#draw a stomach for christ's sake

[sergle]

when ppl’s “body positive/plus size” art just starts and ends with a big ass

#nothing else? nothing else at all #no other characteristics? hokay #girl that's not a plus sized person that's kim kardashian. i'll fucking KILL you #sergle.txt #like this is positive for no body. this is just regular horny. don't try and tell me this is body posi #like that's fine if you just wanna be horny. call it what it is and stop pretending like you're doing me a favor #draw a stomach for christ's sake

[tojipie]

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

[havecourage-darling]

I've always been yours // Eddie Munson

Prompt: "I think... I'm in love with him.” "Congrats on being the last one to find out" + the 5 ways to say I love you without saying I love you.

wc: 14K (I'm learning what brevity means y'all)

warnings: female reader, some implied sexual stuff towards the end but not really ish, friends-to-lovers, oblivious idiots in love, the beginnings of rockstar eddie.

Masterlist || AO3

1. Covering sharp edges with their hands, so you don’t get hurt.

You were going to get Max’s birthday cake absolutely perfect even if it fucking killed you, you thought to yourself as your arm ached the harder you mixed the batter.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help Nov?” Eddie asked again.

Pushing the hair out of your eyes with the back of your wrist, you huffed. “I’m okay. I think I adjusted the recipe perfectly this time. I just need to make sure there’s no lumps or the chocolate won’t-”

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WHEELER!” You heard Dustin yell from the basement.

Eddie snorted. “Ten bucks on Mike,” he said from his place on the counter.

“I’m telling Dustin you said that,” you said, turning from your batter and shooting him a playful look over your shoulder.

He clasped his imaginary pearls dramatically. “Fair maiden, you dare betray our sacred friendship?”

Not able to keep your laugh down, you shook your head. Loud stomping alerted you to the shift of location of whatever fight was happening.

“Do not come into the kitchen with your shit!” You shouted.

Dustin’s voice floated in from the living room. “But Mike-”

“But Mike nothing!” You shouted. “You two shitheads work it out!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Mike shouted, grunting right after. “Ow! Dustin!”

Eddie immediately huffed out laughter. “I’d listen to her, she’s on her fifth batch. Her face is getting whiter and whiter with each cake.”

Your hand flew up to your face, fingers coming back dusted in flour. Turning your glare to his grinning face, you rolled your eyes. “You couldn’t have told me?”

“And ruin how cute you look with all that flour on your face?” Eddie said, nonchalantly going back to the book in his hands. Doing your best to ignore the flustered expression you knew was growing on your face, you turned back to the batter. Eddie always managed to draw out reactions from you, you were sure that was the main reason why he kept doing it.

I like unnerving you he’d said. Asshole, you thought fondly, glancing at him. A good chunk of flour dusted down towards your hands at the motion. Christ, how much flour was on your face?

“I’m going to slap you the second I put this into a pan,” you threatened, trying to get it all off.

Eddie’s grin morphed into something more. “Promises, promises,” he winked.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something else when a blur of curly hair, black shirts, and a flying white shoe flung the kitchen door open.

“Guys,” Eddie warned, placing his book down.

“For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong now?” You said, putting the bowl down onto the kitchen island and stepping towards them with your hands on your hips.

Dustin was the quickest to speak up. “He borrowed the comic that I just managed to get and got it wet!”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Mike shouted back. “I swear, Holly was eating at the table and spilled her soda!”

“Likely story!” Dustin snapped, eyes narrowing. “You’re doing it because I accidentally broke your figurines last week. I didn’t want to hit that pothole and go flying!”

“For the love of- it wasn’t on purpose!”

Dustin’s arms swung out and Mike darted left to avoid being hit. Before they could even crash together, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

As if in slow motion, you watched as Dustin shoved Mike’s arm into the mixing bowl. Without much prompting, your perfect batter, went tumbling off the island and flew with a vengeance in a million different directions. The opened bag of flour next to it, toppled right after it.

The silence as the bowl wobbled to a stop was painful. You blinked, shocked for a few seconds and nodded dumbly.

Well, that hurt more than the demobats clawing at your neck in the Upside Down.

“I’m going to rip your spines out and play jump rope with it,” you said calmly, eye twitching, at Mike and Dustin. The flour was splattered everywhere, including your new vans and the crevices no one was ever able to clean in the cracks of the linoleum.  

The two idiots shuffled closer to the door. At least they had the decency to look somewhat mortified. Before you could go through with your threat, Eddie’s hands came down to their necks and they both winced.

“Dudes, not cool,” he said, voice uncharacteristically serious. “She said don’t come into the kitchen for a reason. Now she’s gotta wait until you two assholes clean this all up before starting again.”

“Wha-” “But!”

Their protests quickly died down when he smacked them in the back of their heads.

“You break it, you fix it,” he said.

Hiding a smile, you rounded the island towards the rag by the sink and sighed. “Try to hurry, I want to get this decorated before midnight,” you said to the two apologetic teens who were already moving towards the mess.

Pushing the door out into the dining room you tried your best not to trek batter anywhere. Swiping the rag down your face and hair to get rid of any remaining flour you leaned down to help save your vans.

A sudden hand flying out towards your face made you flinch back. Falling onto your butt, you groaned as your hip smacked into the leg of the table.

Eddie shook his head, a soft expression on his face. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand was curled around the corner of the dining table. “Did I almost go face first into that?” You asked from where you were sprawled.

“Yeah, Nova, you almost cracked your skull,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I’d tell you to be more careful but it’d be a waste of breath.” Eddie tugged the rag out your hand and sat down by your feet.

“I-I am insulted.” The indignation cancelled out by the stammering. Eddie had picked up one of your, now dirty, sneakers and plopped it into his lap. He went about meticulously cleaning the chocolate off. “I can do that. You don’t have to-”

His brown eyes darted up to yours, silencing you. “I know I don’t have to; I want to.”

Mildly surprised, and a little flustered by his earnest tone, you nodded dumbly. By the time he was done, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that you found stupidly endearing.

“There you go fair maiden. Good as new.” He bowed, dropping the rag onto the table. He offered his hand and pulled you up with a firm grip.

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sight of his wide smile and soft gaze. “Thanks Eddie,” you said, smiling up at him.

He tossed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the kitchen. “Come on, let’s go give them a little more hell,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

Not one to resist, you beamed up at him and nodded. “Dibs on Mike,” you said, laughing when he did.

2. Covering you with a blanket when you look cold.

You met Eddie when you were in middle school but, you hadn’t really become friends until freshman year of high school. You were a cheerleader, one of the few freshmen on the team, and you’d caught Tommy Hagan cornering Eddie in a hallway.

You hadn’t hesitated at the sight of the stupid bully and had thrown your pompoms at his head. With a promise of a Herkie to the face, Tommy and his entourage had left you alone.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, bending over to pick up your tossed pompoms.

Eddie, however, hadn’t looked like he was two seconds away from being shoved into a locker. He was beaming. At you.

“What?” You asked, looking around at the empty hallway. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just…didn’t ever think that my knight in shining armor would be a cheerleader,” he said, tone teasing.

Biting back a smile, you crossed your arms. “Why? Because we’re vapid and only care about our hair?” You cocked your hip.

“No,” Eddie said, straightening, “I swear, that’s not what I-”

Not able to help it, you burst out into laughter. “I’m fucking with you,” you said, hiding your laugh behind your hand. “I know Tommy’s little sister and she basically rules his household. He knows not to mess with her.”

Eddie smiled and you’d realized that he had a really nice smile. With a flourish, he bowed. “Well, I’m in your debt knight.”

Scrunching your nose, you shook your head. “Not a fan of the nickname?” He asked, starting towards the exit doors. Walking backwards, he drifted closer to you. “What about Nova?”

“What?” You laughed, surprised. “How’d you go from Knight to Nova?”

“Well, you’re my knight in shining armor – what’s brighter than a supernova?”

Throwing your head back, your laugh echoed down the hallway. You’d quickly become friends.

“Novaaaa, come on,” Eddie groaned, flopping down onto the sofa, “just pick a movie.” Clearly, almost a decade later, the nickname had stuck.

“Don’t rush me!” You told him, eyeing the three tapes in front of you. “Which one do you want to watch?”

Eddie’s head lolled back around to you and he smiled. “It’s your turn to pick,” he reminded you.

“I know, but-”

“Just put on Grease,” Eddie said, voice muffled by the pillow. You were about to protest, what an absolutely rude assumption, when a knock echoed from Eddie’s front door. “Pizza’s here. Pick a movie!”

Sighing, knowing that he’d had a bad week, you pushed Indiana Jones into the VCR. The smell of hot pizza wafted over to you and your stomach immediately roared – reminding you that you hadn’t had enough time to eat before your shift.

“Alright, alright, I heard you,” Eddie said, motioning to your stomach. He brought the box over, handing you some water and frowned at the television. “What’s this?”

“Indianamph Jonesah,” you said, around a mouthful of steaming pizza. You were going to miss your tastebuds but goddamn if it wasn’t a great mouthful.

Eddie rolled his eyes, pulled the tape out and shoved Grease in. Dodging your flailing arm, he dropped to the floor by the coffee table, his shoulder brushing your knee.

The opening music started and you found your eyes drawn to the screen. “What the hell?”

“I got that because I know you like to watch one of the same five movies after a long shift,” he said, picking up his own slice.

“But-”

He bumped your leg with his shoulder. “It was your turn to pick, I promise – I don’t mind. Besides, it’s starting to grow on me. It’s definitely better than Overboard.”

“Hey, that’s a good movie!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Right, and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”

“Well,” you said with a smile growing, “you had the chance to bite off a bat’s head but you wasted that opportunity.”

Choking on his mouthful of pizza, Eddie laughed and shot you a soft look. “I’m glad my brush with death is something you can laugh about now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been almost a year. Thought it was about time we all started joking about almost dying,” you said, “besides, Max started it.”

“I’ve never met another person with such morbid humor,” Eddie said, eyes following Danny and Sandy as they kissed on the beach. A flash of something shot through you but you ignored it.

You shrugged despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see it. “I’m kinda proud of her for having it,” you said, bopping your head to the music you knew by heart.

I solve my problems and I see the light

We gotta loving thing, we gotta feed it right

Eddie turned to you suddenly, his eyes shifting. “Yeah, I’m proud of all of us.”

You grinned at him, dropping your plate onto the table and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch. It was one of his better purchases – Wayne had chosen to accept the new trailer the state had bought him while Eddie had moved into a small one bedroom downtown. It made more sese considering it was close to the music store you both worked at.

“I’m not pausing the movie if you knock out,” he warned as you fluffed the pillow behind your head.

“I’m not going to fall asleep, when am I ever the one who knocks out first?”

Eddie shot you a look. “Did you want me to bring out a list or?”

Smacking the back of his head, he ducked and laughed when you half missed your target. “Alright, alright, I’m missing the good stuff.”

“I knew you liked this movie,” you said, nudging him with your knee. Eddie shot you a withering glare, or he tried to, because you laughed at his attempt. Amused, his eyes drifted to over your head and you were about to turn when something dropped into your lap.

Eddie pulled the crocheted blanket over your legs and let it pool around your waist. The black and white blanket had been gifted to Eddie by Robin. She’d decided she was going to learn to crochet last year and spent the entire months leading up to Christmas lost in her projects. Your green scarf was hanging with your jacket by the door. You loved this blanket and you knew Eddie did too – it was always draped across the sofa for easy access.

 “My place gets cold at night,” he said at your questioning look, “you know that. Besides, you’ll make it an hour before knocking out.”

The sweet gesture was overshadowed by his smug look and your hand jutted out to hit any part of him you could reach. “I’m not going to fall asleep.”

Both of you went back and forth, poking fun, and as you watched Danny ignore Sandy for Cha-Cha, you heard Eddie snort.

“What?” You asked, tapping your fingers along to the beat.

“I just always thought it was funny how he leaves her behind, he just goes with it,” he said.

You pointed to the cameras. “They’re on live television,” you explained sleepily.

“So?” Eddie raised his brow. “Are you defending him?”

“Of course not!” Why was this couch so comfortable? The blanket moved around you, warm hands tucking it over your shoulders and sighing when you snuggled into it.

Eddie’s knowing smile went a little fuzzy around the edges as your eyes felt harder and harder to keep open. Before you could formulate a comeback, the exhaustion of the day pulled you under. As you were entirely lost to the world, you heard Eddie murmur, “I would never leave you behind.”

3. Holding your hand when you’re falling apart.

Four years of cheerleading practice had not prepared you for what it truly meant to run for your life. Not really.

It stood to reason that you’d really never had to run from an interdimensional monster before – up until your employment at The Gap. Honestly, it was The Gap’s fault.

You’d met Robin at the first Hawkins Middle School band practice as small seventh graders. Her mom had told her she needed to get a job for the summer and she’d dragged you along with her. She had gotten hired at Scoops Ahoy and, in your defense, who was going to say no to a daily free ice cream? So, if you really thought about it – it was Scoop’s fault. And Robin’s.

The moment you saw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington behind the counter, you should’ve turned the other way. But no, Robin was absolutely sure he’d changed. You snorted. Sure, he’d changed. Having all your friends drop you towards the end of your senior year would humble anyone. You’d been close enough to the source when the downfall of The Hair happened. It hadn’t been pretty. Especially after Nancy Wheeler decided to stick by Jonathan.

While he hadn’t been one of the few who liked to remind you of your low spot on the totem pole, he definitely wasn’t Mother Theresa. You’d seen how his friends treated Eddie’s friends – people who they deemed outcasts. Eddie had only been mostly spared because you two were practically fused at the hip. Besides, he knew that Nancy liked you – the two of you had hung out before considering you’d both been close friends with Barb. While you and her weren’t best friends, you knew he didn’t want to mess with anyone Nancy liked. Which, really, made him a selfish, self-centered asshole. And anyway, you’d seen what he’d spray painted onto the theater header.

It wasn’t until you saw him with Dustin, one of your favorite neighbors, that you’d conceded. How could someone who clearly held a middle schooler up to such high standards be that bad? Besides, Dustin was a kid – but you trusted him. Robin, of course, still held that against you to this day.

To be fair, Steve himself hadn’t won you over until he’d taken hit after hit to keep you and Robin as safe as possible. Russians in a secret lab under Starcourt injecting you with truth serum was not something you’d had on your 1985 bingo card.

You still remembered how Steve had grabbed each of your wrists so tightly that it’d taken weeks for the bruises to fade. He’d practically tossed you both under a massive table when the Mind Flayer had landed mid-food court. Robin clutched at your shoulders, Steve a steadying presence behind you.

He’d waited, for hours, as the EMTs cleared all of you outside the burning mall. And while you’d hoped that this was the last time any of your friends, new or old, had tried to save you – clearly that had been wishful thinking.

The muscles in your arms burned as you hauled yourself through the gate. Breath knocked out of you as you landed on your back, you glanced up to see Eddie’s hands stilling on the makeshift rope.

“Come on!” Dustin screamed. “Eddie come on!”

A flash of something crossed his expression and you knew. You knew he was going to do something stupid.

“Eddie!” You screamed, voice cracking in your desperation. His wide eyes struck yours and you knew the moment he’d decided. “Don’t you fucking dare! Edward Munson, you listen to me right now. Climb this fucking rope.”

“I’m sorry Nov,” he said, staring up at you with a sad smile. Without thinking, you scrambled to throw yourself down the gate but the rope dropped by your feet, cut from the source. “I love you. Take care of Dustin,” he said, eyes sincere and apologetic.

“Eddie!” You both screamed, voices hoarse.

Panic clawed at your chest. You couldn’t breathe – he was…he was going to get himself fucking killed. Spurring into action, Dustin pushed you aside as he grunted from the effort of pushing the dining table towards the middle of the room. “Come on! Those things will kill him, we gotta get back!”

Not one to be told twice, you shoved a few pieces of furniture on top of the table for good measure. You climbed up to the gate, barely able to touch the edges. Adrenaline rushed through you as you looked down to Dustin. “Give me a boost, I can almost reach it!”

Without hesitating, Dustin kneeled, hands on your calves and you used his knee to hoist yourself up. You didn’t have much time to adjust yourself but you channeled every tumbling move you’d ever done and tried to tuck and roll. Mostly successful, you only winced as your shoulder collided painfully with the metal chair.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!”

“You can’t just fucking leave me here!” Dustin shouted. You pointed up at him with all the authority you could muster.

“Try to tie more sheets together, the others will need help climbing through when they come back,” you glared at him, “don’t do anything stupid Henderson.”

Not waiting for a response, you kicked the trailer door open and scanned the field. A tornado of bats and a loud, heartbreaking, scream cut through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucking idiot,” you said, panicking as you ran. You watched as the bats took turns diving for him, his spear barely keeping them back.

“Come on!” He screamed into the eye of the storm. Because of course he did. The idiot. You willed your legs to run faster, to just get you there so you could help. Then, they struck. Eddie’s hands whipped up to his throat and you watched him slam into the floor.

“Eddie!” You screamed, throat raw, but it was drowned out by the screeching bats. A flash of Billy being impaled, lifted into the air, and thrown like a ragdoll bubbled up to your consciousness. No, please, you begged, not Eddie, not him.

Slowing as you neared, you pulled the gun from around your shoulders and squared them like Hopper had taught you. The shots echoed despite the chaos, your blood rushing through your body. “Get away from him!” You shrieked, fighting your way through the opening you’d created.

You slipped on the unmoving body of the ones you’d shot down and slid directly into an motionless Eddie. Covering his body with your own, you raised your gun as they swooped down. Almost out of bullets, you’d just hit another when one managed to swipe you from the side – claws digging into your skin. Screaming, you waved the gun like Steve’s bat and swatted as many as you could out the air.

Shit, you couldn’t keep this up. There were too many.

Then, as if puppets that were cut, they all dropped to the floor. One slammed into your bad shoulder painfully and you cried out.

“Nov?”

The weak voice was like beacon and you quickly slid to the ground. You weren’t going to question your good luck. Pulling the leather jacket off his chest your heart dropped down next to the dead demobats and you immediately started to cry.

“That bad huh?” He joked, voice wet as blood poured out his mouth.

“You absolute fucking asshole. You dickhead,” you berated him as you tied your own cargo jacket around the gash in his stomach. Rising to your knees, you quickly pulled your belt off your waist and made a tourniquet around his upper thigh. Your hands were drenched in blood and you forced the bile down. Focus, you need to stop the bleeding. You needed to get him back to the trailer, you yelled at yourself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie’s weak hand came up to your forearm and your heart creaked as the cracks deepened. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t you fucking moron, you’re my best friend – I – can’t watch you die. I won’t,” you said, hauling him onto your lap. You tried to stand but your shoulder immediately gave and you both crashed to the ground.

A sob wrenched it’s way out your throat, helpless and willing your shoulder to work. Just this time, please, please, you begged.

“Nova,” Eddie’s voice trailed off, weaker than before.

Cradling his stupid face, your hands left streaks of blood on his pale skin. Shaking, your fingers caressed his jaw. The brown eyes, more familiar to you than your own, slowly started to fade.

“Eddie, stay with me, someone’s coming okay – it’s going to be okay,” you said, entire body clinging to his.

“I-I told you this was my year,” he said, blood tricking down. His unseeing eyes searched for you, like they always did, and you realized that you wouldn’t survive this. Eddie was going to fade from existence, the entire town thinking him a murderer, and this would finally be the storm that broke you.

“I can’t live without you,” you stammered, words bubbling up in rapid succession, you had things you needed to say – stuff you needed to do with him still. You were supposed to have time – it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Jaw aching as you bit down your anguish, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and he sighed. “Eddie, please,” you begged, unashamed and desperate.

Take me, you begged the dark skies that mocked you, anyone but him.

“I l-love-” he gagged, choking on his own blood and you pressed your forehead against his.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, I’m here Eddie. I’m here. I know. Me too,” you said, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry you weren’t fast enough, sorry you couldn’t save him, sorry for having to be the one to watch him die. Eddie’s hand came up to your wrist, squeezing once before dropping limp.

The silence around you was deafening. No, no, no, no.

You screamed, anguished, and the pain unbearable. Anger coursed through you, mixing with your overwhelming grief. It crashed into you from all angles, its hands grabbing onto you and pulling you under. Your throat hurt but you couldn’t stop screaming, all of you couldn’t stop screaming in the unfairness of it all.

“Eddie?” A voice shouted through the darkness. You whipped your head up, searching through the night for the voice.

“Steve?” You called out tentatively, hand reaching for your discarded gun. Was this a trick? You scanned your surroundings, vision blurry. No, you steeled yourself, this place had already taken everything from you – they couldn’t have his body too.

Swinging the gun towards the quick footsteps, you ignored your trembling arms.

“Hey, hey! Wait, it’s me,” Steve said, hands up. He stepped in front of Robin, his eyes on the still body behind you.

Eyes wild, you blinked away your constant tears, and loosened the hold on your gun. “Stevie?”

“It’s me, it’s me – I promise,” he said, hand coming out to take your shotgun. Handing it to Nancy, he pulled you into his arms. “What happened?” He winced when he saw your skin bleeding sluggishly.

“Eddie?” Robin whispered, dropping to her knees beside him.

Willing yourself to keep it together you nodded towards the house. “What happened?”

“He’s dead, we got him – Nance got him. It’s over.”

Feeling weak, you leaned on Nancy’s outstretched arm and watched as Steve dropped to examine him.

“He’s – he – cut the rope – I tried, my shoulder – it, oh God,” you said, scrambling towards the nearest wall and throwing up everything in your stomach. A warm hand came up to your back, rubbing it back and forth until your heaving stopped.

“I got you,” Nancy said, “I’m here, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

He was dead. Eddie was gone. Nothing would ever be okay again.Your blood-soaked hands reached out and she clasped them. Eyes on yours, strong and steady, she nodded. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Nance,” your voice sounded warped. “I tried.”

She shushed you, bringing your arm over her shoulders and taking most of your weight as you crumbled. You watched as Robin and Steve grabbed him, moving quickly towards the trailer.

“What? Where are you going?” Nancy shouted.

Robin grunted under the weight as she climbed the steps. “He’s got a pulse! The tourniquets are holding! We gotta move fast!”

.

Coincidentally, the nearest hospital to Forest Park was at the town line one over. Robin had assured you that since it wasn’t Hawkins, they weren’t likely to recognize him instantly. Worry for Max joined your overwhelming weight as you glanced at the destruction the earthquake had wreaked. “Do you think he got her?” You asked, voice barely audible.

“I killed him as the clock was chiming,” Nancy said, “it only rang three times. I’ll call when we get to the hospital – they’ll be okay. We’re all okay. We have to be.”

After admitting Eddie, a concerned nurse offered you a pair of scrubs to change into. Glancing down at your clothes, you realized you were covered in blood. Eddie’s blood.

Tearing up, her eyes had softened incredibly and she helped you wash it off. “It’ll all work out honey, you’ll see,” she whispered as the blood dribbled down the drain. You’d barely felt the needle as she stitched the claw marks on your chest and neck.

It’d taken an hour of arguing but you promised the others you could keep it together for the night as they drove back to Hawkins to figure out what was going on. Robin had kissed the top of your now clean hair, and clasped her hands with yours. “I will be back as soon as I can, okay? As fast as I can.” The fierceness in her tone had your eyes tearing up again and she hugged you tightly.

Five hours after being admitted, with no news, you received the second shock of the night.

“Hopper?” You sputtered, almost bowled over to see the ghost of your old Chief of police.

Head shaved, a few pounds lighter, but the smile that came from hearing your voice was just the same. “Hey kid,” he said, bringing you into a tight hug.

It took another hour, and the arrival of just about everyone you knew, for a nurse to let you know that Eddie had stabilized. They’d needed to operate to stop the internal bleeding, he’d needed a few blood transfusions and was placed into a medically induced coma, but he’d be alright.

“He’s…he’ll be okay?” You asked, not willing to cling onto any false hope.

The nurse from earlier stepped forward, her kind eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, honey, he’ll be okay.”

Swallowing back your tears, you pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, while you sat glued to his side, Hopper let you know that Eddie was cleared of all charges.

“Do you want to know?” He asked.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him for the first time in the last twelve hours. The sun peaked out from the horizon, drenching Eddie’s dark room in a warm orange light. “I don’t care how. Just – thank you.”

Hopper ruffled your hair and you leaned into his touch like cat arching for more affection. “They’ll want your statement but not until a few days from now. As far as you know, you were over Robin’s with Steve for the entire night. Her neighbor, Mrs. Matthews has already said she could corroborate your alibi.”

Smiling, you nodded. “I don’t even want to know what the U.S. government had on her.”

“You don’t,” he agreed.

It took Eddie another day to wake up. Wayne had finally convinced you to go get something to eat, I won’t leave his side sweetheart, I promise.

You balanced the two coffees in your hand as you pushed open the door to Eddie’s room. Surprised to see the entire party surrounded by the bed, you blinked, a little taken aback.

Dustin was the first to catch your eye, his grin so wide it almost split his face in two. “Eddie’s awake!” Your eyes darted to the bed, the man in it grinning up at a tearful Wayne.

“You absolute asshole,” you hissed, not able to keep it down.

The party laughed, Steve shaking his head. “Hi Nova,” Eddie said, voice hoarse, and you felt your stomach swoop as those eyes met yours. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” you said, handing Wayne his coffee. He promised to be back, wanting to speak to the doctor. The moment the door closed; chaos reigned. Everyone talked over each other and you watched, amused. Sipping your coffee, you smacked Lucas’ shoulder as he made fun of something Mike said.

