#promise this doesn't give anything away that the trailers don't

[jinxquickfoot]

Phase 4 really screwed the pooch by not setting a bunch of its properties in different universes.

Now we’ve hit Phase 5, with Kang as the new Big Bad, I would care a lot more about the threat to the multiverse if there were characters I cared about in the multiverse.

It also would have refreshed a lot of the Phase 4 properties, without making the 616 universe feel so bloated and disjointed, and it would have provided a reason why none of the new superheroes we keep meeting never meet each other.

Because think how much fun we could have had if Phase 4 was set throughout the multiverse. Shang-chi lives in a world without superheroes, only warriors. Moon Knight is set in a universe where the Egyptian gods are real. Another version of Carol Danvers was the Tony Stark of Kamala Khan’s reality. Eternals can exist without justifying why they never interfered in any of the threats the Avengers faced. The MCU can get weird and experimental and take huge leaps, and then when Phase 5 hits, we see Kang hit multiverses we already know, and that’s how the heroes start meeting other and teaming up.

I haven’t given up on Marvel or Phase 5, but I can’t help but think this would have been a much more fun way to tackle Phase 4.

#quantumania spoilers #not really though #we all know Kang is in Ant-Man #right? #promise this doesn't give anything away that the trailers don't #marvel #mcu #marvel phase four #marvel phase five

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #vampire!au #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie smut #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x afab!reader smut #fem!reader #luveline's halloween party

[mypoisonedvine]

request for virgin eddie munson who loses his shit over anything and everything reader does

you are speaking my LANGUAGEEEE GOOD GOD

warning: smut, wholesomeness, eddie is down bad

"So... you've really never done this before?" you said, biting your lip. You have no excuse for why it kinda turned you on. Perhaps because it was the last thing you expected from a guy like Eddie... or because you got the feeling you could blow his mind without putting all too much effort into it.

"I-I mean, I've done stuff," he assured, "just... not this, yeah."

"Don't tell me you were saving yourself for the right girl," you joked, and he laughed nervously as he rubbed his palms on the trailer's ratty old couch.

"No," he breathed, "not really, just... never had much luck with girls, I guess."

"Well," you purred as you leaned in closer, running your hand over his chest through the adorable DIY Hellfire shirt, "if you don't mind giving up your virginity, you can get lucky tonight. How's that sound?"

"Uh... pretty much perfect," he laughed thinly.

But what truly sounded perfect was Eddie himself-- the way he moaned, whimpered, even begged for you as soon as you did anything for him. Grinding in his lap, making out and running through your fingers through that beautiful mess of hair... it seemed so easy to drive him crazy, and you loved it.

"Baby," he breathed, "I-- I don't know how much more I can take of this..."

"You've still got your jeans on," you noticed with a smirk.

"Yeah, and you've got your top off-- can't help it," he grinned, "you're gorgeous."

"God, I want you to fuck me," you sighed.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he cooed, running his hands up your bare back.

"W-well, it's just--"

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, "been down this road before-- sorta how I ended up still a virgin by now. But it's fine, we don't have to--"

"No, it's not that!" you interrupted. "I really want to... I just feel kinda weird about being your first."

"Weird, like, you don't want to be?" he asked, concerned.

"Weird, like, not sure why you want it to be me. Are you really sure?" you pressed.

"At this point, doll, I want it to be anybody," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You thought you hadn't shown your disappointment on your face, but he still noticed, and reached up to turn your head towards him when you looked away.

"Hold on, I didn't mean it like that," he promised. "I-I really want it to be you. Specifically-- like, not just any girl. Yes, I would pretty much take 'any girl' by now, as long as she's not, you know, an objectively horrible person, I guess... but oh my god, you..."

He pulled you a little closer, looking right into your eyes, and you had the terrifyingly wonderful thought that this might be more than just casually hooking up. You might have a tiiiny bit of a crush...

"You-- you're... so much better than I ever thought I could do," he continued laughing. "And I never made a big deal out of my first time-- I mean, I wanted it, but I didn't think it had to be special or anything. And it doesn't have to be, especially if you don't want it to be, but... I think it kind of is, more than I expected. Because, honestly, getting lucky with a smokin' babe like you is always gonna be special-- whether it's the first time or the thousandth time."

