#*ignores what the rest of the trailer showed*

[procrazedfan]

Fanmily

Minnie Mae Murderface was the kind of gal who didn’t let anything stand in her way. Whether it was running from Johnny Law for blowing up illegal explosives in a swamp, drinking booze to numb the back pain, or outright diving in the lake to noodle for a catfish dinner, she never hesitated on any decision she made. The way she saw it, it was a waste of time hemming and hawing. It was better to take action than to sit around and wait to ask for permission. For right or wrong, at least something would be done.

That was probably why she didn’t hesitate to put in a little somethin’ extra in her Pa’s beer before she gave it to him.

Or why she didn’t look back when she crawled out the back window of the broken screen of Daddy’s trailer with nothing but her usual overalls, sneakers and tool kit.

Or why she didn’t stop walking when the sun rose again over the horizon of the ten-mile marker on the road.

All she knew was that she had better get free or die trying. Cause it was either that, or she'd have to go back to Pa.

Granted, he was alright for a Pa. He was nice enough to let her keep wearing overalls and play with the other boys her age when she was a youngin'. Taught her how to fix the truck, along with HVAC units, and all other things that would need fixing at the trailer or the junkyard. They even watched NASCAR together on Sundays.

It wasn’t until that preacher fella done come by their little ol’ nowhere town of Mount Pantera that her Pa went crazy. Suddenly, he’d gotten funny about what she should wear, was told to do less “men’s work” and more “women’s work”. Even the NASCAR on Sunday went away in favor of hearing that same preacher man on the pulpit.

If that was the only thing he was trying to change she could have tolerated it.

Trying to ignore the growing pain in her lower back, and took a swig out of the bottle of beer that she saved for herself for the trip.

The question was...where was she gonna go now?

Her Ma was buried six feet under, not that she remembered much of her. Her aunts and uncles nearby would just turn her back in to her Pa as soon as they could. And the rest of her extended family was Lord Knows where.

She chewed her red hair from her right pigtail, trying to think of a solution. It was a shame she didn’t have her fiddle on hand. That was useful for thinkin’. But she reckoned she had to travel light on an occasion such as this.

Minnie tried recalling any relatives that were out there in the world, far away from the quaint little ol’ town of Mount Pantera. The only place she knew her whole life. Who was at that family reunion last year?

A beat up car in the parking lot of the diner she was walking by had been blasting some kinda music she never heard of.

The rhythm was...heavy. The sound of the drums were consistent, and the sound of the guitars were low, like a war song for a march. The singer must’ve had a frog in his throat, because she could barely make out the words from the sound of his growling.

"Hungry and tired the frigid plain yields little

  We trudge on further, eating pride and snow that's brittle

  We ride

 We ride"

She grinned a little to herself with her tooth gap showing, imagining what it would be like if she had a horse to ride out of town on instead of her own mismatched feet.

-That was “The Lost Vikings” a Dethklok Classic, stay tuned to 5184MTL for metal hits old and new -

Where had she heard of Dethklok befo- her hazel eyes widened in revelation as she slapped her knee. It was Cousin Willy’s band! She remembered Granny Murderface braggin’ about it after she had one too many beers at the reunion last year.

Everyone called her Granny on account that she was the Murderface clan’s oldest living matriarch. And when she put her foot down, that meant her word was law, even though she retired to Florida some years back.

If anyone could get her out of this situation, it was Granny Murderface, she was sure of it.

Minnie Mae walked through the doors of Flotsam and Jetsam’s Diner with a spring in her step and a wrench in her hand.

“Got anything need fixin’ round here for a plate and a phonecall?”

#Metalocalypse OC Week #Fanmily #Early Post #Minnie Mae Murderface #mtl oc #william murderface's cousin

[tuxxydo]

I’M GOING TO CRY HE’S SO BEAUTIFULLLLLL

#this is everything i could've hoped for #*ignores what the rest of the trailer showed* #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #gerudo king

[anadiasmount]

love struck - jude blurb.

request: yes! mix of my imagination and also @judesecret as well! 🤍

“you’re shivering, baby,” jude laughs, wrapping the towel around your body and rubbing his hands in your shoulders to warm you up. he pulls you into his chest, feeling great warmth. and beat from his embrace as you close your eyes and relish the feeling. you ignore the small nickname, still not used to the fresh relationship with jude.

“i-i-i know. i didn’t-t-t see the r-rain coming,” you say giggling, wiping your nose with the towel as you felt a water drop run along the skin. “you’re crazy, you know? walking in this storm just to show me the new minion movie trailer?” jude teases, resting his head on yours as you finally stop shivering from cold.

“despicable me four, actually,” you correct him, hiding in the crook of his neck embarrassed. “and, to see you before i travel to germany for a work trip,” you say shyly, leaning back to stare at his brown iris who shined even in the dark corner by the entrance.

“gonna miss me that much?” jude asks, kissing your nose, making you nod slowly and intimidated at the proximity of both of you. “gonna miss you too. wish you could stay here with me since our next game is here at home…” jude replies.

he could sense the nervousness, chuckling deeply before pulling away. “how about we have a movie marathon, tonight? i’m off tomorrow and i wanna spend the night here with my girl,” he says walking to the kitchen to retrieve something. you furrow your brows in confusing or maybe coming to the fact on what he said.

“you mean like spend the night over? like a sleepover?” you say walking to the kitchen, wrapping the towel tighter against you.

“only if you’re comfortable with it. i don’t want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable,” jude says, knowing you. he knows how new the relationship is, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you away because of how shy and reserved you were. “if you start snoring i’m out though,” you joke agreeing to his suggestion, earning cheering of yes from jude.

“cmon let’s get you showered and changed.”

jude handed you some of his clothes as you took a hot and steamy shower. you let your mind wander to tonight and how it would play out. it would be the first time you spent the night at his. when you came over it was for the evening and to hangout but staying over was always out of the picture.

you could barely look him in the eye without feeling your head spin or get shy under his gaze. you’d drown yourself with his smile and big brown eyes. if he asked you to do anything, you would do it with no hesitation. he had a spell or daze that always drew you in no matter what.

jude would always be the one to initiate hand holding, hugs, even kisses. you appreciated him so much for that feeling nervous or overall giddy because you couldn’t believe he was actually yours. if he sensed you were nervous he would kiss your hands to distract you from whatever you thought.

out in public, jude gave you a small peck on the lips to reassure you he was here for you, not once leaving your side, letting you have the say when you wanted to call it a night. he kept you at your side, protecting you from anyone who wanted to be quick and jump at you. “you’re like my bodyguard,” you often joked earning a laugh from him.

you don’t know what changed, one minute you guys laughed and spoke quietly as you made a fresh cup of chocolate, eyes gleaming in happiness as you got to spend the night with him. feeling better then cuddled up quietly as you watched the movies, to now where you sat on the edge of the bed bitting your nails anxiously.

jude had finished taking a shower and brushing his teeth. he walked in and saw you sitting on his bed, shaking his head in amusement as you looked down not being able to meet his eye when he returned shirtless, abs in full show. jude caged you in on the bed, arms locking you in side to side as your eyes connected.

“what are you think about?” jude whispers making you clear your throat and smile. “how lucky i am to have a boyfriend who takes care of me,” you say hiding the anticipation and urge to kiss him first. jude smiles looking down after couple seconds of silence.

your hands cup his face, just above his jaw making jude look back up rapidly, seeing your flushed face and bottom lip bit. “baby what are-”

you cut him off with a rushed and urged kiss. closing your eyes sinking into his taste as your lips molded with his. it took jude a while to process what was going on, not believing you had finally initiated and kissed him first. he could feel your hands slowly fall onto the nape of his neck. jude’s stomach filled with butterflies, the chilling sensation running down his spine as he tasted your sweet taste.

jude kisses your further, making you let out a small whine and kiss him deeper, clashing teeth as you moved your head slightly. you felt the fire run along your veins, getting dizzy from how jude was kissing you, jude the same. he got nervous all of the sudden due to the fact you weren’t being all hidden away, letting you be in charge.

the two of you let out breaths, the room filling with the sound of your kissing and noises you made. jude got lost, lost in how you tasted, how you kissed him with urgency yet love, lost in how much he loved this new side of you. he wanted it all, more with you.

jude pulled away, out of breath and panting, lips red and plump from the kiss. you giggled resting your foreheads together processing what had just happened. you finally did it, what you wanted to do for a while. “you kissed me first,” jude said licking his lips making you squirm.

your hands traced his cheeks, feeling a sense of confidence inside you. “i know… been wanting to do it for a while,” you confess watching jude’s eyes go crazy in bewilderment and lust. he couldn’t believe it, his shy girl wasn’t so shy, and he was sure he fell even more in love with you. jude smirked kissing the inner part of your wrist before speaking up again.

“wanna show me again? i think i forgot how it felt…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 20

part 1 | part 19 | ao3

"Eddie! Hey!" he brightens. Tells himself to take it down a notch; schools his face and voice into something a little less pathetically eager. “What’s up, man?” 

“Not much, dude,” Eddie teases, one dimple popping out. He looks good. Dressed up. Red and black flannel with the top buttons undone; light dusting of chest hair on pale skin, the edge of a tattoo Steve’s never seen. He’s got his black leather jacket and black jeans with no holes and black riding boots on. All he’s missing is a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.

“What’s with the, uh…?” Steve gestures to his outfit, because he realizes he’s sort of just been staring at the dip of his throat. Eddie raises an eyebrow. Steve clarifies, “You got a date or something?” 

“Oh, this?” Eddie laughs. “Uh, no. Nope. Can’t say that I do.”

He hops up backward onto the counter, his ass right next to Steve’s elbow, legs dangling over the edge, and he ignores Steve’s protests to get down from there as he leans in to ask in a mischievous hush, “Can you keep a secret?” 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, twists into a bitter twinge of nerves. He can keep a lot of secrets. Maybe he learned that from his dad.

“Yeah…?” He leans in on his elbows.

Eddie moves in closer still, cups his hand around his mouth and whispers, “I totally forgot to do laundry last week.” 

Oh, my god. “You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs. “That’s your big confession?” 

Eddie’s smile widens. “Yeah. I got distracted with rehearsals. This was the only clean shit I had left.” He kicks one leg out straight to show off his boot. “I’m only wearing these so you can’t tell I don’t have socks on.”

“Gross!” Steve laughs harder and shoves at Eddie, who tumbles theatrically over the edge of the counter, flinging himself to the ground and rolling onto his back so he can fake a couple death spasms and then lie there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a fucking weirdo. “You’re so weird.” 

“This night sucked before I showed up, and you know it,” Eddie says from the floor. He opens one eye to wink at Steve, then he gives one final death twitch and drops the act, popping back up to mirror Steve’s pose, elbows propped on the counter between them. 

Steve’s arm hair stands on end. “How was your show, anyway?” 

“Oh, it was greeeat,” Eddie says. “Drunk assholes yelling slurs at me, Gareth barfing in the bushes. Standard Hideout gig.”

"Was someone harassing you?" Steve frowns. He knows the Hideout's a shithole — a ‘dependable dumpster fire where we practice for the gigs that actually pay us,’ as Eddie had put it — but he thought the people there were, like, accepting, or whatever.

Surely Eddie's style isn't any more out there than the rest of the regulars.

"Holster your eyebrows," Eddie sighs, "it was fine. Really.” 

“Holster my— dude, what?”

“Your eyebrows,” he repeats. He reaches out with the tip of his pointer finger and gently prods the space between them. “At ease, gentlemen.”

“So weird,” Steve says again. He rolls his eyes and swats Eddie’s hand away, and Eddie just laughs and says ‘There we go!’ because his antics actually did get Steve to unfurrow his face. Little bastard. “Were you gonna rent something, or…?”

“Hell no, my late fees are fucking ridic—”

Eddie cuts himself off, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder.

He goes skittish all of a sudden, starts backing toward the exit, stammering, “Ridiculously non-existent. Is, uh, is what I was gonna say. Obviously. Um. Right.” 

His back hits the front door, the bell jangling overhead, and before Steve gets a chance to ask what the hell his problem is now, Eddie starts rambling at triple speed that “Dustin wanted me to check in on you and now I have checked in on you so okay-gotta-go-bye” and practically sprints out of the store.

Doesn’t even look back to give Steve a parting wave. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

“What. the fuck…” Steve jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Robin’s voice. He whips around to look at her; realizes she must have been what spooked Eddie. Her nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw is halfway to the floor as she gapes at him, “...was that?”

—

part 21

tag list part 1 below cut comment if you want to be added tomorrow

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #st fic #my writing #my fic

[whoahoney]

Knocked Up

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Oneshot

Summary: Reader and Eddie planned to never have kids, having dreams of travels and a honeymoon phase that never ends, until one rainy day when Y/n takes a test..

Content Warnings: adult language, adult themes, unwanted pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, angst, suspected cheating, fluff, Eddie being a baby hog

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n and Eddie were together for years. They’d graduated, moved in together, gotten jobs, and started a nest egg, also known as the rainy day fund.

They had meticulously planned their life together in order to avoid ending up like their own parents who seemed to fuck up at every turn, not to mention while having kids.

Which is exactly why they decided they wouldn’t have any. It wasn’t a hard decision, neither of them finding themselves to be baby people and hoped to give each other all of the time and attention they hadn’t received in their upbringings, wishing to travel and live a nomadic life.

Though they didn’t end up traveling right away, they knew they had time for it. They’d come a long way from the inseparable couple skipping class to smoke and makeout all those years ago; Eddie landed a job in a nice garage making a steady rate, while Y/n worked as a waitress at a grill downtown. They’d been diligent in putting money back for a rainy day or ‘something really really cool’ as Eddie would say.

And did the rainy day come.

Literally.

One rainy morning in April, Y/n paced nervously in the trailer, a developing pregnancy test in the other room on the bathroom counter. “How fucking long is this supposed to take?” She grumbled to herself, picking up the timer for the thousandth time as it went off. She yelped and fumbled with the knob trying to silence the ringing, tossing it onto the couch as she sprinted into the bathroom.

Her heart hammered as she picked up the test, the two lines reading positive making it cease altogether. “Holy fucking hell.” She breathed, the newly familiar nausea twisting in her stomach and sent to the toilet with a lurch.

Y/n spent the rest of the day hoping to figure out how to tell Eddie what was going on. She’d been ignoring the signs for a month, too afraid to face the music and finally put her mind to rest. The tender breasts, the constant stomach ache, dizziness, and of course the missed period. Eddie had asked her if she’d had her monthly visitor, to which she panicked and said ‘yes.’

She hated herself for lying, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her that her period was late until he asked. Truth be told she never really paid attention to her cycle before and this time it bit her in the ass.

Y/n worried about how Eddie would react; knowing he didn’t have any plans on being a father and how he’d feel about her lying about such a heavy topic. Part of her feared he’d be upset with her, maybe even enough to leave her.

She debated for a while between procrastinating and ripping the bandaid off, not knowing which way would be easier. If Eddie loved her as much as he showed he did, then this should be easy.

She decided to cook him his favorite meal to start, complete with a dessert that was his own grandma’s recipe. Grandma Edna was one of Eddie’s favorite people, her cookie brownies being his favorite because ‘It’s like Dr. Frankenstein decided to combine two desserts. It’s ingenious, the woman is a God.’ She chuckled at the thought while she poured the oil in the pot to fry the chicken.

