant Nash house talking to Athena about his Abeula and her being taken advantage of - such a choice by the wardrobe team - foreshadowing the poker game hustle as well as playing on the theme of being taken advantage of and of cards (tarot cards!) they really are going to town with very deliberate repeat costumes since 5b!
We should remember that Hen is also sporting green in this episode - a very bright emerald green as well as Denny in army green and Karen in teal green at various points - they all darken within their own separate arc as well as fitting into the wider arc of the episode (see the Wilson family section at the beginning if you want a reminder).
Chimney wearing army green is showing us that he is ready to fight for his family - for Maddie - so that she can feel safe in her home.
And Bobby rounds out the green in a bottle green tee and jacket combo which is verdant and shows that his relationship with Athena is in full bloom.
This use of green getting increasingly darker is something we’ve been seeing at play throughout the season - we’ve had it with Buck, particularly in relation to the sperm donor storyline, but also in connection with Hen as well as its abundance in the coma dream. Like I’ve said a million times green is generally symbolic of growth and what we’re getting with its use in this episode and more widely this season is a deliberate choice to make that growth even more explicit - whatever story arc its connected to - Buck adn the sperm Donor, Hen and her attempts to connect with Denny so she can be a good parent to him and be supportive, or Bobby and his relationship with Athena and how he is getting a better understanding of her and how that is growing his love for her even more.
Blue
The blue doesn’t follow the same linear trajectory as the green - the colour starts dark, lightens up and then heads dark again in the most general sense, but it also brightens as the episode progresses, .
Athena is in both light blue and dark blue here
while in the same scene Bobby is also in dark blue - they are matching and complimenting each other. Dressing them both in blue at the same time is an indicator of shared trust and loyalty.
Chimney has on a blue jumper here,
which he is wearing over this blue check shirt that we see him in later on, so again dark heading slightly lighter. Check theory was working over time with Chimney in this episode - the only time we see him without check is when he’s in green. That is interesting to me - its making me think that the check is telling us that Chimneys home life is stable and happy, but that his work life might be less so - the blue and the fact that we’ve seen him in check in connection with various members of the firefam in the last couple of episodes - Buck post coma, Hen in this episode, and now Bobby when He and Athena come over for dinner.
Bobby is wearing this dusty blue polo after Rhonda has been caught.
I should point out here that Maddie is wearing a dark khaki green tee underneath her bright blue shirt which is a clever hint at the fact that this playdate she has set up is a trap - Maddie is waging war - fighting for her home and the ability to live in it without fear. The bright cobalt blue indicates ingenuity and enlightenment - playing into the trap that has been set for Rhonda. It is also a happy shade of blue - bright and cheerful it ties into the idea of comfort and contentment and indicates Maddie being able to return to feeling happy and secure in her home.
And finally we have Athena in this cobalt blue running tee and gilet - its a brighter blue than the cobalt of Maddie’s shirt, almost royal blue - it still shares the meaning though - enlightenment and happiness. Its telling us that Athena is finding joy in discovering both her enjoyment of running and her enjoyment of haring an activity with her husband. The otehr thing to note is a contniation of Buck and Athena being paralleled - here we have her in a blue gilet when she flirts and insitgates shower sexy times shortly after we’ve seen Buck attend the sex gone wrong call - wearing a gilet - with him then checking in on his previous relationships and hook ups to see if they were satisfied sexually with him - the loudness is getting louder!
Blue is a colour that has been slowly increasing in frequency for Buck and I have a theory about it - bear with me here because we need to look at when he wears the colour - I’m not going to include them all or I’d be her all day - the ones i’ve excluded are either denim shirts/jackets or where blue is one of the colours rather than the only colour of a top!!
Season 1 - Buck and Abby go on a date - the only time we see Buck wear blue in season 1 and its his blue suit (with a white shirt)
Season 2 - Buck wears blue 7 times in season 2 but the two key moments we need to look at come early on in the season 2x01 - the blue henley he’s wearing when he finds Maddie in his apartment - its the first non uniform outfit we see him post Abby leaving and comes after Eddie has been introduced (coincidentally this is the same henley we know we’re going to see Eddie wearing later in the season!). the second one comes in 2x04, when Buck talks to Maddie about Eddie struggling with paperwork to get Chris the help and support he needs (its the boy crush conversation!)
Season 3 - Buck also wears blue 7 times in season 3. The 3 we need to focus on are; 3x04 Bucky talks to Chase Mackey and sues the city, 3x06 Bucks return to the 118 post lawsuit and 3x16 - Buck goes to a bar and meets Red.
Season 4 - the number of blue shirts goes up dramatically to 10 (especially as its a short season) and we’re interested in 6 of them. 4x03 - games night at he Diaz house when Eddie is dismantling technology and Buck has to do some parenting. 4x05 we have 2 - Peru Buck and the blue jacket he wears when Maddie gives him the postcards he sent her over the years. 4x07 Buck tries dating Veronica. 4x12 Buck, Eddie and Taylor discuss the treasure hunt at Bucks loft (petty Eddie drinking beer scene). 4x14 Buck sleeps on Eddies couch and parents Chris after the shooting.
Season 5 Buck wears blue 9 times in season 5 and we’re looking at 5 of them, 5x09 Buck washing up in the loft while Taylor is being distant (pink marigolds scene). 5x11 Buck and Taylor have dinner at the Diaz house - Buck and Eddie argue. 5x13 Maddie’s return from Boston and also Buck breaks down Eddies door and was in the room! 5x18 the blue suit he wears to HenRen’s vow renewal.
Season 6, we’re just over half way through and are already up to 19 blue buck outfits!! the key ones are 6x01 - the lasagne kitchen scene. 6x02 post convention locker room talk with Hen, 6x04 Madney apartment Buck tells Maddie about the year of yes, a second one is the navy top he wears when getting drunk with Hen and then the blue striped shirt when he tells C&K he’ll be their donor. 6x07 there are 3 blue shirts when he fails to donate sperm, 6x09 when he tells the firefam that his sperm has helped C&K get pregnant. 6x11 when he comes home from the hospital post lightning strike. 6x12 while he’s trying to recover at his loft and then a second one when he has is appointment with Dr Salazar. 6x13 the superpowers scene.
Eddie also wears Blue at some key moments
Season 3 - 3x03 post tsunami ‘theres no one in the world I trust more with my son than you’ scene. 3x4 - chris wakes from a nightmare. 3x09 therapy with frank. 3x12 Chris has his skateboarding accident and Eddie shouts at Ana.
Season 4 - 4x08 Eddie introduces Ana to Chris as his girlfriend. 4x14 - the will reveal.
Season 5 - 5x10 Chris has a nightmare. 5x14 dream Eddie in the kitchen serving Chris breakfast. 5x17 talks to Buck about his family - while in Christophers bedroom. 5x18 the suit he wears to HenRen’s vow renewal.
Season 6 - 6x08 dressing Chris for his school dance. 6x09, sleeping on the sofa. 6x13 poker night.
Why have I written all of this out you ask - well because I want to show you how all of these scenes (and the ones I’ve not included in the list also fit the theme) are water finding its level related. They are all very key moments when either Buck or Eddie are finding a new level or at turning points - not only in their relationship with each other, but also with Christopher.
All of Eddies wearing of blue connects to Christopher, until the one from this episode - the first time we see Eddie wearing blue while doing something not related to Christopher. I included the dream sequence Eddie in the list because he literally starts coughing up water.
As for Buck - again most of the scenes (even the ones with Maddie) are connected to Eddie and Chris in some way, even if indirectly (lawsuit I’m looking at you) There are a few exceptions - such as Maddies return from Boston, the vow renewal suit, Buck washing up or the sperm donor ones and obviously the one from season 1! I included the Abby date one because Buck chokes on water in that scene and the Taylor washing up scene - Buck literally has his hands in water. The vow renewal is Buck breaking freed of his bad relationship. As for the sperm donor arc, while not directly connected to Eddie or Chris, the parenting connection is a key one - after all much of Bucks journey to finding his level is connected to the idea of parenthood and dad not donor v donor not dad.
As for the lighter blue specifically - which is a post Taylor exclusive colour for Buck and ties into the theme of deepening ones understanding of self and the growth that comes from that - the idea of choosing to be happy. Buck choosing to break free of his depressing relationship was him choosing himself, choosing to be happy. The post Lev dying conversation Buck has with hen in the locker room is about Bucks search for happiness - about him wanting to be happy for himself. The phone call where he reveals that C&K are pregnant - that is him being happy for his friends, but also him feeling the glow of happiness from being able to help them achieve that pregnancy. The blue top we had him wearing in MacArthur park in last weeks episode is showing him choosing to move on from his brush with death - accepting it for what it is and choosing to be happy (whether that s just happy to be alive - something he was clearly grappling with, or a more generalised happiness remains to be seen) that is why we see him looking contemplative - he is choosing to put that life changing event away and accept it for what it is and the chance it has given him to be happy going forward. This theming holds true for other characters too - Athena in light blue is about her happiness - getting her parents sorted in the aftermath of her fathers stroke is making her happy.
So this new light blue top we have Buck wearing (which is the most reminiscent of the one Lev is wearing) is very much about him being happy - we see the joy he feels at being good at something, the happiness he gets from being with his Diaz boys and sharing in happy banter with them and basking in the glow of being part of a family.
Christopher
I’ve saved Christopher for last this week because he also plays into the Blue and green theming - in fact he straddles across the two colours and that makes him interesting.
Firstly we have this seafoam green tee with a pineapple on the pocket. Not only do we have a pineapple though - no we have a pineapple with a sunset scene in the fruit section. Yes you read that right - it is an actual sunset!!! So here we have a physical embodiment of the sunset theme that has been in play since season 4 - a theme that Christopher has always been connected to indirectly - construction on sunset or Bucks heart drawing with sunset colouring and misunderstanding the assignment - both times when Buck has been babysitting and both in some way connected to Christophers homework - Ana teaching Eddie Math in connection to the first one - making the whole Ana being construction on the way to Buck metaphor even more obvious, especially now in light of this new homework scene with a sunset incorporated in it!
The pineapple itself is also interesting - there are a couple of meaning we can attach to its use here. Historically, pineapples were status symbols - they were a show of wealth due to the difficulty in growing them. those who could afford them would display them prominently at dinner parties and the like to show their wealth. Here Christopher is the wealth - he is the thing both Buck and Eddie place most highly. and the scene we see this top in proves that - Christopher being an active part of their conversation about Bucks newfound superpowers - his opinions and comments are a valuable pat of the conversation to both Eddie and Buck. Christophers inclusion, comfort and confidence in this dynamic is being highlighted here - showing the difference to how he was treated in the dynamic between Eddie Chris and Ana.
The modern pineapple meaning is as an emoji - where it is an indicator of relationship status - meaning ‘its complicated’ Need I say more!!!!
Then we have the blue tee from the kitchen cookie scene. A tee with little surfing skeletons on! I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again. This show is just so so good at using the kids costumes to tell us things. first up the blue - Bucks colour and its important that Chris is wearing it in this scene where he is alone with Buck. I talked about the buck in grey in both the two scenes where he is parenting with out Eddie, well the same rings true for Chris here - he is in blue for both of the scenes (a pale blue long sleeve tee with the dinosaur wearing sunglasses which show space ships in their reflection). then there is the fact that we have surfboards reappearing on Christophers clothing - the surfing thing has always been connected to Buck in some way - both overtly and covertly. Chris was wearing a shirt with surfers on at Bucks recertification party and the last time he wore something surf related (for definite) was in 4x13 - when Carla returned to the Diaz’s and told Eddie to make sure he was following his heart and not Christophers. The other thing to note is that both of those incidents proceeded a major event - the Tsunami and the shooting. this one has skeletons on and thats making me both nervous and excited. We’ve been saying all season that Chris is due some sort of trauma or incident and I’m now very much expecting it to happen in the next two episodes and for it to be something that pushes Buddie even closer together. those Skeletons are (to me at least) suggesting that the current set up of Bucks relationship with Christopher is about to change - that it will become the old version - a dead version and that post event they will have a new and different form of relationship (as in the father-son thing will become more concrete in the same way that Buck and Bobbys has this season) because all of the surfing theming has been used at moments that have really pushed Buck and Christophers dynamic forward and increased the parent-child bond!
The thing with these to colours is that this season especially, we’ve seen Chris wearing shirts that contain both colours a couple of times - both in and out of dream sequences and both connected to parenting.
We have Chris breaking his punishment and Eddie being an amazing dad. This one is especially close in terms of colours to the two shades from this episode and now I have more context for it, the smashing and merging of the two colours would appear to be foreshadowing the merging of Buck and Eddie as coparents.
And coma Chris - who Buck has to chose to ignore/ leave behind. leaving him feeling guilty, but actually showing that he is a good parent to Chris because he recognises that he can only get back to the real one if he abandons this Chris (a chris who is a representation of Bucks own childhood abandonment issues - and therefore it is showing us Buck breaking the cycle)
In summation - the use of costume and colour was so much more out there in terms of helping with the storytelling and ensuring the Buck and Eddie as a couple message was made loud and clear - more than we’ve ever seen before - its been slowly ramping up and now they’ve taken the breaks off!!
Thank you as always for reading - it really does mean the world to me that you're interested in the costuming of our wee woo show!! I’ll shut up now and let you have your lives back. If you’ve made it through the whole thing then you are my MVP and you get this trophy! 🏆 I’m off to rock in the corner now I’ve finished this epic.
I would tag below but it won’t let me (maybe i wrote too many words 😂 so I’ll be reblogging with the tag list!
Until the next episode! 💜💜💜
#kym costume meta#911 costume meta#911 costumes#911 colour theory#kym colour theory#911 on fox#911onfox#911 fox#kym talks costumes#colour theory#its the blue and green of it all!#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#Christopher diaz#athena grant#bobby nash#hen wilson#karen wilson#denny wilson#maddie buckley#chimney han#chief williams#captain mehta
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late night sins ~ xavier plympton;ahs 1984
word count: 5360 (the longest fic i’ve ever written!!)
request?: yes!
“Can you do a xavier plympton smut/ fluff where theres an poc reader and basically they meet at camp redwood and xavier basically flirts with the reader alot an the readers a virgin and she has like this gold cross pendant soo his friends kinda pick with the reader about her being the only virgin out of the group, and basically xavier sneaks in the girl cabin on a late night while everyone is sleeping wakes up the poc reader and takes her virginity under the covers but she has to be quiet to not alert the other camp counselors in the female cabin…”
description: in which the good christian girl decides to delve into sin after she meets her fellow hot camp counsellor
pairing: xavier plympton x poc!female!reader
warnings: swearing, smut (oral; f receiving, unprotected p in v, pull out method is used but fr wrap it before you tap it kids)
masterlist (one, two, three)
The minute she stepped out of her car, she knew she was going to stick out like a sore thumb. She could see the other camp counsellors gathered around by the entrance. They were all wearing skintight, revealing clothes. One girl with messy blonde hair was passing a joint to one of the boys stood next to her. An older looking man was stood with them wearing pants so tight she could make out the outline of his...downstairs area.
The gold cross hung around her neck felt like it was burning into her skin.
She swallowed her fear and forced herself towards the others. The crunching of dirt under her tennis shoes felt like a thundering stomp as the attention was pulled towards her. The blonde looked her up and down as she blew smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Who invited the Virgin Mary?”
Two of her friends snickered while the other two - a black haired girl and a tall boy with sandy blonde hair - shuffled awkwardly at the joke. Well, the girl was awkward. The boy was silent, but he was looking at her with a look in his eye she couldn’t quite place.
“I’m, um, (Y/N),” she said, ignoring the hurtful comment. “I’m a counsellor this summer, too.”
“I guess Margaret needed someone to try and keep her goodie two shows rules in place,” the blonde said. “I’m Montana. This is Brooke, Trevor, Chet, Ray, and Xavier.”
“It’s n-nice to m-meet you,” (Y/N) said.