You kissed him again, a little differently than before; and he pulled you closer, holding you tight and sighing against you.

Before that, you'd imagined 'special' meant sweet, slow, patient-- really romantic stuff. That night, though, Eddie taught you that special could be wild, desperate, and just downright animalistic. Actually, he taught you that lesson repeatedly...

"So... just as special whether it's the first or the thousandth time, huh?" you remembered what he'd said as you both laid back, staring at the ceiling, panting like dogs.

"Yeah," he agreed, to exhausted to say much else.

"How about the second time?"

"The second time was five times ago, sweetheart," he laughed breathlessly.

"No, I mean like... the second date," you explained.

"As long as you give my dick a few days to recover... yeah, it'll be just as special next time."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #bex and jd's sleepover

[carolmunson]

love language six

love language set list another sunday another sun-slay -- ft. dad!eddie and flashback child!eddie love language blurbies are back in action -- again, these are just vingettes into a relationship with eddie no chronological timeline, no story -- just mini moments. this is longer than my other love language blurbs. reader discretion is advised: eighteen plus content. this blurb explores the concept of eddie being a child of abuse that sides with the abuser for his own safety and struggles with that as an adult. some content in this work may be uncomfortable to read, and if dv or abuse is triggering for you, i would not recommend reading it -- this work features rough language, references to abuse, abusive language, descriptions of abuse, and attempted domestic violence. the ending is not sad, i promise.

1971, Forest Hills Trailer Park sherri munson squats down in a shift dress with flowers that match the ones growing in the patch outside of the kiddie park. her sandals crease. the skin by her eyes has too. up all the time, just waiting. waiting for her boy to cry. waiting for her husband to come home. waiting for the cops to show up. she was gonna be a dancer one day. now she stays up and waits. now she just fights with her son about when it’s time to leave the park.

'well i don't have to listen to you anyway!' he whines, ripping his hand away from her with all his five year old body could muster. 'yes you do, eddie honey, i'm your mom,' she tries to laugh it off, but it comes out half-hearted. the other mothers at the park look at her, their eyes burn as hard as her husband hits.

'no you're not!' he yells, stomping while she takes his hand again. 'eddie, yes i am, i'm your mother, let's go,' she urges. he rips his hand away again and raises it the way her husband does when he's warning her.

'you're -- you're what daddy says you are, mommy,' he yells, tearing up in anger, not sure where to put it. she tries to reach for him but he brings his hand down to strike, only cutting through the air.

'baby, we just have to go home from the park, we can come back tomorrow,' she pleads.

'daddy's right, what he said to you this mornin’ -- you’re – you're a fuckin' idiot.' he sounds like like him, just smaller. she knows he doesn't know what he's saying, what that means. but it hurts the same way it hurt at breakfast when she spilled some coffee on the counter. maybe worse. she can't find it in herself to yell at him.

 'that was a very mean thing to say to mommy, ed,' she mutters, the balloon in her chest swelling and swelling, 'say you're sorry.'

'why should i? daddy never has to say sorry,' he shouts while she catches him by the hand again. the other mom's sizzling stares soften, perfectly plucked brows raising. she can almost hear their necks turn to give each other knowing glances.

 'that's just how your daddy is, ed,' she sighs, watching him pout at her with big glassy brown eyes, 'let's go home, baby. i'll make you some chocolate milk with your lunch.' 

that perks him up and he smiles, hand clasping in hers while the others watch them leave like a bad car wreck. she tries not to hear them whisper, she tries not to hear their words travel through the wind and blow through her hair, through her chest. it's not anything she hasn't heard before.

she’s doing dishes when ed's daddy and wayne come home from lake doing some fishing. wayne moved in next door after the first time alan put her in the hospital. eddie was too young to remember that part, old enough to remember that mrs. marsden let him have so many popsicles when he stayed with her that his tongue was blue for two days. 

she focuses on the rush of the water and the ‘scratch, scratch, scratch’ of the sponge on a pan that never feels clean. she swallows while her husband's keys jingle in the door. her eyes watch the suds slide off the pan in a cloud, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing  -- maybe if she just stares down at the sink she’ll go right down the drain. then she won’t have to –

 "hi honey," she says down to the counter next to the sink. eddie sits at the kitchenette table, nursing his glass of chocolate milk.“hi daddy,” he says quietly, big brown eyes follow his father’s every move – half scared, half enamored. big man. big angry man. never hits him, just hits mommy. so he must be good if that’s what happens. he must be so good.  