As the oil heated up, an intense and foul aroma permeated the trailer that sent her stomach churning and her head spinning. Y/n held her t-shirt over her nose to fend off the smell that’s never bothered her before as she checked the coloring of the food and put it back in the oil for longer.

Y/n slumped against the opposite counter, the window over the sink shoved open as wide as it would go. She took deep cleansing breaths and did her best to push through, telling herself she just needed to eat something though nothing sounded safe enough.

At 6:00, like every evening, Eddie came home from work in his grease spotted uniform, calling “Honey, I’m home!” as he entered.

He quickly dropped his lunchbox on the counter with his keys and undid the buttons of his blue garage jumpsuit to strip it off, leaving him in his boxers and a tank top.

“Aw, you’re making fried chicken?! AND mashed potatoes?” His eyes bugged as he struggled to kick the fabric off his foot, carrying the rumple of stains to his lady, planting a kiss on her cheek and wrapping her in his arms the best he could without getting her dirty.

Eddie took note of the gradual change over the last month or so, how short she had become in conversation, how she had made excuses about not feeling good, running to the toilet all hours of the day; he really started to worry about her and her mental health, maybe even if her feelings towards him were the problem.

He decided to keep his cool, making sure he was doing his duty by her to give her comfort and space when needed, and only assuming she’s upset with him when she’s explicitly told him so.

He figured today was another hard day, her glum and sullen look on her face evident of her discomfort. “Could you help me get these out? I heard coke and dish soap might help.” He said, showing her the spots in question before tossing it towards the laundry room with an easy smile on his lips, one he probably wasn’t even aware of it was so common with her. “Uh, yeah, of course. I’ll give it my best shot.” She nodded and stirred the fluffy mash on the stove.

“Knew I could count on you.” He said before kissing her cheek on his way past, going to the bathroom to start the shower and let the water heat up. Y/n moved the chicken from the boiling oil to the plate she had prepared for them to rest, turning off the stove and thanking the powers that be she made it through without puking or burning anything.

“What’s you do today? Did you enjoy your day off? Are you feeling any better?” Eddie asked, her stomach lurching in response. Her feet moved before she could give any warning that she’d come barreling through the four foot by four foot bathroom they shared to puke in the toilet.

“Baby??” He questioned as she heaved the remnants of the saltines she managed to scarf down during the day. She wiped her mouth and tried to brace herself against the toilet to stand though she wobbled.

“Hey, hey, I gotcha, don’t worry.” Eddie cooed, wrapping his arms gently around her middle and pulling her to sit with her back up against him.

She leaned back against his warm chest, the linoleum floor cold on her legs. The shower head rained hot water, the steam started to fill the top of the room, and the pitter patter of the water drops thudded against the thick shower curtain in a soothing rhythm as he held her close.

“You need to go to the doctor and figure out what’s wrong with you, I’m done waiting, I can’t do it anymore.” He whispered, his brow crinkled in worry.

Y/n sighed, a sob escaping her lips as she did. Tears began to roll down her cheeks while she tried to gain composure, though it didn’t work. Instead she pressed a hand to her mouth and let the sobs roll over her body.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as she turned her face into his chest, her hot tears falling against him as a realization hit, “Oh! Is it your period again? Already?? Are you hurting? I can get you some midol—“ He tried to stand, to go into the kitchen and grab some pain medication to make it all go away when she reached out to hold his leg with her whole body, another sob escaping her.

“It’s not that, Eddie. I-I don’t wanna tell you—I do! I do wanna tell you, but I’m scared. I’m scared you’re gonna be so upset.” She heaved, keeping her hold on his leg as he looked down at her, the confusion and alarm evident in his eyes.

Why did she feel so guilty? What had she kept from him? Had she cheated on him? Was that why she was throwing up for a month?

“Y/n, baby, you’re scaring me. Did something happen? Di-Did you make a mistake?” He said, trying his best to ask the questions flooding his mind without breaking down and crying at the mere thought of what they have being gone.

“I mean.. yeah—Yeah I made a mistake... We made a mistake, actually.” She trailed off, looking at the small heaping trash bin by the toilet. Eddie blanched and sunk back to the floor with her, still unsure as to what she meant when she started digging through an abnormal amount of toilet paper on top of the trash.

Before he could ask her what she was doing, she turned to join him by the tub and handed him a closed pregnancy text box. Eddie looked at it and then to her and cocked his head. “Open it.” She whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

Eddie popped the top open and dumped the two sticks onto the floor between them, flipping them over so he could see the result window with two bright pink lines. “What does that mean, Y/n?” He asked, his voice cracking when he reached just barely above a whisper.

Y/n took some shallow breaths as her body and face went numb with fear. “I’m so sorry, Eddie..” She mumbled, picking at her chipped black fingernail polish, still left over from the last time Eddie painted them for her.

“What do you mean you’re sorry?” He asked, his eyes filled with both horror and wonder. “What do you mean, what— I'm pregnant—”

“Is it mine?? I’m asking if I’m—Did you—Y’know, I know shit happens, I know sometimes people hurt the people they love, sometimes mistakes happen—“ He rambled in a panic, his eyes wide and a couple tears escaping from the corners.

Y/n’s jaw dropped, “Eddie, of course it is! There’s nobody else it could possibly be, I haven’t slept with anyone else in, what? Almost.. 6 years, now?”

She quickly counted the numbers on her fingers absentmindedly as Eddie threw his arms around her and laid her down on the floor, holding her to his chest as he breathed a sigh of relief. His heart started hammering for reasons completely different than before. He couldn’t help the smile that refused to leave his lips, and the tears slipping from the corners of his eyes couldn’t be helped.

“Did you really think I’d cheat on you?” She asked with an almost quivering voice. Eddie shook his head vehemently, “No, no, no, just—you’ve been.. weird for a few weeks now and I thought I’d let you come to me since I was constantly asking what was on your mind, I figured if you were upset with me you’d tell me, you know? But then… you said something about a mistake, a-and the worst thing my mind could come up with with was you cheating but then the tests said you’re pregnant and-and you seemed so upset I couldn’t help but think—“

“Aw, honey, no.” Y/n cooed, her hand stroking Eddie’s cheek lovingly as she shook her head in earnest. Eddie’s cheeks shined with tears as he leaned his face into her soft hand. “I was upset because we’ve always said we didn’t want kids, Ed, we have plans! We can’t live with a baby on the road, we can’t see the world, there’s barely even wheelchair access anywhere, how are we supposed to lug a baby and stroller around the House of Blues?? And I lied about my period and.. I was so scared you’d be angry. Maybe angry enough you wouldn’t wanna—“

“Y/n.” Eddie said sternly, taking her chin in his hand and bringing her eyes to his. “I know I said I don’t want kids, I know this deviates from the plan, but I’m not angry. I’ll take this over you cheating on me any day!” He tried to make her smile, which he did with little success.

“Nothing could make me hate you, Y/n, you’re the best person I know and I somehow tricked you into falling in love with me. I wouldn’t ever do anything to jeopardize that.” He tried again, being met with her real smile spreading wide across her face to his delight. “And if there’s anyone I want to try to raise a kid with, it’s you… I really think we could do a good job together—and it’s not like we’re alone anymore! We’ll always have Wayne and the rest of our chosen family.. and I hope you know I’d never leave our family.”

And when he said it, it became real.

Our family.

“Our family?” She whispered, like a safety blanket was draped around her shoulders to make everything feel safe and okay. “Yeah, baby, you are my family, you always have been. And now we’re gonna be a real family, with a baby and everything!” He smiled and touched his nose to hers, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands and stroking her skin.

“I love you, Eddie.” She said in a whisper against his lips before kissing him deeply. “I love you too, baby. Forever and ever and the rest of time.” He declared as he flipped them over for her to sit on top of his lap this time. Their lips were warm and soft working against each other, the sweet taste of his saliva trickling into her mouth as they kissed. Eddie ended with a handful of kisses sprinkled across her face, their tears dry and smiles lingering.

“C’mon, mama, get in the shower with me and I’ll wash your hair.” He sat up and curled a lock of her hair around his finger, the offer earning him a forehead kiss.

“Already calling me mama, huh?” She teased as she tried to stand without him, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder before she could. She shot him an inquisitive look as he stood, holding his hand out for her.

“What? I need to make sure my lady always has help, even more so now!” He pointed out as he checked the water temperature again

Y/n giggled at his protective instincts as he began undressing. “We definitely gotta get out of here before Ozzy slash Axel comes.” He mentioned casually as he tossed his pants into the hall.

“Ozzy slash Axel? And what if it’s a girl?” She asked incredulously.

“Ozzy’s the girl’s name! You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be badass.” He said as he stripped off his tank top, revealing his pale torso as Y/n shamelessly ogled him, “We’ll see about that, daddy.” She teased, slipping off her shirt and shorts from the day.

Eddie chuckled at the nickname, “I don’t think I’ll get used to that.” He scoffed.

“Is it different than you calling me mama?” She smarted with her arms crossed.

Eddie turned back to her with amused wide eyes, “Uh, yeah. It’s completely different now. I’m not just your daddy anymore, I’m someone’s actual daddy now. Or at least I will be.” He glanced down at Y/n’s middle as she lifted her shirt.

She tried not to look at Eddie after she noticed her rounded lower stomach, something she assumed was just bloat until today. “I don’t know if I’ll get used to that, either...” He chuckled, not hiding his gaze at her abdomen.

“Eddie, I’m like two seconds pregnant, quit looking at me like that.” She mumbled with pink cheeks as she rid herself her underwear and stepped under the water with his help.

“I know, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t already look different. You said it’s been more than a month now, right? Your body’s already building a home, isn’t that amazing?” He asked as he joined her, kneeling in front of her naked body as he had a million times before, except this time his focus was slightly shifted north.

He held her hips in both hands, studying the front of her in a new way, turning her side to side as if he were inspecting her like she was the first of her kind. He couldn’t help his smile or the gleam in his eye as he looked up at her. “Y’know when I met you I thought the idea of a nuclear family was hell?” He asked as he stood, looking down at her while he moved all of her hair behind her ears and shoulders.

Y/n shrugged, “I, mean, yeah, still is.”

He smiled and tilted her chin up, her hair meeting the stream of water as he did, getting her hair all nice and warm and wet for him. “Yeah, well, as stubborn as I am, you were able to change that pretty quick.” He sighed, squeezing some soap into his palms. Y/n gasped softly, tilting her chin back down to meet his eye as he turned her by her shoulders to wash her hair.

“Yeah, I know, so soft and gross, ew.” He joked, smirking when he saw her shoulders bouncing with a chuckle. “But it’s true. You’re just—you’re so good.. at taking care of me, at being a person, at being a friend, you’re good. Great, even.. the best.” He whispered, massaging his fingers into her scalp and working the soap into a lather.

“Truth be told, I’ve been holding back on telling you because I knew you didn’t want kids and I wanted to respect that. Cause either way, baby, I’m happy with you, and I’m not making you have any baby you don’t wanna have.. so if this isn’t something you want, that is okay with me, truly.” He stopped his movements and held his hands on her shoulders to speak next to her ear.

Y/n turned to him again, her eyes wrought with longing. “Eddie, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. But you’ll be even more happy to know I want this. Through and through.” She nodded in finality, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he brought her in for a tight hug.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you guys.” He mumbled into her shoulder, more to himself than to her.

After that, Eddie spent his spare time taking on odd jobs to make extra cash to add to the ‘rainy day fund’ which was quickly changed to ‘the baby fund’, while Y/n contributed half of her tips. The couple was satisfied with their growing chunk of money, the feeling of being real adults swelling their hearts with pride for themselves and one another.

They’d stay up late at night talking about the what ifs and the scenarios of late nights and early mornings and potty training and tying shoes.

Somewhere in there they got around to the deeper parts of their childhoods and dissected the uncomfortable and painful parts, figuring out where their parents went wrong and what they’ll do differently, some nights ending in an embrace and tears at the stories traded and relived.

One night, Eddie laid with his head on her chest, tracing shapes into the smooth skin of her hard and prominent bump as they watched Family Feud before bed. Like a ball rolling under a blanket, Eddie saw the skin of Y/n’s belly move as the baby punched or kicked a foot, sending their mother groaning and their father yelling.

“What the fuck!!” He exclaimed, jumping back in horror. Y/n laughed and held her stomach until the baby got comfortable. “They’re moving, that’s all. You finally caught them in action, I told you they’re strong! That felt like a fist or an elbow, I’m not quite sure.” She said looking back down at her now lopsided belly from where the baby rolled over to another side.

“Come look.” She whispered to keep from disturbing the sleeping fetus. Eddie craned his neck over to see what she was looking at. “Oh my god, babies are so weird.” He said with a smile and a gleam in his eye.

“Should I, like, push him back over?” He asked, resting his hand on the bulging side of the bump as she giggled profusely. “Eddie, no! They’ll move in a minute. Why do you think it’s a boy anyway??” She swatted his hand off her stomach as she took her turn laying on his chest to read the survey board on the tv.

“That kid is too ornery to be a girl, trust me. The grief he’s giving you right now is classic Munson boy behavior, and I’ll go ahead and apologize for how down bad you’re about to be for his brown eyes.” He batted his lashes at her as she turned to look at him in disbelief.

“You’re gonna eat those words, Munson, just you wait.

And when the rainy winter day came, Eddie’s words reigned true.

“It’s a boy!” The doctor announced. Y/n’s hair stuck to her face as she fought to catch her breath while the nurses prepared the baby to get his umbilical cord cut. “Alright, dad, just make a cut right here,” the doctor instructed as a nurse set their baby boy on his mother’s chest, Y/n’s body wracked with sobs as Eddie watched the scene happen around him and back to the scissors and clamps before him.

“ ‘S not gonna hurt them is it?” He asked quietly. The doctor laughed lightly and shook his head, “No, no, I assure you your wife and son will be just fine.”

‘My wife and son’

Eddie breathed a laugh, the color returning to his face after the last hour of Y/n’s labor had his soul close to leaving his body. He accepted the scissors and made a cautious snip, his eyes jerking over to the dark haired baby on his loves chest, relieved when he saw neither of them batted an eyelash.

The nurses took the baby for his measurements, announcing he was seven pounds and one ounce, nineteen inches long, born at 4:20 in the morning to which Eddie snickered as he held his girl’s hand and stroked her knuckles lovingly.

Eddie brushed the hair back from her forehead as the nurses cleaned the area and swaddled the baby, now clean from the bodily fluids he had spent his time growing in like a butterfly in a chrysalis.

“You did so good, baby,” he pressed a kiss to her hand, his eyes feeling leaky now that he got to really talk to her for the first time since active labor started. “I’m so proud of you. You, like, hulked out there at the end. It was crazy! And seven pounds?? That’s literally a bowling ball, you know?” He rambled in amazement as the nurse handed Y/n a blue bundle.

“Lemme look at that face,” he whispered, craning his head to get a look at the baby he waited to meet for so so long.

And there he was. Full little lips, his tongue poking out between them as he wriggled, his button nose wrinkling as he fussed, his face scrunched in frustration.

“C-Can I hold him? After you, of course, whenever you’re ready—“

“Eddie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m ready, here, take him.” She smiled, holding out the bundle, too tired to keep her arms up and eager to see the way he looked holding their baby they feared having. Eddie quickly accepted the baby from her arms, taking care to hold his neck and feeling startled at how light he felt in his arms.

“Holy shit.” He whispered, running his index finger down the center line of his forehead, his eyes opening for the first time to reveal shining dark eyes, almost black.