Trevor, the man with the tight pants and a big bulge, chuckled. “Well, isn’t she adorable. Where did Margaret find you?”
“Leave her alone,” Brooke said. “It’s nice to meet you too, (Y/N). Here, let me take you to Margaret. She’ll be able to get you acquainted here.”
Xavier watched as Brooke guided (Y/N) towards Margaret's office. Unlike the other girls, including good girl Brooke, she was completely covered in baggy clothes despite the intense heat of the summer. Which, he knew he shouldn’t have found attractive, but he did. He was so taken by her after such a short interaction.
Montana elbowed Xavier to snap him out of his train of thought. “Do not tell me you’re eyeing up the Bible humper.”
“Fuck off. I think she’s cute,” Xavier retorted, taking the joint from Ray.
“Never gonna happen, man,” Ray told him. “You’ll be lucky if you see her ankles this summer.”
“Or maybe not,” Chet added. “Most of those Christian girls are freaks. She’ll be on her knees by nightfall I’d say.”
Xavier threw the lit joint at Chet. The four remaining counsellors made noises of disapproval as the joint fizzled out on the ground. Xavier ignored them as he walked away. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he needed to get away from his shitty friends. Sure, at one point Xavier would’ve been laughing along with them at the Christian girl’s expensive, but this Christian girl was different. To him she was, anyways.
He found himself headed towards the counsellor’s quarters, which happened to be on the way past Margaret’s office. He glanced over towards the open door as he passed and noticed (Y/N) stood with Margaret. As if feeling his gaze, (Y/N) looked over and locked eyes with him. He smiled at her, hoping it looked as friendly as he meant it to. She smiled back, shyly, and quickly looked away.
That was all he needed to be wrapped around her fingers.
~~~~~~
That night, all the counsellors were gathered in the female counsellor’s cabin. It was majorly against Margaret’s rules, but that’s why they were doing it. If they were going to be forced into being Margaret’s anti-fun police for the summer, they wanted to have one last night of debauchery. That included weed, alcohol, and, if they could get away with it, sex.
When (Y/N) walked through the door, they were already well into their night of fun. Everyone turned to look at her as she took in the scene with wide eyes. She was coming from the showers, as evident by her dripping wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a white tank top that was so thin that it was easy to make out the outline of her brown breasts against the white fabric. Xavier had to shuffle a pillow over his growing boner.
“The Virgin Mary shows skin,” Montana commented. “How scandalous.”
“What are you guys doing?” she asked.
“We’re trying to have some fun,” Montana responded. “Which won’t happen if your goodie two shoes ass goes to tell Margaret on us.”
“I won’t tell.” All eyes followed her towards her bed, the one that Xavier was sat on. She put her dirty clothes into the bag and sat next to him. “Pass me a beer.”
Her request shocked everyone. Ray grabbed a bottle from the cooler and passed it to (Y/N). “You drink beer?”
“Well...no. But I’ve drank the wine at church, so I figure that’s the same thing.”
“There’s wine in church?” Trevor asked.
(Y/N) nodded. “Communal wine. It’s supposed to be the blood of Christ.”
“You Bible humpers drink blood?” Ray asked. “You guys really are freaks!”
“No, it’s not - ” Xavier cut her off by putting a hand on her arm and shaking his head.
She sighed and opened the beer bottle. Her heart was hammering against her chest. What would her parents think if they found out she was drinking at camp? What would her pastor say? They had all been convinced that the camp was going to be a place of sin and tried to convince her not to go.
But she had spent her entire life being a good Christian girl. She followed everything her parents and priests had told her from the day she was born. This was the first time she had ever made a decision for herself. She was a young adult now. If she wanted to drink, then she could drink.
There’s always the option to pray for forgiveness once the summer ends, she reminded herself.
She brought the bottle to her lips and took a big mouthful. When she swallowed the thick liquid, she cringed and began to gag. Her fellow counsellors laughed at her reaction.
“Definitely not like wine,” she croaked.
“Here.” Brooke passed her some water. “I’ll make the beer go down easier, and it’ll wipe the taste from your mouth.”
(Y/N) accepted the water gratefully and took a sip.
The small mouthfuls of beer started working very quickly on her. By the time she had finished her first bottle of beer, (Y/N) was already feeling warm and fuzzy. She felt her body lull to the side against Xavier, who welcomed her with an arm around her shoulder, adding his bodily warmth to hers.
“Hey now, Virgin Mary, leave room for Jesus there,” Montana mocked.
“Shut the fuck up, Montana,” she retorted.
The curse was new on her tongue, but it tasted delicious as it spilled from her lips. Everyone seemed shocked and impressed by her choice of words, and she was shocked herself, but she was starting to like the feeling she was getting. Not just from the beer, but also from throwing caution to the wind and doing what most people her age did. Sure, she would likely feel some sort of guilt over the coming days about this night, but for now she felt like she was floating on cloud nine.
“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” Brooke asked her. “The drinking and cursing, I mean.”
(Y/N) shook her head. “Never. My parents say cursing sounds unladylike, and binge drinking is kind of viewed as a sin, especially when you’re underaged.”
“Religion sounds boring,” Chet said.
“It is,” (Y/N) admitted, shocked by the fact that she really did believe that. Her whole life she had been a devout Christian, never once questioning her faith, but no one could deny how strict her Christian parents were, or how intolerant some of her devout family members and neighbors were. She had never been around people like the other counsellors before. She never knew what kind of life she could possibly have outside of her religion.
“Are you even allowed to have boyfriends?” Montana asked. “Is that a sin, too?”
“Having a boyfriend isn’t a sin, but it is awkward to try and have any form of PDA in front of parents or other adults,” (Y/N) said. “Even holding hands is awkward.”
“So have you ever been kissed?” Brooke asked.
(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah, a couple times. It was very awkward, but so are most first kisses.”
“Have you ever had sex?” Montana asked. Suddenly, (Y/N) became shy again, which caused Montana to grin wickedly. “You haven’t, have you? You’re still a virgin!”
(Y/N) shrunk back against Xavier, who held her protectively towards him. “Knock it off, Montana.”
“What? I’m just stating a fact, and the fact is she’s a virgin. Poor thing will probably never know how good it feels to have a big dick all up inside of her.”
(Y/N)’s thighs clenched together at Montana’s words. Of course she had thought about sex before. She was in her early 20s, she had gone through the crazy hormonal stages of puberty where sex was the one thing on every teenager’s mind. But she never got to explore those urges. She had been taught her entire life that sex before marriage was the ultimate sin, and that if she tried to...relieve herself, so to speak, that she would also be condemned to Hell. But, boy, did she ever think of how badly she wanted someone to finally deflower her, if not just to make the sinful thoughts go away.
Her squirming definitely did not go unnoticed by Xavier, but he didn’t bring any attention to it. The last thing he wanted was for Montana to have more reasons to mock (Y/N).
“I wanna have sex,” she said in a soft voice. “But I want to be sure of it. I want it to be with someone I’m sure of.”
Xavier wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he could’ve swore he saw her eyes flicker towards him when she said the last part.
No, there’s no way, he thought. We’ve barely had a conversation together, stop thinking so highly of yourself.
But...but what if she did?
He glanced down at her again, but her attention was drawn to whatever one of the others were saying.
Maybe I could figure this out later on tonight when everyone is gone, he thought, and the idea made him smirk to himself.
~~~~~~
The male counsellors went back to their own cabin once the night had come to an end. Xavier laid in his bed, starring at the ceiling as he waited to make sure everyone was asleep. Once the cabin was filled with soft breathing and snoring, he quickly got up and pulled on his shoes. He opened the rickety door as silently as he could, stopping to cringe when it let out a squeak anyways. When none of the others stirred, he continued on his mission.
All the girls were also sound asleep. Their cabin was nearly pitch black, with just some rays of white light shining in from the full moon.
(Y/N) was laying on her side, her hands tucked under her face as she breathed softly. Xavier couldn’t help but smile at her as he made his way towards her bed. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. Like an angel, for a lack of better words.
He knelt down next to her bed and lightly shook her. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up. Xavier looked over his shoulder to make sure that Brooke and Montana were definitely asleep before shaking (Y/N) a little harder. She mumbled something incoherent before her eyes slowly blinked open. When she looked at Xavier, she let out a gasp and he quickly covered her mouth to stop her from making any other noises.
“Shh!” he said. “It’s just me.”
“What are you doing here?!” she whispered. “If you get caught you’ll be in big trouble!”
“No one is going to catch me. Margaret has been dead asleep since before we had our little party,” Xavier said, a cocky grin on his face. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“It couldn’t wait until morning?”
“No, because my response to the answer might need the cover of nightfall.” She looked at him in confusion, so he continued, “Earlier, when you were talking about losing your virginity to someone you’re sure of, did you look at me?”
She stared at him blankly. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Xavier, this can wait until morning.”
She went to roll over with her back to him, but he quickly took hold of her arms and stopped her from moving.
“I’m serious, (Y/N), I need to know,” he said. “Because if you genuinely meant that, I might have to take you up on that offer.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why? So you can brag to the others about taking the Christian girl’s virginity? I don’t think so.”
He pulled away from her, hurt by her accusation, but then realized that it was a very valid point. They barley knew each other and here he was, coming to her in the middle of the night because he thought she had inferred wanting to sleep with him. Even if he didn’t have the ill intentions that she thought he did, he clearly did not have any pure ones either.
“It’s not that at all,” he said. “I swear to you, (Y/N). I just...I’ve been very infatuated with you since we first met earlier, and that’s very unlike me because we’ve hardly talked to one another. But it’s the truth, I swear. I’m not just trying to get into your pants.”
(Y/N) rolled onto her back to look up at Xavier. Her face was unreadable, which was just making things worse. He wished she would say something, anything. Even if she just told him to fuck off, with that beautiful, innocent mouth of hers.
Okay, maybe she shouldn’t say that.
She sighed and propped herself up on her elbows. “Okay, yes I did look at you when I said that, because I would be okay with losing my virginity to you, Xavier.”
With the words officially out of her mouth, Xavier couldn’t help but pounce on her. He pressed his lips against hers, stopping whatever else was about to be sad. He got up onto the bed and positioned himself so that he was straddling her still covered body. He kissed her intensely and passionately, but not so much as to rush her or make her feel uncomfortable.
She settled into the kiss very quickly. It wasn’t the first time she had made out with someone. Again, she had been a teenager with wild hormones once. Just because she hadn’t gone all the way with anyone didn’t mean that she hadn’t at least got to second base a couple of times. Of course, she felt guilty afterwards because of her upbringing, but it always felt good in the moment. And, in this moment, it felt especially good to be kissing Xavier’s soft, plump lips like this.
But when she heard the sound of one of the girls rolling over in their beds, she quickly put a hand against his chest and pushed him back. “We can’t do this here. What if they wake up?”
“It’s so dark, they wouldn’t even know,” Xavier said. “And we’ll be quiet. Well, I will be anyways. I don’t know about you.”
She wanted to glare at him, but he quickly ducked his head down to start kissing her neck. She bit her lip to stop a moan from erupting from her mouth as she felt a tingling sensation between her legs.
She couldn’t lie, the thought of losing her virginity in her camp counsellor bunk while her other camp counsellors slept did sound very risky and naughty. It also sounded very cliché, which was what she wanted. If she was going to be giving into sin this summer, she may as well do it in the most cliché way possible.
Xavier slipped under the covers with her and continued to kiss down her body. He kissed around the exposed areas of her neck and chest, not wanting to push too far just yet by trying to get under her shirt. Even though he was trying to get into her pants, he still wanted to be a gentleman about it.
(Y/N) looked down at him as he disappeared under the blankets. She was confused at first. If he was planning to take her virginity, shouldn’t he be up here with her? Wasn’t that how sex worked?
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I want to make sure you’re ready before we get into it,” he responded. “I want to make you feel good first. Can I take these shorts off?”
She nodded, but then realized he couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”
He curled his fingers around the waistband of her pants and pulled them, and her panties, down in one swift movement. She raised her hips so he could pull them down as far as her ankles. Despite the blankets still covering her lower half, she felt very naked. Even if no one else could see her if they happened to look over, she knew that Xavier could see her. And right now, he was very, very close to her.
She gasped and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when she felt something wet against her core. “What was that?!”
“My tongue.”
(Y/N) quickly covered her mouth when she felt it against her again. She had never heard of this form of sexual intimacy before. When she was in high school, her mom had warned her about all of the “impure ways” boys would try to use her, which included them wanting to stick their penises in her mouth, but no one had ever mentioned a guy doing the same thing to her. It felt dirty, but also it felt so good.
She muffled her moans with both hands as Xavier continued to lick from her clit down to her tight, untouched hole. A wetness began pooling between her legs that he lapped up as if it were the first drink of water he had in weeks. Her body shuddered with pleasure every time his tongue connected with her. It was better than she ever could’ve imagined, and that just made her even more excited for the actual sex.
Something began to build in her stomach. A feeling she had never felt before. It felt like someone was inside of her, pushing something down from her stomach to get it out of her. She tried to tap Xavier to tell him, but she was afraid to lift her hand from her mouth in case she made a loud noise and woke the others.
“I can feel that you’re tightening up,” he said. “That means you’re getting close. Lean into it, beautiful. Let it happen. Cum all over my mouth.”
It was enough to send her toppling over the edge. She pressed her hands against her mouth as hard as she could as a scream of pleasure ripped from her lips. Xavier’s fingertips dug into her hips as he held her to him, taking in every bit of her juices that he could. He knew it was her first time having an orgasm, but he didn’t expect for her to become so wet and to finish so quickly just from his tongue. His dick twitched with excitement at the thought of being inside of her.
With one last kiss to her clit, Xavier began kissing up her stomach, lifting her shirt slightly as he left messy, wet marks over her belly, her chest, her neck, and finally getting to her face. Through the white moonlight, (Y/N) could see a glisten on his mouth and chin. Between her legs throbbed as she realized that was her slick on him.
He gently moved his hands away from her mouth so he could kiss her. The taste of his lips were much different, and she knew that was because that was the taste of her on him. It was all just so hot that she almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She was sure she was dreaming it all, that she’d wake up in this bed alone and unsatisfied.
Xavier reached under the covers to start pulling down his own pants, but hesitated a moment. He pulled away from the kiss, (Y/N) trying to follow him with her own lips.
“Wait,” he said. “Before we go all the way, I have to check in one last time. Are you okay with this, (Y/N)?”
She nodded frantically. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Xavier. Please.”
“Okay, but if you want to stop at all you tell me, okay? I know I just warmed you up, but it is going to hurt at first either way. If it’s too much, we stop. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
He sat up and pulled his pants down around his knees. His dick sprang free from its confides, standing painfully at attention in the moonlight. (Y/N) looked at it with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the first penis she’d see, but it was certainly a big one. She wondered how it would even fit inside of her.
Xavier placed his hands under her thighs and pulled them up so they were wrapped around his hips. The ran the head of his dick through the slick that was still left over from him having been between her legs. She whimpered at the feeling, quickly putting a hand over her mouth again. Both of them glanced over to make sure Brooke and Montana were still peacefully sleeping.
“I’m going to put it in now,” Xavier told her. “I’ll do it very slowly, okay?”
She nodded. He thrust his hips forwards a little, pushing just the tip of his cock into her. He hissed at the tight feeling around his already sensitive tip. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever last when she was already gripping him so tightly and he barely had the head of his dick inside of her.
(Y/N) gasped into her hand at the feeling. Xavier pushed until his head was completely inside of her, stretching her out. The stretch was definitely a painful, burning feeling. It was like her body knew he wasn’t supposed to be in there and wanted him out, but she wanted him in there. She had fantasized about this since the first time she had ever laid her eyes on Xavier - a time she knew he had definitely forgotten.
He lick his thumb and lowered it between them, pressing it against her clit and gently rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. (Y/N) whimpered at the gesture.
“This should help make it feel better,” he told her. “Just until I can get all the way inside of you, okay?”