"hm," he grunts, door slamming behind him. it doesn’t take long when he’s in one of his moods. he stalks down past the living room and into the bedroom to change out of his sticky clothes – summer heat making him slide like a snake back out to the kitchen. “house is a fuckin’ mess sherri,” he says. big man. big angry man. boa constrictor tight on her throat while she swallows. why can’t the drain just swallow her the same way? 

scratch, scratch, scratch. scrub, scrub, scrub. 

“you hear me sher? i said the house is a fuckin’ mess,” he bellows from the side of her. eddie covers his ears. big man, big angry man. big voice stained with fifteen years of cigarette smoke.

“yeah, i heard you al,” she says to the suds as they float down the drain. her heart aches. balloon in her chest pops. 

“oh, you’re bein’ smart with me?” he asks, big angry hand reaching out to clutch her by the back of the neck. pulled out of the drain and into the wall, “you bein’ smart?” 

she braces as her side hits the wall, she can smell the beer on him like white on rice. she wants to scream at wayne for letting him come into the trailer this drunk.  “m’not being smart with you al,” she grits out. “yeah you ain’t smart, are you?” he taunts, hovering over her. big shoulders, big arms, big everything – big man. big strong man, “you know what you are?” she shakes her head no, eyes shutting tight – she can just float down the drain. “y’already forgot huh? damn sherri – you fuckin’ stupid? i told ya this morning,” he barks a laugh that sends heat down the back of her throat, her nose warms, the threat of tears warns her the way he does – always just on the line. “you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he bites, “you lazy fuckin’ bitch.” “you gotta stop sayin’ that shit in front of ed, alan,” she says quietly, hair sticking to her face and neck. sweat and sticky. can’t keep fighting anymore kind of hot. 

“oh how come?” he asks with fake concern, “he believin’ it? he cert’n’ly should.” he turns to eddie, with a flash in his eyes, “you think your mama’s a fuckin’ idiot, boy?” big strong man. big angry man. big boa constrictor with big snakey eyes. kaa’s hypnosis. “i asked you a question,” he seethes, his body close to turning completely. eddie sees the gold ring glint on his fist. “yessir,” he nods quickly, “y-yeah…that’s what mommy is.” “look how scared you got him, al!” she yells from the drain in her chest, “look how scared he is! look what you’re doin’ to him!” but he didn’t ask her to speak. eddie covers his ears again but it doesn’t block out the first three cracks of his daddy’s palm across her face. doesn’t block out the crunch of his knuckles on her cheek. he shuts his eyes like is mama always tells him, runs to the cupboard under the sink to hide. crack, crack, crunch. wail, crack, crunch, cry. cry, cry, yell, crack, yell, crack, crunch, cry, yell. eddie watches through the space in the doors like a movie he’s too young to watch. rated r. rated never. warm yellowed wallpaper and orangey wood staring back at him, his daddy’s fishing boots stomping into frame. a small smatter of blood on the scuffed linoleum tile. rated r, rated never. yell, yell, yell, choke, spit, cough, cough, yell. yell, yell, cry, yelp, cough, whimper, yell, cough. wayne’s voice cuts in the pattern. “i told ya alan, i’d shoot ya the next time i had to come in here.” whoop, whoop. the flashing lights eddie sees every few weeks glitter on the back wall of the kitchen where he can see through the space. glittering while the sun shines. he likes that. “nah, nah, you ain’t gonna run from ‘em this time al,” wayne says. eddie can’t see the scuffle. “she ain’t even fuckin’ concious.” she was gonna be a dancer one day. eddie stays in the cupboard. just for a little, even after his daddy takes a night in the clink. even after wayne says it’s okay to come out. even while his chocolate milk stands on the table untouched. he stays for a minute, while the world around him rumbles.