“What is it? He got six fingers or something??” Y/n asked in a panicked daze. Eddie chuckled without taking his eyes off his son, his eyes prickling with tears.

“Nothing—he, uh, he just—he’s the prettiest person I think I’ve ever seen.. and he has brown eyes, I think.” He said quietly, finally looking up at the mother of his child.

“Lemme see!” She whispered excitedly. Eddie stepped over to the chair next to the bed as the nurses left.

The baby looked rather unimpressed between the two of them, their faces permanently etched in awe as they stared at his open eyes. “He’s looking right through us.” Eddie whispered.

“He can’t even see us, yet.” Y/n giggled, tracing her baby son’s face with her pointer finger, stopping to squish his cheek lightly. “It’s all blurry for him right now.” She mentioned, the baby’s eyes relaxing into the hospital lighting a little more and blinking away discomfort.

“So, what’s his name?” Eddie asked, pushing the front of his little hat off his head to stroke his thick curls that swirled against his scalp. Y/n hummed, sitting in silence until she looked over at their bag, his latest fantasy novel, just visible under a hoodie.

Eddie had been inseparable from the book every night before bed, sometimes reading the extra cool parts to Y/n, who loved to hear the adventures of the band of rogues that called themselves the Realm Riders.

“What about Ryder?” Y/n said.

Eddie’s ears perked at that, “Ryder Wayne?” He asked with a growing smile. Y/n giggled, “What do you think?” She asked.

“I love it! It sounds like he’s a knight or-or-or a cowboy, or something!” Eddie nudged her arm with gentle excitement.

Her cheeks warmed with her smile, “The noblest of his countrymen just like his dadd—“

Eddie cut her off by pushing his lips onto hers, their first kiss shared as parents. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Eddie. You’re gonna be such a good dad to him, you know that right?” Y/n whispered, their foreheads pressed together as the baby settled into a slumber. Eddie swallowed hard and nodded his head reverently.

“You’re thoughtful and kind and loving and strong, you are going to set such a good example and-and we’re gonna give him such a happy home to grow up in. And he’s gonna know how much his parents love each other, and him, always, okay? He’ll have everything we didn’t..” Y/n whispered.

Eddie smiled, the tears rolling down his cheeks at the overload of affirmation and praise. “I swear to it..” he mumbled, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips, “ I-I never thought I’d feel this way... I didn’t think it was real.. y’know, feeling like a real family. And now we are. Because of you.” He beamed at her with tears spilling over his eyes. “I hope you know I plan on marrying you the moment I can afford a ring to go on that precious little finger of yours.” He mumbled.

Y/n’s heart leapt, “You mean you already wanna promote me from baby mama?” She sniffled through the joke, his goofy smile stretching across his face.

“Absolutely. The best baby mama I have should share our last name.” Eddie remarked back, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Unless you want us to take your last name! I can do that. I’m cool with not being a Munson anymore, it might be good for me—“

“No, no, no, Eddie I wanna be the Munsons.. We’ll put it on a mailbox or something for the whole world to see, everyone in Hawkins will know we’re your family.” She smiled as his smile returned to his face again.

“My family...” Eddie smiled and shook his head in quiet disbelief at the words coming from his mouth.

When they arrived home, their friends were crammed in the tin can of a trailer home with a blue banner held up by Robin and Uncle Wayne that read ‘Welcome Home, Baby Munson!’

From the outside of the door they could hear the scuffle and bickering of the friends trying to get in place quietly. Eddie held his love’s arm to help her walk, his son in the baby carrier in his other. The two looked to each other and snickered, “Let’s give them a few more seconds, huh?” He asked, his soft stare flitting over her face.

She nodded, turning back to the door, the curtains jerking closed as she did so. “I think they know we’re here.” She whispered, nodding to the window as she eased forward to the wobbly porch steps.

Eddie held his hand up behind her back as she clutched the equally as trusting rail as she climbed. The door opened before she could turn the handle, the crowd shouting, “Surprise!” as they entered their home.

Y/n smiled, looking at Eddie as he greeted his family. Steve wrapped him up in a firm hug, quickly pulling away to kneel and peek at the fussy baby in the carrier. Dustin led the hoard of Hellfire members all chattering and asking wild questions:

“Was there a lot of blood?” “Did you watch?” “Did you cut the cord?” “Did they let you keep any?” “What is the baby?” “What’s its name?” “How do you know they didn’t switch it?” “Did you guys get matching bracelets?” “Does this mean you’re married now?”

Eddie tried to keep up with the questions as they all flew around him, his eyes searching for his partner as they were separated in the chaos. He noticed Robin helping her to the bathroom when he spotted Wayne, a small smile on his lips as he nodded at Eddie to come to him; the same way he’d done the boy’s whole life.

Eddie’s legs began moving before he told Dustin he’d tell him the whole story later. The baby in the carrier grunted, ready to be held or irritated by the noise.

“Why don’t we Munson men take a minute, huh?” Wayne patted his boy’s shoulder fondly, Eddie nodding with quiet eagerness.

Eddie led his uncle to their bedroom, setting the baby carrier on the bed before pushing the visor back to reveal the sweetest set of brown eyes that resembled a baby Wayne once knew long ago.

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie started as he unbuckled the small seat belt from his son’s delicate chest, his little hands coming up to rest in front of his face as he pouted. “I’d like you to meet your grandson, Ryder Wayne.” He finished as he adjusted his baby in his arms, the baby fully awake and blinking, his eyes Looking from Eddie to his grandpa.

Eddie finally looked back up at Wayne, who was having trouble keeping his breath steady. His eyes prickled with tears as he swallowed the hard lump in his throat and nodded.

“You just really had to make a grown man cry, didn’t you, Ed?” He asked as a couple tears slipped from the corner of his eye. “C-Can I hold ‘em?” He asked his nephew quietly. Eddie’s eyes lit up immediately as he nodded, handing the bundle over to his uncle. The two men sniffled in silence, their eyes unmoving from the baby between them.

“Y’know, over the years I had my worries; that you’d run off, or end up with the wrong folks, that you’d get discouraged and quit school—or worse… Your little ideas have given my heart quite the jump start since I’ve had you, kid, but this one.. well.. this one might just be the best scare you’ve ever given me.” He chuckled as the tears ran more freely, looking over to his grown boy again to see matching tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

The two laughed and held each other close, admiring the sweet boy between them until Y/n opened the door quietly.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt—“

“Nonsense! Get on in here, darlin’, I’s just meeting my grandson.” Wayne said with pride, beaming down at the boy in his arms. Y/n took her place under Eddie’s arm until the baby scrunched his face up in a cry.

“Aww, there he goes.” Wayne chuckled easily before handing the baby to his mother.

“I bet it’s time for another bottle.” Y/n said in thought then looked at Eddie, who checked his watch before nodding at her.

“Yeah, it’s been two hours, he’s a hungry little dude.”

“I guess it’s time to get out here, huh?” Y/n asked Ryder as if he’d have a response. The three of them reentered the living room, the party noticing almost immediately.

“So it is a boy?! Max was just messing with us?!” Dustin asked as the boys looked amongst each other, Will dragging his palm down his face in annoyed amusement while Max and El snickered quietly.

Y/n and Eddie chuckled, the new father making up a bottle of formula while Y/n took a seat on the couch in between Robin and Steve.

“Ah, that is correct, young Henderson. Hellfire Club now has a rightful heir.” Eddie approached Y/n, who expected him to give her the bottle but instead he held out his arms, making grabby hands at his baby.

Y/n handed him over without hesitation, the baby’s fusses silenced as soon as the bottle was in his mouth. “Ladies and gents, I’m honored to present to you, the first of many Munson babies, Ryder Wayne.”

The crowd went wild as the grumpy little guy scowled in response, giving his best side eye before closing them and trying to fall asleep.

“The first of many?” Y/n scoffed, “Where did that come from.”

“Look at his precious face and tell me you won’t have any more.” He grinned proudly down at his son, not even having to look at his girlfriend to know he was right.

Everyone wanted their picture taken holding the baby, especially the Hellfire Club. “It’s our turn next, Harrington, wrap it up.” Gareth teased, his arms across his chest as he impatiently waited for his turn to hold his best friend’s baby.

“I can’t wait to have a baby,” Dustin mentioned as the club gathered around the couch, Eddie and Steve’s faces snapping to the boy immediately and shouting, “Yes you can!”

The girls wanted pictures with both Eddie and Y/n, and of course Wayne needed a couple with ‘his boys’, calling Y/n back into the frame after she set Ryder gently into his arms.

“Whoa there, Missy, you’re a Munson now, get on in here.” He urged through his drawl. Her cheeks burned as she scampered back up next to Eddie, his arm wrapping around her proudly as they smiled.

“Now let’s get one of the new parents and their baby!” Jonathon suggested, peeking out from behind the camera as Nancy gathered the Polaroids and laid them on the counter to develop properly.

Wayne grinned and clapped Eddie on the shoulder before stepping out of the frame. Eddie’s cheeks were pink from his permanent soft smile, his eyes beaming at the mother of his child as she looked down at Ryder between them.

“That’s perfect! Don’t move.” Jonathon urged before snapping the photo, which would hang on the wall until they had grandchildren to show it to.

Later that evening, when all the friends left with promises of returning soon, Wayne lingered behind, waiting for the perfect time to talk to Eddie alone.

“Alright, gentlemen, as much fun as this is, I have to go lay down.” Y/n yawned, patting Wayne on the shoulder, planting a kiss on Eddie’s head, and bending down to take the baby, but not before Eddie could turn away from her. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked in feigned offense.

“Uh, taking him to bed?” She asked.

“No, no, no, you just gave birth, I’m on baby duty until you’re rested. Go! Shoo! I’ll see you in a few hours, mama.” He urged, using his free hand to swat at her playfully until she was gone from the room.

A lingering smile stayed on his lips as the men chuckled together. “I, uh, been waiting to give this to ‘ya,” Wayne started as he reached in his pocket for his wallet.

Eddie shook his head immediately, “No, Wayne, uh-uh, no way, we aren’t taking your mon—“

Wayne opened his billfold and pulled out a single gold ring, an emerald in the center of the setting. Eddie’s jaw dropped, only remembering that ring from his childhood. “Is that—“

“Grandma Edna’s wedding ring? Yeah. It is.” Wayne chuckled quietly before sighing and handing it to his boy, closing his fingers around it and nodding, more to himself than to Eddie.

Eddie looked at Wayne with wide eyes, a ring in one hand, a baby in the other, his life feeling surreal in this moment. He shook his head at his uncle in disbelief, Wayne nodding back at him, “Yeah, it’s really happening, son.”

Eddie nodded, tears welling up in his eyes for the hundredth time in the last 24 hours.

“I never imagined—not even in my wildest dreams—“ Eddie hiccuped through the brewing tears.

“I know, son, I know.” Wayne said, the grown boy laying his head on his uncle’s shoulder as he’d done many times before, letting a couple tears loose while he inhaled the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and motor oil lingering on his work shirt.

“Thank you, Wayne. For everything—Absolutely everything.” The metal head urged into the old man’s shoulder, his baby boy sleeping soundly between them as the only father he’d ever truly known patted his back soothingly.

“And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat… you’re my boy.” Wayne mentioned through a tight smile, his life feeling surreal, too.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n

[papakhan]

I'll make my own post actually. I think it's an under appreciated detail and piece of characterisation how the courier is buried not only fully clothed but also carrying stimpaks, caps, and their weapon of choice (and we know its THEIR weapon because the game gives you whatever type of weapon you scored highest in with skills). And sure its just a game mechanic thing but they could have just as easily had Doc Mitchell say "here's some stuff of mine to help you out" but he explicitly says "here, this is all you had on you". Also I need you guys to ignore the DLC dumping all that shit on you at the start of the game okay forget about it. I know it's funny but it's not what I'm talking about

It's interesting no matter who you pin this behavior on. If it was Benny preventing the Khans from robbing the courier as they would any raider victim, then that's just another layer of him thinking he's being respectful about the ordeal. Or at the very least enjoys having power over the Khans and ordering them around.

However my headcanon is that it was the Khans who buried the courier in this way. And I say this because they bury the courier in the same way they bury Chance, another Khan whose grave you can find in game, in his armor and with his weapon. And I just think it's fun and interesting to think that these guys who, from the comic we know wanted no real part in any of this and are only here for money, laid the courier to rest in the most respectful way they knew-- like one of theirs.

And actually according to one of the trailers the couriers hands are unbound while in their grave so. And they're still fully clothed. So actually Doc Mitchell giving the courier the vault suit is more likely because he had to dispose of their og clothing because yknow. It'd be filthy from being in the ground and on the couriers comatose body (do you know what the body does when it's comatose. Trust me you don't want those clothes back) and also knowing emergency medicine the courier was probably cut out of their clothes because if you're concerned about a head/neck injury cutting clothes off is less disruptive then trying to wiggle an unconscious person out of them and possibly causing more damage.

Anyway. Either way the Khans and Benny still show more respect to the couriers "dead" body then the courier/you the player show to any of your victims I mean. How many powder gangers did you strip naked and leave to rot under the desert sun? Or legionaries? Or raiders? Or the Khans themselves? Much to think about

#Txt #Fnv #Fallout new vegas #The tangent about medically cutting someone from their clothes is dedicated to the person who I got in a fight with over #How cruel the Khans were to leave you naked in your grave when that literally is not what happened #I have to defend my guys. You understand #great khans #benny gecko

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

💕 Moments 💕

Inspired by this scene in s4, with a similar occurrence happening. Lil fic, all fluff. May expand to write more cute moments if my readers want it ❤️🌸☺️ Minors Dni.

Summary; You're crushing on Eddie and it becomes very noticeable much to your friend Maddie's horror and Chrissy's delight.

It also becomes obvious to Eddie who may be a little bit smug with knowing this.

💕

💕

Eddie was showing off again, it was like clockwork, every school day around lunchtime he would be loud, opinionated and you couldn't help but admire him.

Okay scratch that, you had a big crush on him and spent a night or two at the Hideout when Corroded Coffin was playing to see him shred on his guitar.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Your friend Maddie rolls her eyes as you approach the table Eddie is strutting around on.

"Ugh, Munson being a freak again. What's new?" you ignore her, and your heart skips several beats as you approach the Hellfire table.

Chrissy tells her off saying Eddie is nice and not to call him a freak. You knew the two of them were friends and had been for months now.

The rest of the cheer team told you he was "mean and scary" and Chrissy was too much of a sweetheart to say anything.

You just thought they were far too judgemental.

You're so busy watching him that you don't realize that Maddie is talking to you.

"Hello? Earth to yn please?" she snaps exasperated and you come out of your reverie.

"Oh, sorry. Was distracted" Maddie follows your gaze.

"By that freak of nature? He's a loserboy" her mean assessment causes you to snap.

"Would you stop that? He's not a freak or a loser just because he listens to heavy metal or plays dnd it's just a fantasy game" Maddie's eyes widen.

"Oh my god take a chill pill or something why are you so defensive over... Oh my god. Do you have a crush on Munson?" she snorts.

Chrissy rubs your arm smiling kindly and throws a glare at Maddie.

"It's fine if you do honey, you should go for it. I think you two would be cute together" she beams and you know now that Chrissy knows this, that she will play matchmaker.

Eddie jumps off the table bowing to his friends in Hellfire who applaud him and he flips Jason the bird who has been watching Eddie with a scowl on his face.

He smiles as you, Chrissy and Maddie approach and steps back, motioning for the three of you to go ahead.