Steve’s whistle was loud enough to pierce several eardrums and you winced. “One at time! The man just woke up from a coma.”

“Medically induced coma,” Mike clarified.

You fought the urge to smack him too.

Despite the severity of what brought Eddie to the hospital, after a week – he was given the all clear. The party was at Eddie’s new trailer, decorating the larger space for his homecoming. You’d been tasked to watch over the patient. You’d arrived early, still not entirely able to have him out of your sights for too long. As you popped your head in, you realized he was asleep.

Dropping into the comfortable chair next to his bed, you set yourself up for waiting. In the past week and a half, you hadn’t managed to find a moment alone with Eddie. There was always a party member at his bedside at all times. Or a band member. Or a parent.

Eddie’s room had quickly become well known for the noise and chattering that spilled out into the hallways. At its absence, you realized you didn’t know what to do.

Smacking his lips, Eddie’s head moved towards the door, eyes still closed. As he shifted, you caught sight of the large bandage by his neck. The purple bruising on his arms looked painful and your chest clenched at the sight of them.

It seemed that before you could decide for yourself, the silence swallowed you whole. Bringing you hand up to your lips, you tried to silence your sobs. Chest heaving with the effort, you buried your face into your hands and cried. The last week of pushing everything down and resolving to deal with it later had finally caught up to you.

Everyone has their reckoning, you were reminded. This was yours.

A warm hand came up to your shoulder, the bandaged one, and softly caressed where the tape adhered to your skin. “Hey you,” he said, sleep clinging to the corner of his knowing gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, trying to push it back down but there was no use. Pandora’s box had been opened. Turning from him, you caught sight of his frown. His pained grunt made you whip back to him and you almost tripped over your own feet as you rushed to help. Eddie’s expression was twisted as he sat up, sweat beading at his temples.

“Lie down, you psychopath,” you said once the lump in your throat let you speak. “The bed will move for you! You just had surgery on your side for fuck’s sake.” You ducked your head, trying to avoid his eyes as you adjusted the bed to his liking.

Stubborn as always, Eddie tapped your forearm. “Don’t hide from me, not you,” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. Giving in, you let your blurry sight find his and he sighed. “Nova, you should’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” You said through desperate inhales.

“That you’d been bottling it up – come here,” he said. You wished you could climb into the bed with him but you couldn’t, his incision still very off limits to movement. You were trying to decide where to touch, when he decided for you. His right hand opened, fingers wiggling towards you. “Come on.”

Interlocking your fingers with his, relishing in the touch, you pressed the back of his hand to your cheek. His pulse beat against yours, alive – wondrously and beautifully alive. This, this was what you needed. A moment to lose it before rearranging the bricks of your mental foundation back in place. The image of him, eyes unseeing, bubbled to the surface and despair twisted it’s venomous grip around your lungs.

Choking, you let the sob come out unbidden. Not sure you could stop it if you wanted to, you let the tears drown you. Weeping, you whimpered as you accepted what could’ve been. What you would’ve had to watch. The fact that you would’ve had something so important ripped from your grasp.

He's okay, you thought, he’s alive.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice a quiet echo of Nancy’s lost words. “I’m here. I got you.” After a few minutes, your chest stopped heaving and you could take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling your hand from your face and towards his own. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles and you blinked at him.

“Why are you sorry?” Christ, you were a mess. He’d been in a coma for two days and he was comforting you. He’d almost died and you were too weak to be strong for your friend.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he said, “I’m sorry that you had to be the one I left behind. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I’m sorry for hurting you even if I’d do it again if it meant you were safe. It was scary and I’m sorry for doing that to you, no matter how important it was that I did it.”

His thumb caressed your hand and you bit back the tears that wanted to wail out to the world that you’d almost lost something that couldn’t be replaced. But the silence that fell was comforting, a soft and easy kind. One that didn’t need to be filled and his pulse was a balm soothing your raw panic.

And yet -

“Don’t leave me here alone. It’s your Sam calling,” you said, eyes on his. A small real, smile broke out on his face and he squeezed your hand.

Despite the bandages across his jaw, and the wince of pain as he shifted, you hadn’t seen someone look so beautiful.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, wake up Mr. Frodo,” Eddie whispered and you beamed at him.

4. Telling you to call them so they know you got home safe.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hissed, rubbing your temples as you watched Robin hop on top of a bar table to dance.

Eddie’s laughter hit your ear and you shivered at the warmth. “Come on Nov, she looks like she’s having fun,” he said, chest pressed against your back. Tucking his chin over your shoulder, you finally waved down the bartender.

“Can I have another club soda please?” You asked, handing her the money. She nodded, eyes drifting to Eddie and smiling.

“You two are a really cute couple,” she said, sliding the glass towards you.

Opening your mouth to correct her, Eddie beat you to it. “Thank you!” At your glance, he shrugged. “It’s easier to go along with.”

Something in your chest tightened at the thought but you shrugged. “Jesus, Eddie, can you bring her down? She’s going to end up falling and cracking her neck.”

Eddie sighed, his warm hand coming up to squeeze your waist. “We really need to stop promising to be the babysitters,” he said, lips brushing against your temple before leaving to drag a protesting Robin off the sticky table.

“Hey,” a guy to your left said, his hair long and pin straight.

You turned to him, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to make it look like you were welcoming any type of flirting. Eddie already had to shove a creep with a persistent attitude off of Nancy. “Hi,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, a little too quiet for the noise level inside, “but is that the lead singer of Corroded Coffin?”

Relief flooded through you and your shoulders dropped. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Holy shit, I saw his band last month when he was the opening act for Riot Act. I’m a big fan! They’ve got a great sound,” he said awed. “Sorry! I’m Jack.”

“Hey, I’m-”

“-here with someone,” Eddie’s voice floated over your shoulder and towards the straightening man on the stool.

A little surprised by Eddie’s furrowed expression, and practically thrown by the small ember of something in your spine at his serious tone, you placed a hand on his and smiled up at him. “This is Jack, he’s a fan of Corroded Coffin’s.”

Eddie’s expression completely transformed, a wide smile overtaking the sharp look in his eyes. “Oh man, thanks! Sorry, you know how these bars can get.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, brightening, “totally! Are you guys going to be playing somewhere else soon? I heard a few people say you might be going to Sold Out in Indianapolis!”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and you could tell he was flustered by the pink tinge to his neck. “We are! We’re going to be there for a few weekends for the next couple months. We start sometime in the summer. Still ironing out a few details.”

“That’s great! I’m sorry for asking but, do you mind signing something for me?” Jack asked, excitement growing his eyes.

Both of you thrown, you felt your own giddiness build in your chest. “He’d love to,” you answered for a stunned Eddie. “In fact, the entire band is here tonight. You’ll have to excuse everyone else – we’re the designated drivers. They might be a little drunk.”

At the promise of more autographs, Jack straightened. “Holy shit, yeah that’d be amazing. Thank you so much,” he stammered, grabbing a clear napkin from behind the bar and pulling a pen from his coat. “My friends are going to shit themselves.”

You squeezed Eddie’s hand when you saw it trembling as he signed with a flourish. Shooting you a grateful look, he walked Jack over to where Jeff and Gareth were chanting chug, chug, chug! at a teetering Liam.

Jesus, you sighed, rolling your eyes when Jeff’s excited hand swatted too close to Liam and he started coughing up the beer.

Turning back to your drink, you didn’t wait long before you felt Eddie’s palm at your lower back. “Well, that happened.”

Not missing a beat, you turned with a crumpled napkin and wide eyes. “Oh my God, sir, would you autograph my napkin too?”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head, and he shoved your shoulder. “Shut up,” he grumbled, motioning to the bartender for his own club soda. “You brat.”

Grinning, you bumped his shoulder with your own. “I’m glad I’ll be able to say I knew you when you were a nerdy freshman.”

“I’m still that nerdy freshman,” he huffed, “people just actually like my singing now.”

The band on stage switched to a fast paced song and the bar emptied a little as people flew to the dance floor. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. They really deserved this. You crossed your fingers beneath the bar and hoped it was just the beginning.

“To be fair, I always liked your singing,” you told him, poking his chest. Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the same tightening again.

His eyes dropped back to yours, something new swimming in them, and your breath stuttered in your lungs. “I know you have,” he said, gaze darting across your face. “You’ve always been there for me.”

Not able to take the pressure in your sternum, you huffed. “And don’t forget that when you’re rich and famous, okay? I want a fancy BMW so I can taunt Steve with it.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Instead of breaking the spell, your eyes drifted to his neck and you briefly thought about how appealing the muscles there were. Straightening so quickly that your spine audible snapped, you swallowed nervously.

What the fuck was that?

The look Eddie shot your way let you know that he’d caught whatever that was. Your mind raced in a thousand different directions but before you could choose a route to go down, a body pressed itself into your side.

“You guys, Jonathan puked,” Gareth said, matter of fact. “It was funny but then Steve started gagging.”

Liam joined in next, his eyes glazed. “Steve said he’s a sy-symp- sympat-” his face scrunched together when he realized he wasn’t getting the word out.

“He’s a sympathy puker?” You guessed, already knowing Steve wasn’t the best around puke. He was always the first domino to fall during hangover mornings.

“Ugh, you’re so smart,” Jeff complimented.

Brows rising, you elbowed Eddie. “Time to corral?” Sighing, Eddie nodded.

“Grab as many as you can and shove them into the right car,” he said, hands coming out to grab his bandmates before they could drift off. “Meet outside in ten?”

“Minutes?” You asked incredulously. “It’s going to take at least that long to get Steve to stop gagging.”

“Bet you five I can get them out in fifteen.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his outstretched hand. “That’s an easy win.”

And sure enough, you leaned against Steve’s car with an amused expression as Eddie tried for the fourth time to load Jeff into his van. You glanced at Robin, who was talking animatedly with Gareth about what sounded like cheese fries. A blur in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you watched Liam open the passenger door and pass Jonathan his joint.

“Jesus,” Eddie groaned, “okay you win, please, just-” he waved his hand towards your friends.

“Robin get in the car we have to go now,” you said firmly, knowing she was the hardest to convince but the one everyone would follow once she was.

Her expression morphed into indignation. “Gareth thinks bacon on fries is better than cheese! That’s – that’s treason.”

“Because it is better!” He said, clutching his head.

“Alright you two, you’re both right, how about that?” You turned to Gareth and glared until he simpered off towards Eddie without a backwards glance. “And you, into the car.”

“But-”

“I’ll tell everyone what you’re hiding in the box at the back of your closet,” you threatened. She paled and tripped in her hurry to the car. She knocked into a sleeping Nancy, who grunted when she landed in the middle seat with a loud thump.

“Byers, get your ass in gear or I’m telling Joyce!”

A sheepish Jonathan crawled into the car, jostling Robin who cried out and accidentally smacked a snoring Steve in the passenger seat. You quickly shut the door and locked them in. With a flourish, you took your bow and Eddie clapped. “I admit defeat o’great knight.”

“Knight in shining armor, please,” you clarified.

“Of course, of course.”

“You okay with your lot?” You asked, nodding to where Liam was starting to look a little green.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, they’ll be fine. What about you?”

“Jonathan and Nancy live nearby, the rest of us are crashing at Steve’s. Like the good ol’ days,” you joked, shivering when a sudden cold gust of air blew your hair into your eyes.

A pair of hands came up to your arms, rubbing some warmth into them and you smiled. “Lucky, Gareth and Liam live in completely different directions,” he said with a roll of his eyes. You pointed to car behind him.

“You should lock them in before one makes a break for it,” you said, yawning and checking the time. Without giving you time to think, Eddie pulled you into a tight hug. Never needing a reason, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed just as tightly back. His cold nose nudged your temple, inhaling deeply and you lean your face against his chest. His heartbeat fast and yours quickly matched its pace. With a soft sigh, Eddie let you go.

“Hey, but seriously, I’m so happy everyone else is finally seeing what I always did,” you told him, pinching one of his cheeks for levity.

Instead, he smiled at you softly. A small, little shy smile that made your heart flip. “Yeah?” His eyes softened, the brown deepening with his gaze. You felt your chest tighten painfully this time. Turning back to hop into your car, you rolled the window down and Eddie leaned into your space.

“Don’t let it get to your big head.” Eddie smiled at your barb but his eyes trailed down your face, the look in his gaze different. You leaned back to examine it but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “What?” His eyes darted back up to yours and it clicked. It looked like he knew something you didn’t.

A little surprised at what he saw there, he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing, see you tomorrow at work?” That sounded like a diversion. You had a full shift tomorrow but he was on towards the end at closing.

“Yeah,” you said, not sure you wanted to let go of this. As if sensing it, he surged forward to press a kiss to your cheek and you blinked, surprised.

“Drive home safe, call me when you get there, okay?” He said. “Leave a message if I’m not home yet. I won’t be able to sleep if I think you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That, in the end, got a smile out of you. “Who would’ve thought you and Harrington would turn into the mothers of this ragtag group?”

“Hey,” he said, hands on his hips in a clear imitation of Steve, “you love it.”

“Yeah,” you said, starting your car and rolling up your window, “I do!”

5. Bringing you something just because it reminded them of you.

“Fuuuck,” you squawked, feet sliding out from under you. Bracing for the impact, your eyes flew open when Eddie’s hands slide through your underarms and steadied you. He pulled you up, your knees aching, and you both stilled.

“That…would’ve been bad,” you said quietly, looking down at the wet pavement outside the Wheeler’s house. Eddie’s eyes were wide, his gaze on the puddles.

“Note to self, slippery driveways might take down the mighty Nova but demobats are a walk in the park,” Eddie said, grinning when you whacked him.

“Ugh, they’re still outside,” Dustin shouted from the doorway, “come on, we’re taking a vote on which movie to watch first.”

Despite his teasing, you felt Eddie’s hand on your back – steady – as you followed Dustin towards the basement. Everyone was scattered, a few conversations going on at once. The party was back for the summer from college and, as tradition stated, a movie night was set on the first weekend.

El jumped up, grinning, and threw her arms around you. “Oh, hello,” you said, squeezing her tightly, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you,” she said into your shoulder, words muffled. You glanced up to see Max tucked into Eddie’s embrace. He smiled when they swapped and Max’s grip bruised you. Kissing her temple, you watched them tumble back onto the first couch – Mike and Lucas waving at you both.

You made to step towards a beaming Will when a hand on your elbow stopped you. “Hey, I forgot to give this to you yesterday at work,” Eddie said, hand ruffling around in bag. He grinned after a moment, pulling it out triumphantly. A small drawstring bag swung wildly for a moment before coming to a stop. The black suede looked soft and lumpy.

“We just started that gig out at Sold Out last week and we were looking for something to eat before we drove back. I saw this in the window of a store and thought of you,” Eddie said, making your heart flip. You reached for the bag, a gold necklace spilling out the mouth.

“It’s a sunflower,” you said, voice faint, thumb tracing the small blooming flower.

Eddie nodded, already rooting in his bag for something else. “You said that was Barb’s favorite flower, right?” Suddenly, it felt like the entire room had gone quiet.

“It was,” Nancy said, leaning over your shoulder to look at the pendant. “She loved them, her room was covered.” An old memory flashed through your mind.

You’d met Barb when you were six, in kindergarten. She’d shared her chocolate with you and picked you as a partner for nap time. She had a sweet smile and gave great hugs. She was good and kind, and you’d been angry at the world for taking her. For a lot of things.

“Sunflowers symbolize friendship. But really, they just make me smile.”

For a moment, just a brief second, you could hear her light laughter echo within your memory. Nancy’s soft smile let you know that you weren’t alone.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said with a smile and you knew he was thinking of the tulips you’d both left at Chrissy’s grave last week. “This way you can have her close by.”

Nancy helped you clasp it around your neck and smiled down at you. Sound filtered back in as she grunted and turned to the boys. “Don’t throw the remote!”

You scrambled to stand before Eddie could find a seat, your had grabbing his. He stilled, looking back at you – the unasked question on his lips. Taking a step forward for a hug, for a second time within a span of five minutes, you tripped on a forgotten figurine. Eddie cradled you to him, staggered, but steady.

“Okay, I stand corrected. Rainy driveways and dnd figurines,” he joked, the smile from his gaze fading when he realized how close you’d landed.

The world moved around you both in a blur. This moment, you in his arms, had happened hundreds of times. You’d known Eddie for years, both of you were affectionate people. But this…was different. Time slowed and you felt Eddie’s pulse ricochet within your own, his lips parting in surprise. You eyes darted down to the movement, his lips chapped and in this bubble you’d created – a thought crossed your mind.

You wanted to press yours to his. You wanted to press every part of you against his.

Then, quickly, a second thought rose from your subconscious.

This wasn’t the first time you’d wanted to kiss him. It wasn’t the first time that your heart felt like it would burst at the sight of him. You liked the way your skin felt electrified at his touch. The way he always seemed to focus on you. The way you both always gravitated towards each other, like sunflowers bending towards the sun. Your eyes dipped lower and you felt a lump form in your throat. The way…you were dying to bite into that tattoo on his neck. The way you wondered if he’d squirm against you. If he’d push you into the-

Holy fucking shit, you loved Eddie. You were in love with Eddie. Your best friend. How the fuck had you been so blind?

Stumbling, you staggered back from his touch – not able to think clearly with him so close. You ripped your arms away from him and greedily sucked in air.

“What’s wrong?” Eleven asked you, realizing you were all but hyperventilating.

Pulse roaring in your ears, you didn’t know what to say. Dumbstruck, your limbs went numb as you finally met Eddie’s worried eyes. He stilled at the sight of your expression and suddenly the rug was pulled completely out from under you because he knew. The look in his eyes was one of complete and total understanding.

And you knew that he knew - and he knew that you knew that he knew.

Your mind flashed back to the moment outside the bar a few months ago. That look in his eyes. The way he’d been acting strange recently. He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. Struck, you’d honestly be less shocked if the ground opened up and Vecna swallowed you whole.

His own panic flooding his face, he took a step forward.

“No!” You shouted, a touch too loud, your soul flying out your body and staring down at the situation with terror.

“Wait, just wait,” Eddie stammered, hands raised like he was approaching a scared animal. “Let’s talk about it.”

“Oh shit,” you heard Dustin mutter. The rest of room went silent.

Robin groaned, a soft thump following. “Oh no, this isn’t good.”

“Right now?” Steve hissed. “What the hell changed?”

“What the hell is happening?” Lucas grumbled.

Max sighed. “She just realized she’s in love with him.”

Eleven’s eyes widened and Lucas frowned. “Congratulations on being the last one to find out,” he said and somehow that made it worse. Your face crumpled and everyone’s glare turned towards him.

“Jesus Sinclair, have you heard of tact?”

Were you the absolute last person to know?

He was your best friend – you couldn’t, this would ruin everything. Oh God, what if he’d known and he never said anything because he didn’t feel the same? What if he did? You honestly didn’t know which was scarier.

As your friends descended into chaos, you glanced back at Eddie and found him frozen too. Overwhelmed and feeling like you’d been knocked around the ring a few times, you let your flight instinct take over. Taking the stairs two at a time, you were at the basement door in seconds.

Chaos erupted behind you.

You were at the door and fucking Christ, you couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe? Was the ground shaking?

“Stay here,” you heard Eddie bark at everyone, his had tone not leaving any room for argument. Despite it all, you felt the zing of something travel down your spine at the sound of it. Before you could even analyze it for what it was, it triggered another fresh wave of panic.

You knew he’d be close behind, but you were used to running for your life at this point. Practically racing down the driveway, you scrambled into your car and slammed the door shut. Your first mistake was trying to still your shaking hand to get it into the ignition.

A body half-slammed into your passenger door and you screamed, terror taking over your rational side for a moment.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! The fucking grass is wet and I slipped,” Eddie said, backing up with his palms up. “Nova, please, don’t go. Not like this. I-”

“Nope!” You said, feeling like a stupid child but you weren’t able to process right now. You’d known Eddie since you were fourteen. That was a decade. How the fuck had you been so blind? “I can’t – Eddie, I can’t! Just give me a second, okay? I need – I need to process. Alone.”

The world felt like it was crumbling. Like you were back in the hell hole, clinging to Steve and Eddie for balance as the ground shook beneath you. Oh God, this was going change everything.

Your second mistake was turning to look at him. The knot in your chest tightened beyond belief at the sight of the heartbreak in his eyes. A flash of movement brought your attention to the several heads peeking out from the windows. Eddie’s head whipped around and you could feel his glare from where you sat. “Jesus Christ, does anyone know what privacy means?” You knew it was bad when you couldn’t even muster up a smile.

“Nov…”

Like a cornered animal, you felt tears well up. “Please. I’m sorry. Please Eddie, please.” Panic clawed up your throat, threatening to pull you under. Black dots danced across your vision.

He smiled and your heart broke at the emptiness in it. “Yeah, Nov, it’s okay. I’ll go back inside, just- take a few deep breaths before you go. Okay? Don’t drive like this. Just, deep breathing, remember?”

You slammed your eyes shut; you didn’t have the strength to look at him anymore. You nodded, taking an unsteady deep inhale. How was it possible that you were the one running and he was still thinking of you?

Not sure how long you sat there but by the time you opened your eyes, your tremor had settled and Eddie was gone. Taking a deep breath, you turned your car on and peeled away from the Wheeler house.

It took Robin and Steve exactly ten hours before they showed up on your doorstep.

“I know you’re in there asshole, open up!” Robin screamed.

Jesus. You flung the door open and glared. “I have neighbors.”

“You look like shit,” Robin said, matter a fact, with a small smile on her face. You groaned, dropping your face into your palms and Steve sighed.

“For fuck’s sake Robin, it hasn’t even been a day,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the couch.

Not one to ever be excluded, Robin smushed herself next to you. Her thigh pressed against yours and you found yourself stuck between your two friends – friends you hadn’t ever been good at lying to.

“I know why you’re here,” you started.

Robin snorted. “Well duh, what’d you think? That we got up at nine in the morning to come wish you a good morning? Even Dingus knows better than that.”

Biting back a laugh at her quick retort, you caught Steve’s exasperated glance and nearly broke. “Do not enable the behavior,” he hissed. “How do you feel?”

What a loaded question.

“I feel a little numb. Sort of, like, if I don’t acknowledge this is happening then it isn’t,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, “which, I guess, is what got us both into this mess in the first place.”

Robin’s expression softened and you sighed. “I’m just…I feel embarrassed mostly. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic – I just…I was so overwhelmed and it felt like I was drowning. You were all staring at us and I couldn’t think – I couldn’t breathe.”

“Hey, give yourself some credit,” Robin said, “you needed space and time and you asked for it. Everyone needs to understand that boundary.”

“Except for you two,” you joked weakly.

Robin huffed, waving a hand in the air. “We don’t have boundaries-”

“-we should though-” Steve muttered.

“-once you’re tortured by Russians together, you’re bonded for life,” Robin continued, ignoring Steve’s scrunched expression.

They started to bicker good-naturedly and your mind drifted to Eddie. You felt horrible but it didn’t override your need to crawl under the covers and hide yourself from the world. The one question on your mind refused to be put to rest.

“How could I have been so blind?” You wondered, not realizing you’d said it out loud until Robin leaned some of her weight onto you.

Steve pulled himself closed to the edge so he could turn to look at you. His gaze was gentle, eyes on you. “I mean this genuinely with no judgement, but how could you not have noticed?”

You threw your hands out, Robin dodging your left one expertly. “I don’t know! I think I knew on some level and just ignored it? Its…scary, feelings this big for someone who’s your best friend. I’m so scared, I don’t want to lose him,” you admitted quietly. Steve sighed and you glanced at him. “When did you guys know?”

Steve frowned but Robin spoke first. “To be fair, I don’t think Eddie knew right away either. At least not that I could see and we’ve known each other for a while now too. I realized sophomore year,” she said. “You always had those damn starbursts around. I know your favorites are the red ones because Dustin tried to take one from your stash and you almost chewed his hand off.”

A pile of starbursts were tossed onto your kitchen counter now. “So?” You asked, confused at the connection.

“They’re Eddie’s favorites too and you always let him grab them. I don’t think he even knows you do that, to this day. Let’s not forget how any time either of you ever went on a date or, God forbid, had a relationship, the other was always in a constant mood.”

Before that could sink in, Steve stirred. “I realized when he’d come to visit you at Scoops. Remember when I’d smushed that sundae into you. We were waiting on Robin to come back, worried about the Russians and you’d insisted on staying to help us. You had finally decided I was worthy and we were laughing about something stupid Dustin had said.”

You knew what moment he was talking about – you’d forgotten to call Eddie and tell him you didn’t need a ride home anymore. He’d arrived, on time as always, and walked in on you and Steve wrestling over some spilled ice cream.

“I turned with your ice cream too fast and hit your chin. I was trying to clean it off but you’d taken a handful and shoved it down my uniform. Dustin was practically on the floor laughing and I was chasing you with the bowl. Eddie walked in and instantly hated me. I knew he thought I was flirting with you, which I wasn’t. It was something in the way he looked at me. He wasn’t mad that he thought I liked you, he was mad because he thought I wasn’t worth your time – you know? He wasn’t even jealous, just protective,” he said with a shrug. “With you, it took a while, I think. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same for some time. Not until I knew you better.”

“Oh,” you said, throat dry. “Did everyone know but me?”

Steve bumped your shoulder amicably. “Maybe. It’s obvious to everyone now but it’s because it’s like you’re two magnets. The second the other is in the vicinity, your gravitate together. It’s…natural, almost. Something you’d expect,” he nodded, blinking down at you. “Does that make sense?”