1997, Forest Hills Trailer Park

and the world sure does rumble sometimes. hazy afternoon had been smooth sailing for the most part -- pick bud up from summer rec camp, grocery run. chasing bud through the aisles while his laugh plays marco polo with yours. it's good to buy your five year old some chocolate when he behaves. it's good to watch him run around again when you get back home, hustling in the backyard in your new trailer with two bedrooms. letting him run through some sprinkler toy you saw at dollar tree a couple weeks ago before the weather got hot. covered in mud, soon enough, covered in clouds. you’re thankful he’s inside before the rain starts. down pour – the sky heavy with thick air and angry beatings to your tin roof. you slip off his shoes before he tracks mud in the house, you rinse off his hands before you get him changed into something more cozy that’ll make bedtime go a little easier. you start dinner after fixing him a snack and he muses about four square and kickball – you silently laugh when he tells you he got picked first for the teams. money’s tighter now. tighter than it was a couple years ago. a little too tight when you switched to part time to pick up bud from kindergarten and camp since wayne’s working day shifts now. wayne’s too old to be watching bud now anyway, bud’s all over the place. the tighter the money, the bigger the fights. but you both knew how to fight. masters of the ring, big booming cracks of lighting for tongues. always in bed dressed in pajamas and apologies. maybe less so now. maybe less apologies, less pajamas. speaking in bodies and sweat – soft rumbling i’m sorry, lemme show you. you don’t think either of you mean it like you used to. he can afford a nicer trailer for his son, but sometimes he doesn't know if he can afford to show him how to treat a woman. you swear it's progress, but he only hears the whir of the tape being rewound over and over again. every clipped word, every raise of his voice, every tense roll of his shoulders. boy turned big man. big big man.

you start the oven, slicing and dicing while he comes in the door – coveralls all covered in rain and motor oil. big boots on the linoleum, faint smell of beer on his breath. just one with the guys after the shop closed – that’s what he says anyway.

“hi honey,” you say, chop-chop-chopping at the green onion on the cutting board, “rain’s rough out there?”

“hm,” he replies, kicking his boots off next to bud’s sneakers. he sighs out of his nose, “s’mud all over the place here.”

“i know, i’m sorry, i forgot about it – i’ll get to it after dinner,” you say, hearing him make big steps over to his son, running a hand over his hair. just wanna avoid another back and forth – let him sleep off all that frustration – ease out the elastic in his shoulders that’s waiting to snap.

“you know,” he grumbles lowly, coming over to look at the mail on the counter next to you, “you’ve been gettin’ real forgetful lately.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask with a smile that can’t believe he’d say that. you put the knife down.

“why’d i get a call from the city today saying the water bill’s past due?” he asks, a darkness creeping into his voice that’s been turning his tongue to sludge, to whipping winds, cruel and unforgiving, “you tryna make me look bad? want people to think i can't pay the fuckin' bills?”

“i – shit i forgot to drop it off yesterday, i’m sorry hun,” you soothe, “i’ll bring it tomorrow, i wasn’t trying to make you look bad.”

“you can’t just forget this shit,” he says, voice rising, “we got –”

“mommy, can i have some more juice?” bud’s little voice leaks into the conversation like a dove floating by.

“yes, baby,” you say, getting the juice out of the fridge to refill his cup at the table.

“we got a kid at home,” ed repeats, "can't just have the water shuttin' off. what's wrong with you? take some responsibility."

“i understand that ed,” you reply, defensive edge sliding up in your voice like a razor, “i’m the one whose with him all day.”

he scoffs, grumbling, “yeah, you pick him up from camp – mother of the fuckin’ year. can’t even pay the bills on time with all my fuckin’ money.”

“watch your mouth,” your voice stern while you close up the juice. thunder rumbles overhead, the rain coming down in droves. two cracks of lightning who can’t let up.

“you don’t tell me what to do,” he glowers, “you don’t ever tell me what to do. i’m the man of this house, you hear me?”