She nodded again. At this point, talking was definitely not happening. Any noise that were to come out of her mouth would just be a moan or a whimper of pleasure, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the volume down without her hands over her mouth.
Xavier continued to push inside of her while gently rubbing circles into her clit. He looked between them and watched as his dick disappeared into her. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, trying to stop any sounds that might come out unintentionally. It felt so good inside of her that he already did not want the this to end. He just wanted to stay inside of her forever, feel her warm walls gripping around him, look at her beautiful face as it contorted in pure ecstasy.
When he was buried all the way inside of her, he leaned down and took her hand from her mouth so he could kiss her. He continued to rub her clit, but he kept himself deep inside of her so she could get used to his size. She moaned into the kiss, her body inadvertently jerking from the pleasure she was feeling. The motion caused Xavier’s hips to move forward to fill her again. It was just a slight movement, but it was enough that it drove Xavier wild.
“Do that again,” she whispered against his lips.
“What?”
“The way you moved your hips. Do it again, please. It felt really good.”
He smiled down at her and gently grinded his hips against hers. Her mouth hung open, but no sounds were coming now. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and that was all Xavier needed to tell him he was doing a good job.
He took his hand from between her legs so he could fully press himself against her. He captured her lips with his again and continued to gently thrust into her. The slow sensation was enough to make his orgasm build at a quicker rate than he would’ve liked, but he knew he wasn’t going to finish until she did. He wanted to feel her cum around him at least once before he would let himself finish.
Luckily, he could feel that familiar tightening feeling; where her walls started grasping at him tighter than before and he could feel her stomach tensing beneath him.
“Remember what I said earlier,” he whispered. “Just let it happen. Let me feel you cum all over this dick.”
She nodded, soft whimpers coming from her mouth. It wasn’t too long afterwards that he felt her clenching around him so tightly that he was sure she was going to rip his dick off just with her pussy. He kissed her hard, muffling her cries of pleasure. His hips were stilled as he let her ride out her climax, knowing that if he were to move anymore he’d definitely cum, too, and he wasn’t going to cum inside of her. That was too dangerous. He didn’t want to be responsible for any sort of backlash from her parents once she got home from camp, even if that ship had already sailed.
When the feeling of her quivering became too much, Xavier quickly pulled out of her and sat up on his knees again. He pushed her tank top up just enough to expose her belly and the underside of her boobs. It only took a few pumps of his hand, slick from her juices over his dick, before he was exploding over her stomach. He threw his head back, letting out a quiet groan.
They both were still, panting to catch their breaths. Xavier looked down at (Y/N), now covered in his seat, and he felt his dick twitch again. If he could take a picture of this moment, he would. And he would’ve stuck it in his wallet so he could look at it all the damn time.
He reached for her discarded towel from earlier that night and wiped her off. She hissed when he wiped between her legs, and he mumbled as soft, “Sorry.”
They both pulled their pants back up and got themselves straightened away before Xavier laid down next to her. He figured he could spare a few moments just to cuddle up close to her before he would have to run back to his cabin and his bed to try and get some sleep. (Y/N) rolled into his chest, taking in his warmth and the scent of him that was quickly becoming her favorite scent; the smell of his hair paste and the sweet cologne he wore. She wished she could combine them together into a perfume that she would wear for the rest of her life.
It was silent for some time except for the soft breathing of her bunkmates and the occasional snore that came from Brooke. Once her head had finally stopped feeling lightheaded, (Y/N) decided it was time to confess to Xavier.
“I’ve seen you before, you know.”
He moved so he could look down at her. “What?”
“I was in one of your aerobics classes,” she said. “Not very long ago, maybe a few months ago? One of my friends signed us up because she heard it was a good way to stay in shape.”
“I...I feel so bad to say that I don’t...remember,” Xavier said. He was sure he would’ve remembered seeing this beautiful specimen in one of his classes. He saw so many faces every day, but he always remembered the prettiest ones, and (Y/N) was definitely a face to remember.
“I wasn’t in it long enough to be remembered,” she admitted. “We walked in, and I saw you and...well...I started feeling...impure things when I saw you in your tight suit doing all those hip movements and stuff. You were in the middle of another class so we had to wait. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to start our class because my friend’s parents walked in to bring her something she had forgotten and saw the way everyone was dressed and how they were all moving. They were appalled. They dragged us out and brought us home. Told my parents, who grounded me for a week because of it. They claimed that we were trying to behind their backs, but I truly had no idea what I was in for when I agreed to go.”
Xavier cringed. He felt terrible hearing the way (Y/N) must’ve lived her entire life. Having to be afraid of mistakenly doing something “impure” or “sinful” and getting punished for it, even if the “sinful” things were just basic things that happen in life. He wished he could’ve taken away all those bad times from her memory and replace them with good ones; memories where (Y/N) could just be a normal person and not have to worry about God’s wrath or whatever they said in churches.
“That’s why I glanced at you when we were talking about sex,” (Y/N) continued. “Because...because I had fantasies about this very situation happening since the day I first saw you.”
Xavier couldn’t help but smirk proudly at that. “And did the actual thing live up to your expectations?”
She giggled. “Majorly.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
There was another moment of silence before Xavier added, “It doesn’t have to be a one time thing, though.”
(Y/N) turned to rest her chin on his chest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...maybe, once the summer ends, we could go on some proper dates. Maybe...actually be a couple?”
(Y/N)’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as she looked at him. He smiled at how beautiful she was, and at how lucky he was to be the one she was looking at.
“Really?” she asked.
“Only if you want to,” he responded.
Her reply was by attacking his face with kisses. He chuckled as she left not one inch of his face unkissed, ending with her lips against his.
“That’s a yes, by the way,” she said.
“I could tell,” he said. “I should go before I get in trouble for being here.”
“I guess you should.”
He didn’t move to leave right away. He continued to gaze into her eyes for a moment longer, before kissing her one last time and getting up from her bed. He couldn’t help but looking back at her as he made his way towards the door. She was still smiling at him as he finally allowed the door to swing shut behind him, obstructing his view of her.
He couldn’t help but stand outside the door for a moment, letting out a long, happy sigh, before making his way back to the boy’s cabin.
I’ve never written poc!reader before so I hope this is okay! I usually don’t describe anything with my general x reader fics because I want them to be inclusive for everyone, but I don’t mind writing specific ones like this when asked!
#xavier plympton#xavier plympton imagine#xavier plympton smut#xavier plympton x reader#cody fern#cody fern x reader#cody fern smut#cody fern imagine#ahs#ahs 1984#american horror story#american horror story 1984#ahs imagine#american horror story imagine#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Here's my S3 theory. (I'd be thrilled to hear yours as well.)
I am writing this now so that when S3 finally drops in 24 billion months or whatever, I can look back at my notes and feel very smug and smart. Or laugh at myself for how wrong I got it.
My point is, dolphins. Or rather-- that terrible yet well-written cliffhanger:
At the very very end of S2, as Aziraphale was going up the elevator to Heaven, I'm pretty sure he knew he was going to have to work under cover to prevent the end of the world. Certainly after watching the recordings of Gabriel and what happened when HE protested, Aziraphale would realize that the bureaucracies of Heaven and Hell were determined to get to a final battle.
The Second Coming, from what (admittedly minimal amounts) I've read of it, doesn't have quite as many plot points as the arrival of the Antichrist. Jesus is supposed to show up in a burst of dramatic weather, all the humans who have ever lived are going to be immediately tossed into Heaven or Hell, and... That's about it? (I was actually raised Catholic, but I didn't pay much attention in Sunday school, and as an adult I don't really interact with religion. This isn't my best trivia subject, in other words.)
Anyway, at some sooner-rather-than-later point I think Aziraphale is going to decide to let all the angels and demons who want to fight it out with flaming swords have their go, and he is going to focus on preventing everyone else from getting hurt while that happens. Maybe the final sorting of goodies and baddies is going to involve processing all of humanity through some massive portals. And maybe Aziraphale is going to use his new position of power in Heaven's bureaucracy to change where the portal exit point is. There have been sooo many references to Alpha Centauri in the first two seasons, and that's presumably where Beelzebub and Gabriel went at the end of S2. I bet they would be willing to help with portal setup and receiving refugees on their end.
I'm not entirely certain what Crowley's role will be in S3. I can totally picture Aziraphale coming to him and saying, "Let's run off to Alpha Centauri together, only I've got several billion humans I want to bring with me." Maybe Crowley will have to help with portal setup down in the basement offices of hell. Or maybe he will need to convince Jesus to join Team Save Humanity (Crowley was friendly with Jesus once upon a time and did show him all the kingdoms of the world, after all.)
I think there are going to be some funny bits with the Nazi zombies from past seasons and all the other people who are being raised from the dead.
In the original book, Adam said that Heaven and Hell were a lot like his gang, the Them, and their rival gang, the Johnsonites: They were always trying to beat one another, but it wouldn't be any good if one of them actually did win. Having a rival gives you something to do, after all. I don't think there can ever be a final resolution between good and bad. They're kind of like death -- baked into the system. It's going to be a stalemate.
I also suspect that God is playing a many-layered game. All the demons and angels are helping to judge and deliver consequences to humans for their use of free will. But maybe God is watching all the angels and demons to see whether they understand that being on a team doesn't mean that you can't make your own moral decisions and act outside the party line.
Ultimately I think the battle will end and the human refugees will return to Earth. Our favorite supernatural couple will buy a flat with a garden somewhere, and that's where the story will end -- in a garden, just as it began.
#good omens clues#good omens season 3#good omens#neil gaiman#argue my point#what do you think?#crowley#aziraphale
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Sarge and lil Mama Headcanons
I’ve never done a headcanon post and am rather dissatisfied with this one, mostly because I’m itching to write full fledged, descriptive blurbs and fics elaborating on these highlights. But this way y’all will get a little taste and hopefully something will spark your interest as I’d welcome any prompts, requests and suggestions for which ones you’d like to see written out in full 🌹
Warnings: NSFW…breeding kinks, lactation kinks, gender roles, housewife kink, innocence kink, free use, lots of kids, withdrawal mentions, Army Elvis being a hot tamale
The attraction starts a little differently from the usual romance, this man thought of you as the sweet and kitchen-skilled daughter of a Memphian music producer until one day Gladys opened her mouth to tell her impressionable son something along the lines of: “now there’s a pretty gal who would make you a marvelous wife and mother to your children”
Ever after that, this poor young man can’t help but think of you in that context, laying beneath him as he breeds you, swelling with his children, giving him little heirs to Graceland and then the whole cycle begins again…the other girls and the starlets are hot stuff and they’re all great for romance and sex, but when he’s alone in his room he wrings his poor cock out to the thought of filling you with his children and binding you to him forever. His intentions towards you are so wholesome they’ve turned primal, and it takes him ages to work up the courage to ask your daddy for your hand
This asking gets precipitated by two events: his induction into the army and the death of his mother. Without her in his life he can’t fathom making a home across the ocean without a woman, his woman, the woman his mama pointed out and he’s been married to in his head for a humiliating length of time
I mean, sure you’ve been trying to be a comfort to him whenever you two interact since his mama’s passing, and maybe you took more baked goodies over to the big house than strictly necessary, but it was all to make him get off the floor and stop looking so hollow, to be there for Gladys’ son and your father’s friend.
Here he’s been wanking to the thought of you swollen with his kids while you’ve been baking pies, finishing school and keeping your expectations for romance low.
But had such a fixed determination regarding your role in his life he forgets how little you’ve been let in on the secret. He’s been keeping his behavior circumspect around you as he distrusts what his instincts might compel him to do if he caught you alone wearing a dress and that perfume that sends him nuts
So it’s a shock to not really be asked, but rather told that you’re gonna marry him, like it’s something you owe the nation -like jury duty or the draft
And see, it’s gotta happen soon since he’s leaving and he wants to bring ya overseas with him and -well, that’s how you end up three months later laying beneath the King of Rock and Roll as he takes your virginity and makes you his wife,
He definitely tells you why he wanted you that night, praises you for being wife material and you preen under the weight of his adoration.And he absolutely asks you, as you both sit on the edge of the bed with his hand in your hair: “do you know what mamas and daddies do when they got to bed, lil one?”
You don’t, not really, all the “conjugal advice” dear sweet freshly married you got from your mama was to “be good” for your husband. So by golly you do it, you’re beyond good for him that first night and he coaches you through his voice tender, grounding and soft as he shows you
Wide eyed and fuzzy headed from the heat of his hand on your thigh you hear him explain, “the daddy goes inside the mommy’s kitty, baby”
It’s all alright, he tells your doe-eyed self, he’ll show you how it’s done between man and wife before God’s watching eyes, “thas’ it… spread ya legs lil.. no not that way… no.. goddamn it hang on honey lemme help ya”
And sure, partway through you’re asking “really Elvis? You’re not pulling my leg are ya? You’re really supposed to go inside me?” And he’s all, “How else am I gonna plant babies in your womb, honey? Gotta go far up in or else they’ll just get lost in your belly, with the cake you ate.”
He’s a bit insecure about the fact he has been long besotted with you and you’re merely fond of him. And so, both to assuage any guilt he might have over possibly pressuring you and to make you prove you want this -he has you on top, has you do the first impaling of your own free will
And he makes it so good for you that first night -after all, he wants you to look forward to him merging with you, he wants you to want to take him as often as he wants to take you, wants you to crave being filled, to be dissatisfied every minute he’s not inside you
He’s the one to teach you everything about such matters and as you’ve no set parameter or established sense of what’s “proper” or “dirty” you soak up every wicked trick he shows you. He gets to mould you into the perfect wife, perfect for his cock and his tastes, taking him just how he wants, whenever he wants, and your sweet self is in shambles from how good his foreign activity feels.
Now the papers, they’re having a field day. The colonel makes certain this sudden change of status is used for full image rehabilitation effect, there’s heaps of praise for Elvis the Pelvis repenting of his wildness and settling down, embracing the role of a wholesome family man.