“No,” you said petulantly at the same time Robin nodded.

Rolling her eyes, she grasped your hands and squeezed them. It was reminiscent of that moment in the emergency room, her eyes wide but determined.

“What do you want to do about it?”

You shook your head. “Too big a question.”

Steve took over. “Okay…how do you feel? You can love him as your friend, or be in love with him as a person, but if you don’t want to risk that – it’s up to you. We can have our own opinions-”

“-that you two need to get your heads out of your asses-” Robin said, expression furrowing.

“-but,” he said, shooting her a look, “it’s your choice.”

Feeling like your chest would explode with it, you abruptly stood, needing the space to pace a hole in your carpet. Chewing on your nail, you flung another hand in the air and frowned. “Of course I love him, how could I not? He’s…he’s Eddie. He’s my Eddie. Sometimes, at night, before going to bed I think about it you know. I think about how we were too close to be just best friends. We did things that went far past platonic and it was addicting. I – fuck. I love him. I love him.”

Shoving Steve’s hand off her shoulder, Robin stood, her arms coming down to your shoulders and shaking you. “So, I ask again, what do you want to do about it?”

You started to shake your head but she shut it down. “No, enough with this. You’re the bravest of us all. What do you want to do about it?”

“Robin-”

She waved a hand in Steve’s direction, her blue eyes turning sharp. “Say it.”

The knot in your chest choked you as you swallowed nervously. You wrung your hands together but you knew. You didn’t feel unsettled and panicked because you didn’t want him – you felt off kilter because he wasn’t here. You’d run away when you really wanted to just be with him. You’d hurt the one person you never wanted to hurt.

“I want – I want to tell him. I need to tell him!” You said, spine straightening.

Robin smiled. “There she is.”

“Oh my God,” you said, hands coming up to your face. “I just ran away; he must be freaking out.”

Steve stood, grabbing a yellow starburst. “He was a little…freaked out.”

Guilt flooded you as Robin glared at him.

“Shit, I need to talk to him. Right now. Where’re my shoes? I need to go!” You ran around your living room, frantically looking for your converse.

How the fuck could you have just left him behind? Without telling him – without saying the words. Suddenly, you remembered.

“Fuck! He’s in Indianapolis,” you said, slumping into a nearby chair, “he won’t be back until Sunday night.”

Steve frowned, his hands inching towards a red starburst and you shot him a glare.

“I’m distressed but not dead, get your hands off the red ones,” you snapped.

Robin laughed, knowing glint in her eyes and she grabbed a set of keys from your front table. “You have a fucking car and Indianapolis is three hours away, not across the country. Get what you need and let’s go.”

.

“Get off, you’re squishing me!” Max hissed at Lucas.

“Where do you want me to go? It’s a small car!”

“Will you two shut up?” Dustin snapped.

Robin sighed from the passenger seat and you took the same left as Steve did ahead of you. “You know, I don’t know why you all thought it’d be fun to make this into a group road trip,” she sighed, “you really don’t know how to mind your business!”

You snorted at the hypocrisy of the situation and she shot you a look. Shutting up, you made sure to stay behind the maroon BMW.

“We can’t miss this,” Dustin stressed, “he’s been in love with her for the entire time I’ve known him. I can’t deal with all the pining anymore. I get to see this through!”

You glared at him through the mirror. “We are not a soap opera to entertain yourself with,” you snapped.

By the time you’d made it out to your car, the rest of the party had managed to bike to your apartment with their own nosy agendas. Once they’d found out you were going to drive down to Eddie’s gig, they climbed into your cars – not leaving room for arguing. Because God forbid any of you do something without the entire party knowing.

“You probably won’t even be let in, this is a twenty one or older bar. As in, where they serve alcohol.”

“So?”

Robin shifted around to glare at them. “As in, you’re all not twenty-one yet?”

“Robin, please, what do you take us for? Rookies?” Dustin asked, his brow quirking. “I’m basically Corroded Coffin’s manager-”

“-you’re really not,” you said, thinking of Charlie, Gareth’s cousin who handled all the gigs and scheduling.

“-and I’ve got passes to all their gigs, it’ll be easy.”

Sharing a look with Robin, she shrugged. “Whatever, don’t whine about it to me when you’ve got to stay in the car the whole time.”

Not twenty minutes later, you both rolled your eyes at Dustin’s smug look as the bouncer let them all through with bright green bands indicating they couldn’t be served alcohol.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed.

“What time is it?” You asked, grabbing Steve’s wrist. “Shit, they go on soon – I think I can still catch them backstage.”

“Go, go!” Robin urged, shoving you forward.

Shouldering your way through the crowd, you were astounded at how packed the bar was. Determined, you kept slipping through the restless horde of people. You’d gotten halfway through when a loud strum stopped you. The crowd came alive, cheering and screaming as Eddie sauntered on stage.

Your heart dropped at the sight of the bags under his eyes. “Hello Indianapolis! How are you all tonight?”

The crowd went wild and you were jostled forward, right towards the front. Eddie was a few feet away and you sighed. Of course.

The band went through with introducing themselves, like they always did before starting, and you resigned yourself to catching him after their set. You watched Eddie swing his guitar over his shoulder, adjusting the strap. You don’t know how, in the sheer amount of people in the crowd, but as his eyes swept across the front row – they zeroed in on you.

Surprised, you blinked up at him. His answering grin was so wide, it cracked your heart further. Your breath rushed right out your lungs. Frozen, you stared up at him, and wondered how you could have ever been so blind as to not notice the way your heart always leapt around him. It rattled around in your ribcage, like a police siren. Him, we want him, it shouted at you, grinning up at you when you tried to knock it back into place.

I know, I know we do, you told it.

Of course you loved him, it was Eddie. How could you ever have thought otherwise? You wanted his friendship, because that was the most important part, but you wanted more. You’d always wanted more and you weren’t going to let fear keep you from reaching for it.

Eyes not leaving yours, he grabbed the mic again. “So, I have someone important in the audience today – someone who means a lot to me. She hasn’t heard our newest cover yet but, it’s one of her favorite songs. I’ll admit, it’s never been one of mine but I changed it around a little for her and hope you all like it too.”

Raising your brows at the first few notes, you couldn’t keep your delirious laugh in when you heard him start singing.

“Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth.”

Eddie’s voice lowered as he rasped out the vowels, the drums transforming the song entirely.

You watched Eddie transform, he always put his entire being into the performance and you loved watching him relish in it. Bobbing your head to the song, you danced alongside the three girls to your left.

Catching his eyes towards the end, he grinned as he inhaled.

“In this world, we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'

Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore.”

A smile made it’s way onto your face as you shook your head and you knew he’d caught it by his laugh. Staying right in the middle, with the crowd’s energy pulsing around you, you sat through the entire set.

As Metallica rung through the speakers, you knew it was their closing song. Eddie nodded towards the side door and you started to make your way there.

The guard at the door stood at your approach but the door behind him opened in time for you to catch Charlie’s smile. “She’s good,” she told him, “whenever you see her around this summer, let her through. She’s with Munson.”

The burly guard smiled then. “Oh, you’re his girl? Don’t worry, I never forget a face.” He waved you through and you knew she could read the mild embarrassment in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t pry,” she said, elbowing you, “but I’m happy for you two. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re gone on each other.”

Right.

“I’ve got to help them pack but you’ve been to the green room in the back – he’ll come by when they’re done.”

Thanking her, you stumbled your way there – nerves finally taking over you. You should’ve thought about what to say – how to say it. God, why did you feel so awkward? You’d fought monsters from another dimension but you couldn’t tell your best friend that you loved him?

The door suddenly burst open and Eddie came in, guitar still in hand and hair stuck to his skin. “Hey you,” you said, standing from the velvet couch. “You were amazing.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said hopefully, putting the familiar guitar down and turning his full attention to you. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“There was a full house, I – I’m so happy for you guys. Are you booked full for tomorrow night too?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You needed a moment, just a brief moment of normalcy before you flung yourself off the metaphorical cliff.

Eddie nodded, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face. He knew. He knew that you knew that he knew. Because of course he did. But he was letting you take this at your pace, because Eddie never did anything you didn’t want to. He always let you lead.

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to let you distract yourself, but you were done with the pretenses.

“Fuck it,” you said, surging forward. A flash of surprise was the last thing you saw before you slammed Eddie into the wall and pressed your lips to his.

Finally! Your heart sang, finally, we’re home.

Eddie took a second but after a beat he met you just as fiercely. His grip was bruising on your waist, his other hand coming up to the back of your neck. Not giving him a chance to take the lead from you, you ran your fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. He moaned and the sound shot straight to your stomach. Butterflies in full force, you leaned back, out of breath and saw the dazed look in his eyes.

“Nova,” he begged, unseeing eyes darting around your face. “Nova.”

“I know,” you said, right before you dove back in and pressed open mouth kisses to his neck. And then, after all these years, you finally sunk your teeth into the meaty part of his neck. Right at the base of the skull tattoo. Eddie jerked, as if electrocuted, and shoved you back. Stumbling, you let him cradle your jaw, the other lowering you onto the couch.

Needing more, you whimpered and Eddie grinned. His knee pushed up between your legs and the pressure was amazing. Your hips stuttered, bumping into his and you both hissed. His teeth worried the sensitive skin of your neck and you whined as he lapped at the bruise he left.

“Eddie,” you gasped, “Eddie, please.”

His forehead came down to your shoulder, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon, and you both just breathed the other in. At your nudging, he dropped his weight onto you and you jerked at the hardness you felt by your hip.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. “The amount of adrenaline going through me right now-”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hand drifting down his side but Eddie caught it. “I can help,” you offered. Jesus, you wanted to help if the pressure between your legs was any indication. Eddie’s face softened, his eyes drifting down your face and he groaned.

“I want that too but, maybe we should talk first? Before going past the no return point?”

You blinked. “Munson, I’m past the no return point,” you said, matter of fact. And it was true. There was no going back now.

His answering smile blinded you and you heart threatened to burst at the happiness you found there. “Yeah?” He asked, tone a little uneven.

You nodded, fingers trailing down his face. Eddie lifted himself off you, sitting on the couch and pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, me too.”

“When did you realize? And why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, ripping the band aid off.

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, “I...think I’ve always loved you. From that moment in the hallway when you chased away Tommy and his gang of assholes. You took one look at me and I think I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had but there were times where I’d catch us in moments and I thought yeah, this could work. I wanted it so badly but I didn’t want to lose you. Then, years later, I realized you felt it too. I just, wanted you to get there on your own. I never wanted you to feel like you had no choice or no out. You’ll always have me, in any form you want me.”

Your heart melted. “You’re killing me,” you groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

Eddie laughed, his chest rumbling with it. “I’m sorry but, it’s the truth.”

“I know I’ve said it before but, I love you Eddie. How could I not?” You said, cradling his jaw in your hand.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours, eyes suspiciously red, and you decided to be mature enough and not tease him.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first question. When did you really realize?”

“To be fair, it took me a while. Everyone knew I hated Mason,” he said and you thought back to your first boyfriend who’d moved to Texas your junior year, “which made the guys tease the shit out of me but I think I fully realized it for our senior prom. I was so bummed that you were going off to college and I was stuck in Hawkins. Then, you managed to blackmail Higgins into letting me go-”

“I didn’t blackmail him, I just asked,” you laughed.

“-I knew you knew I was upset and I could tell you wanted to cheer me up. But then you did that stupid promposal-”

“Hey!”

“And you had that big bouquet of daisies. And it hit me like a fucking truck, I’m not going to lie. That’s why – I don’t blame you. It was a lot,” he said, his fingers trailing down your cheek. “We’d been friends for years at that point. It was both shocking and stupidly obvious. How could I not have realized? It took you, standing in that meadow behind my old trailer, that massive glitter poster and those flowers. It was like…lightning. One moment I was totally oblivious and then the next, I just knew.”

“Is that why you never dated anyone after that? I thought you were hung up on Joan,” you said, thinking back on the girl he dated through high school.

He smiled, looking down at you. “No, I’ve always been yours. You’re branded on my soul, Supernova. From that first moment in that old gross hallway.”

“How did you know that I felt the same? I didn’t even know.”

Your heart sung, breath completely stolen at the look he gave you. “I mean, I didn’t know-” You leaned back to shoot him a look and he snorted. “There wasn’t an exact moment! After you went to Indie State and we’d hang out there were just small moments, I promise. Like, how you’d wait up for my call when I got home after visiting you. Or, how you stayed up all night to help me study for my finals – like two years in a row. Or that time that I caught the flu and you hit every pharmacy in Indiana getting me what I needed. Or the way Wayne just downright loves you – there’s no competition. You’re his favorite.”

“Because I bring him baked goods,” you said, laughing.

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, but he’s always loved you because you care. You just – you do all these little things and I didn’t notice until I did. I don’t know.”

You mulled that over and realized he was right. The way Eddie would steer you away from sharp corners, or always made sure you walked on the opposite side of the curb. How he always knew your order or how you liked you take your coffee. You flashed back to his broken body and how you’d snapped and lost it. How he’d only thought of making sure you were okay when he woke up.

In hindsight, you realized, he was right. It wasn’t one big moment. It was a lot of little ones.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get there,” you whispered, thumb tracing his bottom lip, “I’m sorry for leaving you at the Wheeler’s house. I should’ve been braver.”

“You are brave,” he whispered back, “I knew you just needed time. Besides, I was going to give you a week before I hunted you down.”

Laughing, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, the other played with his necklace. “Yeah?” You felt suddenly shy.

“Yeah. Even if I was wrong and you didn’t feel the same way,” he shrugged, “I wasn’t scared enough to let you go. Romantic or platonic, Nova, we’re for life. Between Vecna and surviving ninth grade gym class together, we’re practically trauma bonded at this point.”

You laughed realizing you’d already had a lifetime of experiences with him. Eyes trailing down his content expression, you kissed the corner of his mouth. But a lifetime wasn’t enough. You wanted more. And you’d have more – you had all the time in the world.

“Yeah, Munson, we’re for life,” you agreed and leaned back down to kiss him.

Because hey, even he was right sometimes.

A/N: thank you all so much for the comments on my other fic, you cannot imagine what it means to me! This is the cover I was thinking of if anyone's interested.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

[tired-biscuit]

forcing naruto to jerk off in front of you while you watch in lust😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

oh. my. god. yes yes yes, AHHHHH!! it's all under the cut, i loved thinking about this!! <3

cw: voyeurism // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

imagine him sitting on the couch of your living room; manspreading. strong legs splayed wide apart, his pants pooling at his ankles along with his vividly bright underwear. his white t-shirt is pushed up to the collar, giving you a clear view of his toned stomach and making your gaze linger. the muscles tighten whenever he flexes his abs. you know that he does it on purpose.

he's always been fond of trying to impress you, after all. even after pinning you down.

and to be honest, it works. his efforts prove to be effective, because the tan skin - that he makes sure is visible for your personal enjoyment - now glows with the golden hour, drawing you right in. as if the sun itself has followed after your footsteps and fallen in love with him, warm rays splash all over his burly body as they seep through the window to his left - their heat making him sweat even more as his hand continues running up and down the entire length of his leaking cock. a thing he rarely executes alone anymore, just so you're happy.

and you are happy about it, of course you are - it's a marvelous sight to look at. he's just so pretty whilst vulnerable like this. so alluring. it's taking everything in your power to not sit on his fat dick and ride it into the fucking sunset.

but instead of doing that, you collect yourself and smile as you continue to watch him palm himself. this cunningly wretched grin that should belong to a feline rather than a sweet girl such as yourself. well, not really.

because you aren't as sweet as you seem, are you? if you actually were, you wouldn't be sitting across from him the way you do now; leaning back on the sturdy coffee table in nothing but a short skirt that he knows isn't hiding anything underneath, because you've made a point to prove it to him by lifting it and spreading your legs for a couple of seconds, making him gape. if you were sweet, you wouldn't be nearly purring as you make him fuck his fist in front of you, watching him smear a mixture of his saliva and lube everywhere; turning it messy with fucking vigour just because this sort of thing makes your pussy wet.

and speaking of messy, his rhythm has become rather quick-paced and uneven now; replacing the languid strokes he had indulged you in presenting earlier.

it doesn't surprise either of you. after nearly thirty minutes of torturing him like this - constantly edging him and never letting him reach his finish - his desire to cum has become so profound that it makes him glare as he clenches his jaw and bares his straight, pearly-white teeth like the dirty dog you make him be just to appease your twisted wishes.

your eyes are nearly glued to his dick. the tip has turned into an angry shade of red by now, leaking pre-cum that makes his skin glisten along with the lube. he's throbbing; the veins protruding, surely noticeable to the touch whilst he strokes and strokes and strokes.

"hey... show it to me," he says at one point, tone so agitated and laced with longing that it yanks you right out of your little daydream.

"hmm?" you blink, but your eyes remain glazed over with a thick coat of lust. christ, that steady pat, pat, pat of his fist touching his abdomen sounds like music to your ears. "what did you say, naru?"

he pouts at your dazed expression. pouts. "i s-said if-... fuck, i said if you could show me that pretty cunt of yours, sweetheart... lemme see how drenched you are 'cause of me, will ya? please." let me cum already, for fuck's sake.

you smile at how breathy his voice has become, eyes glimmering with playful mischief. god, you love it whenever you push his buttons like this. love it whenever you drive him so far up the wall that it provokes the sunshine in him and turns him just a little bit mean. that it makes him spit the flithiest of words, and makes him get this wild look in his eye that could borderline make you cum just with one glance alone.

so it's no wonder why you cross your legs extra cautiously, then. why you pretend to ponder whilst making sure your skirt is nice and secure; letting him catch only a mere hint of your naked thigh and nothing else as you say,

"not unless you go slower, handsome."

#naruto x reader #naruto smut #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki smut #biscuit drabbles #cw voyeurism

[caesurah-tblr]

EMETOPHOBIA TW!!! TW FOR GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS!!!

Enjoy this little POV of gl!Charlie after the events of the finale of Genloss, and what things might come after.

He opens his eyes.

The feel of the cold flooring of the mall doesn’t mix right with the warm feeling and coppery smell of blood. Fuck.

He’s gonna be sick.

Charlie empties the contents of his stomach, and it mixes with the blood. The smell is too much to bear.

Get up! His mind screams, Get the fuck up! You’ll die here if you don’t!

But it’s so hard. He’s so weak and tired…

Ranboo.

“Ranboo?” Charlie calls out quietly into the darkness, too afraid to attract the attention of the thing that had attacked him earlier. No response.

He lets out a sob of pain as he forces himself to his knees. The pain is almost unbearable, but it’s not as bad as-

There are hands in his guts. There are hands in his guts and they’re pulling out his insides bit by bit. Charlie is screaming, thrashing in his binds as his friend continues to pull him apart. He knows Ranboo isn’t seeing what he’s seeing, but he’s so desperate to get through the control and he’s in so much pain. So he screams. And Ranboo doesn’t listen.

Charlie heaves again, but there’s nothing left but bile that dribbles from between his lips. He’s gotta get up. He’s got to get up and find Ranboo so they can leave like they said they would.

He stumbles to his feet, nearly slipping on the horrible mixture on the floor. The wound isn’t as bad as it looks- it’s thick across his stomach and bleeding sluggishly, but the vest had kept the wound from being fatal.

“Cmon Charlie.” He mutters to himself “Just gotta find Ranboo. Just gotta find him and leave.”

Charlie flinches as he accidentally shoulder-checks a Showfall staff member, but they don’t seem to react. It’s almost like they’re frozen in time.

There’s the bright red of an exit sign that draws his attention. The door is wide open.

Had Ranboo gotten out?

Charlie makes his way towards it, like a moth drawn to flame. Every painful footfall causes the edges of his vision to flash, but he forces his eyes to stay open because he has to leave. He has to get back to-

To-

He doesn’t know. Charlie has no fucking idea what he was doing before this and the thought causes angry tears to well up in his eyes. Where did he come from? Was there anyone waiting for him to come home? Did his parents care? Did he have a girlfriend, or maybe a wife back home? Did she miss him?

“Fuck.” Charlie hisses out between gritted teeth as he leans against the doorframe for support. It’s okay. He’ll learn soon enough. Soon he’ll get to see his parents and get to hug that maybe girlfriend or wife and he’ll finally be free.

What’s supposed to be an exit to the outside is anything but that. The room is covered in wires and tvs, and hung in the middle like some fucked up mockery of Jesus Christ is Ranboo.

There’s a black box covering his head. The amount of blood and viscera on Ranboo’s jacket tells Charlie all he needs to know, but he has to check. For his own sake.

The box gives away after a couple of weak pulls, and the sound of metal leaving flesh will haunt Charlie for the rest of his days. The mask is broken, and hangs in tatters around Ranboo’s face. Or what’s left of it at least.

“Fuck!” Charlie sobs, “No! Fucking hell!”

Through the gore, he can see tear tracks. Ranboo is dead.

“I see you’re still alive.”

The voice makes him whip around. The man in the red hoodie- Hutch, he thinks that’s what Ranboo had called him- stands before him. Alive.

“But- You’re supposed to be fucking dead! We watched you die! Did you do this?!”

Hutch tilts his head, the dim light reflecting off the matte black of his mask making him appear much more sinister. “You know better than anyone here that looks can be deceiving when it comes to Showfall, Charlie. As for who killed Ranboo? Well, it’s Their fault.”

“Their?!” Charlie snaps, “Did They strap him down and put a metal box on his head?! Did They strap me down and force some unwilling participants to root around in my guts? They didn’t do this! You fucking did!”

He steps forward, hand reaching to his side. He had picked up Ranboo’s knife, but then he had been too scared to use it. But now?

Now, he was gonna end it.

“You killed them! All of them! Ranboo, Austin, Niki, Ethan, Sneeg, Vinny… They’re dead and it’s your fucking fault!”

Charlie lunges, knife held high, but before he can get any closer hands grab his arms. He struggles, but the blood loss has weakened him and he can’t keep up the fight.

Hutch hums to himself and taps his chin, pondering. “You’ve always been so feisty… The fact that I’ve allowed you to live this long says a lot about my charitable nature, you know.”

“I don’t want your charitable nature.” Charlie punctuates the sentence with a pull, pulling the two Showfall staff with him. He’s strong, and if he can fight the pain he can end this. “I want you dead.”

“Y’know, we don’t normally do reruns. Audience retention and all that. But for you I might make an exception.”

Hutch leans in close. “The things I’ve seen you do to survive. You don’t remember them, but I do. You think Ranboo’s was bad? I’ve seen you do things to people you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.”

Charlie leans away, shocked from the accusations.

“I’ve never hurt anyone.”

But it comes out weak because he knows it’s a lie. Even if he doesn’t remember it, Charlie knows he played the game like Ranboo, like Sneeg and like all the others. What had he done? Who had he hurt?

“All the blood on your hands says otherwise, Charlie. You were always my favorite, y’know? So spunky, and we never had to push very hard to get what we wanted out of you. I think a rerun will do just fine.”

With that, Hutch turns away and claps his hands twice.

“Run it back! It’ll be even better this time, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure of it.”

Hands grab him on all sides, forcing him onto the ground. Charlie screams and thrashes, fighting with everything he has to no avail.

Something cold snaps over his face- the mask, no- but it’s too late. He’s going back.

The last thing Charlie sees is the corpse of Ranboo, bloody and broken.

I’ll get out. Charlie promises the figure. I’ll get out, and I’ll end the cycle once and for all.

#generation loss #genloss #caesurah writes #ooo looky looky #Toby is back to writing #gl!ranboo #gl!slimecicle #love this #it’s the first thing I’ve written in months and I think it’s good #Charlie Slimecicle

[oftenwantedafton]

Pas de Deux - William Afton x Female Ballerina Reader ~ A Ballora Origin Story

Finale

Warnings for mention of pregnancy, referenced character death

Taglist @dxstopiaa

Also available on AO3

A cold spring rain falls on the day of your audition for the University of Utah’s School of Dance program.

You’ve already submitted your application for the ballet BFA program, including a generously written recommendation from Mrs. Afton, who’d sent it to your address without prompting. You cannot bear to look at her neat signature for very long, the cursive of that last name instantly stabbing through your heart.

There are a long line of hopeful prospects waiting when you reach the school holding the tryouts. You’re chosen somewhere near the middle of that group to perform. You’ve never been more nervous, tense at first as you begin but losing yourself in the performance soon after.

You can’t tell by the instructor’s expressions if they’re impressed or not, quickly dismissing you once you’ve finished and signaling for the next person in line to step forward. There’s nothing left for you to do but take the bus back to Hurricane.

The rain continues to fall.

You slip inside a nearby phone booth, digging around for quarters in your bag and thumbing several into the slot. Your mother answers, the enthusiasm and excitement clear in her voice. You wish you could feel the same way, the doubts muting your tone as you recount the audition’s events. You hear her ask if you’re okay, a daily query now. She has no idea what’s happened between you and William, of course; the shameful secret remains just that. You reassure her you’re fine, just tired, and that you’ll be heading home now.

You’ve just hung the phone back on its cradle and folded the sliding door to exit the booth when you notice a familiar automobile parked a short distance away.

Your heart lurches and your stomach rolls. You haven’t spoken to William since that last phone conversation four weeks ago. You’d assumed he’d given up, moved on, was too busy to spare you another moment’s thought.

Yet there he is, barely visible through the rain streaked windshield, dark hair and pale skin and shadowed eyes and you misstep, stumbling off the curb, a puddle of rainwater splashing and soaking through your clothing.