“man of the house? you hear how you sound?” you ask, leaning forward on the table, “why don’t you go back to the garage and figure this attitude out, ed?”

“don’t run your mouth to me,” he growls, “don’t get fuckin’ smart with me.” 

“watch. your. mouth.” you warn again. bud flinches when the thunder rumbles, he hates storms like this. drinks his juice anyway. “oh, so you are gettin’ smart with me?” eddie grimaces, bearing his teeth, nostrils flaring. he vibrates with the thunder outside. "well let me tell you something then, huh?!" he grits out, rounding the table with an outstretched hand to grab you, wrapping like a vine on your wrist. like a snake. you flinch when you see how fast he moves, when he reaches for you -- cracking like lightening, like a whip, cracking like your marriage this year. "wait, wait, i'm sorry!" your voice sounds breathy, worn down -- terrified. it doesn't sound like you at all. “god, you’re such a fuckin’ id–” your son drops his fork on the ground, clattering eddie back to clarity. your son's eyes match your husband's, they meet each other. your son just stares -- frozen on the spot. you stare too. you look at his hand around your wrist, the flex in his forearm, veins lifted and pulsing. big man. big strong man. big strong angry man. just like his daddy. the wind howls outside, huffs of breath out of your noses fill the room quietly.

"daddy?" 

eddie straightens, looking at his hand tight on your wrist before letting it drop to his side. he swallows. looking at the both of you like he was mid crime scene. eddie blinks. looks at his son at the kitchen chair and then the cupboard under the kitchen sink. "i..." he starts, choking on the words, "i'm gonna go for a drive."

he stands for a second while you nod at him, eyes brimming with tears you aren’t sure will fall. rooted to your spot, you hold your breath when he leans in, hands reaching out much more gentle than before. he fills the space between you, still smelling like motor oil, rain, and musk. both of his calloused hands on your cheeks now – he kisses you. 

"m’sorry,” he says, loud enough for your son to hear. he lets go only to turn around and take his son’s face in his hands and give him a kiss too. 

“sorry, buddy,” he says softly, “daddy’ll be back before bedtime, okay?”

in five years, eddie has never missed one night of reading him a bedtime story.   “okay,” your son smiles, earning himself another kiss on the top of his head and a ruffle of his hair before eddie grab his keys. the jingle of them rings in your chest while you watch him leave. your eyes linger on the storm door even while you listen to the car start, even while you hear it drive away. the rain doesn’t let up. you put dinner in a tupperware for him later. — you’re in the bathroom after a shower when he comes home, the door partially open in case bud needs you – cozied up in bed playing with dinosaurs in his room. you listen while eddie makes his way in to see him, padding down the hall in wet feet to not get caught. “hi buddy,” he says with a voice that had done nothing but cry, “how was dinner?” “was yummy,” your son says. you know bud’s looking up at him with glowing admiration. his daddy. he was his daddy’s boy. the bed creaks when eddie sits down. “i’m glad, kiddo,” he says, “i wanted to say sorry for how mean i was earlier. i was being really mean and that wasn’t nice.” “you were really mean to mommy,” buddy mumbles, “you made her cry.” you hear ed’s voice crack, “i know bud, i know i made mommy cry, and that’s not okay.” “and i’m not gonna yell at mommy anymore, and i’m sorry.” “mommy’s the best,” bud says, “but it’s okay to be angry sometimes, that’s what they say at camp. just count to three!” “daddy’s angry is a little different, bud,” he tries to explain, a little laugh coming through, “but i’ll try it next time, i’ll count to three.” “and take deep breaths,” bud explains. “and i’ll take deep breaths,” eddie says through sniffles, you can hear the soft smile in his voice. “and bud, i think we should make a big promise to each other, would that be okay?” he asks your son. big shiny baby brown eyes. eyes that get kissed by the moon. “mhm.” “let’s promise that we won’t ever yell at mommy, or call her any names, because that’s not nice,” eddie says softly, “that was really mean of daddy and mommy doesn’t deserve that. and i don’t want you to think that’s okay.” “okay, i promise,” bud’s voice leaks like a dove through the door. you hear a kiss pressed to his forehead while eddie stands up to grab the beat up copy of the hobbit next to bud’s bed. you’re in your pajamas in the bedroom by the time ed’s done putting your son to bed. he somes in quietly, looking you over post shower – beautiful bride, beautiful wife, so pretty like this. so pretty for him – big man. big strong man. big sorry man. “i owe you an apology,” he says softly. “yeah,” you say, cold cream soothing your hot skin like ice while you slather it on. eyes avoid him. 