When you visit him at Fort Hood and show up in your little sundress to the accompanying sound of wolf whistles, he's knocked flat on his ass by the sight of your pretty body filled out and matronly, a glow about you that suggests that finally you have the little piece of the puzzle of you that was missing before -him, a little bit of him inside you at all times
He pulls you aside for a frantic chat, eyebrows drawn together as he huffs out, u could so a specific like “Lordy, baby you been walkin around like that? glowin with your tits all big and swollen… shit... ain’t nobody look at ya too long did they?” “no elvis” “good answer lil girl i was bouta bust some heads in”
You have those twins right before he has to go overseas, and he forgets himself he’s so anxious he nearly crushes your little hand during labor
Elvis is a mess because you aren’t fit to travel and he has to leave you behind, no amount of money getting thrown around can allow him to stay longer, so he leaves you tearful, promising to get you over with the rest of his family and entourage
A nasty bout of mastitis makes your sicker than ever and delays any impromptu flights you might have tried to take, and Elvis is so worried for you since not even his mama is back home to make sure you’ll be alright, you’re all alone when he promised that you’d always be together as a family
One of y’all’s long distance phone calls gets bugged and recorded, sold to the papers and let’s just say that while the rest of the nation is choking on their eggs while reading a printed transcript of y’all’s dirty talk in the morning papers, you and Elvis are besides yourselves with anger and frustration that even this little comfort and closeness has been taken from you
It also disillusions the public regarding Elvis’ supposed reformation of character, he always has looked like he knows how to fuck, and now there’s swelling proof of that fact in you
Christmas is just around the corner -his first without his mama- and you’re healed up and mad enough that you pull some strings of your own and haul Grandma Dodger and the twins to an international airport and fly to Germany in Pan Am commercial class seats
That reunion at the airport?! Oh yeah, I’ve got a fic coming…let’s just say he missed ya, and he needs to inspect ya, make sure his boobs and his pussy are fully recovered
Reunion sex is trying to be hushed cause he’s living with other folks, but let’s face it, you two holler till the whole block knows what you’re up to, and you two can’t wait to get a house of your own
Succeed at that but then, it’s full of people often too
Which, seeing as how he wants free reign to take you every chance he can get, fill ya up again, that just won’t do. This is the true honeymoon of your married lives, and he’s got his little babies he wants to get to know
So yes, he rents other houses around the base for his family and entourage just so he can slip inside you whenever he wants, while you’re at the sink, or spread out on the kitchen table -undisturbed, save for occasional noise complaint - and talk, oh you two talk and this is where you truly fall in love with the man, not the legend
These days are the happiest of your life looking back, a taste of normality where you can look back and see your man coming home to you by six o’clock, dinner thirty minutes later, babies bathtime and reading time after that, and then the rest of the night to yourselves - alright, often you two fall asleep holding the snuggly little nuggets, let’s be honest…this man can hardly stand being parted from them more than he already is
Speaking of not being parted… cockwarming while nursing happens very often on the living room sofa, he helps support your tired arms and everything, and it’s almost boyish the way he peeks over your shoulder, his lips part and his eyes get wonderous as he watches his little ones taking their nourishment from your body
It doesn’t take you long to set up house and get into a rhythm, which means you notice when things are off -even if you two hadn’t much married time before all this. So it isn’t many nights reunited before you notice the addition of pills to his bedtime regimen and he tells you he hasn’t been sleeping well all alone out here, and you suggest an experiment… wearing him out before bed, and whenever he gets a craving in the night, you’re there for him to use… yes, we are gonna go full “breaking addiction through Free Use” here
Which is really just swapping one addiction for another -pills for pussy, but hey, it works and you haven’t been back a whole month before those tell tale signs reemerge and Elvis is the one to spot them first -half because he is so eager for it to happen again and for him to finally be apart of it, and another because this boy has studied the subject extensively in the interim and knows what to look for
This next pregnancy he is all over you, everything he missed before due to enforced separation he gets to watch unfold in real time, and to his consternation, he finds that you being pregnant is just as appealing if not more so than you fertile, his lust is magnified by gratitude now, as well as the sneaking suspicion that you’ve really finally fallen irrevocably in love with your crazy soldier boy
Elvis is so invested in your well-being when you are pregnant that he is reading all the recommended books, in between his army duties. This man lays in bed at night, glasses on, reading aloud to you by lamplight about all processes and symptoms, what stage your babies are at now (he swears it’s another set) and he goes to every doctors appt with you. He’s the one to ask tons of questions and actually tries to school the doctor on certain things, cause he’s a precious know-it-all with conviction
You visit him on base often and become quite popular with your goody basket, pretty smile and ripe tits -which drives him nuts when all the guys comment and notice that little Mrs Presley sure is a doozy… he just might haul you to the break room and take you on the pool table…and if they’re watchin him give it to ya real good through the glass doors?! Oh well, that ain’t his problem
After the third or fourth set of Irish twins the neighbors -and the general public- start to wonder if maybe this wholesome family might have a salacious underbelly…the other army wives pity you and your constant state of barefoot and pregnant, but your smug little face says: my man makes it worth it it
You two throw the best house parties over there, and in case all this talk of breeding has made you think this boy has forgotten his oral fixation…ha no, he mumbles his praises into your pussy for being such a remarkable hostess and an impeccable wife and mother after the guests clear out….sometimes before
This man, I am sorry to say, blames you and your tight little coochie for his trash pull out game, he’s all “honey, if you didn’t clench like a goddamn fury i-I might h-have a chance, but as it is, y-you gotta stay in p-p-possession of yourself if you want me to pull out, it’s the lady’s responsibility, i-it’s different for men, w-we can’t help getting carried away”
He tells you the condoms grit his foreskin so you burn them without a second thought, you’re addicted to the friction anyway
Riding him while wearing his army hat might be the first time you get a taste of submissive E, he goes from critiquing your salute and posture “straighten those shoulders out honey, drop that hand snappy, now!” (all while railing you from underneath ya) to being a glassy eyed mess when you cockily ask “you like that Sarge?” while swiveling on him like he’s an toy boy barstool
Returning stateside in the snow, in full view of a crowd of swarming fans and photographers with at least five more children than you two left with
For the next couple decades you rent out the entire top floor of every hotel you stay in just so the kids can freely run down the hall
#reposting for masterlist purposes#since the other links are deactivated#elvis presley#elvis fanfiction#sarge and lil mama#headcanon#mine#elvis imagine#elvis fanfic#elvis x reader#elvis x you
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Part of His Plan (Homelander x OC Smut)
18+ | vaginal sex, semi-public sex, getting caught, spidersona oc | Fic Directory
This was all part of his plan. His glorious revenge.
See, Starlight crossed a line. A very, very obvious line that should have never been a thought in her idiot fucking head. The little goody two shoes decided to try to recruit Benjamin to her cause.
Homelander was no fool, and he knows damn well she’s been conspiring against him. Sure he lacked definite proof until now, but he needed to make her realize just how fucking stupid she is for even thinking Ben would ever turn on him.
What a sight it’d be for her to stumble upon them like this.
“Oh– fuck, fuck!” Ben cries out, legs pressed to his chest, ass hanging off the meeting room table as Homelander drives his cock in and out of that sweet, warm pussy. He’s been eaten to completion several times, and now Homelander meant to drive him to insanity.
Benjamin has no idea that Starlight thinks there’s a team meeting in five minutes. He’s angled so that he won’t see her enter– hear her, maybe– but he won’t know. Homelander had the courtesy to fuck him so that he’d be facing away from the door. She wouldn’t be lucky enough to see his fat cock driving into that sopping wet cunt, because that sight was just for him.
“Who do you belong to,” he grits, palms pressed to either side of Ben’s face, directing his gaze. He leans closer, practically pressing their chests together.
Homelander can hear the heels of her boots clicking down the hallway. She’s just about here.
“Y-You!” Ben mewls.
Homelander gives an extra sharp snap of his hips, lips curling into a devious grin. He picks up the pace, fucks harder to ensure the wet claps of skin would be wholly unmistakable. He wants her to hear it just as much as she sees it.
He hears her palm press to the scanner next to the door.
“Say it! Who do you belong to!?’ He roars, eyes raising, staring right at her as soon as the doors cracked open.
“I’m– Fuck, fuck, I’m yours! Yours!” Ben whines, body twitching, hands wrapping around John’s wrists. His eyes are rolling back too much to notice Homelander’s fixed gaze, and he misses the hiss of the doors between sounds of their skin colliding.
Fucking perfect.
“I– Johnny, ah!”
“Attaboy,” Homelander praises him. The horror written on Starlight’s face is enough to turn his smirk into a wide toothy grin. For good measure, he flashes his eyes– a burning crimson to remind her that he can and will fucking kill her for what she tried to do. Giddiness rises in his chest as she turns and scurries away, wide eyed and surely mortified to her core.
The door seals behind her.
“Now come on my fucking cock,” Homelander demands, leaning back to take Ben’s clit between his thumb and forefinger, stroking it like a little cock. “Milk me good, bug boy.”
Homelander himself is already on the fucking brink after what happened. Knowing he’s put his foot down in such a way goes straight to his cock and ego, and he’s so–
Ben arches, legs trembling and body spasming, pussy clenching so hard he sees stars. It rips Homelander’s release instantly, halting his thrusts as he buries himself deep, cock spurting and marking his little spider from the inside out.
“Mine– fuck– all fucking mine!” John grits, grinding deep into the wetness.
He’ll make sure the whole world knows it.
#homelander#homelander x oc#homelander smut#homelander fanfiction#the boys#antony starr#the benlander agenda#queue
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I'VE FINALLY FINISHED MY QUINN AND TIMM TIMELINE 😎 (it's not as cool as it sounds but it would be rad if you CHECKED IT OUT!!)
Childhood
So *ahem* (🤓) in my little silly headcanon world, Quinn comes from a very academic oriented family. You either study and become successful or you become a failure (just like her sister). And as the 'savior/golden child' of her family, she was very often pressured into becoming as successful and educated as possible, even if it meant she would be surrounded by books and essays all throughout her childhood. (And also she had no friends :( )
As for Timm, he's always had the 'competitive dancer' dream, even as a little kid! But growing up in a relatively less than financially stable environment, he soon realized that maybe his dream career could possibly end in failure (homelessness, broke etc) , and maybe it wasn't worth risking your future for a childish dream. So he tried his best to forget and studied as much as he could, he'd rather settle for a well-paying job that a dream that could totally fail, right? (Also he was totally a theater kid growing up I MEAN COME ON HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME IN THE GAMES IS LITERALLY ERIK)
Law School Days (awe yeaaa)
(Can you tell I am indeed very consistent with my art, no random anatomy or facial structure changes here!)
Huzzah! We've made it to the time period where they find meet!!
So at this point, Quinn is jaded and studious and stuff, and dislikes talking to anybody (which includes professors/teachers LMAO, she needed to stay on that independent knowledge grind) and by a random coincidence, she happened to have classes with none other than Timm himself, she found him very annoying at first but by the end of her education, she was more than ready to marry him
And Timm is still a huge dork, albeit a very burnt out dork, he studied long and hard to be able to have a well-paying career, and now he's at law school! Surely he'll enjoy a life as a rich lawyer, right? Anyways, he accidentally got a crush on that mean and quiet chick in his classes, so what better way to get with her than to ask her out to any event the school had! For the first few years she'd reject him immediately, but eventually she caved in, and hey! They got married, what a wonderful couple! Hopefully they sta-
POST DIVORCE ERA 🔥🔥🔥
So...uh, what exactly happened?
Quinn woke up around 4 AM (yes really, that's when she always gets up for work), and she expected to find her husband of many years still sleep and she'd had to wake him up. She didn't find him, the left side of the bed was empty with the exception of his wedding ring, a hastily written note that doesn't explain shit, and divorce papers with his signature already on it.
So needless to say, she's still really pissed off about that, and petty too (she renamed Quinn, Timm and Associates to LITERALLY Just Quinn and Associates!!) And she refuses to acknowledge her marriage with Timm (Penny keeps pestering her about it but Quinn just dodges the questions everytime)
And oh boy, Timm, HE REALLY MESSED UP, like yeah, you were miserable with your life as a lawyer and you didn't feel like your true self at all, but you couldn't have waited to get a divorce until Quinn woke up?? And blah blah blah, the events of Papa's Bakeria happen, Cecilia canonically gets the dance studio, leaving Timm to STILL work at the Bakeria (at least until he can actually get money, he left all of his to Quinn as compensation for literally abandoning her 😭😭)
ALSO ALSO!! Super funny little detail I wanted to mention, but when Quinn and Timm were announced as divorced, both of their respective families CELEBRATED (Quinn's parents had what was essentially a birthday party styled divorce celebration, complete with pinatas and goodie bags) (And Timm's family partied like there was no tomorrow) Quinn's family thought Timm was an idiot who wanted to marry Quinn to steal her money, and Timm's family thought Quinn was some mean and cruel woman who was going to isolate Timm away from them (You can tell how upset the families will be when Quimm gets back together 👀)
*DON'T REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION*
*NO RESUBIR SIN PERMISO*
*НЕ РЕПОСТИТЬ БЕЗ РАЗРЕШЕНИЯ*
#papa louie#flipline#flipline studios#flipline quinn#quinn papa louie#papa louie timm#flipline timm#quimm#papa louie quimm#flipline quimm#flipline fanart#papa louie fanart#papa louie au#flipline au#timeline#i think??#papa louie penny#(shes mentioned at least so she counts)#divorce moment#PLEASE DONT ROAST ME GUYS THIS IS PERSONAL HEADCANONS 💔#papas gameria
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Bitterly Beautiful, Part 6
Chapter 6: In The Eye of the Storm
Wednesday sits in the center of her dorm room, reciting a dark chant as she holds the necklace her mother gave her. Surrounded by lit candles, she continues with her eyes closed. Sitting in front of her was an Ouija board with "Goody." Wrote on the front.
"In case you're wondering, I don't hold séances very often. I can barely tolerate the living. Why would I want to commune with the dead? But my mother told me Goody is the only one that can train me to control my psychic ability. The sooner I master that, the sooner I crack this case." Wednesday thought, the door opens suddenly and the gust of wind bellows, knocking the candles out, Wednesday thought the seance was successful as a shadowy figure stepped in front of the frame, but much to her disappointment, it was just Enid.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your... Uh, do I even want to know?" She says.
"I was reaching into the black maw of death to contact a relative."
"Feels very on-brand for you. But you should be careful, (Y/n) told me summoning spirits from the after life is like super dangerous."
"(Y/n) severely underestimates me." Wednesday replies coldly.
"I guess, he was pretty serious when he said it after i made him watch Paranormal Activity with me."
"... You forced a blind man to watch a horror movie with you?" Wednesday asked as Enid clarifies.
"Well it was mostly just him holding my hand and me telling him what was happening." Enid explains, she peers over to the Ouija board and sees the name.
"You have a relative named Goody?"
"She was one of the original outcasts. Been attempting to summon her, but she seems to be ignoring my entreaties."
"Oh, you thought about using one of my scented candles? The aroma of steak tartare is to die for." Enid smiles, suddenly, a slip of paper was dashed under their door.
"..Maybe Goody answered you after all." Enid said, and Wednesday approached and read the note in magazine cut out letters. "If you want answers, come to Crackstone crypt at Midnight."
"I doubt she communicates in magazine cutouts." Wednesday said, and she and Enid now make their way to the crypt, Enid being obviously afraid of the darkness and what lies within it. Enid jumps at the howl of an animal.
"You insisted on coming along. I was fine on my own. Seems like our wannabe dееp thrоat is already here." Wednesday and Enid approach the door to the creep, with the hinting smell of death.
"Ew. What died?"
"Smells like childhood. Come on."
"Second thoughts. Why don't I just stay out here? You know, as a lookout." Enid said, which Wednesday ignores and simply heads inside, she slowly creeps around the Crypt, using her flashlight to analyze any possible hint that could have been left by the assailant, but what caught her ear was the odd whisper from behind the tomb.
"Whoever you are, show yourself. Try anything and you'll lose limbs." She says with an ice cold stare, much to her disappointment, (Y/n) and others step out, with a cake.
"Surprise! Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday, dear Wednesday / Happy birthday to you!" They sing, which Wednesday just glares at (Y/n), as thing crawls on his shoulder.
"I should have known you two were behind this. What part of "no party under the penalty of death" do you not understand?" She says as she looks at the cake which was a grim reaper, with a pink balloon.
"I thought my cake design was pretty inspired." Xavier says.
"The pink balloon was my little touch. Why don't you make a wish?" Enid says, Wednesday as per usual ignores their friendly banter and turns to see something written in Latin, etched onto the wall.
"Wait, it's Latin. Fire will rain... when I rise."
"That's not really a wish..." Enid said.
"The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore's lawn. It can't be a coincidence."
"Wait, we're never eating that cake, are we?" Ajax asks, Wednesday slides her hand along the Etched words, and has another vision, this time she's before a gate to a manor. And beyond that gate was Goody.
"Crackstone is coming. Crackstone is coming." She repeats and disappears into the fog, Wednesday is surprised by Goody again, this time next to her.
"Goody. You're the Raven in my bloodline. Wednesday. I was told you could teach me how to control my ability."
"There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side. To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek."
"Do you always speak in riddles?"
"Do you always seek simple answers? The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up pushing the people you care about away, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them."
"Is that supposed to scare me?"
"...It should." goody replies, as Wednesday comes back from her Vision, knowing what could lead down the path.
The Next Morning, Wednesday is doing her homework, when things crawls along her shoulder.
"Careful, that's my cold shoulder." She says.
"Don't blame Thing. The party was me and (Y/n)'s idea. Everyone deserves to be celebrated on their birthday." Enid says approaching.
"I prefer to be vilified."
"What happened? It looked like you were having a seizure."
"I wasn't that lucky.”
"Can I at least get some kudos for pulling one over on you?"