You chance a look back and he's still staring, there's a cheeky grin on his face and he winks at you.

You struggle to keep the grin off your face and decide to flirt back, why not? He was cute and you weren't going to let any of your friends dictate who you liked.

So you blow him a kiss and his eyes widen, he makes a show of catching the kiss adding an overdramatic flourish which makes you giggle.

Little did you know but that day Eddie Munson walked around with a goofy grin on his face all day, he went back to his trailer with the big smile still firmly on his face.

Wayne assumed it was something to do with his boys band or a new Dnd campaign he was cooking up.

Eddie really was planning how to flirt with you more, maybe you would blow more kisses his way?

All he knows is the most beautiful woman in Hawkins noticed him and that made him a very happy guy indeed.

💕💕

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine

[rainylana]

“Stay the night.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: after eddie gets his ass kicked for helping you out, you show up to his trailer to aid his wounds.

warnings: enemies to lovers, fighting, slight harassment, very brief smut sorry y’all, jason carver as his cunt self, mostly told from eddie’s perspective, i don’t want to give away the major plot twist in this so all i’ll say is that there is talk of major physical trauma/abuse, also credits to @vol2eddie for helping me with the idea! also, should i do a part two to this?

pt 2

The only reason he even debated going and helping you was because of Wayne’s golden rule. Always respect women. Help them when they need it. Protect them. Wayne was old fashioned when it came to his viewpoints, but he made sure Eddie was raised well and had a good morale compass. Right now, Eddie was cursing it. Of all people.

He was just about to hop in his van to leave school for the day when the basketball team caught his eye, and the pretty girl they surrounded. He threw his backpack through his rolled down window and rested a hand on his hip, watching through his dark sunglasses. “Oh, shit.” He said, realizing you were the girl who’s attention had been caught from the pubescent young men.

Eddie hated you, and you him. It had been like that for years. Everyone knew it. Everyone knew you too couldn’t tolerate being in the same room together. The school guidance counselor even had to change two of his classes so he wouldn’t have to engage with you. He didn’t like to think about way back when, the days you where once friends. It almost made him sad.

“Fuck,” He turned to get in his van, let it be, but it was clear whatever they were saying to you was making you very uncomfortable. When he seen Jason Carver, enough was enough. “Damn it.”

He trudged up the hill to the patch of grass you were standing in, a beating in his heart indicating his nervousness. “Hey!” He barked, getting the attention of everyone. He tried his best not to look small. 

“Munson?” Carver raised a brow, surprised to see him. “May we help you with something?”

You locked eyes with Eddie, face masked in surprise and curiosity. Jason had cornered you, along with his goons, trying to get you to go out with him. As if you’d ever go out with him. You loathed him. He wouldn’t let you pass, wouldn’t let you say no. By the time he had grabbed your elbow, Eddie Munson had shown his face in the crowd, the last person you had expected to see.

Eddie and you had history. Not good history, either. You used to be very close in 7th grade. Almost best friends. To this day, Eddie didn’t know why you dipped and broke his young heart. You never gave him a reason. It wasn’t important for him to know. Besides, it was easier to hate him.

“Just seeing what the problem was.” Eddie shrugged, looking away from you to Jason, trying to keep his shoulders tall and broad. Jason was significantly taller than him.

“Problem?” Jason shook his head. “No, no, there’s no problem. Just curious as to why you suddenly give a shit about y/n over here.” He laughed, along with his friends.

He laughed, too. Carver had a point. Still, golden rule, Eddie. Golden rule. “Yeah, well,” He took a step toward him. “Just making sure no one was uncomfortable.”

He ignored you completely now. He wouldn’t look at you.

“Uncomfortable?” Jason scoffed. “Freak Munson is getting brave, boys! I think if you don’t step back, man, the only one who will be uncomfortable is you.”

God, he’d almost broken his record. He’d gone almost 10 days without a black eye. He sighed heavily, bringing back his fist.

•

“What do you want?” Eddie was surprised to see you on the porch of his trailer, caressing a first aid kit in your hands. It was late, almost nine o’clock. There was a chill in the air and you had a thick coat wrapped around you.

“You have a black eye.” You pointed out awkwardly, shifting your weight. “I came here to…well, thank you for what you did. And to patch you up. You’ve got a little cut up there.” You lifted your finger.

“Mhm, I’m aware.” He said, holding a cold beer to his eyebrow. “But I don’t need your thanks and I don’t need you freezing to death on my porch. I didn’t do any of that for you.”

You sniffed in the cold, closing your arms to your chest. “Oh? Then why did you?”

He rolled his eyes, debating kicking you off his porch steps. “Look, my uncle taught me to respect women, okay? Look out for…well, your breed.”

You held your head high. “I see. Very admirable of you. You gonna let me in so I can help?” You let yourself in anyways, pushing past him. You tried not to stare and recall the memories of when you’d last been inside his home. It had been many years.

“Hey!” Eddie slammed the door shut. “This is breaking and entering!”

“You’re gonna preach to me about the law?” You raised a brow, taking off your coat. “You of all people?”

“How bout shuttin’ the fuck up, eh?” He plopped down on his couch, glaring at you. “I don’t need any of your help to begin with.”

“But you let me in.” You kicked off your boots, giving him a pointed look.

“I can kick you out anytime, L/n.” He stared at you through his lashes. “I suggest you doctor me up before you’re kicked to the curb.”

Your both stared at each other for a moment before you sat beside him on the couch. He stiffened when you touched his cut with an alcohol wipe, making you apologize softly under your breath. Neither him nor you thought you’d be in such close proximity ever again. It felt awkward, at least that’s how Eddie saw it. It was awkward and unconscious. He wanted you gone, but he couldn’t deny that your touch was almost a little bit comforting to his throbbing headache.

“I really do mean it,” You broke the silence, noticing the small cuts on his knuckles. He’d gotten in several good punches, but he looked like shit. “I appreciate what you did, even if it wasn’t for me. I owe you this.”

He flexed his fingers when you started dabbing at his ring finger. “You don’t owe me anything.”

You wrapped a small bandaid around his pinky finger, switching to his other hand where it had been bruised. “Still. Thank you, Eddie. Those guys are jerks.”

“What did they want, anyways?” He found himself contributing to the conversation.

“Jason was trying to convince me to go out with him,” You paused to look at him, the sudden look of your eyes startled him, his body tense and uncomfortable. “I said no but he wouldn’t listen. He grabbed my arm. That’s when you showed up.”

Eddie scoffed lightly. “Yeah, sounds about right for Carver. Piece of shit, if you ask me.”

“I agree.” You nodded, wiping away dried blood around his knuckles.

You both found it odd that you were having a normal conversation, not a screaming match. It was kind of nice actually. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” You sighed, wrapping another finger in a bandaid. “How’s Wayne?”

“He’s fine.” He said dismissively.

Your eyes dropped and you looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you this time, only the floor. It killed you that Eddie hated you so bad. It killed you that you had to hate him. You wished you could explain things to him. Make the world twist back in time. But again, it was easier to hate him. Wasn’t it?

“I’ll get this done so I can go.” You halfway muttered, causing Eddie to look at you. He found himself not wanting you to leave.

“Sorry.” He licked his lips. “Old man is fine. Working everyday. Bringing home the bacon. Same old. You remember that, I’m sure.” He leaned back on the couch, allowing you to decorate his fingers with bandaids. He didn’t question the girly designs on them.

You breathed heavily. “Yes, I do. I miss him.”

When was the punchline? You two didn’t do this. You didn’t coerce with one another. “Why are you really here?” Eddie questioned you.

“What do you mean?” You paused your work.

“You come here to mock me or something?” He raised his brow, an inquisitive tone in his deep voice. “Tell me I shouldn’t have gotten in the way?”

“No.” You said firmly, placing his hand down. “I told you why I’m here.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” He sat up to glare at you, dark curls tossed behind his shoulder.

“I’m not out to get you, Eddie!” You raised your voice. “Believe it or not, I came here with sincere intentions.”

He scoffed. “Sincere intentions, huh? That what you thought when you ditched me in eighth grade? Was that sincere intentions?”

“You don’t know the whole story, Eddie!” You snapped, gathering your trash and standing up. “You can hate me all you want but it’s not fair. Nothing about anything is fair!” You ranted, throwing your bandaid sleeves in the trash.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, startled. He looked down to his hands, seeing the pink and purple bandaids. An awkward silence ensued.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie.” Your voice broke across the room, making him snap his head up. Were you crying? “I never wanted any of this to happen. It just…I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” You were crying.

Eddie stiffened. He didn’t know what to do. Here, his mortal enemy was crying in his home. He had the urge to kick you out, yet comfort you at the same time. But how was he to do that? “You’re not making any sense, L/n.” He said awkwardly.

“I know, I know.” You had your back to him, waving your hand. “I’m sorry, I know. I just…wish things could be different. I wish you could know…how sorry I am that things turned out the way they did.”

He raised one singular brow, mouth falling in ajar. He’d never been more confused in his life. “Listen, Y/n, I’m feeling very uncomfortable right now so…you want a beer or something?” He tried to contribute to the conversation in some helpful manor.

You turned, stilling his movements at the sight of your tears and snotty nose. He swallowed hard. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I just…can we talk about somethings?”

“What things?”

“Things from back then.”

“Back then as….?”

“Eighth grade.”

No, not really. He didn’t want that. But did he? This could be his chance to get some answers, and it was clear you were ready to give them. He halfway wanted to turn you away, but the sight of your tears made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want you crying, oddly enough.

“Yeah, okay.” He gave up with a heavy sigh, patting the seat on the couch next to him for you to sit.

When you sat down next to him, your shoulders brushed and he stiffened. He cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands. You wiped your face with your sleeve. Maybe he should’ve offered you a tissue. Did he even have those?

“You remember my parents, right?” You started, making him scoff.

“Yeah, they’re assholes. Why?”

Here goes nothing. You turned to put your back to him, placing your hands at the side of your shirt. With one movement, you lifted it over your head, leaving you in your red bra.

Eddie jumped like a startled deer, but settled when he saw what was in front of him. Your back was decorated in thick, red marks, splatted across it’s length. Eddie couldn’t help but move closer, his jaw falling slack. He placed his hand on your shoulder to get a better look.

“You knew they hated you.” Your voice was thick with tears. “Especially my dad. He said you were evil and wicked. He said you’d…you’d take- advantage of me. He said if I didn’t stop being your friend then he’d..he’d, he’d kill you.”

Eddie felt like he was going to be sick. He knew these marks were from a belt. A thick one. You were bruised everywhere. He stomach churched and he thought he was going to be sick. He traced a bruise with his finger.

“My parents are creative when it comes to dealing out punishments.” You laughed without humor, a crack in your voice. “Eddie, I know you hate me, but I hope you don’t really hate me. Because I don’t hate you. I never have. It was just easier to let you go. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

It was like Eddie had been transported back to eighth grade. His hair was buzzed and he had horrible acne scars and buck teeth, but you were still as beautiful as he’d ever thought. Eddie’s heart had broke and it was as if no time had past, there had been no water under the bridge you were standing on.

He got up and moved to the other end of the couch where he could see your face, and he pulled you in for a hug, careful where he put his arms. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He pleaded with you. “Forgive me, I’m so so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t help but cry in his arms, relishing the feeling of having your friend back. “It’s okay. Just hold me.”

He scooted closer and held you tighter. Mentally, his mind was a battlefield, connecting dots and pieces of a puzzle that he hadn’t known existed. Everything made so much sense now. He hated every bit of it.

Eddie held you for almost an hour. You both laid on the couch where you stayed on top of his chest, torsos flush against the other. It was extremely intimate. Eddie asked the questions he wanted, to which he finally got answers to. It made you feel so much better, a weight that wasn’t no longer pressed against your windpipe.

Within the minutes, you were both looking at each other, staring into each other’s eyes with a gentle softness. Eddie wanted so badly to kiss you, a thought he never imagined would cross his mind. He also hoped you weren’t aware of his slight hard on. After all, a beautiful girl was laying on top of him, shirtless.

“Kiss me.” You said through a whisper, brave and quiet.

Eddie gulped, giving a slight nod. “Okay.”

He leaned in until his plush lips were soft against yours. With a tiny movement, he kissed you, opening his mouth ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. It really wasn’t even much of one. It was so delicate and soft as snow, but it meant the world to you. When you put your hand on his cheek, he took it as a sign to kiss you harder. He did, pressing his face into yours and opening his lips wide to give you his tongue. Your lips lapped and licked and your breath was hard in each other’s faces.

You felt the heat between your legs throb. You couldn’t but moan. He groaned right back. As much as he wanted to have you, now wasn’t a good time. It wasn’t the right time, not of all circumstances. He gave you one last kiss before he pulled away. You were almost sweating. He smiled, pulling you back into his chest. “Stay the night.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things season four #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb

[goldustwomun]

bite the hand (e.m.)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader

summary: things come crashing down around you when you watch eddie from the sidelines of the stage. you know you shouldn't leave but you beg eddie for forgiveness anyway.

warnings: (unedited) more angst folks i think i'm going through something, established relationship, swearing, tears crying sobbing (for eddie but you too babes x), i use face and features too many times but we move

wc: 2.0k+

note: short and (not so?) sweet :) :( i'm really struggling to sustain my writing for very long but oh well xoxo

Here’s the best part distilled for you But you want what I can’t give to you Your hands are gravity while my hands are tied

He should’ve known it’d get to you eventually. The screams and cries of thousands for him and only him, because as much as he stood, awestruck, by the talent of the others, it was always his name the crowd went hysterical for: Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. They’d chant and sway and go all but rabid when his black mop of hair would peak from around the stage, teasing in that very ‘Eddie’ way that you were all too familiar with when he’d feel a little more playful in bed. His mischievous eyes and quirked lips, tattooed skin and leather-clad thighs. He was the embodiment of a devilish smile, dripping, oozing, even, with sex appeal and charisma.

But it wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him. The two of you weren’t perched on a bench outside of Wayne’s trailer anymore, smirking into the other’s mouth after a particularly strong joint he had rolled from his stash, legs resting on top of him as you were all but sat in his lap. Neither were you the sole body in the crowd of the Hideout, the only one out of the tens of patrons to be hanging onto every rasp of Eddie’s voice, every strum of his long fingers against the guitar.

It wasn’t just you, now, who noticed those things about him, and you knew because of the hundreds of letters he got, every other week on mail day, from adoring fans and sycophants and a few stalkers. You knew because of the way the crowd stretched so far into the distance that you couldn’t see where it ended, the countless bodies moving like a singular mass of pure, unaltered adoration for the man who assured you it’s you, it’s only ever going to be you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” And his voice broke you from the road you were beginning to travel down. You tried your best to force the smile on your lips, and really, you think he knew you were faking it but the giddy energy from the show he was soon going to be playing had already begun to fizzle through his bones and so he ignored it. He took it, instead, for something genuine despite the way it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Only a penny, Munson?” you scoffed at an attempt of playfulness. “I know for a fact you could offer me a lot more than a penny.” He laughed and your belly dipped, even all these years later, when he pressed his lips to your cheek. Eddie Munson might have been a kind of lust personified but he was also the sweetest human being you’d ever known.

“Ah, you’re right. My girl deserves much, much more,” and his lips began their slow descent from your face to the crook of your neck, fixated on that one spot that would have you shivering in mere seconds. He stopped for a moment; face still buried into your flushed skin— “Two pennies then?”