The vehicle approaches you at a cautious crawl, drawing even with you and halting, the window cranked down, and the look he gives you, that absolute desperate want, makes the supply of tears you’ve thought exhausted begin anew, lost amidst the downpour.

“Get in the car.”

His words are so soft they’re nearly buried underneath the collision of water to the earth, difficult to discern under the dull metallic sound as the rain strikes the roof of the sedan.

You stare at him, oblivious to your surroundings, everything narrowing in on the man seated there. “How did you know where I was?”

His lips press together in a thin line. “I was told—it doesn’t matter. For Christ’s sake, just get in the car, you’re soaked.”

You shake your head, sniffling. ”I don’t want to.”

The driver’s knuckles blanch as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Please, get in the car. I need to talk to you.”

You hesitate.

“I’m begging you.”

Your fingers reach for the chrome handle and tug, nearly slipping free before you can get a good grasp of it. You throw your bag to the floor and your body collapses into the seat above it.

He leans towards you as if to kiss you, but you inhale sharply and turn your face away.

The storm intensifies by the time William pulls into the rear parking lot of the restaurant, the windshield wipers squeakily protesting at the brisk pace they’re forced to maintain until he shuts the engine off.

You feel his eyes on you but you cannot force yourself to meet his gaze. The car suddenly seems so cramped and suffocating, and you find it hard to breathe.

“Come inside with me. You must be freezing. You can get changed and—”

“No. I don’t want to. I’m not going back in there.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no point, William.” You muster the courage to turn and face him. You hate yourself for how badly you want to surrender; to pretend you’d never been driven apart; that your world within the space of his arms is still intact.

“What did she say to you that day?” His voice is quiet amidst the downpour.

You’ve had that conversation on replay in your mind over and over. It hasn’t gotten any easier to listen to. “That you were using me. That you’d throw me away when you got tired of me.”

“And you believed her?” William huffs in disbelief.

“I don’t know. Why would she lie?”

“To get back at me. To hurt you.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes burn. “Please take me home now.”

The older man shifts, beginning to lean in your direction and you recoil. He sighs, lifting the latch for the glove compartment, then removes a small gift box wrapped in pink paper and matching bow. He drops it into your lap and shoves the compartment closed, easing back into his seat.

“What is this?” You stare at the offering.

“Graduation gift. Couldn’t give it to you that night, obviously.”

You hesitate, toying with the loops of the bow on top of the box.

“I don’t think I should accept this.”

He sighs, digging into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Please, just open it.”

You tuck your thumb under one of the folded edges, tearing the paper wrapping. The box inside is wooden, varnished and embellished with scrolled pieces of metal. You lift the lid slowly and are greeted with a soft music box melody, a tiny ballerina inside turning in accompaniment to the gentle tinkling sounds. You recognize the tune as the same one he’d hummed against your cheek that night in the ballet studio.

“Schubert’s Serenade,” he murmurs quietly, staring seemingly at nothing through the rain blurred driver’s side window, one thumb worrying over a crack in the padded vinyl edge of the door, the cigarette he’s selected still unlit.

“It’s beautiful.” Your voice is thick with emotion.

“I’m not using you,” he says quietly. “I could never do that. I’m not a monster, in spite of whatever you were told, or whatever you may think.”

You remain silent, your fingers tracing over the gilded edges of the music box as you gently close it.

“I wasn’t with you just because I wanted to have a fling on the side or just…get off. I wanted to build a life with you. I still want that.” His arm folds and he presses a fist against his mouth.

“You keep telling me how beautiful and perfect I am. What happens when I grow older and I’m neither of those things anymore?”

He looks over at you.

“Is it really me you love, or the idea of me? Like that robot ballerina you want to construct. You want something eternally beautiful. There’s a reason that doesn’t exist in real life.”

He shakes his head, tucking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “Christ, she’s really poisoned you against me.” He inhales deeply and sends the smoke towards the cracked window.

“It’s not her, William. This is coming from me.”

“So that’s it, then? You’re finished with me? You don’t love me any more?”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. “I still love you.”

He turns to face you. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Maybe not intentionally. But still. I don’t want to end up like her.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“Because you’re not her.” He takes another drag and combs the other hand through his hair in frustration. “My relationship with her didn’t fail because she got older or less desirable. It failed because we’re incompatible. We both wanted different things out of life. When I say you’re perfect, I mean you’re perfect for me.” He cautiously reaches out and tucks a damp strand of hair behind one ear, knuckles ghosting against your cheek before he lets his hand drop back in his lap.

“What if I get accepted into the university?”

“I doubt it’s an if. Of course you’ll get in.”

“It’s three hundred miles away.”

The end of the cigarette flares as he takes another drag, nodding. “So I’ll drive the four hours to see you whenever I can and we’ll see each other when you come home on breaks. It’s only a two year program; it’ll go by faster than you can imagine.”

“The distance will bother you. It will bother both of us.”

Another deep inhale. The paper roll is vanishing quickly. “Are you looking for excuses for this not to work out?”

“No.” The rainfall nearly extinguishes that small denial. You hate how practical you are now. It had been so much easier to be lost in the romance of it all just a short month ago. Time had flowed so differently then. Now you're facing decisions that will affect the rest of your life. “How long will it take to get the divorce?”

“Lawyer said probably around three months since it’s uncontested. We’re selling the studio and the house. She’s moving back in with her parents for now. I have to find an apartment.” He scratches absently at his brow. “I’m planning on keeping the restaurant open. I’ve invested too much into it to just abandon it outright. Maybe I can find somebody to help me run it. There was someone I met back in college who seemed interested in the idea. I could try to track him down. It’s too much for one person to manage anyway.”

He sighs, taking in another lungful of nicotine, letting his head fall back against the headrest. He looks exhausted again, like he had back when you’d first started having the affair.

“There’s a studio that’s looking for an assistant instructor in La Verkin. Before we…I was thinking of working for a year, saving up some money. I could defer enrollment.”

He shakes his head, flicking ash from the butt out the window. “No. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t go to college. You’re too gifted to waste it.” His lips twist into a bitter smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that selfish.” His eyes find yours. “Will you come back to me, when you’re finished?”

You inhale deeply, nod, watch as he gathers the last of the smoke before he leans towards you, exhaling inside your mouth, all ash and heat.

You should never have gotten in the car with him that day; never accepted his smoke tinged kisses and heated promises.

If only you had known, but how could you; how could anyone ever have predicted all of the terrible things that were to come?

***

You return back to Hurricane a week sooner than you’d promised, the first of a pair of surprises for William.

You’d forgotten how small the town was; how cramped and intimate the buildings were. You look through the cab’s rear passenger window at the ballet studio, now under new management with a different name, and you think about your first kiss in that alley two years ago after your hands had tangled. Your own left one is heavier with the engagement ring he’d placed there six months earlier.

It’s a weekday and the pizzeria isn’t crowded yet; that will undoubtedly be changing soon with the coming of summer vacation. A flood of memories washes over you as you make your way to the employees entrance. The door to the manager’s office is cracked open and your heart beats a little faster. His last visit had been six weeks ago.

You push the door open the rest of the way gently and the bearded man inside is a stranger, rummaging among some papers on the desk. He looks up at you and his hands grow still.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for William.”

“He’s out back for a cigarette break, I think.” He pauses, studying you. “I know who you are. I‘ve heard a lot about you. His prima ballerina.”

You flush. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. You must be his business partner.”

“Henry Emily. Pleasure to meet you.” He offers a hand and you shake it. “Is he expecting you? I would have thought he’d have gone to pick you up.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, your secret is safe with me.” He smiles. “You know your way around, or you want me to point you in the right direction?”

“Actually, I’ve always found it to be a bit of a maze back here. I wouldn’t mind the assistance.”

He nods, guiding you to an exit door that leads to the rear parking lot.

You lean your weight against the bar and the door releases, granting you access to the warm sunlight outdoors.

He’s there, just to your left, leaning back against the bricks and mortar, a lazy trail of smoke drifting from the cigarette pinched between index and middle finger.

Your eyes meet at the same moment and the lit paper roll falls from his fingers. He’s on you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you, crushing you against him.

“You’re back,” he breathes beside your ear. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken the day off and come to get you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

His lips find yours, gentle at first, then pressing with increasing fierceness, wet and possessive.

“William, wait. I have something else to tell you,” you pant between kisses.

“I’m going to tell Henry I’m leaving early. It’s not like I’m going to get any work done anyway. Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He nuzzles your throat, thumbs stroking over your hips.

“William.”

His head lifts and he draws back to look at your face, finally registering the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?”

“I’m late.”

“What?”

You reach for one of his hands, bringing it around to the front of your body and pressing softly against your abdomen.

The realization flares his eyelids. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod.

He smiles, giving a little surprised laugh. His forehead drops to rest against yours and he strokes over your belly. He tells you you’re perfect and he’s never been happier and for a time you believe it; you think he might have even meant it.

If only it could have stayed that way.

***

Your eyes are closed.

You’re aware, an artificial consciousness flaring into being, the operating system booting successfully after a few false starts. An electrical stimulus signals you to test your motor functions and you move your arm, hand opening and closing. The process repeats for the opposite side. Your lower extremities respond the same way. You feel something warm against your synthetic painted casing just above the details of the lace slippers and it stirs a memory from before. You’d been touched like this, back when you were flesh and blood. Caressed and desired. Promised forever. And here you are now; you’d gotten that eternity. Just not in the way you’d originally thought.

The voice that speaks to you is familiar, too. It’s rougher than it had once been, the cumulative years of smoking affecting the vocal cords’ abilities to vibrate, altering the sound to a coarse rasp. It bids you to respond to it and you do, the sound artificially processed and engineered to replicate your original voice as closely as possible. You hear a sharp intake of breath and feel something wet splash somewhere near one painted cheek. Tears, you think, your new artificial mind registering the sensation. You’d known these well. So many fallen over the years, some in joy, like during the birth of your first child; the loss of your youngest at such an early age. So much tragedy.

Ballora.

A name is spoken, and you recognize it as your own, a new one to accompany your new body, an identity for your new consciousness. The memories are tucked back into the recesses of your data storage. You have no use for them now.

You open your eyes.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #ballora

[mehbzz]

Mine Outerbanks fanfic Topper x F!reader and Rafe Cameron x F!Reader

PWP Rafe gets you high and lets Topper take advantage. 18+ Noncon, drugging, Abusive relationships.

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You stand awkwardly at the edge of the room with Topper, watching the other guests enjoy the party, waiting in awkward silence for Rafe to return with more drinks. Although you hadn’t even finished the first one he had given you, the cocktail in your hand was overly sweet, the mixture of sugar and alcohol already causing a low thumping headache to start building behind your eyes. You glance at Topper, he’s on edge, well on his way to drunk and you hesitate to use the word clingy, but he was. Every little shift away from him was mirrored by his own shift closer to you. Overly attentive and twitchy, he was definitely high and part of you felt incredibly sad about that, about how easily he gave into pressure from Rafe, but then you were hardly any better.  

“You’re very quiet.” Topper finally tears his gaze away from his perusal of the room to look at you.

You shrug. You weren’t in the mood for partying. Your argument with Rafe no more than an hour ago had left you in a low mood. The ache in your jaw still throbbing brightly. Not the first time he had lost his temper with you, not even the first time he had left you with bruises but it was the first time he had lashed out and hurt you somewhere so potentially obvious. It felt swollen, sore, although you couldn’t tell if it was noticeable or not. Either it wasn’t as a bad as it felt or Topper was being very discrete about it.

"It’s weird to have you to myself," Topper shakes his head as you raise your eyebrow. "Not like, well… you know. Rafe is pretty protective of you.”

You don't say anything. Protective is not the word you’d use. Controlling, possessive, selfish, all seemed more fitting to you.

“You-," Topper glances away but seems to steel his resolve as he looks back at you with slightly crazed determination. "You look nice tonight.”

The knot of tension in your stomach tightens, you don’t like this. You don’t like Topper being so familiar with you and his compliment hits wrong, your unease turning into defensive spite as you turn away and down the rest of your cocktail with a grimace.

"Thanks. Rafe chose it." He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can speak. “I’m getting another drink, he’s taking too long.”

“Hey don’t leave me here alone,” He steps closer, his hand reaching out to wrap around your wrist and you twist away from him with a confused frown. “I’ll come with.”

“I’m good.” The touching, the compliments, it’s a lot. You know he’s having problems with Sarah but this oddly flirty behaviour seemed like a dumb move, even for Topper. If Rafe noticed there’d be hell to pay, for the both of you.

“C’mon. Can’t leave Rafe’s girl unattended. Not dressed like that.” His eyes sweep down your body, lingering across your chest and you shift awkwardly, more than a little uncomfortable.

“Dressed like what?” Rafe appears behind you, making you jump, he’s holding out a glass of something fizzy and brightly coloured, it makes you feel a little sick just looking at it. “She looks good right?”

Topper nods, taking several swallows of his beer but his eyes never leave you.

“Take it, baby,” Rafe pushes the glass towards you when you don’t move but you still hesitate in taking it and his jaw clenches in frustration. “Take the fucking drink.” He snaps, the last word hissed loud enough to draw curious gazes from the close crowd around you. You wince as you make brief eye contact with Ward, his unhappy frown pushing you into reluctantly accepting the drink.

“Christ sake what’s with the attitude?” Rafe mutters as he clinks your glasses together. “Let’s try having some fun for once yeah? Don’t ruin my night.” He raises his hand to push your glass up to your lips when you make no move to try it, not letting go until you've taken several gulps. "Good girl." He swipes his thumb across the corner of your mouth, so quickly that you don’t have time to flinch back.  “Is it good?”

You nod even as you try not to grimace. It’s horrendously sweet.

He smiles, a pleased twitch of his lips. “Yeah? Your little pogue friend made it.”

You tense. You knew JJ was working tonight but you had foolishly hoped you’d be able to keep Rafe distracted enough from noticing. You’d obviously failed almost immediately and you tried not to let the concern show. “I didn’t realise he was working tonight.” You take a sip of your drink, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible but you don’t think he buys it.

“You think I believe that line of shit?” he hisses, running his hand through his hair as he stares at you. You flinch, a little take aback by the quick shift in his mood, vaguely aware of the way Topper pointedly looks away, leaving you to face Rafe’s apparent wrath on your own. “That why you were so eager to get here?”

“I -, no, course not. Sorry.” You bite back the urge to point out that you didn’t even want to come here as you wilt under his glare, not sure what you’re apologising for. It’s a feeble attempt to placate him as you raise your glass to your lips again.

He watches you for a few more seconds, but seems to relax when you don’t say anything further, keeping your attention focused on your drink.

You fight the urge to step away from the two of them, to hide away from Rafe’s inevitable tantrum but you don’t. With JJ in his sights, and coke and alcohol in his veins, he was going to be unbearably possessive; any potential slight was going to come with a hefty price when he took you home later. So you zone out, nodding and humming along to whatever conversation Topper and Rafe are having and sipping at the sugary alcohol until your stomach starts to rebel.

“You ok?” Topper looks a little concerned, his free hand reaching out to brush over your hip as he tries to keep you steady. “You look a little… off.”

“No I’m-,” Your stomach twists and you fight back the urge to gag. You really needed to get out of here. “I’m fine.” You shake your head and your vision blurs slightly, your brain feeling like it lurches at the movement.

“You sure?” Rafe cups your chin, tugging you away from Topper’s grip, his thumb running down the length of your jaw as he forces you to look up at him.

Your angry retort for the two of them manhandling you doesn’t get chance to leave your lips as the room suddenly tilts, but as you sway Rafe’s arm wraps tightly around your waist. “Easy.” His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and you shiver.

“Thanks.” you mumble, trying to take a step away from him but his grip tightens.

“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink, let’s get you out of here before you embarrass me.”

“I can manage,” You snap. The constant attention and touching giving you a strong burst of irritation, your mouth moving before your brain can engage. You really need some air. “Sorry, I just-, I can manage.”

Rafe’s grip on your hip turns painful for a second before he lets you go with a shrug. “Suit yourself.”

You hesitate, not convinced he was going to let you go so easily but he makes no move to stop you when you finally start to walk towards what you assume is the way to the bathrooms. You take one glance back to make sure he’s not following you before you disappear through the door and your heart skips a beat when you notice them both staring at you intently.

--------------------------------------------------

Your legs feel like jelly, shaky and uncoordinated, one hand propping yourself up as you make your way rather clumsily down the hallway. The way the floor seems to tilt doesn’t help and as you turn at the end of the corridor you stumble hard into someone. It takes you a second to recognise JJ, your mumbled apology being met with an unbothered grin. “There you are. Been looking for you.”

“Here I am.” Your tongue is heavy, making you slur your words as you shrug, the movement making you sway lightly.

“You feeling alright?” JJ grabs your elbow, the concern obvious across his face. You nod. Your discomfort has eased now you’ve found a friendly face; the jittery anxiousness is starting to melt into a warm, pleasant buzz. He says something else but you’re far too focused on his mouth, the way it moves as he speaks and the little downward tilt when he frowns at you, scanning over you as you try to focus on him.

“Seriously are you-, Wait what happened to your face?” his eyes narrow. “Did Rafe do that to you?” You blink, trying hard to steady yourself, the way JJ’s face seems to wobble and blur at the edges making you feel increasingly nauseous.

“Hands off pogue.” Rafe’s hand wraps around your arm and yanks you backwards hard, your eyes widening in shock and pain.

 “Don’t touch her like that,” JJ makes a move to grab you back, Rafe giving a startled scoff as he shoves him back hard. You make an alarmed noise at the rising tension and JJ’s attention snaps back to you, his hostility towards Rafe overridden by worry for you.  “Seriously she doesn’t lo-,” He cuts off as he eyes you, taking in your dishevelled state with obvious increasing concern.  “Did you give her something?"

"Why would I do that huh? She’s my girlfriend," Rafe spits then he pauses, and his head tilts as he clicks his tongue. “You know what? You made her drink, maybe you slipped her something. Bet the cops would love to know that, pogue out here drugging girls?”

JJ spits your name, he’s angry; you can see it in the way his jaw ticks and his eyes narrow, but he’s trying to keep control. “Come here, I’ll take you home.”

“The fuck you will,” Rafe hooks an arm round your waist, pulling you roughly into his side. “She’s having a good time, aren’t you baby?”

JJ’s gaze flicks between the two of you, his eyes lingering on the way Rafe’s fingers are digging into your hip. That seems to be a step too far as Rafe swears under his breath, his patience obviously running out.

“I know you got a thing for her, I’m not dumb,” Rafe pushes you backwards, making you squeak in surprise at the sudden movement, and takes a step towards JJ. Topper is quick to catch you though, looping an arm around your waist to hold you steady. “But taking advantage like that?  Seems a little desperate, even for you.”

Topper tenses, his voice sounding a little strained as he tries to pull you away from the impending fight. “C’mon, let’s get some air.”

You don’t want to, you want to drag Rafe away instead but Topper is insistent and he tugs you away easily, your limbs to heavy and uncoordinated to push him away and JJ’s concerned call of your name follows you as Topper leads you down the corridor.

--------------------------------------------------

“Thought we were going outside.” You mumble.

“We are. You need some water first, besides its nice and quiet in here, it’ll help.” Topper’s arm is firm around your waist as he guides you in, closing the door behind you. You slouch back against the wall gratefully, he’s right, the quiet does make you feel a little better, but something still feels wrong. The feeling grows and creeps up over you after a few minutes, prickling up and through your limbs, until you feel like your brain is covered in a hazy fog, everything feeling too bright and muted at the same time.

You groan as he steps into your space, close enough that his chest almost but not quite brushes yours. He rests a warm hand on your waist, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your hip, his hands fluttering down to your thighs and back up. “How you feeling?”

“Good, but-,” You try to reply but your tongue is heavy, and you are dimly aware that you are probably making a fool of yourself. “Not good.”

He says something else but can’t focus on his words as the room spins around you, colours swirling together. Two fingers brush over your bottom lip and you open instinctively, letting them slide into your mouth as you suck down the length of them. You know what you’re supposed to do, curling your tongue the way Rafe likes, but the choked almost startled moan you’re met with doesn’t sound like him. “Fuck I get why he’s so possessive of you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to focus your vision; the voice is not Rafe’s either. Confusion and revulsion making yours stomach lurch as Topper’s face comes into view and you vaguely remember where you are. Your teeth clamping down on the fingers in your mouth. He hisses yanking his hand back but not moving away.

“No.” You lean back, pushing against his chest and he grabs your elbow to stop you tumbling sideways. You push at his arm, or you think you do. You limbs feel light but disobedient, almost like you’re moving underwater. “Stop Rafe will-,”

"Rafe won’t.” Topper cuts you off with a huff. “He’s always telling me what a good girl you are," He ignores your squirming, his fingers finally dipping under the hem of your dress. "How sweet you are, how funny, how tight-," he cuts off with a groan, his grip digging hard into your upper thigh. "He said you'd show me."

That information is like a stab of ice through your heart. You shove at his chest but it's pointless, he's bigger, stronger and all it does is encourage him to press his hips harder against you. "going to show me?” you shake your head and regret it immediately, your vision swimming and nausea swirling in your gut and Topper’s voice drops to an almost whisper, hands cupping your face as he rests his forehead against yours. “I know what he’s like, I do. I know you want to keep him happy. So relax. Don’t want him mad at you do you?"

You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes. Rafe had no qualms about hurting you when he didn’t get his way, and you didn’t trust Topper not to follow his lead either. You choke back a sob as you push weakly at Toppers shoulders. Rafe wouldn’t be Ok with this, he wouldn’t. Even as you think it you don’t truly believe it. Rafe was all about control, and his ego was usually the dominant factor in his decisions. You remember the feeling of Rafe’s ring cracking across your teeth and you swallow the little pride that you had left as the fight drains out of you, resigning yourself taking the path of least pain even as your brain screams at you to fight. Topper murmurs praise at you when you let him kick your legs further apart, his fingers yanking at the hem of your underwear. "Rafe said not to leave marks but-," he groans as he finally slips a hand between your legs. "Fuck you're wet. He was right, little whore really aren’t you?"

It's hard to keep track of what's going on, you feel like you're slipping in out of consciousness; everything seems to be blurry and melding together as you mumble Rafe’s name.

"Topper baby, not Rafe, say my name." he grunts as you tense, fear lancing through your muddled thoughts. "He’ll be here soon." Topper presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder as he slides a hand down between your bodies, aligning his hips as he pushes your underwear out of the way. His lack of patience is obvious as he yanks his pants and underwear just far enough down his thighs to slide his cock between your legs.

He pressed against your entrance and you tensed, your walls tightening at the thought of him inside you. It sends another burst of panic through you and you shove pointlessly at his shoulders. “Sarah wi-,” You mumble but he ignores you, grinding his hips and moaning as his cock rubs against your cunt, pushing gently until you stretched around his tip and then he pulled back.

“You’re tight,” his voice is breathless, excited, as he pushes the head of his cock back inside you. “Feels like I’m going to tear you apart.” He grunts and snaps his hips forward, knocking the breath from your lungs as he sinks deep, one hand clapping across your mouth to muffle your pained cry.  Your nails sink into his shoulders, back arching as pain spasms through you. It steals the breath from your lungs, tears pricking at your eyes.

He gives you no time to adjust to the stretch before his hips starts a rough almost frantic rhythm, his grunts and pants loud in your ear.  It burns but with every uncoordinated thrust the less pain you felt. You’re getting wetter, and every rock of his hips has an uncomfortable pressure growing low in your abdomen, it’s not pleasurable but it’s not quite pain either.

“Jesus I’m gonna cum already,” He pants in your ear. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your breath hitches, turning your face away as he tries to kiss you. He’s mumbling something between his heavy breaths, something you can’t make out but you’re sure he’s moaning Sarah’s name at one point. You try to avoid his kiss again but this time he doesn’t let you, gripping your chin hard and roughly forcing your face back towards him, swallowing your upset noise in a clumsy kiss.

“Come on,” Topper huffs into your mouth as he slows, his hips stuttering and slowing to a deep slow grind, shifting his hips so he can press his thumb against your clit. It makes you jerk against him, and misreading your uncomfortable moan as one of pleasure he does it again, until the building pressure inside you snaps. It’s a sharp, short stab of sensation, more painful than pleasurable but it makes your toes curl and your thighs tremble around him.

“Shit you’re perfect,” His hips stutter and he groans, obviously taken off guard as you clench around him.  He whispers your name as he cums, stilling inside you and buried as deep as he can, the feeling of wet warmth filling you making you feel incredibly nauseous. “Lucky son of bitch.”

He grinds sloppily through his high until he’s sated, squeezing your thighs as he slowly pulls out. Too your disappointment he remains nestled against you, his face nuzzled into your neck as he tries to catch his breath. “Next ti-,”

“There’s no next time. And pretty sure I said no marks.” Rafe’s sharp voice makes you jump, the relief at hearing him dying in your chest as you turn your head to look at him. He looks calm, almost bored, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall, completely unconcerned that he just caught his best friend fucking you in a storage closet. “What? There’s no-, she bit me, Rafe.” Topper shoves himself away from you, trying to do his belt up with one hand as he holds the other up. “Fucking teeth marks, look.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breathing threatening to turn into uncontrollable sobs as you lean heavily against the wall to keep your balance. You want to go home; you want to get away from both of them. You can’t seem to follow their conversation as they bicker, your brain feeling sluggish and a little off kilter. Rafe’s laughter startling you back into awareness.