"The subterfuge was impressive." Wednesday admits, her train of thought was crashed by thing dragging something from her bed, she sees the tag and reads it. "May your 16th be as sour and misery-filled as your desire." "Your ever-doting mother and father." They asked Thing to hide it before they left on Parents' Weekend." Enid says and she opens it, much to the horror of Enid. A taxidermy set.
"Ew! That's so gross."
"I would've preferred live squirrels." Wednesday says, she looks over to Enid; who hands her a present.
"While we're still accepting presents" she says smiling, Wednesday opens it to, a, scarf? A rag?"
"Well, do you like it?" Enid asks excited.
"What is it exactly?”
"It's a snood, silly. I made it in your signature colors. And you want to know what the best part is? I have one too! We can wear them together to class!"
"Oh, Enid, this is far too unique to wear to something like class. I suggest we wait for a more special occasion, ...like a funeral." Wednesday said, they continue through their day. (Y/n) was investigating the burning, kneeling down and touching the burned and seared grass.
"Found anything yet?" Wednesday asks behind him, he stands up as she walks up next to him to also investigate the grass.
"I did, more or less, flames are natural no magic or supernatural occurrences. But..."
"But?"
"The ground, where it burned reeked of gasoline. Meaning they had to have set the gasoline down for a while and let it seep into the ground and then burn it. It was planned, premeditation at best... but no Normie could get into Nevermore."
"So You're suspecting one of us?" Wednesday asks.
"No, well i can't rule the possibility out, you've made a few enemies but not enough to kill you. Also i "found" this." He says and hands her a slightly rectangular box, Wednesday cautiously takes the box. She reads the tag, "From (Y/n), Hearts to Wednesday, Broken hearts with many "XO" and "Hugs and Kisses" in pink, which didn't fit well with the pink wrapping paper which read "To my Future Wife."
".. Are you sure this is for me?" Wednesday said.
"Of course! I got Enid to do the wrapping and message. " (Y/n) to Wednesday." Black wrapping paper, Something basic." He says, Wednesday says nothing and unwraps it, and sees a black box. She opens it to a pair of gothic black leather boots.
"Hm, black leather; very utility like." She says, he takes one and opens his palm, he slams it on his palm, and from the Toe roll, a blade ejects from it. Surprising Wednesday.
"Hidden blade, much more convenient then a blade on your wrist like some assassin." He smiles, and Wednesday takes it.
"I can see you put much thought into this gift... Thank you." She says, and he gently nudged her.
"See? You can be nice."
"Me not acting upon the want to strangle you every day Is me being nice." She says, he just laughs and turns back to the burned ground. "Will you be seeing Eugene?" (Y/n) asks.
"Yes, i suppose it's the least I can do."
"Well, after that, since you obviously hate birthdays with people, why don't you and me celebrate? Alone together, maybe some cemetery with black roses, a picnic, maybe read some Edgar Allen Poe, or dig up graves, whatever you're feeling." He says, Wednesday never heard such a better night to spend. It almost made her smirk, but her lip quivers just slightly.
"While that seems Dreadfully Pleasant, i believe you and I know there are more pressing matters at hand then some picnic date. There's a murderer around and I plan on finding out who." She says. (y/n) looks obviously upset, but puts it to the side.
"You're right, sorry about that." He says, he senses Wednesday leave; and he just lets out a sigh of sadness.
"I haven't always been against birthdays. Each one reminds me I'm a year closer to death's cold embrace. What's not to like about that? Besides, my parents always made sure my birthdays were memorable." Wednesday said, remembering a her 10th birthday, where with a piñata, she knocked it open to live spider crawling out, absolutely terrifying the other children.
Wednesday is inside the Hospital checking on Eugene.
"But now parties and presents and games, it... it all feels so trivial. Goody warned me I was destined to be alone, and that I would be sorry for it." she says, someone clears their throat behind her and she turns and rose up to see Dr Kinbott, her therapist.
"Dr. Kinbott." Wednesday said, and she smiles, holding a bouquet of pale roses.
"I haven't seen you since our session with your family, which was... certainly one I won't forget. How are things with them?"
"My mother and I spent some quality time together. Got our hands dirty."
"Gardening?"
"Grave-digging."
"Hmm."
"And I managed to keep my father out of prison. What brings you here?"
"Eugene's moms, I'm working with them. Trauma like this leaves emotional scars on the whole family. They had to head home for a few days, so I promised I'd check in on him."
"I'll leave you to it." Wednesday prepares to leave, but Kinbott asks.
"Who's Goody?" she asks, Wednesday, halting in her tracks turns to face her, "She's a very distant cousin. Very distant."
"Sounds like she doesn't see you for who you really are."
"She sees more than you know. I want to assure you I remain as cold and heartless as the first day we met."
"I doubt a cold, heartless person would be sitting by her friend's bedside feeling guilt for his condition."
"I didn't ask for a free session."
"Consider it my birthday gift." Kinbott replies before Wednesday left. She decided to return to the cafe to sit and read a book on pilgrims, trying to find any information on Crackstone. Her reading was interrupted by a cup being gingerly placed on the table, which read "Happy Birthday" in the foam. Tyler sat across from her:
"I know you're usually a quad kind of girl, but I've been working on that all week."
"Birthday, yes. Happy, never. Is there anyone Thing didn't tell?"
"Well, who do you think delivered the cake? Yeah, I went with the 98% dark chocolate ganache knowing your... preferred color palette. Oh, is that, uh... that Enid's gift?" Tyler asks, seeing the Snood next to Wednesday.
"It's perfect if you're fleeing a war-torn country on foot."
"Come on. Don't you like a day that's all about you?"
"Every day is all about me. This one just comes with cake and a bad song."
"So, if I asked you out to a non-birthday, song-free dinner... would that be something you're interested in?" Tyler says smiling, and Wednesday looks at him, a hint of disconnect in her eyes.
"I have a tight deadline. Emphasis on dead."
"Term paper?" Tyler said.
"It's about how whitewashing the sins of our past will come back to kill us all."
"Oh..." he replies, Wednesday slides him a drawing of a gate.
"Have you seen that before? Uh... What's that supposed to be?"
"Never mind."
"Okay, did... did I do something? I just feel like you've kind of been ghosting me. Am I wrong?" he asks, Wednesday never had a response to it, just silence.
"Guess I got my answer." Tyler replies, he stands up to keep working when his father enters.
"That threat burned onto the lawn at school, it's also etched on the wall inside Crackstone's crypt." Wednesday said to him.
"Don't tell me you've been digging up more bodies."
"There's a connection there. I know it."
"I'll put out an APB on the dead pilgrim."
"I figured since you no longer have an old vendetta to obsess over, you're free to solve some real crime."
"Your father and I buried the hatchet. Maybe you should do the same."
"I don't bury hatchets. I sharpen them."
Xavier was within his studio, painting. Wednesday enters.
"I need your help. Don't gloat." She says, Wednesday hands him the photo as well.
"What, do you want some drawing lessons? Your line work's a little shaky. I saw that in a vision."
"Do you recognize it?" She asks, Xavier shows Wednesday a much more well done drawing, amazing.
"When did you draw this?"
"Couple days ago. I started having those dreams again, like before, it was bad one, (Y/n) helped me talk it through."
"Was the monster in them?"
"No, but I could feel it in the shadows. You know, kind of lurking in my mind."
"You know where this is? Yeah. It's the old Gates mansion. I pass it when I go running. Why?" He asks, before an answer could be given, a covered painting drops down, which was of Wednesday during her cello session. Beautifully drawn in black. Wednesday just looks at it, the beauty of it.
"Okay. Listen... After the dance, I just wanted to forget about you, but I couldn't. So I started painting and that's what came out. I can hear you up there playing." Xavier raises his hand to it, and the painting begins moving, playing "Cello Concerto in E minor" by Elgar.
"I can tell how you get lost in the music. I feel like it's the only time I get to see the real you." Xavier said, and Wednesday for a moment was truly mesmerized by it all.
(Y/n) sits down in Weems office, who is less than enthusiastic to see him there.
"Now, Mister Healy. As my job as Headmaster, I must ensure the safety of all Nevermore students, you included within that, especially due to your.. circumstances." She begins.
"Im Blind, Not Handicapped, I can take care of myself, I'm not weak willed."
"Your will seems to deteriorate when it comes to Miss Addams." weems responds coldly, (Y/n)'a attitude softens up a bit. Weems sighs and leans in a bit.
"I understand your.. Feelings towards her, Remember i was your age at a time. I knew how hormones and emotions can drive us to do, foolish things. But I'm telling you, sometimes it's best to stay away from someone. As the term goes "Let sleeping dogs lie." Mister Healy, for you own good." Weems says, and (Y/n) scoffed.
"The last time I checked my mom wasn't a shape shifter, you may be the principal but you cannot control who i can or cannot see. I'll keep seeing Miss Addams as much as i want."
"You mean as much as She wants. You mean, she can just as easily toss you to the wayside as quickly as you entered her existence.” Weems replies, but she shrugs.
"I suppose puppy love cannot he avoided.
"I am not in love with her!" (Y/n) retorts, getting annoyed.
"Your emotional outburst says otherwise. Let me tell something, why I brought you to this. The Mayor was hit in a hit and run an hour ago, and Miss Addams was in the back of his vehicle when the incident happened. She's fine, someone getting hit by a car? Was probably on her Bucket list. Wednesday is a Black cat, dragging misery and despair at her wake. Just try not to get caught up in it." Weems says, "You're dismissed.", (Y/n) was actually at a loss of words, he stood up and left. He steps out of her office and turns to the window and can just barely sense via the reflecting sound waves, the window which stood before Wednesday and Enids dorm.
"(Y/n)" a voice says which scares him, he turns around to Wednesday.
"Jumpy?" She asks, he tries to laugh it off.
"Something like that Heh.. so, what have you been up to?" He asks.
"Scratching off my bucket list." She said, there was an awkward silence until Wednesday said something, off.
"Your offer, I've.. reconsidered it." She says a bit reluctantly and (Y/n) smiles.
"Great, so, lovely cemetery? 8? He asks. Wednesday keeps her stare at his smile, almost as if she's transfixed on it. "But, you can't go off of school grounds, can you?" He adds in, a bit disappointed.
"I have that covered." She says. After Wednesday was brought back, she decided to reconsider Tyler's plans as well, and Enids. She enters her dorm room and immediately begins.
"I've been thinking about my less-than-enthusiastic response to your surprise soirée. And I must admit, I regret not showing my gratitude towards you more appropriately."
"You really mean it?"
"Take the win, Enid. If only there were a way for us to get off campus and have a little birthday redo. Just two best friends. Too bad the school is on lockdown. Would you look at that full moon..."
"Oh, how about I say I'm about to wolf out and get a pass to the lupin cages? And say you volunteered to lock me in!"
"My deviousness has finally rubbed off on you. Good."
"Oh, we should wear our snoods!"
"Oh, I... I believe I left mine at fencing."
"Actually, you left yours at the Weathervane. Luckily, Bianca brought it back." Enid hands Wednesday her Snood, much to the disgust of Wednesday.
"Like a monkey's paw." She says.
Night Falls and (Y/n) sneaks out of his room and outside Nevermore. Taking a few cautious steps, he stops abruptly, as he senses something next to him. He turns left to a red car.
"Can I.. help you?" He says, and Tyler awkwardly laughs.
"Sorry I was, waiting for Wednesday."
"... Why?"
"Let's go." Tyler and (Y/n) jump as Wednesday appears in the passenger.
"Uh... Uh... Hi. Nice to see you too." He says, Enid then arrives, getting in the car.
"Wait, he's our Uber driver?"
"Uber driver? I thought we were going on a date."
"Date?" (Y/n) Said, obviously shocked.
"I thought this was a girls' night out." Enid says to Wednesday who stares forward.
"There's been a change of plans."
"What's up with the weird matching hoodie scarf things?"
"Don't ask. Just drive. Get in." Wednesday says to (Y/n), as he soon begins to realize he's been duped, but if Enid is going he is too. He gets in the back seat with Enid, absolutely fuming. They drive to the Gates Manor, and Stand before the gate.
"Seriously, you wanna go in there? This place is creepy AF." Enid says, obviously not up for this
"I know." Wednesday said.
"So you lied to me about the date..." (Y/n)'s voice wasn't the suave heroic or the gentle sweetheart, it was angry, betrayed, sad.
"I didn't want to celebrate my birthday by going to dinner or a surprise party. I want to do this."
"Then you shoulda just said so. You didn't have to trick us." Tyler says, and Wednesday turns to him.
"If you want to go, you can. I'm going to go check out the garage." She unlocks the gate and enters, Enid follows and (Y/n) does, silently. They reach the front of the old manor and left to the garage doors which don't open.
"Let me try." Tyler says, he attempts were futile as well, (Y/n) walks up. "Move." He says, Tyler steps back and (Y/n) grips the handle of the door and yanks, somehow with absolutely monstrous strength he tears the garage door off its hinges and drops it on the ground with a loud boom. He turns to Wednesday.
"Let's get this over with." He said and they entered the building. It was dim with blood red lights inside, but what was most shocking, was a blue Cadillac inside.
"This hit the mayor." Wednesday said.
"Okay. This just took a dark turn. We need to call Tyler's dad right freaking now." Enid says, growing in worry.
"Why? So he can take me back to Nevermore and get me expelled? It's not gonna happen." Wednesday continues forward and they reluctantly follow.
"This is the night I'm gonna die." Tyler says sadly,
Enid was whimpering quietly, (Y/n) felt her grasp his arm tingly and he keeps her close. They enter the living room and to the main part of the home, before a fire place in as a painting.
"Here they are. The Gates family. They scrub up well for psychopaths. There's Garrett, his outcast-hating father, Ansel, and you must be Laurel. They're all long gone. So the question is, why did Goody lead me here?"
"Seen enough?" Tyler asked, and Wednesday continues to look, noticing that two engravings in slight pillars on the wall don't seem the same, she presses against one and it moves, the sound of interlocking mechanisms echo in the house and the painting comes don't into a latch, revealing a mural to Crackstone.
"Who doesn't have a spooky built-in altar in their family library?" Tyler said looking at it with the flashlight.
"Ours is in the living room. More seating for year-long Dia de los Muertos." Wednesday says, Enid whimpers harder and squeezes (Y/n) like a stuffed teddy bear, Wednesday turns around and sees them, a hint of, anger washes over her and she turns back to investigate and notes burned candles, and the warmth from their put out stems.
"They're still warm. (Y/n), Tyler, you two check the rest of the ground floor. Enid and I will search upstairs."
"We will?" enid says looking at Wednesday, she desperately looks at (Y/n).
"It'll be fine, just do what she says so we can leave, if you get scared I'll be Downstairs for you." He says, she hugs him tightly and lets go. Enid and Wednesday head upstairs and (Y/n) walks off.
"Uh.. don't you want a flashlight?" Tyler asks, "What for?" He asks, "You know so you can see beeee.. tter..." Tyler said as his voice began to drone on as he realizes his mistakes.
"No... I don't think I'll need a flashlight”, he snaps back and heads to the Kitchen. Upstairs, Wednesday and Enid reach a splitting hallway.
"All right, you go left, I go right." Wednesday said.
"You seriously want to split up? In here? That is literally how every best friend dies in a horror movie."
"The faster we search, the sooner you can leave." Wednesday said, before Enid walked off.
"Why am I even here? I know what my mom would say. "Enid, you're a doormat." "You're too needy." "Show some teeth. Nobody likes a desperate little furball." Shut up, Mom. Get out of my head!" Enid yells, downstairs under her, (Y/n) is looking though the cabinets. Empty, he turns on the water and sees it runs.
"Hm..." he says, he kneels down past the sink and opens it to reveal basic boxes of things but a matchbox. He picks it up and sniffs it. "red phosphorus and antimony sulfide.." he said. Feels.. burned, someone used it.. Wednesday was right someone was down here.. Shit. Tyler cmere.." he said and there's silence.. "Tyler? Tyler!" He yells and hears growling, something dripping on the floor. He enters the living room and tries to sense the origin of the sound and looks, horrified.