You groaned – “Eddie” -- at his pitiful attempts of humour (but really you loved it), shoving him away even if you didn’t really mean it.

“I’m only kidding, sweets, I’m only kidding!” he cooed at you, soothing your pout until it melted into that smile of yours that he loved to be the cause of as his fingers traced meaningless patterns into the exposed skin at your hip. “Forgive me?” he begged, his turn to pout now.

And it was comical, really, the way you gave into him, whatever doubts you had crumbling at the very feel of him against you, his words forcing whatever walls you were beginning to build-up only moments before to crumble into nothing at your interlaced feet.

“Always, Eddie,” you promised, voice leaving you at barely a whisper. And when you continued, heart thrumming as you waited for his answer, your words wavered: “Do you forgive me, too?”

He watched, confused, as the question left your lips, head tilted like a puppy unsure of his surroundings. “What would I ever need to forgive you for?” he asked, soft.

“Just—do you? Would you? Forgive me?”

He stared into your eyes, a penetrating gaze, begging you for an answer and explanation for your behaviour, but when you remained quiet he acquiesced. “Like you said, sweetheart: always.”

You nodded, that same, tight smile appearing on your features. The sound of a knock on his dressing room door pulled the both of you out of whatever daze hung, limp, in the air, and Eddie moved past you to answer.

“Five minutes to go, Eddie. Need to get you mic-ed up.” You couldn’t hear his answer (probably something along the lines of ‘Be right there’) over the roaring in your ears. The door clicked close again as a warm hand traveled to your waist, turning you in-place. Eddie’s hand moved to cradle your face in his palms, touch cautious like he always was when it was just the two of you. Like you were splintered glass, on the verge of breaking.

“Going to come watch outside, yeah?” And how could you say no to him and his big, brown eyes. So you nodded, followed him through the corridor leading towards stage left. People rushed around, gathering wires, plugging amps and checking cables with the kind of frenzy you’d never get used to despite having been there for almost all his shows.

Gareth, Jeff and Doug were already huddled in a corner, cheeks split into nervous grins. They waved Eddie over who gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before joining them, face dipping as someone came in to swipe some powder over his face.

You don’t remember what happened after that because the next thing you knew, the band was rushing onto the stage, the arena blacked-out, and the moments the light switched on, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd, bright lights carving out their bodies from the darkness. You edged closer to the stage, only just visible from behind a curtain, when the crowd came into view.

And you hated it, the way your gut twisted, mind reeled. You know if you had just said something, anything, to Eddie when it had begun, weeks ago on the first night of the tour. Someone had slipped a note into your back pocket as you and Eddie pushed through a crowd, security walling you in. But you had felt it, and you just knew what it was going to say.

It wasn’t the first and it wasn’t the last, but you had to applaud its author for the precision with which their words sliced at your very core, holding a mirror up to every insecurity you had ever had (and more you hadn’t even considered) until your hands were shaking, fierce.

When you stared out into the crowd, when your gaze connected with someone right in the front, and a look of disgust overtook them, you felt that lest tether inside of you snap free. The air knocked from your lungs, that same cold feeling of fear dripping down your back.

Eddie must have seen it, he was watching you the entire time, having tuned into your every move since the two of you had left his dressing room. He knew you were acting odd, skittish, like a petrified cat getting ready to flee. So when you retreated, he motioned to Jeff to keep the crowd busy before running off on in search of you.

He called after you, having bulked up enough since high school to catch up with you with ease. When you moved faster at the sound of his voice, he did too, finding you pacing in the haven of his dressing room. He shut the door, locking it, before approaching you, slow, cautious, like the floor was uneven and you on a precipice.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, unsure.

You weren’t facing him so when your shoulders began to shake, he wasn’t sure if you were crying or laughing. But when you turned, face splotchy and chest heaving, he rushed forward, gathering you in his arms.

“What is it, my sweet girl. What’s wrong?” he murmured into the top of your head, holding you tight so that the pressure of his embrace might calm you down enough to talk, to explain or clarify or at least quell the rapid thrum of his worried heartbeat.

“I can’t Eddie, I just—” you hiccupped, voice muffled by the sound of his t-shirt— “I can’t do it.”

“It’s alright, love, just try, yeah? Just—whatever comes to mind—”

“No—You don’t get it—” and you pulled away, the distance between the two of you growing with every moment in more ways than one. “I can’t do this. This thing—” you motioned between you, and he froze.

“You can’t do what?” his voice hardening, on the offensive, and his face contorted to prepare him for the worst.

“Eddie. It’s too much. It’s been too much for so long and I know I should’ve—” a sob ripped from your chest and all he wanted to do was reach for you, his body yearned for it, but he knew better. “—I should’ve said something ages ago. Not let it go so far but it’s too late and you can blame me for—”

“—for what! Us? This? Is that all we are? Some vague abstract of now? Just come out and say it.” he was exploding, erupting, Vesuvius and Pompeii. “Go on. Say it.”

And it was your turn to yell and shout and hurl until your lungs seized. “It’s killing me, Eddie! I feel like I’m fucking dying here. I can’t compete with them, not anymore. I’m exhausted and I feel—I feel fucking heavy.” You were panting from the force of your words, the weight they carried, and you had been carrying.

“There’s no competition, sweetheart. There will never be a competition,” he pleaded, stumbling a step closer but you pushed back.

“I know you feel that way, Eds. I know you do—” his heart squeezed at the nickname. “—I know this is irrational in so many ways. It shouldn’t matter that your fans fucking despise me,” and he flinched at the crudeness of your words. “But there’s one of me and millions—holy shit, there’s millions of them, Eddie. They’re suffocating me and I just—I want to breathe, again. I need to breathe.”

The walls were crashing and crumbling and nothing he said would help to rebuild them, not this time. And he must have sensed it because it was like the air was knocked out of his lungs, too, and he fell to his knees in front of you, clinging to you like maybe if he held on tight enough, he could stop you from leaving.

“Please. My love. My sweet girl. You’re it. You’re always it,” and it must have hit him, what you had meant earlier, because he couldn’t stop rambling, stop repeating: “I forgive you. I forgive you, always, my love. It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re mine and I forgive you.”

Your heart cracked open then, your hand cradling his tear-soaked face to where he was burrowing himself into the pillow of your stomach. You couldn’t bear it anymore, to hear him, see him, touch him, whilst you cut away the pieces of your love. You brushed the hair from his forehead, your own tears falling on him and he cursed himself for making you cry.

You still don’t know if what you did was from a place of strength or weakness, if the way you went about it, with thousands still waiting for him mere feet away, was cruel or kind. But you needed to do it, or at least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself in your head.

That and Eddie, Eddie, Eddie -- your mind chanted.

You were the only audience he ever needed. If only you knew.

As always, reblog + comment if you enjoyed this or want more! Requests are opennnnn :D

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #bite the hand #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[ashwhowrites]

Perv! Eddie x cheerleader! Reader on a Halloween party, they HATE each other, but they were in a deal and that somehow, ends up in the two of them at the back of Eddie's van making out, and then having sex, and maybe they start a relationship?

I hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting.

This is short but I think it hits all the areas you want :)

Eyes on you

Y/N hated Eddie Munson ever since she caught him sneaking around the girl's locker room. He tried to hide in a locker, watching as the cheer squad changed into their uniforms. She thought he was a pig and couldn't stand him.

Eddie hated the snobby cheer squad, but he liked to look at them. Y/N was bitchy and ratted him out for sneaking into the locker room. He hated her since, but a part of him wanted to be balls deep inside of her.

Eddie enjoyed bothering her. He'd give her flirty looks and waves. Knowing it pissed her off when she'd roll her eyes and stomp in the other direction. He loved getting underneath her skin.

It was a random Halloween party, and Eddie knew it would be his biggest sales. People got to hide in costumes and buy drugs with no one knowing. Eddie didn't bother to dress up, he was here for a job and that's all.

"Jesus, fuck. It's you?" Y/N growled, she prayed Chrissy hired someone else to do the drug deals but there wasn't luck in the room with her.

"Hey, pretty girl, love the costume." Eddie said, licking his lips as his eyes trailer up her body. Her legs were covered in green vines, green booty shorts and a green bra. The rest of her exposed skin covered in green vines and leaves.

"Poison ivy? Wouldn't mind tasting that on my tongue." Eddie smirked. He could already picture himself tracing his tongue up every vine.