He has a slight flush to his cheeks as he watches you clumsily tug your dress back down, wincing at the wet sensation between your thighs. You have the foolish urge to apologise again. Even if he had allowed this, he’s going to be angry and jealous once the drugs and alcohol wear off and you want to try and save yourself from the inevitable implosion that’s going to happen. Your attempted mumbled words fall on deaf ears, Rafe doesn’t seem interested, he just shushes you impatiently, dismissing you with a small flick of his fingers as he talks lowly to Topper.

You feel sick, anger surges but it’s undercut by a little shiver of fear.  You want to say something, you want to scream, but you’re concentrating so hard on keeping your balance and on not giving in to the rising nausea that trying to talk feels almost impossible.

"Hey."

You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision as you try to pull yourself out of your daydream. It hurts a little to move, there’s a throbbing ache between your legs but you do your best to try and ignore it. You know you won’t get any sympathy.

"Look at me," Rafe snaps his fingers, his other hand latching on to your elbow. "You still with me?"

You nod, regretting the action as your head spins, Rafe’s hold on turning painful as he tries to keep you up right.

“She is fucked, what did you give her?”

Rafe sniffs but doesn’t comment, fingers flicking under your chin to make you look up at him, his pupils are blown wide and his expression seems torn between amusement and frustration.

“Had enough fun for tonight?” His words make you flinch. He’s sounds angry, he doesn’t look it but that’s never meant much. Rafe’s moods were volatile at the best of times and the sudden awareness of the threat of violence has you nodding weakly at the same time Topper murmurs his agreement. You feel worse when you realise you’re not sure if he was talking to you or Topper, but whoever the question was aimed at Topper decides to make his exit, barely giving you a glance as he closes the door behind him.

Its uncomfortably quiet, Rafe is staring at you but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him.

“Di-,” You start softly, not able to finish the question or even think it through. It doesn’t matter, he ignores you anyway as he steps into your space and you fight the urge to flinch back.

“Next time we won’t accept drinks from pogues will we?” Rafe’s coos softly into your ear, his fingers stroking up and down your arm in an attempt to sooth you. “It’s ok, you’re a little stupid sometimes but I still love you.”

Those two words feel like a sharp cold stab to the heart. You feel oddly empty.

“Watch the teeth in future,” He taps your cheek sharply making you flinch as he chuckles, but it sounds slightly forced, the smile not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t appreciate it when you make a liar out of me.”

“Sorr-,”

“You ready to go?” He cuts you off impatiently and you hesitate a split second before nodding. If Rafe noticed your hesitation he doesn’t show it, kissing your palm softly and nipping gently at your finger tips.

“You’re still mine, baby,” his voice softens, arm curling around your waist, a warm palm pressing against your back and pushing you forwards until you’re nestled flush against him. He cups your face, running a thumb over your eyebrow as he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Always will be.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outer banks #obx smut #obx #topper #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Part 13

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11.5k

warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence/the Demogorgon ate Barb, angst, fluff

A.N.: Happy Birthday to me and a very merry unbirthday to all of you! Thank you to everyone who sent such nice comments and asks after the last chapter, I really hope you all enjoy the update!!! if you see typos, no you don't :D

Dustin can’t decide who hates this plan more, Eddie or himself. 

They’ll split into three teams, one at the Creel House to draw Vecna’s attention on this side, and two in the Upsidedown, one to lure the bats away from the house and hold them, and one to send the bastard to kingdom come while his guard is down. 

Simple and more or less straightforward… until a very frustrating though decidedly no less valid question is raised: how do you know the plan is even going to work?

Which is to say, how are you going to make sure the bats will do what they’re supposed to and leave the house unguarded when Team Distraction turns the volume up?

Because if Dustin and Eddie can’t guarantee that their distraction will lure the bats — all of the bats — then Steve, Nancy, and Robin won’t be able to get into the house, and if they can’t get in the house, then they’re dead in the water before they’ve even begun.

As so often happens when the dark storm cloud of sobering truth rolls in on the horizon, they all come to the same simultaneous conclusion.

It strikes like a bolt of lightning in the distance — a brief purpling flash that is so sudden you can’t be sure it was even there until its presence is validated by the staggered clap of thunder following dutifully behind.

That’s what the realization feels like. Loud, pervasive, numbing. It leaves Dustin’s ears ringing in the hollowness it leaves behind. 

One of you is going to have to get out there and do something to lure the bats away — one of you is going to have to be bait.

Naturally, nobody is exactly eager to throw their name into the running for that prestigious task, least of all Dustin, who is under no delusions about being an athlete of any capacity. 

He’s a Hawkins Middle AV club alumnus for Christ’s sake, not exactly the picture of physical prowess. 

The notion itself is enough to set something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach, like something out of a stress-induced nightmare — he knows no one is going to ask him to be the bait, but there is still that nagging pressure of worry.

He can’t imagine what he’ll do if the task falls to him, he can’t imagine what any of you will do. More to the point, he can’t imagine any of you being stupid enough to willingly go and put your life on the line like that.

Only that is not expressly true. Steve would do something that stupid, and he doesn’t even have to imagine it as the older boy steps bravely forward into their Socratic huddle. 

“I’ll do it,” He says, nodding solemnly like he’s just presented himself to steward the one ring to Mordor … though probably not, because Steve wouldn’t get that reference in the first place. 

He’s not Frodo Baggins, he’s just a big brave dog too stupid to know when to stay quiet and save his own life. 

Thankfully, the suggestion goes over more or less like a lead balloon.

“That’s not gonna work, Steve,” Nancy says, a messy halo of curls dancing about her features as she shakes her head, pursing her lips. 

The sting of her rejection is immediately evident across Steve’s face, and Dustin has to wonder just how much of that bravery is actually just plain, old fashioned peacocking to try and impress her.

Even if it isn't, there is not much of an argument to be made against the refusal of his offer, considering the general consensus of the room is more or less in agreement with her. 

It leaves him visibly deflated.

Dustin doesn’t fault him for suggesting he be the one to do it. It is nothing less than entirely on brand for Steve — big damn hero that he is — but in this specific case, it’s more of bonehead thinking rather than the noble gesture he imagines he thinks it is. 

“Why not?” Steve presses, speaking to Nancy more than anyone else in the room, “I’ll lead them away and double back — it’ll take ten minutes tops.” 

He makes a show of dusting his hands of imaginary grime before presenting her with his empty palms, impressing absolutely no one, Nancy especially. 

“Yeaaaah…” Eddie says through his teeth, stretching the word like he knows he’s got something to say that Steve won’t thank him for, “Only that didn’t work so good for you last time, did it, Bud?”

His head lolls left to press his ear to his shoulder as he levels him with a knowing look, squinting at him and scrunching his features in a way that could almost be misconstrued as apologetic. 

And he’s right, Steve does not thank Eddie for so graciously pointing out the shortcomings of his last expedition to the Upsidedown. 

“Last time I wasn’t running away, Bud.” Steve deadpans, hurling the pet name back at him with perhaps a tad too much vitriol. “They caught me off guard, I’ll be ready for them this time.” 

It does nothing to breathe any confidence into their group as a dissenting murmur passes through the cabin of the RV.

Dustin thinks deep down they all know they probably should let Steve do it, despite their misgivings.

He’s really the only one among them with the prerequisite skills for the job – all those sports he played – but there is still a glaringly obvious issue with that plan because Steve has already assigned himself a pivotal role, one Robin is all too happy to remind him of. 

“Listen, Stevie.” She starts, “We all know you’re super impressive or whatever, but this is one thing we don’t need you Galahading yourself over — you’re supposed to be running point up at the house so Nancy can light Vecna’s ass up, remember?”  

“Well, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and making a point to scan the room in an expectant glare, suddenly towering over them like some kind of angry lighthouse sweeping the shoreline for signs of life. 

Dustin does his best to shrink out of his line of sight when it passes over him. 

He’s got no business volunteering for something like this, and even if he did, he’s already got his own job with Eddie, acting as his roadie of sorts — at least he thinks so, that’s how Eddie had described it and for his lack of expertise on the matter all he can do is agree. 

If he had to pick someone, Lucas is probably the best substitute for Steve, but he’s got to stay with Max on this side just in case Vecna’s hold grows a little too tight and a musical intervention is needed.

It’s a moot point, anyway, because they’ve already left that group at the Creel House, and Dustin can’t feasibly see doubling back for them just because the plan has changed. 

As far as he can tell, Steve is right, and there’s no one else left to be the bait.

“I can do it.” You offer then, speaking in a small, tentative voice from where you’ve tucked yourself in at the other side of the camper.

There is a shift in the group as everyone moves at once to find the source of the voice, staring in an almost stunned silence like they’d forgotten you were there. 

Dustin feels his heart seize in his chest in a violent spasm that has his intestines responding accordingly. 

Oh, God!

His eyes go wide as he whips around to regard you with something that can only stem from the gut-wrenching, pants-shitting terror he is suddenly gripped in. 

Not you, anyone but you!

Beside you, Eddie mirrors the motion, head snapping up so quickly Dustin is half surprised it doesn’t roll right off his shoulders and across the length of the RV. 

Under such tense scrutiny, you wilt ever so slightly, glancing nervously around the room, looking for any kind of a reaction.

And nobody outright rejects the suggestion like they had with Steve, much to Dustin’s abject horror. 

“I’ll do it.” You say again, this time with a little more confidence, giving a subtle nod as if to punctuate the affirmation. 

Dustin, of course, is ardently against it, but has found that he has been rendered suddenly and woefully mute by the complete and total shock of your suggestion.

Eddie is thankfully not caught in those doldrums, and he is all too happy to tell you exactly how he feels. 

“Like hell you will,” He gawps.

For the lack of any higher functioning brain power, all Dustin can manage is a stupid, emphatic nodding, and when the initial shock begins to fade and more of his brain starts to switch on again, he searches the room for the naysayers of the earlier moment.

He waits for the dissenting murmur, the interjections from prevailing cooler heads going on to explain exactly why you cannot, in fact, be the bait, but they never come. 

It’s just Eddie, telling you you’re crazy if you think he’s gonna let you get out there, and Dustin frantically nodding along like a goddamn bobblehead. 

“Why not?” You demand, sounding almost offended that he would disagree.

“Because it’s a suicide mission.” Eddie presses, putting harsh emphasis on the last two words.

You narrow your eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Babe,” the pet name causes Dustin’s skin to prickle uncomfortably, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know what’s down there–”

“Giant vampire bats?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

He wires his jaw shut and glares at you.

“And a whole network of vines and tentacles and creepy crawlies that report directly back to the fucker himself,” He presses, only he doesn’t know the half of it.  

“Not to mention the Demogorgon,” Dustin says. 

The room reacts appropriately at the mention of the foe of their past.

You remain unimpressed where you stand, but Eddie twists slowly to regard Dustin with a highly suspicious look. 

“...I’m sorry…” He begins slowly, “The what?”

Steve answers for him, dismissing the question with a vague gesture.

“It’s like I told you, Munson,” he says, “We’ve been through all this before,” 

“Only this time, we don’t have the benefit of having a girl with—” Robin starts, but Eddie cuts her off. 

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned — can we just circle back to that Demogorgon thing?” 

“…that’s what happened to Barb.” Nancy says then, getting this strange, haunted look in her eyes as she speaks – the color drains from her face, “… what really happened…” 

The room goes eerily silent, leaving Eddie fumbling to understand what such a cryptic comment could possibly mean.

He looks from face to face, confusion etching itself deeper and deeper into his features as he waits for someone to elaborate. 

“What do you mean what really happened?” He finally demands.

They don’t have to say it, their silence speaks volumes — Barbara Holland’s disappearance had been big news for almost a year — almost bigger than Will’s disappearance, death, and subsequent resurrection.

An honor student ups and skips town out of the blue? Not a chance in hell, not Barb, at least.

As far as Dustin can tell from the hushed conversations he’d overheard his mother having, most people didn’t outright believe it, even if only quietly so.

They preferred to keep their heads in the sand and keep the horrific alternative to themselves: that something terrible had happened to Barb right there in their sleepy little town, and she was never coming back.

It's no wonder the good people of Hawkins had grown progressively more wary of things that didn’t expressly fit their happy little narrative over the last couple of years.  

If only they knew just how right they were to be afraid. 

Eddie blanches as it dawns on him – the bats aren’t the only thing down there that can and will eat you alive if you’re caught. 

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles. 

Then, like you hadn’t heard a thing they’d just said about the bestiary of horrors waiting for them on the other side, you shake your head. 

“I don’t care what’s down there –” You scoff, dismissing the truth of Barb’s horrific and untimely demise with a flippant gesture. 

Eddie whips back around to level you with an incredulous look – eyes out on stalks and as big as dinner plates.

“You gotta be kidding,” He stresses, “Didn’t you hear what they said? Something down there ate Barb.”

“Nobody said that.” You snap.

“Henderson—!” Eddie practically shouts, whipping around to glare at Dustin, though he hardly thinks the look is meant for him, especially with the way Eddie thrusts an accusatory finger back at you, “Tell her!”

“The Demogorgon ate Barb.” Dustin drawls. 

Somewhere to his left, Nancy flinches and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret for putting it in such crass terms, but it is very important to him that you understand the ramifications of what you were about to do. The danger you are putting yourself in. 

You roll your eyes in that same maddening way you always do that lets Dustin know exactly what you’re thinking – that this is all nothing more than D&D bullshit and that they’re blowing it out of proportion to try and scare you out of volunteering. He wishes it were as simple as all that.

He wishes that he wasn’t stuck thinking about the faceless horror that has haunted his dreams since that night in 1983 back at Hawkins Middle. 

And then he feels eyes on him, boring holes into the side of his face. Dustin turns to find Eddie staring at him, brows pulled tight over his eyes, still wide and fearful as the question he doesn’t want to ask forms on the tip of his tongue. 

It hadn’t occurred to Dustin that Eddie didn’t actually expect him to back him up like that, that he didn’t really believe that’s what happened. He was just being dramatic, like always, how was he supposed to know he was right on the money?

It’s visibly sobering, and Eddie clenches his jaw as the urge to ask about it escapes him, and he levels Dustin with a knowing look, nodding curtly.

Yes, the Demogorgon had, in fact, eaten Barbara Holland, as plain and simple and horrific a fact as that. Nothing more need be said about it.

And honestly, a lot more could be said, because that’s not even the worst thing that has happened since the Upsidedown came crashing up into their world, but somehow Dustin knows that nothing he says is going to be enough to deter you. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have a part to play in this.” You huff.

You bet your ass you don’t. 

You had, in fact, been excluded by design, because that’s the way Eddie wanted it, and Dustin was only happy to agree with him, much to your patent dismay.

Every single one of your arguments had come with just as many explanations as to why you couldn’t go — the least of which were that, despite the new bandages Karen Wheeler had wrapped your hand in, you’re still injured, just as you had stressed on the shore of Lover’s Lake the night before.

“So what?” Dustin huffs.

“So, it’s not fair.” You grouse, halfway to whining about it before Eddie shuts you down. 

“Life’s not fair, Sweetheart,” He says. “The sooner you realize that the better.”  

Harsh but true, Dustin thinks. 

Anyway, what you said is not expressly true – you do have a job. An important job that keeps you very far removed from danger of any kind — you’re supposed to guard the gate in Eddie’s living room from this side in the unlikely event someone comes snooping, and you’re extremely unhappy about it. 

Normally, that would fill Dustin with some sort of gut-wrenching guilt, but as far as he can tell he doesn’t give a shit about how you feel right now.

He only cares about keeping you safe.

You’d already sat arguing about it back in the field when the details of the plan were laid out, nearly spoiling what was just about the closest thing Dustin has experienced to a perfect moment with you in months — running around and playing in the grass in a fit of euphoric, childlike whimsy. It was almost enough to make him forget that there was anything wrong in the world.

That all came crashing down the moment Steve called you back to the camper.

“We really should have someone standing by in case the cops come poking around,” Dustin had tried to explain to your angry, pacing form after they’d broken the news that you were not invited to cross the gate with them. “A-and since you’re so good at thinking on your feet—”

It did nothing to soften the blow of rejection. You’d silenced him with an angry look and spent the next half hour quietly fuming in the furthest corner of the RV you could squeeze yourself into.  

And now you’re volunteering to smear yourself in blood and go willingly into the lion’s den, and no one is disagreeing that it should be you. If that isn’t some form of cosmic justice… 

That’s perhaps what distresses Dustin the most, that you’ve volunteered to go and die, and everyone is just going to let you do it. 

In a shocking turn of events, suddenly he and Eddie are the only sane ones among you.

“This is ridiculous , you guys–”  

“No, you’re not doing it.” Eddie says, slicing the air in a clipped gesture, “End of story. Harrington? Tell her.”

You scoff and open your mouth to protest the supposed finality of the statement, and by extension what Dustin can only imagine is a healthy dose of outrage over any kind of decision involving you being left up to Steve of all people, but he is quick to jump in before you can say anything. 

“Steve!” He stresses, “Tell her!” 

It catches him woefully off guard and Dustin watches as something a little closer to panic than he is comfortable with flashes across Steve’s features. Like being unexpectedly called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention.

Thick brows shoot up toward that immaculate hairline before bouncing back to furrow over Steve’s eyes.

He flexes his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose, and after a moment’s hesitation, he finally opens his mouth to say… nothing. Dustin can’t believe it. 

He could scream. 

In all the time he’s known him, Steve has never been caught without some kind of a smooth one-liner, a witty comeback. Of all the time Dustin has known him, he has never once been rendered speechless. 

There’s a first time for everything, sure, but why on God’s green Earth did it have to be now? It’s just bad timing. 

Steve stands there, working his jaw like a gaping fish for another agonizing moment of deafening silence, even turning to Robin and Nancy for some kind of support – they have nothing to offer but incredulous stares – but it’s no use, he well and truly has no idea what to say.

You’ve started in again before he can get much more out than a bitten-off “Uuuuhhh….” 

“I’m not just gonna wait around babysitting a hole in the ceiling while you all put your lives on the line,” You bite, and somehow Dustin can’t help but get the sense that even though you’re addressing the room, you’re speaking directly to him – to Eddie, who has spent the duration of your spiel violently shaking his head in outright rejection.

He hardly lets you finish before he makes a harsh sound of incredulous disbelief.

“No.” 

“Eddie–”

“No!”

“Will you shut up and let me do this?” You shout, “I’ll lead the bats away from the house and make them chase me back here–” 

Eddie barks out a bitter laugh that has you clamping your jaw shut with enough force that Dustin hears your teeth click together.

“Right, just like you led Jason and those fuckers away from Rick’s place?” He snaps, his words dripping with disdain, “How’s the hand, by the way? Still hurts?”

Despite their united front, Dustin can’t help the stirring sense of injustice Eddie’s tone kicks up in his chest, rattling around like embers in his ribcage.

He’s not the enemy here, regardless of what his guts are trying to tell him, but the urge to defend you has long since been stronger than any of Dustin’s natural instincts.

Of course, you don’t need him to come running to your rescue – you never have, and he’s starting to suspect that you never will. Some small part of him aches with the grief of that realization. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a loss. 

Suddenly it’s like you don’t even know he’s there anymore, with the way you’re looking at Eddie. Glaring at him like you’re the only two people in the room. It’s strangely charged, almost intimate, and it makes Dustin’s insides go squirmy like he’s witnessing something torrid.

Somehow it feels like the scene playing out before them is not for their eyes, and Dustin wonders briefly if they ought to leave the room, leave the two of you to this moment.

He watches you bristle, sees your gaze turn to white hot steel, and feels his insides clench for it.

His concern swings hard away from you to land on Eddie’s shoulders, then. Under the molten heat of your anger, he is surely about to whither and melt down to the bone.

Dustin thinks he ought to do something to try and protect him from that, but he doesn’t dare put himself in your line of site. Eddie is made of much stronger stuff than he is, he doesn’t need his help.

“Don’t be an asshole,” You warn him through your teeth.

Eddie throws up his hands and offers you a sarcastic smile, tilting his head ever so slightly like this is all just good, harmless fun. 

“Babygirl, I’ll be whatever I need to be to stop you from doing this.” He says, “Because this is a stupid fucking plan, you’re gonna get yourself killed and when you do, I’m gonna say I told you so.” 

Each point is punctuated by a sharp poke to your shoulder with his index and middle finger, firm enough to jostle you each time he hits home – you slap his hand away before he can poke you again. 

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” You hum, a harsh, clipped thing oozing with disdain. 

Thankfully, before either of you can really start to fight about it, Robin interjects.

“Children – enough!” She shouts, breaking the spell - you both shrink away from the moment, settling back with arms crossed tightly over your chests, doing your utmost to avoid looking at one another.

Robin continues. 

“We don’t have time to sit around and watch you two go another ten rounds, okay? We’re on a ticking clock here so both of you need to grow up or go in the back and bang out whatever the hell is going on here. Get it out of your system.”

A momentary if not bone-crushing silence falls over the cabin as Robin’s words hang heavy in the air.

It does nothing to help the awkwardness of the moment when Eddie perks up, brows jumping toward his hairline as he gestures toward the pullout haphazardly folded up at the back of the RV.

You roll your eyes, and Dustin pulls a disgusted face.

He looks to Steve for some kind of commiseration only to find him and Nancy fidgeting awkwardly and trying to avoid looking at each other.

Robin looks decidedly pleased with herself as she continues, evidently more than happy to have made the moment exceedingly more awkward than need be.

“Now,” She says, “Everyone is making valid points on both sides. Is this gonna be dangerous? Yes. Is she more than likely going to get seriously injured if not violently dismembered attempting this? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make it an excessively bad plan—” 

“It doesn’t?” Eddie scoffs, which only serves to draw Robin’s attention as she sticks him to the spot with a very pointed look.

“Eddie...” she drawls. 

He squares his shoulders and levels her with an expectant if not uninterested look, hugging himself that much tighter like he’s bracing for whatever it is she’s bound to hurl his way. 

Robin continues, gesturing to you as she speaks. 

“She’s a grown woman – fully consenting – if she wants to get out there and get her ass eaten, that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

Dustin doesn't realize there’s any sort of innuendo behind the words, intended or otherwise, until Eddie makes a harsh, choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Almost immediately, his hand drifts up like he means to clap it over his mouth but switches gears at the last moment to rub at the faint hint of stubble shadowing his jawline, trying his damnedest to hide a less-than-subtle smile.

“Jesus – that’s one way of putting it.” He says, pulling his lower lip in past his teeth.

“Eddie.” You say then, voice lilting in a gently critical tone as your brows come down over your eyes. 

The tension of the previous moment evaporated in an instant, and Dustin doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly fidgeting and rolling their eyes.

Nancy makes a soft sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, and suddenly he feels like something has flown right over his head.

He hates being the only one not in on the joke. Max might have been able to explain it to him if not entirely unwilling, maybe even Lucas, but on his own he is hopelessly lost among this group of older kids. 

“What?” He can’t help himself from asking, looking from face to face as everyone quickly avoids his gaze, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You say immediately, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

Dustin still doesn’t get it, but there’s no air in the conversation to ask what exactly he’s missing before Robin addresses you in turn.

There is the faintest pink tinge to her cheeks as she says your name in a commanding if not entirely sheepish way. 

You lean over to smack Eddie’s quivering shoulder as he continues to fight the losing battle against the fit of giggles still threatening to overtake him. 

Before Robin can speak, Steve swoops in, taking her by the arm and literally tugging her back from the center of the huddle.

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and levels him in a harsh glare. 

“Come on, Rob, give it a rest–” He starts, but Nancy quickly cuts him off. 

“No, she’s right,” She says, then turns to you, “You ought to know what you’re volunteering for”

You, in turn, tilt your head to the right to press your ear to your shoulder.

“Running like hell and hoping they’ll try to make a meal out of me, right?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

Like cracking a window at forty thousand feet, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room, taking any sense of levity with it as your words hang heavy in the air. 

Dustin can’t stand it. 

“Oh, come on… come on! There’s gotta be another way.” He presses, “Somebody has got to have a better idea than this.”  

A heavy silence falls over the room, one that leaves a hollow ringing in Dustin’s ears as he waits for someone – anyone to speak.

Somebody has got to have something in the back pocket, some kind of last-ditch hair-brained scheme that doesn’t require anyone to make prey out of themselves.

It’s so quiet he’s half surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale chirping of crickets. 

“Seriously?” He demands, “Nobody?”

When Dustin looks to Eddie for help, even he has suddenly become far too interested in his sneakers, hanging his head until his features are obscured by a frizzy curtain of hair.

It’s madness. It’s got to be some kind of spontaneous contagious insanity that only he is immune to, Dustin can’t think of what else could have such a hold on your tiny group that they’re actually genuinely considering letting you do this.  

Steve rolls his neck in a halfhearted shrug, like this time he’s the one with something to say that is going to be hard to swallow.

“It’s the closest thing to a guarantee we have,” He mumbles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “And she’s the only one here freed up to do it…”

“No way!” Dustin says, whirling around to level you with a horrified look, “You know this is crazy, right? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”  

“We’re all gonna get ourselves killed.” You argue. “But if I can buy us a little time before that happens and make sure we take Vecna with us…?”

He shakes his head violently back and forth, hard enough that it just about dislodges the cap from his head.

“Let Steve do it.” He begs, “Steve, tell her you’ll do it–”

He knows he’s whining, he sounds like a petulant child who has just been told something they don’t want to hear – totally uncool – but he doesn’t really care.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until it knocks this parasitic idea loose from your brain and you see reason again. 

“Steve’s gotta make sure Nancy gets to Vecna.” You snap.