"Oh... Shit."
Upstairs Wednesday and Enid begin to head downstairs before the shadow of the monster was downstairs.
"Enid! Wednesday! Run!" (Y/n) yells, they bolt back up as the monster comes upstairs.
"The dumbwaiter. Go!" Wednesday and Enid hide inside and shut it tight. It was silence before it scratched the metal plate, scaring both girls.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!" Enid looks terrified, the monster slowly creeps closer to the dumbwaiter, before (Y/n) comes and leaps on his back, using his cane to strangle it.
"GO RUN! GET ENID OUT OF HERE!" He yells, the beast screams and tries to grab him, he backs (Y/n) into a wall, slamming him and forcing the dumb waiters rope to snap. and drop the girls down the chute, they crash into the badement and they hear fighting. (Y/n) ducks and rolls from the beast, he grabs dust with his hand and clenches it.
"Go dtuga Belenus Tóirse d'anam!" He yells, he blows the dust which somehow turn into flames!
"May Belenus Tourch your soul!"
The flames hit the beast and makes it spiral out of control. Enid and Wednesday rush around. They reach an exit and Wednesday actually looks around, and sees it's hard fill of severed limbs.
"What are you doing?!" Enid yells.
"These are the body parts from the monster's victims." Wednesday said, they hear something being slammed hard against the wall, monster crawls down the stairs and Wednesday luckily escapes out a window with Enid who storms off.
"You okay?"
"Since when do you care?" She says and walks back.
"Where are you going?" Wednesday said.
"(Y/n)! He's still in there." They step back to the front and see a trail of blood, they follow it to see (Y/n) leaning against a tree, a deep wound in his side. Tyler Is there with a small burn on his arm. Wednesday quickly rushes to his side.
"You're hurt." She says and for a moment, a look of guilt washes over (Y/n) who's being helped by Tyler up. A rag was offered, suddenly by Xavier who, conveniently was there.
"Where'd you come from?"
"Here. Take this." he says and pushes the warm rag into (Y/n)'a back who has muffled yells of pain. Enid looks like she's about to cry. And Wednesday realizes that this is all her fault, blue and red lights flash in the distance. The police arrive, seemingly from an anonymous tip. But when they enter the garage or basement, it's all gone. Everything is, like it never even existed.
...
"You directly violated my explicit order and left campus during a lockdown. Not to mention putting your peers and yourself in danger." Weems stands before Wednesday, who can only watch as Weems fumes. (Y/n), Tyler and Enid almost murdered; breaking and entering. All of this from Wednesday herself.
"Which is grounds for expulsion. I know. And you have every right to exercise that option. I do believe it would be a grave error on your part."
"I think contrition might be in order right now, Miss Addams. Not hubris."
"I'll never apologize for trying to uncover a truth." Wednesday shows a competed photo, of a pilgrim and woman seemingly facing off.
"What is this?" Weems asks.
"It's a warning from Rowan. Is this why he tried to kill you?"
"His mother drew it before she died. Said I was destined to destroy the school. But I think I'm meant to save it. Now you know what's at stake. Everything you vowed to protect, no less. I think I deserve another chance...Please." Wednesday asks, and as angry as weems is, this seems. Truthful.
"One more infraction... One more step out of line and you will be expelled. No ifs, no buts."
"(Y/n), Enid and Xavier are spared as well—"
"And no more negotiation! Good night." Weems leaves, and Wednesday returns back to her dorm, (Y/n) winces in pain as Enid sighs.
"Sorry! Sorry!" She says and cleans the claw mark on his back.
"It's fine, I'm okay.. I just need some sleep." He says laughing a bit, trying to convince Enid he's okay, but the pain his killing him. Wednesday walks over, arms folded.
"Are you alight?" Wednesday asked, and (Y/n) just shook his head.
"Dont act like you care." He responds coldly.
"You're being dramatic—"
"Just, Shut up!" He yells; he stands up, limping a bit, Enid tries to help him but he shakes his head. He walks over to Enid, boiling with rage.
"First, you lie about wanting to go on a date with me, you then drag me and Enid to some haunted murder house to fuel your own investigation! I told you our deal and you broke it! You could have gotten Enid killed!"
"Deal?" Enid asks, and (Y/n) scoffs.
"Yeah, the deal was that as long as she never put you in this investigation I'd help her, but you broke it! You dragged us to that place with that monster! Something could have happened to Enid! To you.. I wouldn't forgive myself if you got hurt, but you wouldn't say the same for me."
"(Y/n)—" Wednesday began but he cuts her off again.
"No! You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself! You'll lie, manipulate and use anyone to get what you want. All the time we spent together, the times you helped me, did you actually care about me or was that just to manipulate me into helping you?" He said, Wednesday, could only be silent, he scoffs again and limps to the door.
"Guess I got my answer, glad to know how you really feel about me now... now, I refuse to be some pawn in your game." He leaves; slamming the door as Wednesday watches, Enid gets up and begins to pack.
"Where are you going?"
"Yoko's room. Thornhill said I could crash there for a few nights."
"There's no need. I spoke with Weems. You, (Y/n) and Xavier won't be punished."
"Am I supposed to thank you?"
"I already apologized. It's over."
"Over? Tonight was the icing on the birthday cake you couldn't even be bothered to cut. You'll use anyone to get what you want, even if it means putting them in danger. We could have died tonight because of your stupid obsession!"
"But we didn't. And now I'm one step closer to solving this case. That is what is important."
"I've tried really, really, really hard to be your friend. Always put myself out there. Thought of your feelings. Told people, "I know she gives off serial killer vibes, but she's just shy."
"I never asked you to do that—"
"You didn't have to because that's what friends do! They don't have to be asked. The fact that you don't know that says everything. You want to be alone, Wednesday? Be alone!" Enid, rightfully angry leaves with a bag. Wednesday is alone, Goody accurately predicting what happened. Wednesday sits against the window, contemplating wether what she did was truly right.
"Goody warned I was destined to be push everyone away, to be alone. Maybe it's inevitable. But for the first time in my life, it doesn't feel good. There's also something else. A gnawing feeling. That death is close at hand. Watching me. But I won't be intimidated. And I will never give up. That house. That family. Crackstone. The monster. Somehow me. We all seem to be connected like a spider's web. And when Mayor Walker got too close to the truth, he was silenced. But I won't be. So whoever's watching me, know this. I will find you.
#netflix#male reader#reader insert#wedensday x you#wednesday x reader#wednesday#wednesday addams x male reader#wednesday addams x reader#enid sinclair#fluff#angst#blind character
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Written for the @steddiemas challenge.
Yours for the Weekend
Prompt Day 4: Winter-Themed Songs | Word Count: 8340 | Rating: M | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: AU, No Upside Down, Future Fic, Going Home, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Eddie POV
Also available right here on A03.
Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. It's changed. A new building, new paint scheme, a freshly paved parking lot. They've remodeled, and dozed down the memories, good and bad, that clung to this place.
The cafeteria is gone, moved somewhere new, he supposes.
Eddie isn't sentimental for school. He hated school, the three tries he had at his senior year are enough to prove that. But he misses that time, all the same. He misses Hellfire Club. He misses playing music in Gareth's garage. He misses their weekly Tuesday gig at The Hideout.
He misses his unlikely, and tentative friendship with Steve Harrington, that grew into their love that followed.
He doesn't miss his hometown, except for when he does.
"Since when do you miss this goddamn place?" Gareth asks, leaning over towards the driver's side from the passenger seat of the rental car. Stretching, trying to see Eddie's face as he stands outside the car.
He doesn't miss it. Not really.
"It's just changed. That's all," Eddie says, ducking down to look at Gareth. They've all changed.
"Come on, Eddie, it's fucking cold!" Goodie yells from the backseat, and Eddie hears Jeff shushing him.
Jeff's trying to give him a minute, even if the other two don't understand it. Eddie appreciates it. He doesn't really understand it himself. But driving by this place, and seeing it looking so different, did something to him he hadn't expected.
He escaped this place, and everything, everyone, in it.
That's all he ever wanted, and now…
Now, there's a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. He doesn't understand.
They're working in L.A., playing music every night. They aren't big, not really. Eddie sincerely doubts they'll ever be big. But they can afford to make music for a living, and that's not nothing. Not everyone can do that, but they've made it happen.
From living in a one bedroom apartment together, taking turns with who got the bedroom, while the rest of them crashed all over the living room until it was their turn again.
Then being able to afford two apartments. Right across the hall from each other. Jeff and Goodie in one, him and Gareth in the other. Their own separate bedrooms and everything.
To shopping around for single studios in nicer buildings, and just realizing that even though they can afford it, and somehow, they can, that they'd rather just stick together.
"Eddie!" Goodie yells again, and Eddie turns and puts his hands up in surrender, climbing back into the car.
Eddie drops Jeff off at home, then Goodie, and then it's just him and Gareth left in the car. Driving through the snow-packed streets of Hawkins.
"You could just talk to him, you know?" Gareth says, looking at Eddie, knowingly.
Eddie could try to deny it, but yeah, that's where his head has been since their plane touched down in Indiana. Where his head often is, always. But it's easier to push it to the back of his mind when there's some distance between him and his hometown. Between him and Steve.
"Yeah, well, last I heard he was getting married," Eddie says.
"That fell apart," Gareth says, "a long time ago. And you already know that."
Yeah, Eddie knows that. He just doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about, or hear about, what Steve's been up to since he's been gone. If he did, he'd ask. But it's none of his business, and it's not like Steve has been checking up on him, either. He's never flown out to L.A. and he definitely never asked Eddie to stay.
He let Eddie go, let him escape this place, and that was that.
"It's just easier not to," Eddie finally says.
"Sure it is," Gareth says, and Eddie cuts him a look.
"Since when are you on Team Steve?" Eddie asks. Gareth liked Steve just fine, but he was also the first in line to get out of this town, the minute he graduated high school and turned eighteen. He was definitely not at all concerned at the time that their skipping town meant Eddie's relationship with Steve would come to an end.
Gareth looks over at him, "What? I'm not. I'm Team Eddie. Always. But Team Eddie is kind of a sad sack team these days. We've got a losing record going, big time."
Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But what do you know about sports? Nothing, last I checked."
"I played as a kid. Baseball. Soccer. You know, the usual suspects. Before I found the drums."
Eddie isn't sure he knew that. This is his best friend, and he's still learning things about him, all these years later.
"Just. Talk to him. Either finish it for good, or…"
"Just pick open some old scabs?" Eddie says, sarcastically.
"Sure, do that. We've got a first aid kit. We can bandage you up again. We did it the last time," Gareth says, and they did. They have. Over and over, for ten years. Without his friends, without his band, he doesn't know where he'd be. Aimless. Shiftless. A wanderer.
Just…lost.
"If I see him, I see him," Eddie finally concedes.
But he has no plans to see Steve Harrington. Not this trip. Not any trip.
He's snuck in and out of town a few times over the years, and hasn't ran into Steve yet. He's pretty sure they're on the same page about making sure they don't cross paths. And that's okay. Easier.
Finally alone, he pulls into Wayne's driveway in front of the comfortable little house. Eddie doesn't have a lot of money. But he worked his ass off while waiting for Gareth to finish high school. And every spare dime he had that wasn't earmarked for the band's move out west, went towards a house for Wayne.
It's not paid off, not by a long shot. But it's theirs. Their home. The trailer was starting to cost more to upkeep than a down payment on a house would be, so Eddie made that his goal. The last thing he'd do before he left town.
He did it. They'd moved Wayne in. Him and Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. Steve. The kids.
And then Steve had watched him go. It wasn't dramatic, their parting. The lore of it, between their friends, is far more interesting than the actual break-up ever was.
It was just quiet recognition that it was over. Eddie was going, and Steve was staying.
And he has stayed, all these years, as far as Eddie knows.
Steve opened an ice cream shop, selling artisan ice cream. Dustin has said Steve took some classes to learn how to make ice cream. Real ice cream. Fancy ice cream. And he took others to figure out how to run the business side. Ice cream, though. That's kind of a hilarious choice, after his stint at Scoops Ahoy when they were teens.
Less hilarious, was that Steve fell in love again, and almost married someone else. A woman Eddie never met, and he's glad. He couldn't have handled it. Not a chance in hell. But, it didn't matter, Eddie heard through the grapevine a year or two ago that the relationship had ended, just as quietly as theirs had.
At least Eddie had nothing to do with it. He would have, if all their mutual friends had gotten their way. Everybody had reached out, making sure he knew. Like it was his place to object. He left. Steve was bound to find someone else, eventually.
Eddie's never bothered with love again. He doesn't have the time or the energy. His heart was broken, by his own doing, a decade ago. And he's just never felt like sweeping up the shattered pieces of his heart, to try to give them to someone else.
It's broken, pretty much beyond repair, and he's used to it by now. He has one-night stands, he fucks around when the itch arises, but his heart? That's not in play. Not anymore. Been there, done that.
He gave that away a long time ago.
Steve never gave it back, and Eddie never asked him to, so, here they are.
Wayne opens the front door, and that's Eddie's cue. He steps out of the car and Wayne smiles.
Eddie jogs up the drive, careful of the ice, but he can't resist rushing into his arms, barreling into his chest, squeezing him tight.
"There's my boy," Wayne says quietly, and Eddie just holds on longer. He might be over thirty years old, but he's still Wayne's boy. Always has been, always will be. "Merry Christmas, Eddie. I'm glad you came home."
"Me too, old man."
Hawkins might be a place he's avoided, but he's missed Uncle Wayne like crazy.
He's thirty-two, but he suddenly feels much older, for some reason.
Wayne cooks them dinner, just like he always did, and Eddie sits down in the recliner next to him, plate in hand, right in front of the television.
The television is new since the last time Eddie was here, and large. Very large. Not at all in Wayne's usual style. Or budget.
"What possessed you to get a TV this big?" Eddie asks.
"Oh, a friend was getting a new one. Asked if I wanted this one. I said okay," Wayne says, not expanding on it. Like that's a full story.
"You finally got some rich friends I don't know about?" Eddie teases.
"You don't know everything about me, kid," Wayne teases back.
That's true. Wayne doesn't know everything about him either. Just most things. The things that matter the most.
"So, what are your plans while you're home?" Wayne asks.
And Eddie shrugs. They're only here for a few days. He just assumed he'd hang out around the house.
"Carolyn Jones called last week. She's expecting us all for dinner the day after Christmas," Wayne says.
And Eddie expected nothing less. Mama Jones will want to gather them all, now that they're home. Gareth didn't warn him, but Gareth probably didn't know about it either. His mom is always gonna do what she wants, anyway.
And she'll want all of her boys under her roof again, around her dining room table, for at least one meal.
So, they'll all go, parents included, and update them all on their lives in California. It'll be loud and a big production.
Not like tonight, just here with Wayne.
Eddie sits around and Wayne comes up behind his chair and hands him a bowl of ice cream. Eddie digs his spoon into it, and this definitely isn't from the cheap, plastic party buckets they used to buy while he was growing up.
This is pistachio. Good pistachio, his favorite flavor.
"Is this from…you know?"
He can't even say his name. He definitely can't eat his ice cream.
"No," Wayne says, and Eddie nods. Of course not. Eddie laughs just trying to picture Uncle Wayne buying fancy containers of Steve's ice cream. It's a ridiculous thought.
The next day, they have a quiet Christmas day at home, just the two of them. And they play the guitar together, and Eddie has fun like he hasn't in a long time. They should have made this trip longer. Only a couple days won't be enough.
They take turns picking songs to play, and it's just like it was when he was growing up. Before he got an attitude. He's missed Uncle Wayne, and this is the best Christmas Eddie's had in a long time.
The next morning, they're hanging around in Gareth's living room, like they don't see each other the other fifty-one weeks of the year.