"Not a chance." Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes as she sat down.

~~~

"Not a chance, huh?" Eddie mocked, his voice teasing as he gripped Y/N's hips. He fucked his hips up into her, loving the way she rolled her eyes.

"Shut up," Y/N whined, she wanted to voice him out. She wanted to ignore that it was Eddie's cock that was inside of her.

Eddie moved his hands to her ass, squeezing the skin as she rode him faster.

Their skin was drenched in sweat, his van rocking and their sounds bouncing off the doors. Eddie wasn't sure how long they'd been going at it, but he knew it was a suspicious amount of time. He knew her friends would come looking for her sooner or later.

Her body was covered in his marks, and her scratches from her first two orgasms marked down his back. He didn't think he'd get to this point, all his jokes and comments but yet she was as desperate as he was.

Y/N finished her third orgasm, and Eddie finished against her stomach. Both breathing heavily as she started putting on her costume.

"In a rush?" Eddie asked, he felt vulnerable and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"What? Do you want me to stay or something?" She joked, but the hurt that flashed across his eyes made her think again. "Shit, do you want to talk?" She offered, a smile as she scooted closer to him.

"I mean it doesn't seem like you wanted to. If you want to head back to your friends, cool. I'll go home." Eddie shrugged, acting as her choice didn't matter.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't think you'd want to actually talk to me. Thought you just wanted the sex....based on your comments." She explained, she truly didn't see Eddie having feelings for her. She thought it was sexual tension that was building.

"We hate each other but do you think there's something deeper than that?" Eddie asked, "Because truthfully, I don't hate you. I'm infatuated with you. "

"There might be. I also don't hate you, but you drive me crazy. You love checking out girls and I think I'll struggle with that too much." Y/N confessed.

"No one captured my attention the way you do. That's why I'm here with you, that's why I've been chasing after you. Let me show you that I can focus all on you." Eddie promised, she smiled at the ground and his hand held hers.

"Not going to spy on my friends?" She asked, her eyes looked into his eyes.

"Just on you." Eddie smirked.

"Don't make me regret this, Munson." Y/N laughed, crawling on Eddie's naked lap. His hard cock resting in between her thighs. She smashed her lips on his.

"Y/N?"

Y/N pulled back when she heard Chrissy's voice from outside the van, her hands smacking the door.

"SHES BUSY!" Eddie yelled back, Y/N gasped and smacked Eddie's arm.

"I FIGURED. HAVE FUN YOU TWO!" Chrissy laughed.

Y/N didn't have time to respond when Eddie pushed his cock back inside of her.

"You'll never regret me." Eddie promised, his lips on hers as he tasted her.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson x cheerleader #perv!eddie x cheerleader reader #ashwhowrites #ashwhowrites halloween

[crienselt]

So a few days ago I saw someone (elsewhere) questioning Zutara fans’ excitement about the scarf scene. It wasn't a mean comment, more general curiosity. And well, I didn't have time to get my thoughts out then. But they haven't gone away, so I'm getting them out here:

Here’s what everyone need to understand about Zutara shippers. We were baited baaaad during the initial run of the show–from the magazines to the shorts to the trailers and how they were cut. And Zuko and Katara’s relationship on the show certainly underwent a lot of development and featured objectively emotional–if not overtly romantic–moments between the two. We were well fed, and we had reason to hope. Right up to the end, we had reason to hope.

The shipping wars were the shipping wars, of course, with all the usual tensions; there are always going to be overzealous fans of each (and any) pairing willing to get toxic. Generally, I think Kataang fans were always jealous of Zutara’s popularity and Zutara fans, post finale, were jealous of Kataang’s, well, canon status. But really it operated much the same as any other large fandom’s shipping wars.

And then came Bryke and the panel where they showed and mocked Zutara fan art, some of which had been created by teens if not straight up children. Then came their, “Come on, kids! It was never going to work. Zutara is just dark and intriguing.”* And the pièce de résistance, their telling Zutara shippers (specifically girls/women) that they were doomed to have failed romantic relationships. Like, what? The thing with the art was arguably cruel, and the rest of it was oh, so condescending. Just all around not well done. 

The after effect was that Zutara went from being simply a fanon pairing to a wrong pairing. The ATLA fandom at large became a far more hostile place for Zutara fans, who were now more commonly deemed delusional and viewed as lesser fans. The vitriol only got worse when the show came to Netfilx and the next wave of antis rolled up with their co-opting of legitimate socio-political terms to paint Zutara not just as wrong but morally corrupt if not evil. It’s all very puritanical.**

So Zutara fans need to be reminded that we weren’t delusional, and we aren’t alone. It’s why it means so much to know that Dante Basco and Mae Whitman shipped their characters. And that so many other VAs came out as Zutara supporters too: Jack De Sena, Michaela Jill Murphy, Grey DeLisle, Janet Varney--even the cabbage man. For it to be revealed that it was discussed in the writers room; that the writers fought over it; that it WAS a canon possibility. (And that writers Joshua Hamilton and John O’Bryan are perfectly comfortable admitting their preference for Zutara.) To know that the Elizabeth Welch Ehasz described Zuko and Katara as an “Avatar-style Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” in the script for The Southern Raiders, and used the phrase “Zutara-feuling synchronicity and cooperation” to describe their action sequences. To see Giancarlo Volpe, a Kataanger, admit Zutara might been the better pairing in retrospect and choose a quiet scene between them (to see their “chemistry”) as what he’d most look forward to in the live action adaptation. It’s why we cling to the artwork done by Korean animation director. We aren’t delusional. We aren’t alone.

But try telling that to the general fandom, right? Most are ignorant of a lot of this, particularly Hamilton and O’Bryan’s revelations re: the writers room. A lot of Zutara fans don't even seem to know. But being baited by Netflix on their official accounts? Oh, people see that. And we are reminded in a big way that we aren't delusional and we aren't alone. And everyone else has to remember it too.

So, of course, we're having fun clowning over the scarf scene. And I think most Zutara fans know we are clowning. I don't think most expect to get canon Zutara in live action because of one little scene or the fact that their Netflix icons are facing each other. (I headcanon that that was totally the doing of Zutara shipper on staff, though, lol. Because there are a lot of us, and we are everywhere.)

And this is okay. Zutara has been doing just fine as a fanon ship. Meanwhile, NATLA might actually do Kataang justice. It always worked better as a future ship. (Really all the pairings do. But I especially don't ever need to see another 12 year old kissing let alone making out, in animation or live action, ever again.) There's a reason Padme and Anakin don't get together in Phantom Menace, after all. Also, there's always the chance they could give us Dante's or Mae's headcanon of them basically suppressing their feelings and choosing duty over love/right person-wrong time. And the odds of getting some more moments to clown over are high enough. 

Anyway, TLDR: Zutara has been made to feel like an out-of-nowhere crack ship and the live action crumbs remind us that it is not. And this is at least partially why we are enjoying it. (Because, also, it's just fun!)

*Side tangent: I’ve never gotten this dark and intriguing comment. Even during Season 1, the height of the capture fic era, Zutara was always a ship fundamentally about hope, predicated on Zuko's redemption. (Back in the day, there were also plenty of antis arguing that there was no way Zuko would ever be one of the gaang.) And they say “intriguing” like it’s a bad thing? Are we not supposed to be interested in the relationships of their characters???

**There have been some very good think pieces written lately on late stage capitalism and consumption as morality. Worth googling.

#Zutara #atla #natla

[unfinishedslurs]

bodyswap (steddie)

So, they beat Vecna. Nancy shoots him full of lead, El tears him apart from the inside, and Steve and Robin burn this version of the Creel House down with him in it. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

Steve ignores the reopened wounds in his side, racing to get back to Dustin and Eddie before the gates close forever. The ground rumbles again and all three of them stumble, Robin taking his hand and yanking him along when he falters. 

“You can pass out when we get topside!” She screams at him, and he tries to give her a thumbs up before he wraps that hand around his bleeding torso.

They get to the trailer park, but Dustin and Eddie aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Steve almost rips Robin’s arm out of her socket when he turns around and runs. 

“Dustin,” he bellows. There are dead demobats everywhere, and the mass of them on the ground thickens in a particular direction. He heads that way with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Dustin! We need to fucking move!”

“Steve!” He hears Dustin wail, and all self preservation leaves him as he bolts, landing heavily on his knees at Dustin’s side and immediately checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He gasps, holding his tearstained face in his hands. “Where are you hurt? Show me.”

Dustin shakes his head, crying harder, and that’s when Steve notices the limp body right in front of him. 

Eddie coughs up blood. “Wow, Harrington,” he grins, “nice to see that you care.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” It’s bad. Steve goes into preservation mode, stripping off his jacket and shirt and using them to press down on the many, many bites littering Eddie’s body. He senses Robin and Nancy catch up behind him, and hears Nancy gasp.

“What do you need?” She asks, dropping down on Eddie’s other side.

“Robin and Dustin need to find a new way to get through the portal,” he says, looking over at them. “I can’t carry him and use the rope.”

“Rope’s gone, anyway,” Dustin mutters. “He cut it.”

“You cut the rope?”

Eddie shrugs as much as he can. “Seemed..” he coughs again, red and wet, “…like a good idea…at the time.”

“Stupid,” Dustin corrects angrily. “It was really fucking stupid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Nancy says frantically. Robin nods, and takes Dustin away swiftly. Steve files Dustin’s limp in the back of his mind for later. “What do I need to do?”

“Help me keep him from bleeding out,” Steve says as he gathers Eddie into his arms. Eddie turns and nuzzles his face into Steve’s chest. It’s weird, but at least he’s alive to do it. “I might need help walking, too.”

“Right.” She examines him worriedly. “On three?”

He heaves Eddie up on the count of three, and Eddie whines, long and pained. “Sorry,” Steve gasps, the wounds on his side tearing. “Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Eddie mumbles, closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them again, and Steve jostles him.

“Hey, no passing out on me, got it? Keep those eyes open for me.”

The last thing he can remember is feeling Eddie’s blood mixing into his, their open wounds pressed together. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Dustin is beaming at him, teary and happy like Steve’s never seen him before. Not even when he agreed to play one campaign with the scoops troop, and admitted at the end that Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t that bad. Too much math and writing and thinking for him, it made his head hurt, but not, like, awful. 

Steve thinks he’d wake up in a million hospital beds if it meant Dustin always smiled like this. 

“—Robin’s with Steve, we’ve been taking shifts. Well, the rest of us have. She hasn’t actually left his side. He’s woken up a couple of times, like you, but you both fall right back asleep after,” Dustin’s saying, and Steve blinks, foggy. 

“…Steve?”

“Yeah, he collapsed after he carried you out. Went septic, because he didn’t take care of himself again like an idiot and his bites got infected.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “Is there another Steve? Were you hiding another Steve behind my back? Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin stares at him. “You are Eddie.”

“S’not funny, Henderson. I just woke up from a fuckin’ coma, I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Did the bats eat your brains?” He demands. “Shit, do you have brain damage? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve pouts. “That’s not funny, you know I do.” Dustin’s seen him through his fair share of migraines, knows more about what to do and what exactly causes them than Steve, probably. The perks of getting your ass kicked in front of the smartest eighth graders on the planet.

“They gotcha on the good stuff, huh kid?” A man says from the other side of his bed. Steve whips around, only just realizing that this guy is also holding his hand. There’s multiple hand-holdings going on here, which he knows is normal for hospitals but doesn’t know why this random stranger is doing it. Does he know Dustin? Is this the other Steve?

“Who’re you?”

He looks hurt by this, which makes Steve feel like a monster. But his brain won’t work, he’s definitely high on some kind of painkillers, Dustin is being confusing, and he’s tired. 

“That’s your Uncle Wayne,” Dustin reminds him. 

“I don’t have an uncle,” Steve replies, frowning. His parents are both only children, as far as he’s aware, and they don’t have any friends that would call themselves his uncle. Still, the name sounds familiar. “Doesn’t Eddie have an Uncle Wayne?”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Uncle Wayne asks. 

“You’re Eddie,” Dustin insists, confused and somewhat panicked. Now he knows how Steve feels. 

“No I’m not.” Steve scowls, sick of whatever game he’s playing to fuck with Steve’s head. “I’m Steve.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and Steve gets the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong. 

The door slams open.

“Dustin!” Robin hollers, eyes wild. “Something is wrong with Dingus! That’s not my dingus!”

“Robbie!” He says excitedly, and tries to sit up. Which goes poorly for him. Ow. 

She looks at him, and a diamonds worth of emotions crosses her face at once. “…Steve?”

“Yes,” he cheers. At least someone knows who he is. 

“How did you know?” Dustin demands. 

“I’d know that drugged up puppy-dog look anywhere,” Robin replies, eyes still on Steve. “Plus, there’s a guy in Steve’s body trying to tell Nancy what kind of campaign he could make out of this.”

“My body?” Steve asks, horrified, just as that Wayne guy says, “Now hol’ up just one second—“

Robin pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and approaches the bed with caution. 

Wayne is ushered out, still loudly demanding answers for what the hell is going on with his nephew. Steve wishes he had them. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin says with a grin. “This is great.”

“Literally how,” Steve deadpans. 

“Well maybe not great for you, but I’m about to have the time of my life. Eddie, quick, say something nerdy.”

“What,” Eddie says flatly. It’s weird to see his expressions on Steve’s face. His face shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t move like that. 

“C’mon,” she urges, “I wanna hear Steve’s voice talk about dnd, or your shitty music, or the moral majority.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. “We do talk about the moral majority.”

“Yeah, but we’re always serious about it. I wanna hear Munson give one of his tabletop speeches.”

Eddie looks baffled, which looks so different from the face Steve makes when he’s confused. It’s got the bare bones of it, but the finer details are off, trying to use a face that isn’t his. It’s creepy. Robin must agree, because she shudders a little. 

“You, Steve Harrington, talk about the moral majority?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended, at the same time Robin says, “Oh, you should hear him. It’s incredible.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie answers, and Steve huffs, throwing his hands up as much as he can when he’s stuck in a hospital bed. Which means he basically just makes a little gesture and hopes it gets the message across. 

“I don’t see what’s so shocking about it! A bunch of assholes declared that my kids were in a cult. They were going to hunt you down. Why would I be on their side?”

“I dunno, Stevie,” Eddie says, eyes glinting. “I guess it’s just a shock to me that the straight, rich-boy jock would have something to say about it. What’re they teaching you in those churches?”

He can’t quite stop the grimace that flashes across his face, meeting Robin’s eyes almost on instinct. Eddie’s eyebrows jut up. 

“What’d I say?”

“I haven’t been to church in two years, man,” Steve admits, avoiding the other glaring assumption. “Once you have to save the lives of kids from monsters that shouldn’t exist, God doesn’t really seem that great.”

It was for the better, really, that Steve had given up. No amount of praying or bargaining made him forget how Jonathan Byers’s hand felt in his as they ran for their lives. It didn’t stop the monsters from coming back either. 

Still, he hadn’t really stopped believing until Robin came out to him. He looked at her, this scared, brave girl who spit in the face of their torturers, the girl who Steve was pretty sure was his best friend, and quietly came to terms with the fact that if she was going to hell, there was never a god to begin with. 

Robin had cried when he told her that. 

Eddie is staring at him, eyes wide and searching. It keeps tripping him up, how different his own face is when someone else is wearing it. 

“You’d think seeing hell would make anyone a believer,” he says, voice wry. “You keep surprising me.”

Steve fidgets, staring down at his legs. “It was just…it was always a lose-lose situation, you know? Either I stop going to church and go to hell, or I do what they want and end up there anyway. I can’t be what they want me to be, so why even try? There’s no point.”

When he looks up again, he meets Robin’s eyes first. She looks achingly fond, smiling at him as she gives his hand a squeeze. He gives a small smile back, and looks at Eddie. 

He’s wide-eyed, surprise coloring every inch of his face. Or, well, Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s— that's exactly it.”

“Dude, does Jonathan scare you?”

“What?”

“Your body, like, goes haywire around him. He checked my—your—the injuries I’m currently sporting and I thought I was gonna die.”

Steve’s face heats up. “I’m not scared of Jonathan.”

“It’s ok, Steve, you can tell me the truth,” Eddie says, only a little bit of mockery in his tone. “I’ll protect you from Big Bad Byers.”

He closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m not scared,” he stresses, “of Jonathan Byers.”

“Really? Because I wasn’t joking about thinking I was dying. Your heart goes crazy around…him…” Eddie trails off, eyes widening as he clocks the blush spreading down Steve’s neck. 

Fuck Eddie’s pale skin, seriously. Steve’s tan enough that people barely notice, but Eddie seems like he spends a sunny day sitting in his room working on song lyrics or campaign notes. He wants his fucking body back. 

Shit, he’s in Eddie’s body, and Eddie just found out he’s queer. He’s a queer man in Eddie’s body. He’s going to think Steve’s some kind of perv, or using his dick, or…or…

“Byers?” Eddie finally says. “Of all the men in the world, Byers is the one you pick?”

Steve’s eyes pop open from where he’d squeezed them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

#bodyswap au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #featuring steve's lowkey crush on jonathan bc i am never not stonathan truthing #stranger things fanfic

[genshin-scenarios]

a familiar pull - fontaine

Summary: General scenarios with Fontaine characters, very loosely based on the trailers!

Characters: Lyney, Navia, Neuvillette, Furina

Lyney

A long time ago, on streets you no longer bear memory of, you met a magician who not only stole your heart, but planted flowers in place of them.