It drives him to the desperate edge, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Dustin hurls himself out after you into the abyss. 

“Then I’ll do it.”

There, finally, comes that dissenting murmur again, snatching him back from the precipice and placing him gently back on the ledge. It’s a rescue that comes too little too late and for the wrong person because you’re still freefalling.  

The room fills with a dull discordant roar as all of a sudden everyone seems to have something to say, admonishing him for even suggesting the notion.

On one side he’s got Steve already halfway through a lecture about what will happen to him if he lets Dustin go and do something that stupid, meanwhile, Eddie is reminding him that just because he can do something in D&D it doesn’t qualify him to do the same thing in real life.

Everyone talking at once is at best, mildly overwhelming, and at worst, giving Dustin a headache, but at least everyone is focusing on him rather than agreeing to let you offer yourself up in the Upsidedown.

It feels almost like a chance, like maybe somehow he can grab you and whisk you away from all of this while everyone is distracted.

Maybe he’ll be the one to save you this time – if no one else will do it, he has to save you.

He should know better not to hope for things like that.

“Enough,” You snap, silencing everyone with the sharp utterance of the word – you level Dustin with a look that has him wilting under its heat, “This is happening. It’s gonna be me whether you like it or not. It has to be me.”   

There’s no arguing with you because there’s never any point in it when you get like this. You are a mountain and he is the wind, and no matter how he gusts and howls and rants and raves, you will not be moved … a big stupid, stubborn mountain, and that’s that.

As quickly as it began, the debate fizzles out, and the decision is made. Everyone quietly moves to take their places in the RV again. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun is setting when you arrive, fiery claw marks cut the horizon to ribbons and set it ablaze with oranges and pinks and the faintest smear of purple. It sends a strange chill running down your spine, despite how relatively safe you still are on this side. The danger isn’t here, it’s lurking just below your feet.

For obvious reasons, you leave the RV parked among the trees and cross the threshold back into the Forest Hills trailer park on foot. You move silently, single file like good little ducklings weaving in and out of the trailers, broken down lawn furniture, and laundry lines.

It’s strangely abandoned, eerily so.

The only sound other than the gentle hum of the odd generator or the quiet murmuring of a television is the crunch of yellowing grass underfoot. Every step is like breaking glass and you have to work to remind yourself to breathe.   

You’re leading the way, which is not something you would have typically volunteered for, but among the lot of you, you’ve got the most experience sneaking around the trailer park (besides Eddie of course, but he’s not exactly the ideal candidate to go playing Percy Faucet) so it’s you, just like you’d told Dustin back in the RV. 

It has to be you.   

He’s actively ignoring you now, which is not something you’re sure you’ve ever experienced.

Sure, he’s been mad at you for one reason or another over the years, it would be hard to spend so much time as an authority figure in his life and not have some kind of disagreement crop up between you eventually.

But this time he’s pissed at you for good reason and you can’t rightly blame him for feeling so.

There’s nothing to be done about it. The plan needs bait and you need to feel included, one way or another – you know he’s got to understand that, even if he refuses to admit it.

Even Eddie is resigned to the fact that you’re the only person for this job, as much as you know it’s eating him up inside.         

You arrive at the Munson trailer in no time at all and hold the door as you usher your companions inside – Eddie first.

His mattress remains where you left it, along with the cascading fall of bedsheets knotted together, standing in suspended animation. You do your best not to look at it, or anything else you don’t expressly have to as you follow the last of your party through the door and shut it tightly behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to look at the hole in the ceiling again until you have absolutely no other choice, which is to say until you’re crossing through it. 

A shudder passes through your body at the thought, grinding through you like the crunch of tectonic plates – you’re still not entirely convinced the thing isn’t going to sprout teeth and snap shut on you before you can slip through to the other side.

You’re also not entirely sure you even want to go to the other side, the place where bats had nearly liberated Steve’s head from his body and where Barbara Holland had evidently been dragged screaming into an untimely, violent death – but what choice do you have?

You have to go, especially after the fuss you’d kicked up in the RV. 

Before you can get very far down the line of trying to decide whether or not you’ve made a terrible mistake, Eddie is there, pressed to your side and snaking his hand down to link fingers with you.

You’re close enough that when you turn to look at him, your noses are nearly touching, and all your senses are flooded with him.

The rough pads of his scarred fingers brushing against your skin, the smell of his sweat intermingling with tobacco and something earthier. Some small part of you is worried it’s too intimate for the company you keep, but the way his presence soothes the fearful fluttering of your heart won’t let you protest the proximity.

He pacifies your worries with just a touch and suddenly you don’t care about the hole in the ceiling or the lapse in gravity or the monsters on the other side or anything else threatening to break your brain, all you think is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.   

“Come with me.” He says quietly and pulls you back through the kitchenette. 

You follow, and for half a moment, you think he may be leading you back toward the bedroom.

Your numbers make for tight quarters in the trailer, especially with everyone trying to maneuver the mattress laid out in the middle of the floor, you imagine if Eddie needed a private moment with you, there isn’t a better place to find one than the bedroom. 

Before you can make it too far down the hall, however, he pivots left and twists the handle of the side door leading to the porch.

An interesting development – you are suddenly gripped in the vice of curiosity and feel the gentle pattering of your heart as a hundred different possibilities race through you.    

“Where are you going?” Dustin calls from where he’d been sulking somewhere behind you, and when Eddie ignores him, he raises his voice, “Eddie! Where are you going?” 

He’s already halfway out the door when he pauses, hardly turning to acknowledge Dustin as he speaks. 

“We’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

You’re almost relieved when Dustin’s eyes flit over to you, silently gesturing at you in the expectation that you’ll give him some sort of answer you don’t have.

All you can do is shrug as Eddie pulls you through the door with a gentle tug.

Your unexpected departure kicks up about as much fuss as you expect it would.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Steve grouses, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in his hurried attempt to follow you to the door. “What now?”

“We shouldn’t split up, you guys,” Nancy calls, following Steve, “Not when things are so close.” 

Eddie pays them no mind as he heads for the rickety staircase, half rotten from disuse as much as years under the elements.

You’ve never known him to use it, opting always to leap down from the elevated porch instead, garnering many a twisted ankle in his day. You wonder if it’s only his insistence on playing follow the leader that has him taking the safer route for once. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie assures them.

“I am worried about it!” Steve snaps, “Eddie – you’re the most wanted person in Roane County and you guys are just gonna… what, you‘re gonna run off and find a quiet spot to … hash things out real quick?”  

“What’s the problem, Steve?” You sigh, stopping short on the top step and holding Eddie firm to the spot below you. 

You don’t have time for an argument, particularly out in the open air where any one of his neighbors could take a peek out the window and spy him standing there.

Steve is right, but you don’t have to let him know that. As always, he’s all too happy to spell his point out for you. 

“The problem is they’re out there looking for him.” Steve drawls, aggressively stretching the words like he thinks you’re stupid or something. “What part of this seems like a good idea?”

Eddie levels him with a poisonous look.

“Hey Man, this is your stupid plan–” He bites, “You’re the one who said we need the goddamn bait, so we’re going out there and we’re gonna walk the route as many times as it takes for her to memorize it.”

If that’s true, it’s news to you and you can’t say you’re expressly pleased to hear it. 

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the Creel House, considering its reputation for being haunted. That doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly where it is from anywhere you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the duration of your life in Hawkins, if only to make damn sure you steer as clear as you possibly can. 

You don’t need Eddie to walk the route with you, but you’re also not going to contradict him when he’s in a mood like this. 

Steve, unfortunately, is not clued in enough to pick up on the venom coursing through Eddie’s veins.  

“It’s a straight shot through the woods from here to there, what’s to memorize?” His tone is oozing with sarcasm, but you refuse to let him ruffle your feathers.

Whatever this is is important enough to Eddie to risk exposure, so you’ll humor him, and in the meantime, you’ll play nice with Steve so that he’ll let you go without a fight.  

You shake your head and offer him a lopsided shrug.

“It’s like you said,” You say innocently, “It’s a straight shot, so that means we’ll be back in no time.”

Robin appears in the doorway beside him then and pokes her head out, looking curiously between the standoff. 

Your eyes meet.

“How long did he say it would take him?” You ask, “Ten minutes tops?”

Ten minutes running, maybe, much closer to twenty-five at a walk, hurried as it is sure to be. Still, she snorts out a burst of undainty laughter.  

“You did say that, Steve-o.” She hums, elbowing Steve in the side when he doesn’t respond.

A thought flashes briefly across your mind, and you make quick work of undoing your tattered watchband.

“Here,” you say, tossing it to him, “You can even time us if you want.” 

Steve catches the watch with the ease of a lifelong athlete and turns the thing over in his hands, staring down at it and evidently weighing the pros and cons of letting the two of you slip off to God knows where – you could not have told him if your life depended on it.

For all you know, you’re on your way out of town, getting out of Dodge before the shit can well and truly hit the fan.

Yesterday, you might have jumped at the chance, but there are bigger things on the horizon now than the promise you’d made to Wayne out on the road between the trailer park and Benny’s.

Whether you like it or not, you’ve both suddenly got a big part to play in all this. The window of opportunity to just slip away has long since slammed shut.

 After a moment of chewing the inside of his lip, Steve finally relents, heaving a long-suffering sigh and running a hand through those perfectly stunning bouncy tresses.  

“Fine.” He says, “Whatever, but you two better come right back. We’re short on time as it is, we don’t need any unexpected variables —” which is to say they don’t need to stage a rescue mission in the event that someone catches you out in the open.

He snaps his fingers into a point and aims the unbelievably smooth gesture at Eddie, “One time out and back, no detours.”

His shoulders drop as a little bit of the tension brimming there visibly goes out of him, and he gives a curt nod.

When Steve turns his pointing on you, you give him an enthusiastic if not ever so slightly sarcastic thumbs up.

“10-4, Good Buddy.” You say.

Eddie wastes no time after that leading you down the steps and across the park into the nearest copse of woodland, stealing away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking off to fool around.

Somehow you don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

The sun is nearly gone by now, and despite the way it still holds the park in the warm luminescence of golden hour, the woods are steeped in deep blue shadow. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word as you walk, he just holds tight to your hand and pulls you along. You do your best to keep up, but his legs are longer than yours and he’s like a man on a mission, cutting through the trees at such a pace. 

Had you been paying any kind of attention to where you were walking, you would have very quickly noticed that your route is not angled toward the Creel House as he’d suggested, but you’re not focused on anything but the silent walking wall that is Eddie.  

Staring at the broad stretch of his back, you can’t help but feel shut out. You wonder if he’s mad at you, but you swallow the urge to ask him about it. You know you’d only sound pathetic and whiny if you did.

Still, he’s giving you extremely conflicting signals, speaking so softly to you the way he had back at the trailer, holding your hand with such a gentle reverence, but pulling you along behind him to wherever you’re going with no sense of tenderness, all the while actively ignoring you. 

Of course he’s mad, you tell yourself.

He’d been under the impression that this saga would come to an end without you taking part in it, far removed from danger, but he should know better that you won’t be content to just sit on the couch and wait this out while everyone puts their lives on the line.

A misplaced twinge of annoyance bites at your insides at the thought that Eddie could actually be angry at you over this, that he would be pig-headed enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight over being so summarily benched.

You know he knows you better than that, which means he’s sticking his head in the sand and being stubborn for stubbornness' sake.

You might have laid into him about gender roles in situations of peril, the same you would have had it been you and Dustin out here in the woods, but you’re tired of fighting,  so you bite your tongue and trudge along in silence, doing your best to match his gait. 

The further you go, the darker it gets as the sun disappears from the world and night sets in. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking before the trees part – much longer than ten minutes, you’re sure.

When you finally reach a break in the woods, you realize with a start that you are not standing in front of the Creel House. 

It’s the highway.

A lonely stretch of road somewhere nearer to the fairgrounds than the spooky Victorian, if you had to guess.

It is abandoned, pitch black save for the cosmos wheeling overhead. Hawkins has always suffered from an inexplicable excess of backwood roads completely lacking in streetlights of any kind, making for a rare lack of light pollution in this modern world.

Good for stargazing, but bad for walking anywhere after dark.

Where normally you curse the powers that be for its shoddy infrastructure, you’re thankful for the oversight now as you step out onto the shoulder, confident that in the shadows, you will remain blissfully hidden from sight.

Eddie hangs back as you pad carefully to the road and take a good long look in both directions. No impending cars, so far so good. 

Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you twist back around to look curiously at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He’s fidgeting with his rings, twisting the burnished pig’s head back and forth over his middle finger, and you get the sense that he’s not as mad as you’d thought he was. Much more anxious than anything else.

Suddenly you feel rather foolish for being angry at him for nothing at all. 

“Remember back in ‘83?” He begins quietly, sounding almost shy, “When you were driving me around ‘cause the van died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed?”

You nod, because of course, you do. You cherish those days. 

Those first few tentative weeks you spent driving around with Eddie Munson in your passenger seat, flipping through your cassettes, messing with your rearview mirror, trading a hundred and one inane questions in an attempt to get to know each other better — you remember the thrill of scandal, how anyone could have looked in and seen the two of you together, going along almost conspiratorially.

You know for certain that you would have been the talk of the town had anyone cared to notice, but the good thing about being more or less an invisible person was how you could get away with something like quietly falling into step with Eddie Munson without anyone batting an eye.

By the time someone thought to check in on you, the two of you were already attached at the hip, and there was nothing to be done about it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie gestures to the spot at the side of the road.

“Time’s stuck down there. It’s still November ‘83,”

You pull a face, wondering idly if he can even see you at this distance. 

“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with that one.” You tease, skipping back across the gravel to close the gap between you and Eddie. 

He remains unamused by the levity of your mood – contrary to what you’d almost fooled yourself into believing, this is, in fact, not a romantic jaunt in the moonlight, and Serious Eddie has come out to play.   

“Pay attention,” He presses, “This is important.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes – where had you heard that before?

“Important like that story about the raccoon?” Your attempt at humor falls flat and Eddie gives you a stony look – Serious Eddie is no fun, but you relent and raise your hands defensively, “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry… so, time’s stuck. What does that mean exactly?”

It’s a subtle change, but you watch his shoulders drop as a little bit more of that lingering tension from back in the RV eases out of him. 

“It means,” He says, “That the van’s gonna be sitting right here,”

You follow the motion when he points you back to the shoulder of the road, and you stand trying to imagine the big-bodied vehicle sitting there like a crouching beast, the way you’ve seen hundreds of times before. 

“…and?” You prompt, stretching the word lyrically as you turn on your heel to face him again, gently urging him to get to the point. 

It’s nearly pitch black now, and the others will be expecting you back. The last thing you need is Steve getting his panties in a twist and sending out a search party.  

“And… if something happens – if things go wrong and you can’t make it back, I want you to go for the van.” Eddie says solemnly, reaching down and taking your hand, “Shut the doors and barricade yourself inside. You’ll be safe there until I can come and get you.” 

You feel your face pull into a frown. 

“That’s not part of the plan.” You tell him, gently admonishing him for trying to change things in secret. 

Eddie heaves another one of those world weary sighs and shakes his head, messy curls dancing silver in the moonlight across the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Fuck the plan.” He bites. “It’s a stupid plan.” 

You open your mouth to protest such a dismissal — it’s the only plan you’ve got — but he’s quick to continue before you can get a word in edgewise. 

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and try to convince you not to do this – you’re so goddamn stubborn, we’ll be here all night – but I am gonna do everything I can to make sure you’ll be safe when things go wrong.”

“None of us can afford that luxury…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Steve’s right. We’ve gotta make sure we’ve got our bases covered, including but not limited to the worst-case scenario.”

Which is to say in the event that everything goes horribly wrong and the monsters eat you alive and Vecna destroys the world.

Or maybe just in case the inevitability that you realize you’re not a track star and this being an impossible thing you’re trying to accomplish catches up to you.

How fast can you run? More importantly, how long can you keep up a sprint like that?

The answer is not something you’re expressly sure you’re ready to consider, but of course Eddie has to consider those possibilities — he’s a cynic.

Bad news first, always. Lucky for the both of you, you’ve always been more of an optimist.

“It’s a little over a mile from the Creel place to home,” Eddie says, and you glance reflexively down at your watch, conveniently forgetting that you’d given it to Steve before you left.

You give a lopsided shrug to try and mask the motion.

“Steve said ten minutes… I can totally do that.” 

Eddie frowns. 

“You think so?” 

No, you really don’t, but you’re not about to let him know that because if you do you’ll never hear the end of it. So instead, you offer a vague gesture that you hope is at least half as casual as you mean for it to be. It doesn’t feel like a successful move. 

“Yeah,” You say, your voice squeaks out an octave higher than normal, and you press your lips into a tight line against how scared you suddenly sound, “Sure, why not?” 

Because you’re not a track star? Because you’d nearly killed yourself just jogging across town less than three days ago and now you’re out here pretending like you’re some kind of Olympic gold medalist preparing for the hundred-yard dash?

Eddie gives you a hard, indiscernible look that makes your insides squirm. Somehow you know he can see right through the bullshit coating to your gooey, terrified center.

You watch as he searches your face for the answer to an unknowable question, and you see a quick flash of the feeling you’d only just managed to suppress. It’s brief, but it’s clear as day, illuminating his features like a bolt of lightning in the distance. 

Doubt. 

You know he’d never say so, but he clearly doesn’t think you can do this. Usually that would have been enough to stir up some kind of violent indignation in you, but suddenly you’re not entirely sure you can do this either.

Sure, you’d done your fair share of sprints in gym class, but this isn’t jogging a twelve-minute mile just to scrape by with a passing grade, this isn’t even making a mad dash from the boat house to the woods to try and escape Jason and the others – which had failed miserably, as Eddie had so graciously pointed out to you. 

This is running as hard and fast as you can until your body is pumping battery acid and your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. It’s running for your goddamn life and the lives of everyone else involved. 

If you don’t make it, no one does, so no pressure, right? 

“How far did you say it was?” You squeak, swallowing hard to try and conceal the tremble in your voice. 

“A mile…”  Eddie says, “Maybe closer to two.” 

Well, shit.

Still, you scoff and dismiss the notion with a wave.

“Easy peasy–” You lie. 

He shakes his head and chides your flippancy with a gravelly utterance of your name, which you candidly ignore.

“–lemon squeezy.”

Eddie says your name again, harsher this time, and grabs you by the arm in an effort to try and bring you back down to earth from the cloud of your delusions, but a sudden flash of lights stops your arguing before it can begin again.

Headlights on the road warn you of the car coming around the bend and send your heart rocketing up into your throat. 

Eddie swears harshly under his breath and takes your hand as you scramble back toward the treeline. 

He pulls you down into the underbrush and you don’t even mind the way your hip lights up in pain as you land awkwardly, holding your breath as you watch the pickup come into view.

It rolls down the road at a glacial pace, adorned with four angry floodlights that illuminate your little copse of woods and briefly blind you.

Through the spots and colors dancing across your vision, you can only just make out the handful of bodies stuffed into the cab, two more kneeling in the truck bed with roving flashlights in one hand and guns in the other.

Christ, they’ve got guns…  

You sink a little lower and move instinctually closer to Eddie as if somehow you’ll be able to shield him from them if it comes to it. As if your fragile, fleshy visage would do anything to protect him if they came out guns blazing.

Smarter than trying to make a human shield out of yourself would be to run, but could either of you really outrun a truck if your lives depended on it?

Not likely.

It makes you wonder how you ever expect to outrun these supposed giant vampire bats… 

You suddenly feel trapped, like a rabbit, crouched and shaking in the underbrush under the threat of baying hounds, watching with wide unblinking eyes until the truck has passed on and the crunch and pop of tires on pavement fades into the night.

When it’s finally gone, you do your best to breathe deep against the stinging adrenaline coursing through your veins like a swarm of angry hornets, but suddenly your chest feels impossibly tight. 

Steve was right, this was not a very smart thing for you to do and it's well past time you ought to be getting back. 

Before you can think to say something, you feel Eddie’s touch as he guides you to look at him with a kind pressure on your jaw. You let him turn you and as you stare back into those big, sad eyes of his, you can’t help but feel a cold wave of doubt bleed into you.

How the hell are you going to do this? How could you be stupid enough to volunteer in the first place and why’d you put up such a fight about it?

What’s going to happen when you let everyone down?

You’re all going to get yourselves killed, that’s what.  

For a moment, it’s all you can do to keep yourself together as you surge forward without thinking, nestling into the crook of his neck and his welcoming embrace. You sigh under the press of his arms as he pulls you close.

You take a handful of deep, staccato breaths, breathing him in and filling your head with the heady musk of everything that is wholly Eddie — sweat and smoke and sandalwood.  

It takes you half a minute to stop shaking, and half a minute more before you feel whole enough to emerge. You offer him a weak smile when you do.

Eddie tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and grips your shoulders firm enough that you’re half inclined to think you might bruise.

“Listen to me. Nobody needs you to be the hero here, okay?” he tells you, giving you a gentle shake for good measure. “You’ve already done enough, you don’t have to do this,”

You, in turn, reach up to bracket his face. He leans into it in a way you must think is instinctual at this point, and when your grip slides down to frame his neck, gracing the columns of his throat, you think for a moment you might kiss him, and if you don’t he’ll certainly kiss you. 

Oh, how you wish he would. 

Your eyes dart southward to regard the pillowy softness of his lips, cracked and chapped as they are, and you try to believe his words, despite how patently untrue they are — he still needs you.

“Everybody’s counting on me, Eds.” You hum, then tear your gaze up and away to meet his.

You watch as something flashes across his eyes, an indiscernible look that is tinged with an unmistakable sadness.  

“Then promise me you’ll go for the van if you don’t think you’re gonna make it, okay?… Sweetheart, please… just do this one thing for me.”

You don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure you can make that promise. 

His expression softens and he breathes out a shaky, uneven breath, shoulders sagging as he tilts forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“What you said back at Rick’s goes both ways, you know?” He murmurs, “…I can’t lose you either… Not again.” 

Your heart swells and thumps heavily against your ribs. 

“What are you getting at, Munson?” You tease, because it’s all you can do to keep your emotions from bubbling up. “Spit it out.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking positively miserable as he speaks. 

“I love you.” He says, “More than anything – more than everything, and I can’t … Jesus Christ, I’m so scared something’s going to happen and I won’t be there to save you…” 

The sound tumbles out over your lips before you’re even aware of it bubbling up inside of you.

You giggle, and Eddie jerks back from you like the sound had jumped out and snapped at him.

You can’t help it, but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty to see the hurt look he gives you, like a freshly kicked puppy.

You’re not laughing at him, per se, but you can understand how it might seem like you are. Nobody likes to be reminded of their shortcomings, so you’re quick to correct yourself.

“Oh, Eddie…” you sigh, smiling sweetly at him in the hopes it will ease the sting of what you’re about to say, “I love you, but this isn't the kind of thing you can save me from.”  

It shouldn’t be startling, because it’s true. He'd said it himself, this is a suicide mission at its very best.

What is startling is the way Eddie reacts to hearing you say it, physically recoiling like you’d reached out with the sentiment and slapped him across the face.

“What did you just say?” Eddie gasps.

Suddenly he’s as serious as a heart attack and you’re worried you’ve misread the room. It leaves you reeling.

“...You can't save me?” You squeak out, half afraid of the hurt the statement is going to cause him if you ram it down his throat, despite how maddeningly true it is.

If things go as bad as he expects them to — which, to be quite honest, they very likely will — you don't expect Eddie is going to be able to pull you out of the frying pan, or the fire that follows, no matter how badly he wants to.

Still, his eyes grow bright and he shakes his head violently, sending his curls flying out in all directions.

His voice is tiny as he speaks. 

“No ... before that." He says. "... you said you love me."

You blink back at him in a way you imagine must look owlish and quite stupid, and you watch as he grows strangely shy.

It only serves to deepen your confusion.

"...Did you mean that?" Eddie asks tentatively.

You don't answer right away, though not because you don't, only because the question is startling and you don't expressly know what to say.

The silence that hangs between you is charged and infinite, and suddenly you’ve left the question unanswered too long.

You watch as something akin to disappointment shadows his features. He sighs and pushes up from your hiding spot in the underbrush, and stalks away out toward the road.

It occurs to you much too late that a stunned silence was perhaps not the best way to answer that question, but it had been jarring at worst and deeply confusing at best.

Of course you love him. You feel it so fully with every particle of your being that at times you feel like it’s going to tear you apart, even now after all this time when things ought to have evened out between you.

You’ve certainly told him as much often enough that you’ve worried in the past that the words are losing meaning … how could he think that you don’t?

When was the last time you told him? Surely, out in the field? …No? Well, you definitely told him back in the clearing in the woods after he told you that stupid story and set your hand? Then again maybe not… Back at Rick’s place? No, that was him…

Your heart drops into your stomach as the truth dawns on you.  

Oh shit... you haven’t told him.

How could you have not told him?

You scramble to your feet and nearly topple over in your mad attempt to get through the underbrush to follow him.

“Eddie, wait–” You start, taking clumsy steps toward him before he staves off your progress with a wave of his hand.

“Look, it’s fine, okay? I know you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true.” He says, "I don't need you placating me just so I won't have hurt feelings or something—"

“Who says I don’t?” You demand.

It stops him in his tracks.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks moodily.

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" You say a little slower, putting precise diction into each word, and spelling it out for him on the off chance that there has been a sudden and rapid decrease in IQs out here on the road.

The effect misses its mark. He just stares back at you, bewilderment etching a mask into his features so deep, you wonder idly if you’re ever going to see him make another expression again.