"I'll make anything you boys want, you just have to go to the store and pick up the ingredients," Mama Jones says, and they start squabbling amongst themselves. All having different ideas.
"She's my mom. I should get to pick," Gareth whines, and the rest of them grumble, but concede. They've never had a bad meal in this house, and they expect tonight will be no different. No matter what Gareth chooses.
They all nod, and look at him, expectantly.
"Lasagna?" Gareth suggests, and that works. That definitely works.
In the store, they've split the list in half, Gareth taking one half, and Eddie taking the other. It's not even on the list, but Eddie stands in the freezer section for a long time, just staring at a small shelf of pints of ice cream. Dairy King Creamery. There's a locally made sticker on the glass, and these are Steve's, for sure.
Eddie reaches for the handle, and stops before he grasps it. That's not what they're here for. Not today. Maybe later, maybe before he goes back to L.A.
He wanders to an aisle he actually needs to be in, and he's squatted down, looking at all the different lasagna noodle choices. He doesn't know what the best option is. The cheapest? His instinct is always to go for the cheapest. But he consults his half of the list again.
Mama Jones has actually specified. That makes this much easier. So, he picks up three of the red boxes, and puts them in his basket, and pushes himself back upright.
"Eddie?"
Eddie hears the soft, familiar voice, and freezes.
Steve.
He turns and looks, and sure enough Steve is standing in the aisle of the Big Buy, right behind him. Pushing a cart full of groceries. Eddie wants to paw through them. Wants to learn something new about him.
He doesn't.
"Hi," Eddie says, just as soft.
Steve smiles at him, and Eddie smiles back. There's no bad blood here, not really, just distance. And time.
And then Steve is coming at him, clearly going to hug him, so Eddie just opens his arms. Wraps them around Steve, banging his basket against Steve's back, and holds on. He still smells like Steve, and Eddie leans into it for longer than he should, he's sure of it.
"Eddie, hurry up!" Gareth shouts, rounding the corner of the aisle.
Eddie turns his head, and Gareth has frozen like a deer in headlights. And Eddie steps back from Steve, reluctantly.
"Hey, Gareth," Steve says, crossing the distance, and offering him his hand.
Gareth takes it, and Eddie watches them shake.
"You all home this year?" Steve asks, looking between them, and they both nod.
"Yeah, all of us," Gareth says, once he realizes Eddie's not going to answer. He can't. His mouth is dry.
"Well, maybe I'll see you around town? I'm going to the Christmas parade tomorrow night, if either of you want to grab a hot chocolate and catch up or anything," Steve says, like it's an offer for the both of them.
It's not. It's an offer for Eddie. Eddie knows that. He's sure Gareth knows it, too.
Eddie nods, against his own will, but it makes Steve smile. So he doesn't regret it, too much. He doesn't have to go. Steve will understand if he doesn't show up.
And at that, Steve walks back towards his cart, grasping Eddie's shoulder and squeezing it on the way by.
Eddie watches him go, watches him walk away.
It is his turn to do that, after all.
When he turns the other way, Gareth's eyes are huge. Bugging out. Eddie just points at him, willing him to swallow all that down, at least until they're in the car.
Gareth seems to understand, and keeps quiet. Which is a Christmas miracle, for real.
It's only as he's bagging his groceries that he realizes the Christmas parade is after Christmas? What sense does that make?
"Is the Christmas parade really tomorrow? After Christmas?" Eddie asks the cashier, and she nods.
"They wanted it on Saturday, and well, you know Hawkins," she says.
Yeah, Eddie knows Hawkins.
They load the groceries into the rental car, and Eddie watches as Steve does the same across the parking lot, putting his stuff in the back seat of his pickup. Steve Harrington has a pickup now. Eddie would have never guessed that.
As soon as they're in the car, Gareth is vibrating.
"Okay, just let it out," Eddie says, resigned.
"You were fucking hugging him!" Gareth yells, and Eddie just looks at him, waiting to see if he's finished. Surely, this mouthy little shit has more to say than just that. But he just looks at Eddie.
"Was I supposed to dodge it? He hugged me first, I'll have you know."
"And you hated that, I'm sure," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.
"I never said that," Eddie answers.
"Well?"
"Well, what? I saw him. It was fine. We both lived."
"Are you going to the parade tomorrow?" Gareth asks.
"Probably not," Eddie says, and Gareth laughs as Eddie's putting the car into reverse. Gareth clearly isn't believing him. That's okay.
He shouldn't believe him.
Of course he's going.
And the next night, Eddie stands on the street, looking like he's waiting for the parade to start. But he's only waiting on Steve. Maybe Steve won't show up? Maybe it wasn't a real offer? Maybe he was just being nice?
But those thoughts, those fears, all melt away when he sees Steve pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk, stopping in front of Eddie, smiling.
"You want that hot chocolate?" Steve asks, and Eddie rubs his hands together. It's cold out here, so yeah, that sounds pretty damn good, right about now. At least it'll give him something to do with his hands.
Steve leads him down the street, and Eddie follows. He's not sure where they're going, but Steve pauses in front of a darkened storefront. Eddie looks up. It's Steve's store, and Eddie watches as Steve pushes the key into the lock, and turns it, pushing the door open.
The little bell on the door, ringing out in the silence.
Once they're inside the warmth of the shop, Steve locks the door behind them again, and nods for Eddie to follow him to the back. Eddie does, looking around as he goes. The wall is decorated with old pictures. The kids. Robin. Lots of Steve and Robin, together. Several of them in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms as teens.
He wonders where Robin is. This ice cream shop is half her baby, too, he's pretty sure. They don't do anything without each other. It's impossible.
There's a larger one of a teenage Steve, armed with an ice cream scoop, his other hand on his hip, looking very serious. He wasn't. Couldn't be, not in that little sailor suit. It makes Eddie smile. He remembers those days, with a hazy fondness. It's been so long now, but he can still picture Steve Harrington behind that brightly lit counter, just glowing.
Eddie keeps looking at the pictures, and there's one of him, too. With the band, when they were young, and still playing The Hideout every week.
Eddie runs his finger over the glass, and feels an ache in his chest. This was so long ago. A lifetime, really. He hasn't felt that young in a very long time. Gareth was a baby. They all were.
"You comin'?" Steve asks, and Eddie follows the sound of his voice. Steve's standing behind the counter, holding up the divider for Eddie, just like he did all those years ago in Scoops Ahoy. He looks even better now, in a warm sweater instead of dumb sailor hat.
"Yeah, I'm coming," Eddie says, and he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack at the front of the store before he follows Steve to the back, where he watches Steve make two mugs of hot chocolate.
"From packets, Harrington? I thought this was an artisan shop?" Eddie teases.
"Artisan ice cream, I said nothing about artisan hot chocolate," Steve banters back.
Eddie had expected a cup of hot chocolate from some sort of street vendor anyway, not one Steve made in the office of his store. His private space, that Eddie's been invited into. To look around, to spend some time with his first love.
His only love, honestly.
Eddie sits down on the couch, and soon enough he's being handed a steaming mug, and Steve is sitting down next to him, knees bumping against each other.
It's nothing. But it's also everything.
He's missed him so goddamn much. They can't go ten years without seeing each other again. No matter how painful it might be to look and not touch. Steve's too important. He's always been too important.
"Your shop is perfect, Steve," Eddie finally says, waiting on his mug to cool.
"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, "it's been pretty good. Even in the winter, surprisingly."
"That's great, I'm happy for you," Eddie says, smiling at him. "Why ice cream? Didn't you get enough of slinging it during high school?"
Steve smiles, "You know I make a mean scoop."
And he does. Long, steady strokes with precision. Perfect balls.
Eddie laughs, that sounds dirtier in his head than he meant it to. Years ago, he could have shared that thought out loud, but they aren't in that place together, not anymore.
Steve keeps talking, "I just thought, I can do this better. Better quality, better flavors. Just…better."
"It looks like you definitely did," Eddie says, and he means that.
Steve just shrugs, non-committal. But this is great. If he's been able to package it for retail sale, even just locally, that's really something.
"How's the band doing?" Steve asks, changing the subject. Or not, maybe. Maybe this is just pleasantries. All they have to say to each other, after all these years.
"Good. Good, we've got some great long-standing gigs. Guaranteed slots. We play most nights, somewhere or the other, and don't have to travel to do it," Eddie explains.
"That's great," Steve says.
They both just keep saying how great things are. Things aren't great. Not really.
"I'm happy you guys have made it," Steve adds.
Eddie laughs, "Made it might be a bit of a stretch, but we're working. We all do a lot of session work, Gareth especially. Session drummers are always needed, here or there."
"Do you have another job?" Steve asks, and Eddie knows exactly where this is going.
"No," Eddie still answers.
"Then you've made it, I say. You are a professional musician. Maybe not a famous one-"
"Hey!" Eddie interrupts, just ribbing him. He's right. But Steve often is. He was right to encourage them to take a chance on it. To see if they could make it work. And they have. They are professional musicians. Together, and apart.
"Goodie's got a girlfriend he's getting serious with. I think he's gonna move in with her, soon," Eddie says. "Maybe get married."
Eddie regrets saying it, as soon as it leaves his big mouth.
"I heard you were going to get married. I'm sorry that didn't work out," Eddie says, looking at his hands.
"Thanks, it just wasn't meant to be, you know?" Steve asks.
And, yeah, Eddie knows.
"Do you still live with Gareth?" Steve asks, and Eddie watches as his face tightens, like he regrets asking. Eddie gets it. He'd be too scared to ask, too.
So, Eddie answers fast, putting him out of his misery.
"Yep, I'll never be able to shake that kid," Eddie says, and Steve chuckles.
"You wouldn't want to if you could," Steve says, and that's the truth. He wouldn't. He likes living with Gareth. He isn't lonely. And he's with someone he loves. That's a comfort Eddie wouldn't want to give up even if he could.
It might not be a love like he once shared with Steve, but it's still a love. Platonic with a capital P, as Robin would say.
"Where's Robin?" Eddie asks, once she's popped into his head. Seeing Steve once without Robin might be normal, but twice? No way.
"She's on a Christmas cruise," Steve says, with a grin.
"No fucking way. The Robin I knew would never."
"The Robin you knew wasn't ass over teakettle in love," Steve says, smiling. "I'm happy for her. Even if she left me alone for Christmas. She invited me to come, of course, and I thought third-wheeling it on a ship to Mexico might be fun. And warm, at least. So, I considered it, but one of us needed to stay with the shop."
Eddie thinks he was thisclose to missing Steve on this trip, too. If he'd decided to just close up the shop and go with her.
"Well, good for her. Tell her I said hi," Eddie says.
"I definitely will," Steve says with a smile. "I'm sure she'll say hi back."
Eddie isn't so sure about that. Robin was very against Eddie leaving back then, and wasn't scared to let them all know. She was the only one fighting for them to stay, and she lost, all her protests drowned out by Eddie's need to run.
"Did you have a good Christmas?" Eddie asks.
"Yeah, it was quiet. A day off, though, so that was nice," Steve says. "You?"
"Yeah, it was just Wayne and me at the house. But that was good."
"I'm sure he's missed you," Steve says.
"I've definitely missed him," Eddie answers, because he has. More than he realized, maybe.
This is getting too serious, too sad, so Eddie needs to fix that.
"Am I gonna get to try any of this famous ice cream?" Eddie asks, changing the subject to something lighter, and Steve laughs, but jerks his head towards the front of the store.
He picks up one of the little sample spoons, and dips it into a tub, and hands it to Eddie.
"What is it?" Eddie asks.
"Just try it, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie does as he was told.
It's sweet, and chocolate based, but with a depth Eddie can't put his finger on.
"Chocolate Cherry Bourbon," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.
"It's good. Really good," Eddie says. And it is. It's very smooth on the tongue, like the best ice creams all are.
"It's Wayne's favorite, I think," Steve says, and Eddie looks over at him. He never considered that Wayne would still be in contact with Steve on any sort of regular basis. But they still live in the same town, and Wayne didn't break up with Steve. Eddie did.
"But he also likes this one," Steve adds, getting a new little spoonful and offering it up to Eddie.
Eddie puts that one in his mouth, too.
"Oh, shit, that's good," Eddie says, closing his eyes to savor it.
"Butterscotch-Infused Whiskey and Pecans," Steve says.
"An ocean of flavor," Eddie teases, and Steve hip-checks him.
And then Steve gets him another sample, and this one isn't spiked, Eddie doesn't think, anyway. But it's bright red with black and white swirls.
It's a punch of chocolate, deep and rich. And maybe cream cheese? Eddie isn't a professional taste tester. But it's very good.
"Hellfire," Steve says, with a smirk, "hope you don't mind."
Eddie swallows. Of course he doesn't mind. That Steve would even want to name it after something Eddie loved so deeply, is really something.
"Of course I don't mind," Eddie says, handing the used spoon back to Steve and watching as he tosses it in the trash along with the others. "I'm honored. That you'd, you know, think of me. Of Hellfire."
Steve's whole face softens, "Eddie. I think about you all the time."
And Eddie is moving before he's even decided to do it. Pressing his cold lips against Steve's warm ones. Steve catches him and kisses him back, tangling his hand in Eddie's hair. It's desperate, this kiss. Demanding, and pent up, with years of wanting.
Years of waiting.
Eddie clings to him, desperate to be closer to him. Because he is desperate for Steve, there's no denying that.
He always has been.
When they finally, finally break apart, both breathing hard. Chests heaving with the intensity of it all, Eddie smiles. He's embarrassed. But not that embarrassed.
"Wanna get out of here?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. "You want an ice cream for the road?"
And you know, Eddie does, so he nods again.
So, Steve grabs a waffle cone, and piles it high with a fourth untested flavor, handing it over.
Eddie licks it, and it's pistachio. Eddie's favorite.
"My favorite," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.
"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, and that settles right into Eddie's chest.
Steve reaches into the freezer and turns the little sign that's stuck into the ice cream around, so Eddie can read it: Eddie's Pistachio.
He grins at Steve, and takes another lick. This one with a promise behind it.
Steve helps him put on his coat, trying to help him juggle it and the cone. And when they step onto the street, Steve looks at him, "You drive here?"
Eddie shakes his head. Wayne only lives a couple blocks away, and he figured finding parking would be a bigger hassle than just walking.
Steve puts his hand on the small of Eddie's back, and leads him around the block, and then into the alley. His pickup is parked back there. There's a perk, Eddie supposes. Dedicated parking.
Eddie climbs up in it, and settles in, still licking his ice cream cone. And Steve pulls them onto the street, and away from the parade. Since most of the town is there, the streets are dead. And Eddie looks around, taking in the lights.
Steve knows what he's doing, of course he does, so he steers them into Loch Nora, and lets him look at the rich houses, decorated to the nines. At least that's never changed.
They pass Harrington House, and Eddie wonders if Steve lives there. Or, if his parents still do. Steve reads his mind.
"My mom and dad flew south a few years ago," Steve says, "and by that time I had my own house, so they sold it."
Eddie nods. He knows it's hard to leave your childhood home, permanently. He's done it twice. He's an expert, and it hurts in a way you never expect, and you never really get over. That the place you grew up, isn't yours to call home anymore.
"I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.
"It's okay. I like my house," Steve says. "You want to see it?"
And Eddie swallows. He knows what that offer entails, if he wants it to, and he nods, "Yeah. I do."
"Finish that cone, and we'll do that," Steve says, and it's husky and full of promise.
Eddie licks faster.
They pull up in front of a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but not Loch Nora. And Eddie follows Steve up the path, and onto the porch. Once they're inside, Steve pushes his front door closed behind them, grappling for Eddie's coat, trying to strip it off his shoulders, but they're too close to each other. Too tangled, and Eddie laughs.
He helps the process along, shedding it, finally.
And then he's attached to Steve, again. It's desperate, and he should probably be embarrassed, but he's not. He needs this. He needs Steve. He's always needed Steve.
And he lets Steve lead him to his bedroom.