That is to say; during a rather heavy period in your life, you encountered someone who offered you the comfort of a quiet smile and courteous sleight of hand (to turn 1 coin into 2, then 3, then just enough to treat a lost soul to a drink in the evening, if you cared to join him. And with a demeanor as charming as that, how could you turn him away?) 

You asked Lyney what other tricks he knew, to which he simply pointed to the sky and said that if you smiled at the same time the constellations twinkled, your heart would feel lighter.

“And if I become so light as to float toward the stars?” 

“Well… I’d have to make my own stars, then. Perhaps even ones you can catch yourself, if you’d like to join me onstage.”

Navia

To catch a stray umbrella that’s escaped its owner is not part of your regular afternoon, however a part of you welcomes the incident due to how it acquainted you with Navia, who was quick to thank you for the trouble and invite you out as an apology.

If Fontaine’s lifestyle weighed on the beauty of a show, you could say that Navia shined so brightly on her own that there was no need to put on additional fronts to satisfy this. From her lively actions to the honest furrow in her brow, you might compare her to sunlight - paving a way for clarity and cheer, with warmth in her voice as she spoke your name.

“Say, if you managed to catch my umbrella so easily, could it be that you…”

“I don’t have a habit of climbing buildings, unfortunately.”

“Aww, I was just going to ask you to spot for me next time!”

Neuvillette

Between the administrative work he has and the performances he oversees at court, it’s safe to say that Neuvillette is just relieved to have a bit of simplicity when it comes to you in his everyday life.

There’s no question about the bias he has for you. His affection isn’t falsely given either - how can it be, when Neuvillette returns to see you’ve fallen asleep at the guest seat in his office, waiting for him to head home together after a long day?

When the theatrics of the court finally settle into calm waters, Neuvillette just hopes it means a more regular life for the both of you. Ignoring the times you tease him for being sappy, you’ve always looked at him with a gentleness that hopes he can get more rest. He doesn’t know how to tell you that his ideal scenario includes you as well, having a moment to wind down together with tea and your favorite snacks.

Furina

Needless to say, you were a little more than stressed when Furina announced that she’d like you as her aide.

You were less boring than other people, and fun to drag around and talk to. A part of her was simply flamboyant in nature, but Furina also grew a habit of glancing at your reactions to see if she’s impressed you sometimes.

After a while, you come to realize that there was something lonely about the archon - it’s in the moments where instead of talking your ear off or asking you to join her for another show, she grows silent and simply watches the city around her, like rain on a windowpane, drumming her fingers lightly against her crossed arm.

And just as quickly as the moment settles, it’s gone; replaced by Furina pulling you away by the elbow, impatient for your attention as she pursues the next idea that’s entered her mind.

Maybe, in the same way there are reflective pairs in how hydro works, the both of you find a sense of comfort in your similarities that do not show on the surface, until a ripple disturbs it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin fontaine #genshin impact furina #genshin focalors #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #furina x reader #genshin navia x reader #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #genshin writing #genshin reader insert #traveler wishes

[mymegumi]

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ you just know

feat. fushiguro megumi

contents. fluff!

summary. there wasn’t a world where megumi is without you. there isn’t a universe where he doesn’t know you. and there isn’t a soul of his anywhere that doesn’t love yours just as dearly. in time, the two of you always find your way to each other, and neither of you can ever manage to let go.

fate isn’t real.

it just can’t be, because if fate was real, why did megumi just happen to know how all of his favorite movies ended before he had even watched them? it seems cruel to him, that he’s been cursed with this knowledge that no matter how well a movie manages to hide the plot twist in the trailer, eventually when he watches the full thing in theaters, he is met with disappointment.

itadori just doesn’t understand. megumi had tried to divulge this secret anguish to his friend and was met with a slap on the back and a ‘well, just don’t think so hard next time!’ which had helped him with his dilemma literally not at all.

kugisaki had been more sympathetic, though, and given him a tight-lipped smile accompanied by an awkward chuckle. he doesn’t think she fully understands, but her insincere concern was better than full-blown ignorance.

which is where he finds himself now, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck as he awaits your answer on his soul-consuming and life-shattering personality flaw. currently, you’re pursing your lips, eyebrows furrowing with a small little wrinkle forming between them.

he wants to reach out and smooth the wrinkle away.

“i think it’s a valid concern.”

he breathes a sigh of relief and can feel a weight fall off of his shoulders, mentally sagging a little bit at your response.

“because if i watched a thousand movies and knew the ending to all of them, i’d feel a little bummed.” you nod your head a little as you answer, hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder lightly.

you giggle, eyes lighting up as he moves forward to wrap his arms around your waist. “were you really that upset about it, ‘gumi?”

burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide his faint blush, he shakes his head and murmurs a soft ‘no’. he knows that you don’t buy his answer, but he’s grateful you don’t push him any further on it.

pulling back, you slide your hands down until they’re interlocked with his own. your smile is radiant and he can hardly believe a simple hug could’ve left you so stunningly happy.

and this is why he can’t imagine a life without you. he’d been worried over something so trivial, so insignificant in comparison to the bigger picture of jujutsu sorcerers and evils wanting to rip the world as he knew it from the seams. and yet, you’d managed to ease his trouble with barely even a word.

he loves you.

from the deepest part of his soul, he knows that he loves you and wouldn’t let anything keep him from you. you are his as much as he is yours and he wants to spend the rest of his days proving it.

but he falters a little.

there aren’t words to describe it. nothing to say that could be bigger than what he could show you instead. where he’s so eloquent with words in his mind, he finds his mouth doesn’t always say what he means. instead, he holds the door open for you, wipes the blood from your cuts after your fights, and holds you as you mourn the loss of friend after friend.

he can’t say it, but somehow he knows that you know. knows that you know how much you mean to him. the words won’t leave his mouth, but you always smile with a twinkle in your eye, kiss the corner of his mouth when it feels like cotton’s stuck in his throat, you press your hand into his and squeeze when it feels like his words are tangled on his tongue.

because you always know, when it comes to him.

he squeezes your hand, and smiles when you squeeze his back.

#txt!writing #megumi imagine #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x y/n #megumi fluff #jujutsu megumi #you x megumi #idk mane im just spitting words out atp

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER TWO — VIOLENT DELIGHTS at HARRINGTON’S HOUSE

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: it's a rager at the harrington household! you attempt to reconnect with carol, tommy and the gang (it goes horribly, but they started it), accidentally connect with robin buckley and inadvertently have your life saved by eddie munson and his stupid van. you swear, this guy is following you. content warnings: NSFW / MINORS DNI swearing boots the house down, underage drinking, good old fashioned 80s homophobia and slut shaming, mean mom moment, implied attempted sexual assault, billy hargrove haters club (sorry) word count: 4.7k

Dear reader, I know you think of yourself as a harsh person. 

Cold and exacting, surgical in the way you deal with people. You put on a good show, though, masking it all up with quiet confidence and pretty smiles. The prettiest smiles. And you’re never too mean. At least, not out loud. 

It’s different when it comes to him, though. With him, you’ve got all the reason in the world to be mean. Vicious, even.

His dad is the reason your dad is in prison. That simple fact makes you want to grab his ridiculous hair and slam his head against the lockers so his ears ring. 

Al Munson probably has no bearing on the way Eddie Munson lives his life, because he’s a deadbeat the way his son is destined to be a deadbeat. But the mere genetic suggestion of that piece of shit is enough for you to want to cut the brake lines in his little boy’s van. 

You’re trying not to think about it too much, but it’s harder and harder when he’s right across the fucking lot, playing the same pedantic guitar riff over and over and over and–

Ssskrrrp. 

The pressure you’ve been putting on your poor fountain pen tears through the lined paper, interrupting your line of thinking. 

What doesn’t interrupt, what has no sign of stopping, is Munson’s incessant fretboard shredding coupled with–Christ almighty–an ear piercing harmonica. And look, you’re not one to ignore technique– he’s fine, you suppose, as much as anyone who can adequately handle an instrument can be fine, but it’s the fact that he keeps going. He’s relentless.

Doesn’t this place get noise complaints? 

You almost yank up your window and aim the nearest heavy thing in reach–a commemorative Indianapolis Christmapolis snowglobe from 1981–toward Munson’s window in the hope that it sails clean in and puts a hole right through his amp, but you stop yourself short. 

You do not exist to me and I better not exist to you. 

You’re a woman of your word. 

And you’ve got a party to get ready for. 

You’ll admit, the trepidation factor of showing up to Steve Harrington’s house after your trailer trash makeunder is major. This is why every element of your look has to be just meticulously so, from your hot roller curls to the angle your off-the-shoulder dress sits at. 

“Are you going somewhere?” your mom mumbles from the doorway. 

It almost make you draw a jagged edge in your lip liner– you’d forgot you left the door ajar and she moves like a ninja nowadays. Silent and deadly, or not at all. At the very least she’s not slurring her words; she’d heavily upped the intake of Beaujolais since she had to appear on the witness stand. You wonder what she’ll do when the contents of her old wine cellar that’s now living in the trailer’s living room runs out. 

You wonder what number glass is the one she’s currently clutching. 

“It’s Friday night,” you say, like that’s a sufficient response.

“Whatever happened to keeping a low profile, hon?” she says, perching on your dinky twin bed. She pokes around the measly few pieces of jewelry you’ve scattered there, the only ones you have left. The rest went to the pawn shop, then that went to the legal fund. 

Fat lot of good that did us, you think. 

“I get that you’re probably… upset by all this change, but,” she continues, sighing deep, “Going out and making a fool of us isn’t going to help anything.” 

You cap your lip liner and wonder just who the fuck your mother thinks she’s talking to. 

“And drinking yourself into a stupor in front of cable TV is?” you bite, “--scratch that. We can’t afford cable anymore, can we, Mommy?” 

Your mother’s purple-tinged lips peel over her teeth in a sickened smile. “Don’t be a bitch, Lacy. No one likes a bitch.” 

“I’m not,” you assure, unrolling the first of your hot rollers, “I’m being pragmatic. Game face, right? That’s what Daddy said. We’re not going to let this town of gossip mongering wannabes tell us who we are,” you say, rendering a pitch-perfect impression of your dad that makes your mom shudder. “I’m going out. I’m going to a party. I’m going to act like nothing has changed because it hasn’t–” 

It’s eerie how easily you can lie to yourself. 

“--you’re the one who’s not being a team player.” You don’t exactly say that your mother is the one that’s bringing extracurricular shame to the family name, but that’s what the reality is. If there’s not whispers flying about your incarcerated father, there’s mumblings about your mother showing up blotto in Melvald’s with more than one run in her stockings. 

Getting up from your makeshift dressing table to pick your jewelry from the bed, you turn– and run chest-first into your mother’s wine glass. She lets the wine spill down the front of your dress–your white dress–with just enough manufactured shock to let you know it wasn’t an accident. You gasp– is she serious?! The stain spreads just like her smile does; slow and languid and completely immovable. 

“Oh, baby, look at that mess,” she pouts mirthlessly, “Do you know how difficult it is to get red wine stains out?”

You just about keep your composure as she leaves your bedroom, slamming the door behind her. It might appear that your mother has nothing left in this world, but she still has the ability to make you feel two feet tall. 

Blinking away the hornet’s sting of tears in your freshly mascara’d eyes, you glance to the clock radio– no! You had planned on a bus route that included a fifteen minute walk from the park to get you to Steve’s on time (and to avoid another car ride full of ribbing with Carol, Tommy et al) and there’s no way you’re going to make it now. Plus, you now need a full outfit revamp and you still weren’t organized enough for that. 

Panic runs a trail of hot spikes up the back of your neck as you rifle through the nearest suitcase for anything remotely appropriate and you come up with– something. 

Something slightly risque, that you weren’t counting on debuting at a party where you needed to convince people that I’m normal and nothing’s different and everything is fine. 

Your new outfit requires you to be practically hermetically sealed into it, it’s so tight, but it matches your shoes at least– you’re a stickler for details. You’re also a stickler for multitasking, so you drum up a last ditch attempt at hitching a ride to Harrington’s house and barrel out the trailer door without so much as a Don’t wait up, Mom!

A sharp left is your first move, and you nearly swear you see Munson drop a note in his hard rock symphony as you dash past his window. Good. Hope you can’t nail that intro for the rest of the night, just like you can’t nail anything else. 

You’re sure, no, you’re positive that you’ve seen that car around here somewhere… and just like a very dangerous North Star, the Chevy Camaro sits askew in front of a nearby trailer home. The front door pops open, there’s some incoherent yelling, and a shadowy figure identifiable only by a trail of cigarette smoke and an ever-present cloud of too-strong drugstore cologne swaggers towards the vehicle. 

Someone up there’s looking out for me.

“Billy!” you call, teetering his way on your heels, “Hey.” 

Or wants me dead.

Billy Hargrove pauses in his tracks, tossing the dying ember of his cigarette into some nearby, extremely dead and extremely flammable, shrubbery. He drinks you in, top of the lid to the bottom of the label, and you want to fidget with your outfit. A black waistcoat with nothing but a bra underneath hitches your breasts to your clavicle. The matching skirt feels suddenly illicitly short. He’s regarding you with a newfound if sleazy appreciation– then again, you daresay Billy Hargrove eyes up froyo with the same lascivious look. Guy has a chronic case of eyeball nymphomania. 

“Lacy, right?” he drawls, like you haven’t been in the same social sphere at least a dozen different times. You nod, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear in an effort to out-cute yourself. This is very not you behavior, but– needs must. “Fresh meat.” 

Again, like you haven’t met a billion times before, but trailer park politics change everything. 

“Yeah,” you say, skipping over that particular prelude to a come-on, “Um, no way you’re going to Harrington’s party, are you?”

Billy heel-toes his way toward you, slow like molasses (or slurry, or tar), giving you his best half-lidded come-hither shit. Look, you get what Tina and Carol and the rest of the girls see in him– it’s the whole greased up dirtbag, fuelled by chauvinism, sponsored by Pall Mall thing that is designed to piss off their parents and give them bacterial vaginosis. It’s their first taste of adulthood. You, on the other hand, have tastes in the opposite sex that are as-yet unmet by this half-assed corn maze of a town. 

“I was thinkin’ about it,” he smirks, barely a breath away from you. And you play right up into it, even if you want to recoil from his ratty moustache. 

“Well, think I could ride shotgun?” you ask, and tack on, “With you?” 

“What’s in it for me?”

Oh, Jesus Christ, does it ever end. You have to swallow in order not to roll your eyes and ask him if he ever thinks about changing that broken flirting record. 

“The most impeccable company in Hawkins, of course,” you simper, amping up the princess angle. Though you were pretty sure that dynamic played better when you weren’t living on the edge of civilization.

Billy folds easily, but doesn’t go so far as to open the passenger door for you. He jams the radio on as soon as the key’s in ignition, speed metal rattling through the car’s interior. Another cigarette lit and he’s revving up and out, while you’re still struggling to find the non-existent seatbelt. You give up and reach for a smoke from the open soft pack on the dash– it’s not a regular habit outside of parties and stealing your mom’s every once in a while, but again, needs must. 

Billy flicks a Zippo dangerously close to your face. “What’s your deal.” 

Despite the monotone delivery, you’re sure it’s the closest thing to an honest-to-god question Billy’s ever asked you– or any girl, for that matter. 

“That’s a vague line of questioning, Billy,” you say, cracking a window so the smoke can escape. 

“You’re like, bad now or something?” he scoffs, “Shunned from the suburbs so you’re acting all edgy?” 

By hitching a ride with you, you mean. God, how pathetic to uphold yourself as the standard of bad behavior– as far as bad goes, I could do a lot better.

“Thaaat’s it,” you nod animatedly, half-yelling over the din of 'The Four Horsemen', “I figured with my father in the big house, I might as well commit to the bit. I might even get a tattoo. How’s that make you feel?”  

Billy barely emotes an answer, his himbot expression set on seduce mode. He’s just smirking, lashes low. “If you wanna let loose, I know someplace we could do that.” 

His free hand, the one that isn’t oh-so-casually resting on the wheel, reaches over to brush a lock of hair from your cheek. The knuckle trails down to your jawline, skips to your shoulder, your forearm, until his palm comes to cup your knee. Your skin feels like it hardens under his touch.

You’ve seen this movie before. Rebel Without a Condom: Skull Rock Edition.

Your hand closes over Billy’s, holding it firmly in place. He has a hair-trigger temper. You know that. You're attempting to handle it delicately.

“So do I. Harrington’s party.” 

His tongue runs along the edge of his bottom lip, and you wonder what’s fundamentally missing in you that this shit doesn’t have you trembling. He grips tighter, fingers edging up your thigh under your vice. Your stomach seizes. “I mean really loosen up, Lacy. You wanna be bad, let’s go be bad.” 

And suddenly, as his foot edges the gas to push you down the dirt road faster, you are trembling. But for all the wrong reasons. 

Then– an ungodly rumble from behind, headlights blaring through the rear window as a vehicle zooms almost bumper-to-bumper with Billy’s. The horn honks and each car’s sound system wages a war to be heard– Metallica versus Black Sabbath. 

Your neck snaps around. You don’t even need to see past the blinding light into the driver’s seat to know who the hell that is. 

The van hits a dangerous swerve in order to come neck and neck with Billy’s car, spooking him enough that he snaps his hand off of your leg. The van boisterously overtakes you and Billy slams on the horn, revving the engine from his position behind. The sign of relief you breathe is barely contained, but can’t be heard over metal-on-metal drums. 

“What the fuck is this freak’s problem?!”

“At least he’s bringing party favors.” 

–