A sticky silence bleeds between you as you both wait for the other to speak.

Finally, you throw up your hands in frustration as you realize that between the two of you, you're the one who has suddenly become exceedingly goddamn stupid.

How could you have let Eddie go on thinking you didn't love him? What were you thinking? Nothing at all, apparently. You are a mean and foolish girl, and you cannot believe how incredibly careless you've been.

“I love you, Eddie," You start, "I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you. That didn’t stop just because you got in your head and decided you weren’t good enough for me or whatever it was… I loved you even when I hated you … I mean — God — I always thought we were gonna get out of Hawkins and get a little place somewhere together... I thought we were gonna…" You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to hide your face then, gesturing vaguely to try and cover the color creeping up your neck, “...you know… get married and stuff…”

You try to imagine how your old friends would have reacted to hear you admit that. How stunned they would have been to find you when you still belonged to them, already daydreaming about wedding bells and little chapels, secretly scrawling your name sandwiched between Mrs. Munson all over your notebooks.

It’s embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s part of what had made the breakup so goddamn hard — you hadn’t seen it coming, you’d fully expected to spend the rest of your lives together.

Eddie makes a choked sound that is somewhere caught halfway between a scoff and something harsher. He blinks back the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes as he reaches up to rub a calloused hand at the back of his neck. 

“Guess I really went and fucked that up for you, huh?” He sniffs. 

You shrug.

“Who says?” You ask, and when Eddie rolls his eyes, you double down, “Nothing’s changed, Eds—”

“Everything’s changed.” He stresses, stalking back across the clearing to close the gap between you, "How can you say that after all the shit I said ... everything I did? Everything is changed."

Suddenly you’re standing toe to toe, just like you had all those months back in front of the trailer, last summer. 

Somehow the roles feel reversed now as you meet his watery gaze and feel the looming threat of the same choice hanging above your head like a guillotine.

He's right. Everything has changed, but who says you have to accept that? You know he would take it back if he could — the terrible choice he’d made — so who says you have to make the same mistake here and now?

You know better.

You shake your head and watch something akin to terror flash briefly across Eddie’s face at the prospective rejection.

How pleased you are to be able to prove him wrong.

“Not for me,” You say matter-of-factly, “I still love you.” 

Like breaking the surface, he breathes out harshly through his nose and his shoulders sag under the effort of it.

“...You do?” Eddie asks, painfully hopeful, boyish even. 

You can’t help the way your face begins to split into a slow, delighted grin. Finally, you get to mend something that is broken rather than being the one who broke it in the first place.

You nod. 

“I do.”

“...Say it again.” He pleads, eyes flashing with strange and wild desperation, despite the way he’s begun to mirror your smile even before you say it.

You love him and he knows it, he has to know it. 

“I love you,” You repeat, reaching up to curl your fingers around his biceps and giving him a gentle shake for good measure, “Even though you’re a big stupid jerk.”  

He breathes out a wet, shaky laugh and suddenly he looks so fragile you can’t help but pull him a little closer.

Before you can admonish him for being so foolish as to think anything otherwise, his hands come up to frame your face, and he presses a searing kiss to your lips. It steals your breath and your eyes roll shut without your prompting.

You barely have time to process that you really ought not to be doing this so exposed, as chaste as the little kisses he’s begun peppering your face with are. He kisses you again and again, like he physically could not stop himself from kissing you if he tried.

You don’t think he’s trying very hard.

You’re in danger of being seen, standing so close to the road like this. Still, each gentle press of his lips is punctuated with a shaky utterance of his gratitude, blessing you for the reciprocation of the feeling, like he’s been holding his breath just waiting to hear you say it. 

He pulls back a moment to stare reverently at you, searching your features like he's trying to commit them to memory.

You don't let him go very far, clinging to him like you're afraid you'll lose him if you let him go.

"You love me?" he says breathlessly, less a question than a statement of fact.

He nods slowly to prompt you to do the same, and you obey, but he hardly lets you.

Any need to hear you say it again is evidently superseded by the need to keep kissing you, this time it is a hard, wet thing pressed so forcefully to your lips you can hardly move against it.

A peal of joyful laughter bubbles up out of you and you love, love, love.

You feel the curl of his mouth as Eddie kisses you again, muffling the sound with his lips and pulling you that much tighter against him, tight enough that you finally feel him slip back into place to fill the hole he’d left in you last summer, and for the first time in almost a year, everything is right. It fills you with joy.

Blinding, unadulterated, stupefying joy. 

It’s almost enough to make you forget the danger looming, and how once you turn around and head back to rejoin the others, you’ll very likely be going to your deaths… 

#cruel summer fic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn fic

[let-me-fill-you]

here's a little scenario for you~

my long-term asshole boyfriend knocks my tboy pussy up. of course, he skips town to avoid the responsibilities of being a parent

you're a good friend of mine, and you help me through all the ups and downs of pregnancy. im having triplets, and on my short frame, i start growing waaaay earlier than expected

in my sixth trimester, when km already as big as a house, you manage to track down my baby daddy, drag him back to my place, and encourage me to swallow him whole. hes only good as nourishment for my babies, if he's not going to provide money

he's so much bigger than me... if i do manage to swallow him down, would you give me belly rubs after? 🥺🥺

It's not a question of if, darling, but how long it will take you to swallow down this good-for-nothing asshole.

The nerve of him to run out on you like that, after knocking you up with triplets for Christ's sake... You were miserable after he left, inconsolable - and you deserve recompense. So I tracked him down, and I dragged him, kicking and screaming, back to you. He needed to see you, see what you had become thanks to his indiscretion. You are massively gravid, and beautiful for it in my humble opinion - and he forsook the chance to be your husband, to be a part of this...

So now, he's going to be a part of you. I shook him down, see, and he isn't exactly liquid, having blown all his funds on starting a new life without you, while you were busy here creating new life... Correction: He will be liquid by the time you're done with him - a thick, nutritious chyme passing through your intestines, feeding you and your babies. It's the least he can do for all the heartache he's given you.

Channel your rage toward him, draw strength from the lonely nights without him, the deep hunger you've felt in his absence, think about how much you love your babies, and he will - in spite of his size - slide down your throat with buttery ease~

And once you're done, once his fate is sealed inside your stomach, of course I will give you belly rubs~ We wouldn't want your heartache to turn into heartburn.

#; pregnancy #; pregnant pred #; vore #; asks 💕 #; mine #; 💕 and do respond with the lovely input you had in dms~

[avonne-writes]

would you ever been willing to write more modern aus, they are so good! just can’t stop picturing drunken aemond at a club grinding all over luke when they aren’t even dating

Thank you so much! 💕 Please take this short drabble as my humble offering.

Standing by a pillar at the edge of the dance floor, Luke is waiting for Jace to get their drinks. They’re in their favourite club, the one Luke has been trying to lure Aemond to for months now, hoping that maybe, if the stars are aligned, they could finally get all the unresolved tension out of their systems. No luck so far, but Aegon promised he'd drag Aemond out tonight, so if Luke played his cards right and got Aemond jealous enough...

There's always hope, right?

He's dressed in a crop top and black jeans that hug his ass just right, hopefully a clear enough signal that he wants to get laid tonight but he's not desperate. He's fiddling with the dangle earring in his right ear when a large hand finds his right hip. Indignance and self-satisfaction battle in him as he contemplates his reaction. Unbelievable. This might be a new record for him - ten minutes in the club and he has already caught some pushy top's interest. He's not even tipsy yet, for Christ's sake!

He moves to turn around, but the guy's left hand finds his other hip and starts rocking him with the beat of the music instead. A warm exhale brushes Luke’s neck. "Hello, Lucy."

Luke jumps in surprise, but the hands hold him in place. "Aemond?!" He exclaims, craning his neck over his shoulder, and it is, indeed, his uncle, his sapphire-blue prosthesis glittering in the stroboscopic light. White-blond hair spills over Luke's shoulder as Aemond leans down to nuzzle him from behind.

"Hm." Aemond hums into Luke's skin, his lips brushing Luke’s pulse point as he continues swaying with Luke from side to side. Their rhythm doesn't even match the song blaring from the speakers. "Did you dress up so slutty for me, nephew?"

Aemond's mouth seals over a spot on Luke's neck with hot, wet suction. It makes Luke shudder. Fuck, but Aegon did make good on his promise, it seems.

"You taste slutty too." Aemond adds in a purr.

"What the fuck." Luke mutters, even as his palms settle over Aemond’s toned forearms. He's not slutty - in fact, he's in fairly plain clothes tonight compared to some of the other men on the dance floor. "Are you drunk?"

It's a rhetorical question, but it still annoys Luke that Aemond ignores it altogether in favour of grinding against Luke's plump ass. His pinkies slip under the waistband of Luke’s jeans while his hands slide up and forward to cover Luke’s bared stomach. Luke can feel him harden gradually, inch by inch, as he rubs himself against Luke in slow circles that vaguely resemble a dance.

Well. Luke can't exactly pretend he isn't pleased. It feels like a nice size.

He licks his lips. "Jace -"

Aemond's laugh sounds like a stroke of desire brushing Luke’s overheated skin. He slips a hand up under Luke’s shirt to pinch a nipple. "He's welcome to watch if he wants."

Jesus. A week ago, it was enough to feel up Aemond's thigh to make him storm away from the dinner table, and now he's ready to fuck Luke in plain sight? Fighting against Aemond's grip, Luke turns around to look at Aemond's face. He finds Aemond's cheeks flushed, his eye glassy from the alcohol as he guides Luke into a new dance that might as well pass for foreplay.

"Fuck." Luke turns his gaze to the ceiling for a second before looping his arms around Aemond's neck to draw him down. Aemond drops his head to Luke's shoulder and starts sucking marks into his neck. "You shouldn't be this drunk!"

He's going to kill Aegon before Aemond wakes up with a hangover tomorrow and kills him again.

"I'm not drunk." Aemond denies the obvious. "Let me fuck you."

Heat pools in Luke's belly, honey-thick and sweet. He stalls. "I wanted to dance."

Aemond straightens up to grab one of Luke’s hands, wedging his fingers between Luke's and pulling Luke's wrist to his mouth, pressing sloppy kisses to it as they keep rolling their hips together. Luke's cock throbs in his pants. "We're dancing, aren't we?"

He drops Luke's hand to press him against the pillar, leaning down until their noses brush. "Let's continue at my place. Wanna see you lose it, Luke."

Fuck it.

Luke is no saint, and Aemond is no damsel - this is happening.

In a teasing, meandering line, Luke's hand slides down Aemond's thin chest and stomach, then squeezes his cock. When Aemond groans, Luke gives him a smirk. He massages Aemond's length through the fabric. "Only if you're sober enough to remember how I like to kiss."

The hungry light in Aemond's eye shifts into something warmer. They've kissed only once before, long years ago, two confused teenagers unable to separate attraction and hate - but it still lingers in Luke's mind as a moment of perfection.

Aemond grabs his chin, careful but firm, and thumbs at Luke's bottom lip.

"I remember." He says, and seals it with a kiss straight from Luke's dreams.

Neither of them notice the outraged yelp coming from the bar.

#lucemond #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #my writing #anon #aemond x lucerys #drabble

[dnuoh-xof]

So, out of morbid curiosity, I listened to Skull Face's ten-minute-long-ass "What do you see?" Joker-esque speech from GZ... and while it the tape itself didn't have anything super incriminating in it other than like, I don't know, basic torture (I think a guy gets waterboarded or something) — like something else I can't stomach to watch — I have a few things to say about it.

1. This man is gaslight and gatekeep. Like Jesus fucking Christ, the amount of forced empathy under false pretenses he postures having for the sake of either gathering information or for the sake of luring his interogees (?) into a false sense of security, is honestly a little astounding. (Which, in itself, isn't necessarily something foreign to his character, hence his proclamation of "I don't want to do this. I'd rather not have to ring the bell," when interrogating Code Talker.) I would say he is two-faced, but he regularly accentuates that he doesn't have one. So it would be disingenuous to draw such a comparison.

2. The voice acting really isn't as good as the voice acting James Horan provided in the sequel, "Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain." Like, in the tape I cherry-picked to watch, it's not... terrible? But if I said it wasn't leagues below Mr. Horan's performance in the latter release, I would of course be lying. Skull Face simply sounds more menacing in the latter, despite the much more mature tone of "Ground Zeroes" in comparison. Which is strange, since "The Phantom Pain"'s depiction of Skull Face is easily the more comical, and unserious of the two. I also find it off-putting because he sounds so much younger in that one, LOL, which I suppose makes sense, given that the tapes take place around 1977-1978... ish?

I will say one thing about Skull Face's design in "Ground Zeroes," however: I like him without the mask. Very off-putting and disturbing in appearance, likely befitting of the... *cough* tone, of that game... or lack thereof. Other than that, I don't really have much to say about it.

#tw // torture #(Or. Mentions of it. IDK.) #text #rambles #metal gear #mgs #metal gear solid #mgsv #metal gear solid v: ground zeroes #gz #ground zeroes #mgsvtpp #metal gear solid v: the phantom pain #skull face #(I think it comes down to like. The dialogue was less watered down? But Horan's delivery was sort of bad. Befitting of a game so terrible.) #(I simply enjoy the more buttery inflection Skullman has in TPP instead. Ngl.) #(IDK I'll never play this fucking game anyways. So WHATEVERRRR.)

[eddiemungbean]

Sink My Teeth Into You

a healthy dose of steddie in which Eddie asks Steve to draw him

18+ (mentions of sex)

『••✎••』

“What do I look like?” Eddie asks from his spot on the floor. He’s laying on his back, arms tucked behind his head and hair spread wildly across the plush red carpet. The hem of his shirt is raised ever so slightly, revealing a pale strip of his stomach and a soft trail of hair. 

Steve, from his spot on the couch, keeps his eyes closed and an arm draped over his face. He hums contentedly and says, “Handsome.”

Eddie grins. “You didn’t even look at me.”

“Didn’t have to. You’re always handsome.” This time though, Steve shifts to peek at Eddie from beneath the crook of his elbow. He hums again, appreciatively, sending Eddie a lazy wink.

The two fall back into a serene silence, the only sound in the room is their deep breathing and Steve’s beating heart. They stay like that, quietly listening to the birds beyond the window, hidden behind thick curtains to keep the sunlight out. 

“Describe me,” Eddie says after a moment. He’s curious, and has been since he changed a few years back, unable to see the change for himself in the reflection of a mirror or on the film of a camera.  

Steve sits up and reaches for his glasses on the side table, scratching at the back of his head and making his already messy hair messier. He knows what Eddie wants. Not compliments or jokes. Eddie wants to know if he still looks like himself. He wants to know if he’s more human than monster. 

Eddie watches as Steve puts his glasses on. He watches as Steve beckons him to sit up. He watches Steve’s eyes travel the length of him as he moves, scooting so that he’s parallel to the couch, leaning back on his arms, with his ankles crossed in front of him. He sees the way Steve stops to gaze at each tattoo and each scar until, finally, Steve meets Eddie’s eyes. 

“You have a gray streak in your hair now,” Steve says gently. He reaches forward, wraps the gray curl around his finger and tugs. He does that a lot. Plays with Eddie’s hair, particularly the gray curl, running his fingers through it or brushing it away from Eddie’s face.

Eddie leans into his touch, eyes fluttering, a soft smile on his face. He feels Steve move his hand from his hair to his face, opens his eyes as Steve caresses his cheek. 

“Your skin is pale. Paler than before. And cold. Like marble. Haunting.” Steve feels Eddie flinch against his hand but continues, “Not in a bad way. Like–like something from a dream.”

Eddie relaxes again, satisfied that he’s not scary, not a nightmare come to life. A dream. Steve called him a dream.

Steve moves his fingers down to Eddie’s mouth. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, pulling on it lightly. Eddie sighs, mouth parting slightly, and Steve grins. 

“My, what big teeth you have.”

Eddie laughs, loud and startled, and smacks a hand to Steve’s shoulder. Steve ignores it, moves so that he’s sitting at the edge of the couch cushion. He leans in close and kisses Eddie. Once. Twice. A third time. All soft, short and sweet. 

When Steve pulls back he says, “They’re totally metal. I bet you have babes lining up, begging for you to sink your teeth into them.”

“Metal huh?”

Steve nods.

“And babes lining up for me?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve exaggerates the words, stretching out the syllables. 

Eddie smirks. “The only babe I wanna sink my teeth into is right here.” He gives Steve’s thigh a pat and then leaves his hand there, slowly inching forward. Eddie can feel a fire burning from his abdomen up to his throat. Hunger. Desire. 

Steve places his hand on top of Eddie’s, stopping him from moving any further up his leg. He has Eddie exactly where he wants him. “Your eyes are red.”

Eddie freezes. This was new. Why hadn’t anyone told him before? Did his eyes freak people out? Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, walking around with red eyes and fangs for Christ’s sake! 

“Not bright red,” Steve reassures, “not unless you’ve recently eaten, but they kind of glow red if that makes any sort of sense.”

“That makes no sense. At all,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve takes a moment to find the right way to explain, his brows furrowed. “Your eyes are still brown, for the most part. But I can see the red underneath when you’re angry or when you’re sad. They glow really bright when you eat or when you’re playing guitar or when–“ Steve cuts himself off. 

“Or when what”

“When–you know.”

“I really don’t. You’re going to have to tell me, Steve.” But he does know. The faint blush now staining Steve’s cheeks gives it away. Eddie pushes forward until he’s kneeling on the floor, trapped between Steve’s legs. He leans his head against Steve’s thigh, gazing up through long, dark lashes.

Steve visibly gulps. “When we fuck. They glow really bright when we fuck.”

“Ah, so…intense emotions bring out the bloodlust. Even when I’m horny and we’re having mind blowing sex.”

“Especially when you're horny and we’re having mind blowing sex.”

Eddie laughs, delighted. “That’s pretty fucking metal. Are they red right now?”

Steve smirks. “Yeah.”

Eddie winks and bites Steve’s thigh playfully, trying to make himself look more menacing and utterly failing. He laughs when Steve shoves his face away.

There’s a moment of calm. Eddie’s face is pressed up against Steve’s thigh as Steve gently runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. 

“Think you can draw me?” Eddie is looking up at Steve, genuinely curious.

Startled, Steve blurts out, “What?”

“Draw me. I want to see what I look like.” Eddie stands abruptly and turns about the room, trying to locate either his sketchbook or some scrap paper for Steve to draw on. “There you are,” he mumbles to himself as he reaches for the sketchbook he left on the TV stand. 

“No, no. No no no no no.” Steve sinks back into the couch with his hands raised, hoping the cushions will swallow him before Eddie can put a pen in his hand. “You’re the one that can draw!” 

“I can’t draw myself Steve, I don’t know what I look like anymore.”

Steve pushes his glasses askew, pinching the bridge of his nose.

It’s endearing, Eddie thinks, that Steve is getting so worked up over something so small. He likes the way it makes Steve’s heartbeat pound in his chest just a tiny bit faster. He likes the flush on Steve’s neck.

Eddie falls gracelessly beside Steve, poking him in the ribs with a pen and placing his sketchbook in Steve’s lap. 

“Get Will to do it for you,” Steve mumbles.

“Babe, Will’s not in love with me. You are. I want to know how you see me.”

“I literally just told you.”

“Please, Steve?” Eddie widens his eyes and pouts, feigning innocence. He knows Steve won’t be able to resist. It works every time. He even managed to get Steve to play D&D with this look and has been abusing the power it holds over him ever since. 

Steve grabs the pen from Eddie’s hand, examines it and realizes it’s one of those fancy multi-colored ones. “You are the worst,” he says, clicking the red tab and poking Eddie’s forehead, leaving behind a small red dot. “I hope you know this picture is going to look like crap.”

“Thanks Baby.” 

『••✎••』

Twenty minutes later Eddie is holding up a crudely drawn photo next to his face. “The resemblance is truly uncanny.”

There’s a reason why Steve isn’t an artist. The picture, though a valiant effort on Steve’s part, looks like it was drawn by a half blind old man with arthritis. The only thing even remotely accurate is Eddie’s unruly hair. 

“Why are my eyes bleeding?”

Steve snorts. “Shut up. I told you. I told you! Get Will to draw you next time. He’s not in love with you but he has a pretty big crush if you haven’t noticed. I mean, it’s kind of obvious.”

“Oh? Do I detect jealousy? Over a teenage boy who has a teenage crush?”

Steve scoffs. “God no.” And when he sees Eddie teasingly raising his eyebrows he adds, “Maybe, okay? Maybe! I’m not–let’s get one thing straight okay? I’m not jealous of Will’s crush on you, or whatever. I’m just annoyed that I do all these things for these kids and they barely acknowledge me. And then! And then you come along with your messy hair and your tattoos and your stupidly large rings and you smile at them and suddenly they all worship the ground you walk on.”

Eddie smirks. “But don’t you do the same thing? Worship the ground I walk on as soon as I shoot you a smile?”

“The difference is I’m allowed to,” Steve grumbles.

“You, Steve Harrington, are beyond ridiculous.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replies, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His nose is a whisper against Eddie’s own. “I’m dating a vampire after all.”

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #vampire eddie #vampire eddie x steve #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie munson x steve harrington #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #nina writes #smtiy #eddie munson #steve harrington

[riality-check]

more bootlegging au stuff because i have the brainrot! here's the first bit, in case you missed it.

“This guy is way too heavy,” Dustin wheezes, holding the corpse by the shoulders.

“Duh,” Max deadpans, swinging its legs into the freshly-dug makeshift grave. “He’s dead weight.”

Dustin smirks at her, and regret flashes over her face.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“It was unintentional.”

“I don’t think it was. I think you’re funnier than you- oof.”

The handle of the shovel hits Dustin in the stomach before he even tried to catch it.

“Start covering him up,” Max says.

“Why can’t you do it?”

“I’m a lady. It’s not proper.”

Dustin uses the shovel to gesture at her pants. “Yeah, because you care so much about propriety.”

Even from halfway to the front gates of the graveyard and in the dark, Mike sees Max’s tiny smile. He doesn’t see much else; nothing from the trees and nothing from the road on the other side.

Dustin says he’s a great lookout. Max says it’s because nothing wants to get anywhere near him. They all know he’s the lookout because he’s the best at lying to Joyce.

Well, Will is better, but he doesn’t know anything about this. Just because he’s good at lying to his mother doesn’t mean he likes doing it. And Mike knows that if Will got involved, he’d want to do the most out of all of them, and-

Well, Mike can’t lose him again.

So, Will doesn’t know, and Max and Dustin are stuck with the second-best liar out of their little bunch. Not that there’s a whole lot of them to start.

“Keep it down,” Mike hisses. “They might not be able to see you, but other people can hear you.”

“You’re our lookout, not our mother,” Max snarks, and Dustin, the traitor, laughs.

Mike tries to hide his own laugh. As much as he and Max rib each other, and as rough of a start as they got off to, they’re still good. Most of the ti-

Something moves along the road.

It’s not a car; anyone could hear the motor from a mile away. It’s not a carriage, either, since there’s no clip-clopping or horses’ hooves. It’s smaller and slower. Probably a person.

And where there’s one, there’s many, and many means the fire of tommy guns and blood-spattered backdrops. In this case, gravestones.

“Shovel faster,” Max says, finally having joined in with her own shovel.

“Mayfield, shut up,” Mike says, still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oh, so we’re last-naming each other now, Wheeler?”

“There’s a person on the road. Shut. Up.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Dustin mumbles, and Mike hears the pace of their shoveling increase behind him.

He still keeps his eyes on the road, on the small figure slowly approaching the graveyard. He can’t tell their gender, not with the hat they’re wearing. He can make out dark clothes and a pale face and that’s it.

He hears Max and Dustin come up behind him.

“How many?” Dustin asks, hand inside his coat.

“Just one,” Mike says. “Max, start the car.”

“Like hell,” she says, and she draws her own gun.

“Not yet,” Dustin says. “Let’s see what they want.”

“They want to shoot us,” Max says.

“Maybe not.”

“Everyone wants to shoot us.”

“Just wait,” Mike says.

In the moonlight, he can make out a face. A very feminine face, with wide, dark eyes. Her hair isn’t tucked into her hat; it’s cut close to her head, shorter than Mike’s own.

What the hell?

“Stay here,” Mike says, and he takes his gun out and starts walking forward.

“Absolutely not,” Max says, but Dustin holds her back.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says.

Mike nods and walks a few paces to meet the girl.

The unarmed girl, he notes with surprise. Either that or she’s packing her heat really well. She’s wearing a thin, light dress with a long dark coat over it, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

But the coat, clearly a man’s coat, is way too big on her. Mike doesn’t think she’s hiding anything under it.

“Awful late to be out on a walk,” he says lightly.

She stares at him, big eyes searching, but says nothing.

“Are you lost?”

She nods, then shakes her head.

“Well, it’s gotta be one or the other.”

No reaction. Just that blank stare.

Mike huffs. “Are you mute?”

“No,” she says instantly.

Finally getting somewhere, then.

“Do you speak English?” he asks, mostly because there’s something in her voice he can’t quite put a finger on.

“Some,” she replies.

“She’s a spy.”

“Jesus!” Mike swears, jumping straight back into Dustin.

“No, just me,” he says before Max promptly elbows him in the ribs.

The girl frowns at Max and Dustin, who now flank Mike, like they’re a math problem she can’t quite figure out.

“She’s a spy,” Dustin says again.

“She’s a pretty lousy spy if she’s out walking around where we can see her,” Max points out.