Steve's walking him backwards, kissing him, hands roaming all over Eddie's body.
"Where have you been all my life?" Eddie asks, pressing his face into Steve's neck.
"Right here where you left me," Steve answers, but there's no heat behind it, only the truth.
And Eddie presses his lips to Steve's neck, and smiles when Steve moans under his touch. Eddie loves to know that he can still play him like a goddamn fiddle, it makes him endlessly happy.
Steve kicks open his bedroom door, and pulls his shirt over his head. Eddie follows his lead, and watches as Steve digs in his nightstand, producing a bottle of lube and a row of condoms.
He throws them on the bed, and starts pulling his jeans down.
Fuck, yes.
After, Steve is stroking the back of his hand, legs tangled together, the sheet pooled around their waists. Eddie hasn't been this warm in years. This comfortable. Not since Steve, the first time.
"I know you have a whole life there, and I have a whole life here," Steve says, "but if you want to pretend things are the same, just for a while. Just while you're here. We could. We can, you know. I've missed you."
And Eddie wants.
Wants that more than anything, but he's scared that blundering down the road not taken is just going to hurt more than ever before once they reach that fork at the end, again. That dead end that separates them off, again.
But he's already in this. The damage has been done. So, he turns and smiles. Nodding.
"I've missed you, too."
And the grin Steve gives him is blinding.
"I could be your sweetheart, again, just for the weekend. While you're home," Steve says, like that isn't something that's going to break Eddie's fucking heart.
Eddie gathers up Steve's hand, and pulls it to his chest, his heart.
Steve's been his sweetheart for a long time, together or not.
"You've always been my sweetheart," Eddie says, and it might sound like bullshit, but it's the truth. It's always been the truth.
Steve burrows closer, resting his head on Eddie's chest. Over his heart. He runs his fingers over Eddie's bare stomach, touching the tattoos there. He's gotten a lot more ink since he's seen Steve last, and Steve is touching them all, getting acquainted.
Eddie runs his hand down Steve's arm, pausing at a raised scar under his elbow.
"Oven rack. Decided right then and there that cookies in the shop were a no go," Steve says, laughing a little into Eddie's skin.
"Sounds wise," Eddie says, and he'd kiss the scar if he could reach it. Later. He'll do it later.
The door that was cracked open, pushes open wider, and Eddie just about jumps out of his skin.
"That's just Pudding," Steve says, as a big, fluffy cream colored cat jumps up onto the bed. Then stopping at the foot, looking at Eddie.
Steve laughs, "It's fine, Puddy. C'mere, boy. It's just Eddie."
Like the cat is going to understand that, Eddie thinks, but the cat stomps up Steve's legs, and then steps a tentative paw onto Eddie's bare chest. Eddie reaches out and pets him on head, and the big cat leans into Eddie's touch.
"See? You're already friends," Steve says, and he isn't sure if Steve is talking to him or the cat.
The cat meows, and then hops down, before walking back out the door he'd opened.
Steve curls back up against Eddie, wrapping his arm over his chest.
"You'll still be here in the morning, right?" Steve asks.
"I'll still be here," Eddie promises, and closes his eyes.
And he is, and they sleep in, just lazing in bed all morning. Trading kisses, and blow jobs, and just touching each other all over before Steve has to get up and open the shop. He drops Eddie back off at Wayne's with a goodbye kiss, and Wayne steps out on the porch, and waves. Steve waves back, and Eddie trudges through the snow towards the house. It snowed more overnight, leaving a fresh layer of white all over town.
It looks brand new.
It feels brand new.
Eddie slips past Wayne at the door, "Don't say a word, old man."
"I wouldn't dare," Wayne answers, holding the door open for him.
When the doorbell rings, Eddie's hopeful, for just a second, that it's Steve. But Steve's at work, and Robin's out of the country.
So, it's not Steve, it's just Gareth.
"I tried to call you this morning. Wayne said you didn't come home last night," Gareth says, slightly snippy.
He pushes past Eddie, already hanging up his coat. Eddie guesses he's staying.
"So, I take it you two talked," Gareth says, finally looking at Eddie.
"Yeah, we talked," Eddie says.
"And fucked?" Gareth asks, and Eddie isn't going to be shamed by this kid.
"And fucked. What of it?"
"Was just trying to gauge how bad the cleanup from this was gonna be. So, bad, right?"
Eddie shrugs. He doesn't think so. It doesn't feel bad right now, but maybe it will when the weekend ends, and he's back in L.A., without Steve, again.
"We were just two old friends, having some casual sex," Eddie says, knowing it's a lie even as it rolls off his tongue.
Gareth laughs, "You and I are old friends. And we don't have casual sex with each other."
"Did you want to? You never said," Eddie teases, and Gareth shoves his shoulder.
Eddie smiles at him, then decides to be honest, "You know what I mean. It's comfortable, with Steve. With someone you know that well, even if a lot of time has passed. It was just like riding a bike."
"Eddie…"
"Gareth…" Eddie mocks, then softens, "I'm a big boy. I know what I've done."
"I hope so," Gareth says, digging around in Wayne's fridge, then moving to the freezer.
"And you're already buying his fancy-ass ice cream, you're just asking to suffer," Gareth says, plucking a tub out of the freezer.
"Those aren't mine, and Wayne's a dirty liar," Eddie laughs. "He gave me some the other night, and I asked if it was Steve's, and he said no."
"Well, it is from the Dairy King himself," Gareth says, popping off the lid of a bright purple container, peeling back the foil seal, and getting a spoon. "You want?"
Eddie lets Gareth feed him a spoonful, and it's good. They've all been good so far, but Eddie's not really surprised.
He turns the container in Gareth's hand so he can read the label: Lavender Berry.
"Are you gonna give me shit about this?" Eddie asks, and Gareth just looks at him. Shoving another spoonful in his mouth.
Then, Gareth looks away, and that's not the reaction Eddie was expecting.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"You are coming home with us, right? Back to L.A.?" Gareth asks, not looking at him.
Eddie reaches forward and squeezes both of his shoulders, "Yes, I'm going home with you. I promise."
Gareth nods, but doesn't really look like he believes him, and Eddie understands why.
Wayne comes in later and nods at them.
"I owe you some ice cream," Gareth says, and Wayne just nods again.
Wayne just doesn't get too worked up about things like that. He knew Eddie was home. Anything in house would be fair game to eat, as far as Wayne would remember.
"So, I thought that ice cream the other night wasn't Steve's?" Eddie asks, eyeing Wayne as he stands by his edge of the couch.
"Steve's? You never asked if it was Steve's, you asked if it was you know's and it sure wasn't," Wayne says, with just a hint of a smirk.
"You're an asshole, old man."
"Learned it from you," Wayne says back, and pops Eddie on the head with the newspaper he has in his hand.
Eddie grins up at him
Steve turns up again, after his shop has closed for the evening, and while they didn't have plans, Eddie was waiting on him. Steve has a brown paper sack, and opens the freezer and starts refilling it.
"Gareth stopped by earlier, said he owed Wayne some ice cream," Steve says, replacing a purple pint container just like the one Gareth had eaten, and then several others.
Eddie picks up a green one: Eddie's Pistacho.
It's a love letter, and one Steve probably assumed Eddie would never read.
"He didn't owe him that much ice cream," Eddie teases, and Steve laughs.
"Some are from me. I try to keep him stocked up," Steve says, and Eddie loves him for that. He loves him for lots of things, but especially that he's still stayed in contact with Wayne while Eddie was gone.
Wayne's out at his usual bar with his friends, and Steve settles onto the couch with Eddie, draping arm over Eddie's shoulders. It looks casual, but it's not. Eddie knows better, but he doesn't care, and he leans into Steve's side.
They hadn't made plans, but Eddie had still expected him. He thinks they're gonna just gonna act like nothing has changed, for these couple days. He's okay with that, okay with anything he can get.
Steve is scratching his blunt nails against Eddie's jeans, and it's driving Eddie a little crazy.
"Want to go out and eat, or…" Steve trails off.
"Anything is good with me," Eddie answers, and that's true.
Steve gets up and starts going through Wayne's cabinets, and watching him, Eddie is certain it's not the first time he's been in this house, in that kitchen. Wayne has never mentioned that, but Eddie understands why he didn't.
"We could make pancakes?" Steve offers, and Eddie nods.
It's just a box mix, but they stand together, and watch each pancake brown and bubble in the old cast iron pan. Steve's putting butter down to melt before spooning each one into the hot skillet. They're thick and fluffy, and when they sit down at the bar to eat them, they are pretty damn good for being from a box.
Eddie doesn't cook all that much with their weird, late hours, and Gareth doesn't either, so they rely on delivery and take-out a lot more than they should. They could make pancakes from a box. Maybe they should, more often. Get his own cast iron pan, and grow up, maybe.
After they've eaten, they do the dishes, side-by-side, and one thing leads to another, and they push and pull each other into Eddie's bedroom, not stopping until they're sprawled out on the bed, Steve on top of him.
Eddie cups Steve's face, and Steve leans into his touch, turning his face until he can press a kiss into Eddie's palm.
And that's…everything. The dam between has not only sprung a leak, it's now rushing out full speed, wide open.
"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve closes his eyes, just leaning into Eddie's touch.
"I still love you, Eddie," Steve says, eyes still closed.
And Eddie grips his hip with his other hand, "I still love you, too."
Then Steve presses down, grinding their bodies together, and it's like no time has passed. Like he's still twenty-two, and madly in love with his boy.
No, now he's thirty-two, and madly in love with this man.
They're cuddled up on the couch, watching television, when Wayne comes home.
"Night, boys," Wayne says as he passes through, heading on to bed.
"Well, I should go," Steve says, standing.
Eddie stands with him.
"You can stay, you know," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They fly out tomorrow. He wants Steve to stay. Or he'll go home with Steve. Whatever Steve wants. He wants one more night with him, however he can get it.
And Steve walks to the guest room, so Eddie follows. The sheets are still a tangled mess from earlier, and he's sure Wayne noticed as he walked by. Eddie doesn't care, and he knows that Wayne doesn't either.
Eddie didn't pack a lot of clothes, but he rummages through what he has, and throws Steve a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
Steve holds them, and smiles back at him.
They get ready for bed, and then curl up together under the quilt. Hands and mouths wandering, as they whisper promises to each other in the dark that Eddie hopes they can keep.
When the sun peeks through the curtains, Eddie groans. He's not ready. He wasn't ready the first time, and he's definitely not ready now. They eat breakfast with Wayne, sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, just talking. After Wayne goes to work, hugging Eddie goodbye until next time, they take a shower together, and Eddie memorizes every inch of Steve's body. Every new mole, every new scar. The fact that he has even thicker chest hair than he had, before.
Eddie wants to remember it all.
There's a horn honking out front, and it's the band, ready to go. Eddie's not ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He hugs Steve a little longer, before the honking becomes too much to ignore. Wayne's neighbors are gonna get pissed.
Eddie opens the front door to acknowledge them, and none of them seem surprised to see Steve following him out of the house. He supposes Gareth told them, or Steve's truck in the drive gave it away.
Steve leans in, hugging Eddie again, pressing their lips together, before breaking apart. Steve leans his face close to Eddie's, "It was nice to be your sweetheart again."
And Eddie wants to cry, might just do it.
He cups Steve's cheek, "You're always gonna be my sweetheart."
"Can we-"
"Eddie, c'mon! We're gonna miss our flight!" Goodie screams from the backseat, interrupting Steve. A broken record, that one.
Steve has him pressed against the side of the car, but Eddie manages to get his hand behind him, flipping Goodie off through the window. He feels the window coming down, and he snatches his hand back before Goodie crushes his hand, or bites his fingers. Something unpleasant, for sure.
Eddie pushes off the car, still kissing Steve, still pressed close together.
When they finally break apart, Eddie rests his forehead on Steve's.
"We're gonna make this work, right?" Eddie asks. "For longer than the weekend?"
And Steve nods.
"I gotta go now," Eddie says, even if he doesn't want to. Not at all. "But I'd rather stay with you. You know that, right? I'm not running from you. Not again."
"I know. Call me when you get home," Steve says.
"I will," Eddie promises.
"I'll come see you next month," Steve promises, and Eddie squeezes him harder.
"Eddie!" Jeff yells, and Eddie knows that's his actual cue. If Jeff's getting involved, they actually are running late.
"I love you, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I've always loved you."
"I've always loved you, too," Steve echoes, and Eddie kisses him one more time.
And then they're driving away, Steve in the rearview mirror, just like he was a decade ago.
Only, this time, he's smiling and waving.
Eddie leans out of the passenger window, and winter air is freezing, but he looks back, waves, and blows Steve a kiss.
He can't see the details of Steve's face, not from this far, but he sees his hands in his pockets, and how he rocks backwards on his heels. And Eddie can read that body language, perfectly, even all these years later.
He's laughing.
Eddie slides back into his seat, and he smiles, pulling his hair over his mouth.
"Jesus Christ," Goodie mumbles, and Eddie tosses his head back and laughs. Gareth reaches over and pats him on the thigh, and Eddie turns and smiles at him, and Gareth is smiling back.
"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie says, wedging the phone against his ear as he's unpacking his suitcase.
"Hey, honey," Steve says, and Eddie can hear the smile on his face. "Your flight okay?"
"Uneventful. Except Goodie acting like a big ol' baby. He's thirty years old and still scared to fly. He's ridiculous. We haven't crashed yet," Eddie teases and Steve laughs.
"Be nice," Steve tells him, and Eddie laughs. Impossible. If they weren't making fun of each other, something would really be wrong. "Robin's home. She's mad she missed the big reunion."
"Well, she should haven't decided to go on a Christmas cruise," Eddie says.
"That's what I said!" Steve hollers, and Eddie can hear Robin in the background scrabbling for the phone.
"Hey, dingus número dos" she says.
"Hey, Buckley," Eddie says, "sorry I missed you."
"Yeah, yeah, I bet you are," she says, like she's threatening. She's not threatening. Well, not too threatening. "You better listen to me, Munson. If you hurt him-"
"I know, I know," Eddie says, "I'm in to win it, Buckley."
"You better be," she says, and then she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I've missed you, too, you know."
"Back at you, Robbie," he says.
"Do I get to come visit with Steve?" she asks, and Eddie smiles.
"Any time you want to," he promises.
"I'll hold you to that," she assures, "I'll just want until you've got all the fucking out of your system."
"That's never gonna happen," Eddie says, and she laughs.
"I'm happy for him, and for you, too. Took you long enough," she says.
He laughs.
They've been in this thing, alone and apart. Now, they're gonna be in it, together and apart. Hopefully not forever, but this is an improvement, that's for goddamn sure.
"How was your cruise with your lady love?" Eddie asks, and Robin laughs.
"It was great," she says, and tells him all about it, and then she pauses for a long few seconds, and Eddie wonders if the call has dropped, but then she's speaking again, softly, "We should all go together, next year."
"Count me in," Eddie says easily, "now, put my sweetheart back on."
And Robin says bye and does just that.
"Hi, it's me again," Steve says, and Eddie couldn't be happier.
Him again is the dream.
And Eddie listens as Steve talks about his newest flavor idea, and Eddie can't wait to try it the next time he's back home. He doesn't know what their long-term plan looks like, just that they're gonna do this life thing together for a while. See what happens.
They didn't do so hot flying solo, so he's definitely ready to try it as partners again. Now that they're both older. Now that they both know what they want, and who they love.
It's gonna work out this time, Eddie can feel it.
And he smiles, Steve's voice in his ear.
Notes: I know this song has been done roughly a million times in every fandom. But it was on the song list for a reason. Because it's a damn good fic prompt. So, more cake? I hope.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🍨
If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my Steddiemas tag right here!
#steddiemas#winter-themed songs#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things fic#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddiemas#gareth (stranger things)#jeff stranger things#goodie (unnamed freak)#corroded coffin boys#gareth & eddie#steddie fic#christmas fic#'tis the damn season
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