While Billy Hargrove’s admittedly sick Camaro sure can burn rubber, she’s no match for Eddie’s old lady in the arena of sheer bull-in-a-china-shop obnoxiousness. She hauls a lotta ass and takes up a lotta road, which is perfect for raising the blood pressure of an asshole like this. 

And before you think it, before you even imagine it– he’s not fucking up Billy’s cruising hours because of you. 

Not entirely, anyway. 

Truth is, his uncle’s hours have been cut at the plant, as have Eddie’s shifts at the Hideout so he’s seizing opportunity wherever he can. Keep the lights on, right? And if that means palming off dimebags and powder to some drunk kids who are overzealous with their unpetty cash, then fine. He’d got the word from a couple of meatheads that his services might be useful, so it’s not as if he’s planning on gatecrashing Harrington’s. Gatecrashing a Quaker meeting would be more entertaining, if you ask Eddie. 

But, gun to his head? Alarm bells started ringing when he saw you bowl out of your trailer in that ho–... that outfit and head towards Hargrove’s. Well, Mayfield’s, technically– the only time Hargrove shows up there is to cool off when his dad kicks him out. Hargrove’s dad and the redhead kid’s mom have split, and she is not taking it well, so add in the macho madness of Billy and you’ve got a maelstrom of disaster.  

Sometimes he sees Little Red sneak out in the middle of the night and he’s gotten in the habit of keeping an eye on her. 

From a safe distance, of course. That kid’s like a rabid dog, jumpy and paranoid. He’s positive she bites.

Anyway, that’s how come he came to spot you. Activity in the Hargrove enclosure. And again, if he’s to believe any kind of insidious gossip, girls that slide into the passenger seat of Hargrove’s ride are not necessarily safe. 

So, he figures, it’s time to peel out and get to work. 

Eddie manages to keep Billy entertained on his tail right until the turn to Harrington’s, so you don’t swerve off onto an unlit dirt road with him. What can he say, he loves the chase!

Billy’s car almost blocks him in when he pulls up, you clambering out of the passenger side unassisted. Douchebag. The minute Eddie’s sneakers hit the pavement, Billy is just about nose to nose with him, frothing at the mouth. Rabid dog must run in the family.  

“Fuck was that about, huh?”

“Jeez, Hargrove, a little early to be scamming on your date already,” Eddie teases, drawing up to his full height– he’s got a couple of inches on Hargrove, which he knows is a sore spot. “But I’m flattered.”

On instinct, not insistence, Eddie’s eyes snap to you– but you don’t give him so much as a glance, just huff, “Thanks for the ride, Hargrove,” and head into the party. His eyes follow you, watching you stalk inside with your shoulders all hunched and your ankles about ready to give out in those dumb shoes. 

Billy shoves him, hard, as if to draw his attention back. “Fucking wanna go, huh?” 

But Eddie, at this point, is beyond over it. He’s done all the dick measuring he wants to do tonight. He digs a joint out of his pocket and slaps it into Billy’s hand. 

“Christ, Scrappy Doo, hit the brakes already. Have one on me.” 

–

The one time in your life you’ll be thankful for the bottomless pit of the male ego is tonight. Billy completely rerouted his fucking pea brain to dog Munson all the way to Steve’s house, and all you had to endure was motion sickness. 

Could have been a lot worse. 

You’re still regaining your land legs by the time you cross the Harringtons’ porch and are instantly cornered by Tina and Nicole. 

“Lacy,” they say, in unison and almost gravely. Very the twins from The Shining. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Wait, did you come here with–”

“--Billy Hargrove,” you supply before anyone can make any stupid assumptions. “Almost died in a game of chicken in the process, but that’s that Forest Hills life for ya.” 

Tina looks past you, distracted and distant. “I always forget he lives there,” Nicole shrugs. You don’t bother to correct her, because you don’t think he does. Whatever. 

“Wish I could forget I live there!” you chirp, “In fact, that’s exactly what I’d like to do– forget. What are we drinking, ladies?”

You push past the hovering bodies and make your way to the kitchen, the girls bringing up the rear but real slowly. Something’s wrong– something’s off with them. But then again, maybe something’s just off with you. You choose to forget about it, forcing your party mode switch to on. 

“Jesus, what is Robin Dykely doing here?” Nicole scoffs over your shoulder as you search the kitchen island for anything you can free pour, and fast. You purse your lips– Nicole’s obviously started early, because when she’s tipsy, she’s got no volume control nor spatial awareness. The Robin Buckley in question is lingering by a punch bowl and definitely in ear shot. 

“Looks like she’s drinking punch at a party, Nic,” you say flatly, pulling a bottle of vodka from the gaggle of glassware. That’ll do fine. 

“Probably hoping Tam Thompson will finally join the softball team.” 

“Doesn’t Steve work with her?”

“Yeah, they’re like, buddy-buddy right?” you non-committally muse, grabbing a shot glass; in fact, you had seen the mousy girl mousing around Family Video with Steve. He’d even given her a ride to school a couple of times, whatever the hell that dynamic was. You didn’t know much about Robin, other than she was in band so you matriculated in the same gym space what with due to your spot on the cheerleading squad. Well, that, and the obvious rumors. 

But largely and absolutely, you didn’t care. She’s a relative nobody. 

You knock back a searing shot of vodka. 

“That’s proof Harrington’s exhibiting early signs of dementia, I’m sure,” Tina grimaces. “Like, doesn’t he know she’s a carpet muncher?”

“Like Harrington can’t have a girl within three feet of him without wanting to bang her?” you say, matching Tina’s grimace with a strained voice after the shot. “Yet here you are, Tina.”

It’s a little meaner than Tina is used to from you– and it shows. She blinks, once, twice, three times, visibly hurt because she knows that you know that she’s had a thing for Steve Harrington since the dawn of forever. 

Well, fucking get in line. 

Then she scoffs, recovering herself. “Have another drink, Lace. ‘bout time you loosened up.” 

Tina slinks by you toward the patio and you almost call after her, but don’t. Nicole, starting after her with a roll of her eyes, tells you, “We’ll be by the pool. See you out there, maybe?”

Your mouth curls into a sarcastic smile and you wave the bottle of vodka. “Soon as I catch up, girl!”

The vodka lands with a clunk on the counter after you line up another shooter. You look up, and catch Robin Buckley staring at you, right before she has the chance to avert her eyes. She’s gripping onto that solo cup for dear life. You can see the cracking dents in the plastic. 

“You want a shot?” you yell over the music and the people and the claustrophobia of it all. 

“Uh,” she says– too damn slow. You grab another glass and fill it, passing it her way. 

“I’ve, um, I’ve never really done this before. What’s, like, the custom, should we cheers?” Robin half-yells over the kitchen island.

You shrug. Fuck it. “Sure– here’s to being in places we think we belong with people we secretly hate!” 

“Oh, I for sure don’t belong here!” 

Robin sinks the vodka and chokes on it, spluttering up the shot. You gulp yours like a fish gulping water and dash around the island to slap her on the back. She recovers pretty quickly, wiping the dribbled booze off her face with the back of her hand. She wheezes gratefully when you pass her a sticky dishcloth. “Gross.” 

“I know, right? Party.”

“I get it, though, by the way,” Robin says, husk in her voice more pronounced after she’s coughed a lung up. She dabs awkwardly at her argyle printed shirt, doing nothing. “The secretly hating people thing.” 

Fuck, had you really said that? That’s way too personal. That’s way too revealing, especially to someone like her. Reverse, reverse, abort abort abort! “Well, it’s not that, y’know how it gets with your friends sometimes–”

“Because I know Steve. Like, I really know Steve– but not, not in like a sexual way because that’s not– more in like a paternal, fraternal, we were worms together in another lifetime sort of way– I just, I know Steve,” Robin steamrolls you, nodding. From the glassy look in her eye, that punch is finally hitting her. And she really does mean what she says, from the timbre of her voice. She gives a real fuck about Harrington, which is more than you can say for ninety percent of the people in this house. “He, y’know, he’s not exactly made for this crowd either.” 

You unscrew the bottle of vodka and take a cursory swig, then another, which makes Robin’s eyes widen and makes you feel a little bit like a pirate. “Then why are we all here, band girl? At his house? Why am I drinking his father’s Stoli?”

She casts her eyes down and shrugs, looking back up with a sour smile. “Party?”

Your shoulders drop and your head lolls back. Maybe you shouldn’t have come here after all. “Ffffffuck.” 

“I totally hate drinking. I hate that wobbly out-of-control thing,” Robin says, scooping more punch into her half-crushed cup. It occurs to you that she might not realize the punch is alcoholic. 

“You said it, sister.” 

“I like your outfit, by the way. It’s like if a librarian was… a slut.”

God, if this is the way she flirts, I hope Sarah Lawrence is kind to her.

“You said it, sister,” you repeat, hitting the bottle again. 

When you perform a quick scan of the room, you spot Billy advancing through the crowd, lighting a cigarette with another cigarette like he’s about to just smoke both cigarettes because that would be double badass. 

And then, veering in from the right just like he did on the way here, is Eddie Munson. He looks as if he’s looking… for you. 

Well, not the fuck anymore!

“Pleasure doing business with you, band girl,” you mutter, grabbing the solo cup from her hand and chugging the rest of the contents, “Don’t drink any more of that shit, it’s three quarters peach schnapps.”

You maneuver yourself (just barely) to the patio, where the gang, your gang, are all holding court on the pool loungers. There’s Carol, Tommy Hagan, Tina, Nicole, Cass, even Tammy Thompson if Robin’s still looking, but no Harrington in sight. Maybe it’s because of what Robin just told you, but you feel like this would feel less bad if he was here. 

A hush falls over the group as you approach– you know, the kind where you know people have just been talking about you? That lead feeling in your gut makes you take another sip of vodka. 

“Well, hello there,” you say, and it comes out as one slurred-up noise. Wellyellothur. Not ideal.

Tina gestures to the bottle. “Washing something down, Lacy?”

“A shot of Hargrove spunk?” Carol drawls. 

“With a Buckley bush chaser,” Hagan sniggers. Fucking Statler and Waldorf over here. 

“You guys, c’mon,” Nicole starts– and it sounds like a defense, but she’s the meanest motherfucker of them all when you give her some leash. “Lacy’s way too frigid for that.” 

“Guess that tracks,” Hagan shrugs, leaning forward to flick his cigarette into the pool. He looks at you in a way that drills a hole, only the way ugly, empty-eyed bastards know how to do. “I mean, if it’s true that your dad was pimping you out to Al Munson, it makes sense he’s in the slammer. No one got their fuckin’ money’s worth in that deal.”

“Shit, that is so true, Tommy,” you start, before you even know where it’s going. All you know? It’s going to be bad. Real bad. So bad that you set the bottle on the ground next to you and clasp your hands behind your back. Debate team stance is what you used to call this. “About me being frigid, I mean. Because I sure remember turning you down a lot– like, a lot.”

Hagan scoffs and lights another cigarette. Something electric in you makes you lean over and grab it, “Lemme have this one. –but like, you don’t remember that? Because I remember you begging–like hands and knees begging–me to fuck you the night of junior prom.” 

“Bullshit,” he scoffs again, like ‘scoff’ and ‘chauvinist insult’ are the only retorts he’s wired for. 

“And on the last lake trip,” you go on, taking a drag of the cigarette. “Oh! And on the night of Carol’s eighteenth birthday! Which was like, what? Two months ago? And every time, I said no. Do you remember why I said no, Tommy?”

This Greek chorus of Brat Pack wannabes, they just sit there and stare at you. And you don’t even notice the hush that’s crawled over the crowd assembled on the patio. The party rages on indoors, but those who are out here are rapt. 

Tina emits a nervous snort, which makes you bend at the waist and cup your ear, like you’re in the goddamn elementary school production of Horton Hears a What the Fuck Have You Got to Say.

“Bet you could tell me why, Tins,” you grin, big and houndlike. “I drove you to the clinic, remember? I fronted you the money for the lice cream– which you never paid me back for, by the way! Not even when I got all poo–oor!”

Tina reacts in a scramble, gasping unto herself and darting her eyes away from everyone. She doesn’t know where to look– no one knows where to look! No one but Carol, dear awful honeybun Carol, who has gone so pale it looks like her blush was painted on by Bozo the Clown. She stares you right down and you stare back. One of you is the barrel of the gun, and one of you is the poor loser looking right down it.

“You’re a fucking dirty liar, Lacy!” The sound of her voice feels like it’s ricocheting off every stony surface on Steve Harrington’s patio, that’s how deadly silent it’s gotten.

In a flourish, you throw the cigarette on the ground and stamp on it, hard and heavy! 

“Only one way to know for sure, Caroline!” you holler, flinging your arms out, “Feelin’ itchy lately?!”

All you know is you’re cackling louder than the thundering crowd rush that erupts when Carol fucking lunges for you.

author's notes: CLIFFHANGER ALERT! everyone fucking dies. jk but thank you so much for reading this chapter that i had so much fucking fun writing. and thank you for showing love for chapter one! i'm posting this one a little sooner than i planned because i want to get this show on the road for y'all. so, a few bits: - the song eddie is playing is the wizard by black sabbath which goes so incredibly hard. he also definitely learned how to shred on harmonica from wayne which is a piece of fanon i think i picked up from chrissy and eddie’s infinite mixtape, the preeminent hellcheer fic by @little-scribblers-heart (i don’t even go in for hellcheer like that but Now That’s What I Call Characterization) - never heard of Indianapolis Christmapolis before? check out the history here! - there is nothing i love more on this planet than making fun of a swaggerlicious shitbag character like billy hargrove. anyway he was blasting the four horsemen by metallica in the car which he canonically listens to in the show! you know, the scene where he puts cologne on his balls. i like to think billy only knows one song and this is it - rebel without a condom: skull rock edition is a reference to rebel without a cause and goes out to all the failed threesomes that have happened at skull rock - scrappy doo found dead in miami after one hit of eddie munson's ditch weed - i also have to say, i feel like more people knew robin was a lesbian than robin realizes, which is truly The Gay Experience. absolutely no one will be surprised that she's fucking crushing puss at a liberal arts college once stranger things 5 comes out in 2038 - anyway, crabs are a real threat, be safe and get tested! thanks so much for reading, pls reblog, like and comment to show support and i will throw things around my enclosure with the wild abandon of a dopamine rush. ur everything to me

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #hellfire & ice #in progress #published by powder #e. munson by powder

[autumnmobile12]

Helluva Boss S2 Trailer:  “You don’t love mother and you don’t love me!”

I have a problem with this line, and I’ve had a problem with Octavia’s character for awhile now, so I’m going to talk about it.

To cut her some slack, her house and family life is a mess.  Fighting parents, cheating dad, feeling neglected by both parents, and she’s a teenager on top of that.  I get it.  Moody, angsty teen with a really good reason for being moody and angsty.

And Stolas isn’t blameless in all this.  With the cheating, he’s actively a problem, but we can see that he loves his ‘little owlet.’  But he is a terrible father.  In the Seeing Stars episode, I thought that it was going to be a lot more Stolas and Octavia-centric on their relationship, but no.  He and Blitzo spend most of the time looking for her just dicking around in some human comedy act when they really didn’t need to be there.  Seriously, it wouldn’t have been the first time Blitzo massacred a group of humans to get out of an awkward situation, but if Stolas is so concerned about his daughter, then why didn't he do something about their situation? If he loves his daughter so much, why is he okay with this distraction? He's not even the one who gets him out of it in the end.  That was the first time Helluva Boss actually disappointed me.  I don’t think the brief bit of backstory we got with Blitzo and Loona justified the rest of that whole bit, so it was really pointless.  That piece could have been handled better.

Throughout the Stolitz ship, Stolas is 100% ignoring Octavia.  But terrible dad aside, the line from the Season 2 trailer, “You don’t love Mother and you don’t love me!” should be emotional.

Except…. “You don’t love Mother….”

…why would he?

Does Octavia not see what a violent, toxic bitch her mom is?  She has seen her screaming, getting violent, and throwing things. I suppose Octavia could have the opinion that Stella's anger is justified with the cheating and all, but then that explanation implies she thinks reacting violently like that is acceptable behavior. And let’s not forget Stella straight up ordered a hit on Stolas, which nearly succeeded.  Does Octavia not know about this?  Again, Stolas being a terrible dad for not taking steps to get the daughter he supposedly loves away from the psycho who ordered an assassination, but did none of this get back to Octavia?

Not that any of it makes Stolas' infidelity okay. If you're unhappy in a relationship, leave it. But with the way Stella behaves, there's no rational way Octavia can expect her parents to love each other. It sucks to be the child in that position, especially a teen still figuring things out, but that is very much an 'it is what it is' situation and you gotta make the best of it in whatever way you can.

As it stands, it isn't fair for Octavia to entirely blame Stolas for their family falling apart.

"You don't love mother and you don't love me," makes it sound like Octavia is consciously choosing her violent, narcissistic witch of mother over her dad. This also doesn't make sense with the plot because there's no sign of Octavia having a close relationship with her mom. There are no portraits of them together in a loving embrace as we see with her and Stolas. Plus, Stella doesn't care about Octavia. The only two times in the show she vaguely mentions her is as the 'one egg that finally dropped out of her' and when she and Andrealphus are discussing the inheritance that will go to Octavia. She doesn't care about Stolas either. The only effect the cheating had on her was the idea of public embarrassment for their family.

Neither of Octavia's parents care for her the way they should, so for the, "You don't love mother and you don't love me," line to work to its fullest impact, it should have been phrased as, “You don’t love me!  Neither you or Mom love me!”

I do love Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel…but Octavia’s character is really poorly handled.  I remember it being said in an interview that Helluva Boss does have heavier focus on its male characters while Hazbin Hotel was supposed to be more female-centric, but when it comes to Octavia, that structure in the storytelling is crumbling under its own weight. There is a story here and it has some major gaps that need addressing.

To give them some benefit of doubt, maybe this’ll be addressed in an episode before that line hits, so maybe it’ll make more sense. Or they could make it clear she said it out of anger.  At least, I hope so because I really need some righteous retribution for how Stolas behaves with his daughter.

...

Edit for clarity: The point of this post is a criticism of the lack of story we get for Octavia that justifies her motives, not a criticism of why she herself behaves the way that she does. The dysfunctional family is heavy stuff and since it is a front and center issue with Stolas' background, it needs more attention than the series gives it.

#helluva boss #octavia #stolas #stella #blitzo #stolitz #season 2 #criticism #vivziepop #18+ series