“Some English? She’s probably from the Russians-”

“No,” the girl says. “Not Russian.”

“What then?” Mike asks.

The girl frowns, her whole face scrunching.

“Hey,” Max says softly. “Do you need help?”

Slowly, she nods.

Shit. Mike thinks back to Max, back to what she looked like when Joyce first took her in after he brought her to her doorstep, and he knows that he can’t leave this girl behind, either.

He sighs. “Max-”

“Starting the car,” she says, and she tugs Dustin along with her.

Mike holds his arm out to the girl. She stares at it in obvious confusion, so, after an awkward thirty seconds, he drops it.

“Come on,” he says instead, and she falls into step with him.

She doesn’t say anything, so after another minute of silence, Mike asks, “You got a name?”

She points to the collar of her dress, where Mike can faintly see a tiny embroidered “11.”

As they get into the car, Max driving like always and Dustin talking like always, Mike wonders what the hell he got himself into.

Eleven. Well, at least it’s not Russian.

part 3, part 4

#ria writes #bootleggers baby #stranger things #st #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #max mayfield #el hopper

[somewhat-intelligent]

Gravel and Honey and Sin

Flufftober Day 8: Rainy Day

@flufftober

(Read on AO3)

Rated: Mild T

WC: 538

Judy stands at the window, arms crossed and a frown on her face as rain pelts the glass and trickles down—drop purling to drop in chaotic rivulets.

Across the yard, a branch snaps in the wind, and Judy’s frown deepens.

She’d pulled herself out of bed two hours early this morning with one simple goal in mind: go for a run before heading to the hospital.

Instead, she’s stood here in her bedroom watching her plans wash away in a downpour because, apparently, it doesn’t matter how many incredible advancements humanity has made (they’ve colonized another planet, for Christ’s sake), accurately predicting the weather is still beyond the scope of available science.

“‘Partly cloudy’ my ass,” she mutters.

The rain continues its incessant whipping, and Judy considers her second option: the treadmill. It’s right downstairs, and the workout library can replicate the exact route she planned to take anyway. But... It just isn’t the same. She much prefers running outdoors, in fresh, open air.

She’s up now, though, and it seems a waste to do nothing.

Judy huffs a breath, unable to decide. Her running clothes taunt her from the closet.

“Come back to bed...”

Don’s morning-deep voice draws her from her wallowing.

She turns from the cold, uninviting morning outside, to him—only half-covered by sheets, his exposed skin undoubtedly warm and tempting to be touched—then back to the window. To the lashing rain, and dangerous sway of the trees.

Frowning at the gray once more, she flicks the blinds a bit harder than necessary, shutting out the source of her irritation.

An irritation that begins to ebb the moment she sinks beneath the sheets, and into Don’s arms.

“It wasn’t even supposed to rain today,” she sighs.

“I know...” Don pulls her closer until her back is flush against his bare chest. As warm as she knew he would be. “But this is a nice alternative, isn’t it?”

The scratch of his stubble and softness of his lips grazing her shoulder sends a pleasant shiver up her spine. She covers his arms with her own, wrapping them tighter, nestling deeper as their legs intertwine.

“Mm. It’s okay, I guess,” she teases softly.

Don chuckles through another kiss to her neck, and slips one hand free from hers, trailing his fingertips up her arm. Ghosting from wrist to shoulder, shoulder blade to ribs, and lower, to glide under her tank top. He follows the curve of her hipbone down, and spreads his palm low on her stomach, drawing her body to meld even farther into his. As close as possible. Judy’s thighs press together at the motion, and she can’t help the soft moan that escapes her throat as she gently writhes against him, encouraging, desperate.

Like an echo to the slow, aimless drift of his lips on her nape, he caresses every chaste inch of her he can reach, setting her alight in ways only he ever could.

“Don...”

She feels his pleased smile drag up the side of her neck, and his breath flows heavily against her ear as his fingers edge downward now.

“If you still want that exercise, Princess...” His tone is gravel and honey and sin. “I’ve got a few ideas...”

#flufftober2023 #flufftober #day 8 #day 8 Rainy Day #lost in space #robinwest #don x judy #don west #judy robinson #prompt fic #pamelo:my art #rated T for suggestive cuddling 🤣

[twimbs]

Some Angst Headcanon-Fueled Writing

“Do you like it here, Philip?” Caleb asked, looking at the cloud filled sky in awe as a strange beast flew by. After receiving no response, he turned to look at his younger brother. Philip sat on the other end of the log, hunched over and muttering to himself as he drew in the dirt with a stick. “Philip? Philip!”

“Ah!” Philip yelled as he jumped, turning to face Caleb with a glare that disappeared a few moments later. “What?”

Caleb snickered at his nerd of a brother - always so deep in some sort of work. 

“Do you like it here?” He repeated.

“No.” Philip stated, turning back to his drawing. “It’s hot. Everything boils. It’s hideous and, above all, it’s weird. As horrendous as a night terror.”

“I think it has charm,” Caleb smirked at the horrified look Philip gave him. “Look around, Philip. Everything is new. There’s so much to see here. There’s so much to experience.”

“It’s disgusting.” Caleb laughed, assuming his brother was joking. Philip’s cheeks turned a shade of red at the laugh. “Don’t laugh! I’m serious. I want to go home.”

“What if we stayed?” Caleb asked. Philip turned to him, stunned as his brother stared at the sun as it reflected off of the distant ocean. “It really is beautiful. We could learn magic together.”

“Learn magic?” Philip hissed. “I can’t believe you. We’re witch hunters, Caleb. We don’t belong here.”

“...Maybe I’m not like you. Maybe we want different things.” Caleb mumbled.

“What different things are so important that you’d abandon your home?” Philip stood, gripping his drawing stick tightly.

“I think the magic here is wonderful. I think the people are wonderful. We could learn a lot - we could adventure together.” Caleb suggested.

“They’re witches. Monsters. They aren’t people.” Philip corrected.

Caleb thought for a moment before responding, knowing this conversation would most likely lead to a fight. “Mother was a witch.”

“Mother was insane!” Philip yelled. “A madwoman filled with mad ideas who spouted mad ramblings to us all!”

“But now we know she was right, Philip. This place exists. Magic exists. How mad was she, if there’s a chance she came from here?”

“For Christ’s sake, Caleb, the woman laughed as she burned to death. That is not the mind of someone who’s stable.” Philip stubbornly crossed his arms.

“Well, I think I’d go mad if no one believed me, if I were killed because of the place I came from.” Caleb half-joked, laughing softly.

“She deserved it. She was a vile woman, all the things she did.” Philip turned to glare at the sun as Caleb stood as well, fists clenched.

“Don’t say that about her. She had her quirks - but she wasn’t a monster.” Caleb growled.

“Grow up, Caleb. We belong home, in our town. We belong in a witch hunting squadron. We don’t live in some fantasy where we can frolic about and dream of magic. What would father think?” Philip asked, noting the way his brother’s lips curled at the mention of the man.

“Father,” Caleb began through gritted teeth. “Was far more deranged than mother ever was. Good Lord, Philip, don’t tell me you can’t see that.”

“He was driven. He was a righteous man-”

“Stop!” Caleb interrupted his brother. “Stop believing all of his lies! Everything he burned into us! He was goddamned out of his head!”

“He was more in his head than any of us-” Philip began, before Caleb stormed towards him. Caleb grabbed a fistful of his brother’s shirt - ignoring his protests as he yanked it up, pulling it out of his belt-line and exposing a dark scar on his brother’s stomach, in the shape of a cross.

“Is that what a sane man does to his child, Philip?” Caleb demanded. There was still anger in his voice, though his tone was softer. “Is that what a righteous man does? Is this what you think shows strength?!”

“...He did what he had to.” Philip mumbled, looking away from his brother as his shirt was released. 

“For goodness sake, Philip, in what world did he have to do this?” Caleb pressed.

“He helped me-”

“He branded you. I’m not the one who needs to grow up, Pip.” Caleb softly spoke. “You can’t even acknowledge when someone has hurt you. Don’t justify or defend his actions. He was just as deranged as mother.”

“Mother believed she was a witch. She was completely delusional. Harsh as he may have been, father was at least rational.” 

“Father believed he spoke for God,” Caleb said, deadpan, staring at Philip almost blankly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And he forced those delusions onto us.”

“So did mother!” Philip yelled. “All of her ramblings of spells and witches - good heavens the bitch was insufferable!”

“Do not refer to her that way!” Caleb snapped.

“Why not?” Philip asked, exasperated. “It’s true. She was vile.”

“Do not desecrate her memory with such filthy language-”

“And I am the one who cannot realize when one of our parents was deranged?” Philip retorted, scoffing. “You will speak to me about father when you can acknowledge our mother was off the rails.”

“Why does this conversation always have to be a fight?” Caleb asked, sighing loudly. 

“Why must you turn it into a fight, Caleb?” Philip retorted.

“Oh, because you’re the reasonable one in this situation…” Caleb muttered sarcastically.

“I’m not the one defending insanity!” Philip shouted.

“No, you’re the one that can’t see that you’re defending insanity. All of those books you read and you’re still dense as a rock, brother.” Philip’s face once again turned red at the insult.

“At least I can read!” He yelled.

“I can read! I just don’t waste my life doing it!” Caleb shouted back.

“You’re childish, deranged, as bad as mother!” 

“And you are so brainwashed by father that you’ve become just like him!” 

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing!” Philip scoffed. Caleb was breathing heavily now, tears pricking his eyes. “Father was righteous and good-willed, I’m proud to be compared to him!”

“Then why did I kill him?!” Caleb screamed. As soon as he realized what he said, he gasped, covering his mouth. Philip stared at him in horror. 

“Wh-What?” He forced out, his voice cracking.

“I… I’m sorry.” Caleb rushed out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I didn’t want to tell you like this-”

“Caleb,” Philip whispered. “What did you do?”

“He was out of his mind, Pip! He was always hurting you! I just wanted to protect you.” Caleb took a step towards his brother, who took several back. 

“He never hurt me, he was helping.” Philip swallowed, though his throat felt painfully dry.

“Good sake, Pip, this is why I killed him!” Caleb raised his voice, frustrated. “You’re still completely brainwashed! Even after years without him. I thought the only way to save you was to get rid of him!”

Philip continued to take steps back in disbelief as Caleb walked towards him.

“But it’s okay - because he’s gone now! And he can’t hurt us again-” Caleb tried to reason. 

“Why- why would you-” Philip mumbled to himself.

“Philip, stop!” Caleb cried, right as Philip stepped back - right off the cliff edge. 

He yelled, startled as he toppled backwards. Caleb grabbed his hand just before he fell, hauling him back onto solid ground. Philip collapsed, breathing heavily. After a few moments, he looked up at his brother with a look of confusion, betrayal and sadness.

“Why?” He asked. “How?”

“I… I bought poison from the doctor. I slipped it into his breakfast.” Caleb admitted.

“How long?” Philip asked. Caleb didn’t answer, looking away. “Caleb. How long?”

“He was dead in three days.” 

The two sat in silence as Philip processed the information. Emotions flooded his brain, flashing before his eyes as his breathing quickened. All of the confusion and sadness was suddenly replaced by red hot rage. With a loud cry, he tackled Caleb, who yelled in surprise.

Caleb easily shoved the smaller male off of him, but Philip jumped right back onto him, landing any blow he could to Caleb’s face and torso as Caleb grabbed at his wrists in an attempt to stop him. The punches barely stung - Philip was quite small, after all. The brothers often fought like this, and each time, Philip ended up worse off than Caleb, even though the younger of the two usually started the conflicts.

They rolled around in the dirt, Philip yelling various insults while Caleb yelled for him to get a hold of himself. Finally managing to grab his wrists, Caleb pulled Philip over him and kicked him in the ribs - sending him flying over Caleb and into some brush. 

As Philip took a minute to recover, a face suddenly filled his vision and he almost screamed.

“Hello,” a female said, looking over his frame. She had pointed ears, fiery red hair, and brilliant green eyes.

“Witch!” Philip hissed as he shot up, then immediately whined from pain in his head. A small bit of blood dripped down his forehead.

“Sora!” Caleb excitedly ran over as the witch - Sora -  giggled.

“Were you two fighting again?”

“Yes.”

“No!”

------------------------------------------------------

So I had some thoughts about the Wittebane parents and wrote this based on those headcanons. Their mother, Edith Wittebane, is descended from a witch - very very distant relative. She’s cunning and manipulative, and a true definition of what modern media presents witches as. Basically, a human witch. Their father, Samuel Wittebane, was a minister and preacher. He was incredibly devout to religion. So, when he finds out his wife is a witch, he doesn’t exactly handle it well.

I’m working on a thing about their backstory that explains all of this so stay tuned :>

#toh #the owl house #wittebanes #caleb wittebane #philip wittebane #toh philip and caleb #toh headcanons #angst #writing #oneshot

[missladymusings]

Running

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Word Count: 2k

Publish Date: 2/11/21

Warnings: Pregnancy?

Major Tags: Established Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU

Summary:

Penelope Featherington’s life was more perfect than she had ever imagined. She was working her dream job as a blogger and just finished writing her first book. She had the most amazing long-term boyfriend, who loved her and had his own travel cooking show on Food Network. Her body, her apartment, her lifestyle- everything was just suited to her. But what happens when she finds out she’s pregnant- and realizes that she wants to keep the baby? Will Colin want that too?

Read "Running" on AO3 or keep reading

A/N: Doing a mass upload of my old fics without editing, please be kind!

Six seemed to be the magic number for Penelope today.

There were only six more hours until her amazing boyfriend Colin arrived home after six weeks of traveling for his cooking show. There were six more days until her book on developing self-confidence was set to finally hit the shelves. And there were six pregnancy tests lined up on the bathroom sink, mocking her with six pink plus signs.

Penelope sat on the edge of her bathtub, staring at herself in the mirror in shock. She didn’t look any different. She didn’t really feel any different. She was still the same old Pen she had always been. But now she was pregnant?

She slid down the side of the tub to sit on the title floor. The cool porcelain of the bath felt good on her back, drawing some of the heat out of her flushed face. How on earth could she be pregnant?

She had taken the first test after some gentle teasing from Eloise when she had cancelled their lunch date. She had told her best friend that she was feeling under the weather and her queasy stomach wouldn’t let her leave the house.

“Oooh, best be careful, love! If you’re pregnant with Colin’s baby then you’ll never get to leave him. And then how will we be crotchety old ladies in the States together?” She had joked.

At the time, Penelope had laughed and told Eloise to go make out with her girlfriend.

She was no longer laughing. As one positive test had turned into two, two into three and three into a spiral of denial, there was no doubt in Penelope’s mind.

She was pregnant.

Looking down at her stomach, she gently placed her hands on her lower abdomen. With the chub she had for entire life, it would be weeks before she started showing. And lord knows she didn’t feel very different, aside from the morning sickness. And the slight tenderness in her breasts. And- christ!

Putting her head into her hands, she couldn’t stop the tears prickling at her eyes.

What was she going to do? She was financially stable enough to have a baby, sure. Her lifestyle, although busy, could possibly be modified to suit child-rearing. But did she feel ready to have a living, breathing human that she was responsible for?

The thought rattled around in her brain. She tried to cut out images of cute stuffies and little shoes and focus on the reality. Late, sleepless nights. Her body wrecked from the inside out. All of her time belonging to somebody she barely even knew.

But for every hardship she pictured, she couldn’t help but imagine a little one with her curls and Colin’s eyes. A daughter or son or nonbinary child to love and treat better than she had ever been treated by her family. Suddenly, she could see a different life than the one she was currently living. And while it terrified the shit out of her… she couldn’t help but want it.

Heaven help her, she wanted this baby.

But what about Colin?

She knew that he would never abandon his child- even if he didn’t want to be a parent, he’d still assure that they were provided for. But he was a globe-trotter, a bachelor in every sense except his relationship status. For fuck’s sake, he was just returning from shooting another season of his latest travel cooking show with the Food Network! Would a celebrity chef in the height of his career want to settle down and have a baby with her?

Penelope shook herself. Now that was unacceptable. She was worthy of love and any person would be lucky to raise a kid with her. She would not insult herself like that.

Rising to stand, she swept the pregnancy tests up and tossed them in the bin. She couldn’t deny the nerves jolting within her. The slowly balling knot of stress in her stomach was  not ignorable and was only growing by the minute. She loved Colin and she didn’t want to lose him. He was… everything. But the more she thought about them, the more she knew she couldn’t get rid of the fetus. For better or worse, she was choosing them.

The decision shook her to the core, and she had to grip the sink in terror. She would give Colin up. She wouldn’t beg or fight or force him to stay. She wouldn’t go to the press or Instagram. He would be civil and she would be civil and everything would be as civil as can be for the end of their relationship.

She wasn’t that teenage girl that put Colin Bridgerton up on a pedestal anymore. She would tell herself everyday that she would get through it and be better for it. Pen knew she would be more than fine on her own.

It didn’t stop the tears from falling, though.

Citing her nauseousness from earlier, Pen had enlisted Eloise and Phillipa to pick Colin up from the airport. Fidgeting with the dinner layout and the chicken cacciatore she had prepared with shaking hands, she felt her heart jump in her chest at the sound of the key in the front door lock.

Heading around the corner into the entryway, she watched the door swing open. Standing in the doorway was Colin. His clothes and hair were all ajar, but he looked modelesque as usual. The long trench coat, white t-shirt and jeans were rumpled and the scruff on his face looked so styled that it seemed right out of a particularly filthy photo shoot. His eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, were locked on her even as he struggled to yank his suitcase through the door and shut it.

A grin spread wide across his face, and her breath was stolen once again by the boyish charm. Without hesitation, he dropped his suitcase and small travel bag, rushing to wrap her in a tight hug.

“I missed you so bloody much, babe,” He said, burying his face into her neck and molding his body to hers.

Penelope, for all her resolve to be strong, couldn’t help but melt into the embrace.

“Not as much as I missed you,” She whispered back.

Pulling back slightly, Colin looked at her once more and gave her a squeeze that she giggled lightly at.

“Impossible,” he whispered.

He kissed her deeply. She was instantly drawn into him, doused in arousal and lust. Before she knew it, Colin’s tongue was in her mouth and she was pulling him in. If she wasn’t going to have this forever, she was going to enjoy it right now. Colin let out a shuddering breath and laid kisses all over her face. In a voice suddenly much lower than moments before, he said,

“As much as I’m looking forward to properly coming home, I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I made your favorite then.”

Colin groaned and buried his face into her hair.

“Chicken cacciatore? With that recipe from my mom? You really are the best.”

“I know,” Penelope replied, biting back a smile.

Colin couldn’t help but pinch her on the butt.

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, waiting for Colin to finish getting ready for bed so they could watch a quick movie together. She knew that she should tell him about the baby, but she needed just one more night of normalcy. Just one more night of good food and great conversation and cuddles and love would be enough, right?

Flipping through Hulu, Pen couldn’t help but click on Colin’s show. Seeing him on the cover slide of the show never lost its charm, almost in the way she never got over the fact that fans of her blog would stop her in the street for pictures. It was weird, this little corner of the world they had carved out together. Cooking and fashion and travel and the journey to loving herself. Even with the knot of anxiety in her stomach, she would always be proud of what they had accomplished.

Colin opened the door to their bedroom and Pen clicked off of his show, scrolling once more.

“What kind of movie are you in the mood for tonight?” She called out over her shoulder.

She suspected something light and easy to follow. Something that they wouldn’t mind missing the ending of if they got distracted doing something else. But no reply came from Colin. Furrowing her eyebrows, she asked once more,

“Love, what kind of movie should I be looking for?”

Still no reply. Pen sat up and turned, finding Colin over her shoulder. He stood in the blue light of the television, eerily still in the darkness of the room. In his hand a long white stick.

Oh shite.

Colin flipped the stick around, holding it out to her. The plus sign was clear as day, even with the shadows of the room bending around them. Her lip trembled and the tears sprung once more to her eyes.

“What’s this, Pen?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from the stick. Couldn’t bear to see the look- whatever it may be- in his eyes.

“Pen. What. Is. This?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she folded in on herself. Arms wrapping around her stomach, she balled into the couch. Her breath caught in her throat and she hiccupped. She would be strong, damn it all.

“I’m pregnant, Colin.”

The words hung in the air. Tension crackled in the air, unbroken.

“How long have you known?”

“I just found out today.”

There was a beat of silence. Outside, Pen could hear the hustle of London roaring forward as usual. Car horns sounded out into the night air and a siren could be heard rushing across town. A small rumbling from the pub on the corner, often unnoticeable, seemed so much louder tonight. How could the world keep spinning at a time like this? How could it all keep going while her life was in the balance right here, just teeter-tottering on the edge of a cliff?

“Okay,” Colin said.

The word hurt worse than anything else she had prepared herself for. She expected some yelling or tears or something- anything- but apathy. She wouldn’t wait for it, though. Penelope Featherington had come much to far to wait around for Colin Bridgerton anymore. She had dignity now.

Pulling the blanket around her, she stood up and attempted to walk towards their room. As she passed by him, Colin shot out his hand and grabbed her upper arm. She kept her eyes straight ahead on their bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Colin asked.

She could feel his gaze prickling her skin. She simply shook his hand off and continued into the bedroom.

“I’m going to stay with Eloise tonight. It’ll be much easier this way.”

She flicked on her bedside lamp and washed the room in soft white light. Her duffel bag was under the bed, her laptop was in their shared office and the locket Eloise got her for their second friendiversary was in her jewelry box. She could be out of here and in her car in 10 minutes.

“Easier? Penelope, what are you talking about? Aren’t we going to discuss this?”

“What’s there to discuss?” She asked, plopping her bag onto the bed. “You have your future to think about. Your career is taking off and I don’t need you to tell me that a baby isn’t going to fit into that. I’m not that girl who waited around for you with puppy-dog eyes, Colin. I’m not going to wait for you to tell me that.”

Colin stormed over to the bed and tossed the duffel bag across the room. She closed her eyes, head turned away.

“Well you’re going to be waiting for a fucking long time for me to say that, because I’m never going to.”

Tears flowed out from underneath her closed eyes. Why was he making this so difficult?

“I am trying to make this easier, Colin. I know you don’t want a child right-“

Colin reached out and spun her to face him.

“Who said that, Pen? Who in the bloody fucking world ever god damn said that? Because I sure as hell didn’t,” he said.

Pen finally opened her eyes to glare at him.

“No one had to say it. It’s obvious. You’re in the prime of your career as a celebrity travel chef.”

Colin stooped down, deadly serious, looking her dead in the eyes.

“And? And?” He demanded.

“And I’m not going to let you leave me,” she whispered.

Colin’s face crumpled.

“Leave you? Christ, Penelope, don’t you ever think that. Don’t you ever,” Colin pulled her into into his chest, holding her tight.

They both let the dams loose, hanging onto each other like lifeboats. The only thing that mattered was holding on for dear life.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not for the rest of my life. I don’t give a shit. I’ll stay even if you hate me,” Colin said fiercely.

“I could never hate you, Colin! I just don’t want to pin you down when you’ve got so much happening. You’ve worked so hard for this and I don’t want to clip your wings when you’re just about to fly! I don’t want you to stay out of obligation and resent me!”

“My beautiful, sweet Penelope, you are my whole world. You are my anchor. You are my home. You are just as much a part of me as my heart or my lungs. I can’t very well resent my own lungs, now can I?” Colin tried to joke.

“It’s not funny!” Penelope tried to stay serious, but she couldn’t help a small laugh.

“But it is! It’s hilarious that you think I would ever in a million years leave you. Whatever happens, you’re stuck with me.”

Pen looked up at him through wet eyelashes, tears still blurring her vision.

“Even if I want to keep this baby? Even if it means your career is going to suffer?”

“Especially if you want to keep the baby! Because I want to keep the baby too! And my career is not going to suffer. I just wrapped on the second season of my show- I can do whatever I want. Write a cookbook or a regular book or start a stationary show or a restaurant or just stay home and be a family with you! We have so many options. Why are you trying to run from me?”

Pen buried her face into his chest and Colin pulled her into his arms once more. He rubbed her back in big circles.

“I thought you wouldn’t want the baby like I do and I got scared. I’m so tired of being left behind, I just wanted to be the one to leave this time. I wanted to be strong this time.”

“Oh, Pen,” Colin said.

Colin maneuvered them towards the bed. He let her crawl under the covers and the soft duvet before diving in after her. Wrapping his long, strong body around hers, he cradled every inch of her.

“You’re mine and I’m yours, baby. Period. I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear enough. I’m sorry if I haven’t asked you to marry me yet or if I haven’t talked about the future enough. But you have to know that you have every part of me: mind, body and soul. And I’d like to believe that I have yours.”

“You do, of course you do. And you’re fine. I’m just being silly,” Pen sobbed.

He shook his head firmly.

“No, you’re not. You might be hormonal and stressed, but you have every right to feel this way. I’m sorry. I’m going to do better.”

Pen nuzzled her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. His musky soap helped calm her down. Slowly, her breaths calmed down. The two of them laid side by side, with Colin’s leg thrown over her upper thigh to draw her in close. She could hear his heart beating under her ear. He rubbed small circles into her back- rhythmic, soothing.

“I’m not going anywhere, Pen. I love you and I love this baby.”

She brought her hand up to his waist, balling the fabric in her fist, anchoring herself.

“Neither am I. I love you too.”

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #penelope x colin #fanfiction #ao3 #established relationship #unplanned pregnancy #hurt/comfort #modern au #eloise has a girlfriend #it's very minor but it's important to me that you know