“m’so sorry, baby,” his face cracks like all the plates his daddy shattered, that you’ve shattered too, “that’s…that’s not me – i’d never – i never thought i’d–” "i know you wouldn't," you say quietly, knowingly. your eyes travel – how many slats are in the wood paneling of this room? "cause if you did --" you finally find it in you to look at him. "if you did, if you ever raised a hand to me or bud  –”   “i would never,” he urges, “i’d never–” “if you did,” you repeat, eye piercing him, “i would get in that car with your son and you would never see us again, do you understand me?” he nods, face blanching, tinged green at the thought. he could’ve lost you both. he could still lose you both. “bless her soul ed, but i’m not your momma,” you remind him, “m’not gonna stick around for a man who thinks i’m a punching bag.” he nods again, quiet, tongue thick when he talks. “i’m so sorry, baby i’ll – i’m gonna do better,” he sounds like he means it, “i’ve just..things are so hard right now. i’m trying.” “try a little harder,” you say softly. “i will,” he says, wiping his eyes while they brim with tears as wet at outside. “i love you,” you start, “but i think you should go stay at wayne’s tonight.” his lower lip quivers, “o-okay. i – um – i love you, t-too.” he packs some clothes for the night and tomorrow even though wayne’s just three trailers down. his heart sinks when he realizes he’ll have to explain. just like his daddy. big strong man. snake eyes. snake eyes gone soft. big sorry man. big sorry eyes. kissed by the moon. kissed by you. “i’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay?” you say gently after his full warm lips break from yours, “just think you need some time alone tonight.” he nods against you, eyes closed. lips brush again. he leaves and you listen to the storm door close with a rattle. the world rumbles. so does he. but he’s gonna be better. 

#love language em #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader

[messedupfan]

Chapter 7

Summary: Wanda receives a notice from the Homeowners Association. Y/n goes on a first date with Daisy. And Rachel has her first secret from her parents.

A/N: Yay! Another chapter!! So happy to be writing for this series again. Ugh it was a rough few months but I'm finally getting back on track! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Please lemme know in the comments! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Wanda mutters to herself as she reads the letter that was taped to her front door. With everything going on, this has to be the cherry on top. She hates living under a homeowners association. She submitted a thorough request for the expansion that she thought was going to get the approval from them. But instead, she was given a rejection with a notice that someone from the association was going to drop by to review the damage and give her a deadline to have it fixed with the original blueprints. She can't even add windows. 

She calls Pietro as she angrily gets into her car to update him in the bad news. “I fucking hate that place,” Pietro says. “Alright well, you tried. I will let Y/n know and cancel a few orders for materials. I'm sorry they rejected you,” Pietro sighs on his end. 

“Thank you for all of your help,” she ends the call and continues driving to pick up her boys from their sleepover.

Pietro calls you through the radio to meet him at his office whenever you have a chance. You let him know that you will and when your lunch break comes around, you head to his trailer. You're curious as to why he would need to talk to you. The construction team is ahead of schedule and as far as you know, way under budget. Then you think that maybe Wanda told him about your sleepover and worry that he might've misunderstood his sister. 

You knock on the door to his onsite office and he shouts that the door is unlocked. You open the door and climb in. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah,” he shuts his laptop to focus on you and you begin to worry that he's going to tell you to stay away or something. “Wanda's request for the expansion wasn't approved. We have to undo all of the work we started and put it back the way it was.” 

You're relieved that the chat isn't about your night but you're upset by the news. “She can't fight back on this?” You ask as you think of the ways that Wanda could get what she wants. 

“She could, but it didn't sound like she had the energy to. And since we don't own the home there's nothing we can do about it.” Pietro explains. You nod with a deep breath and tell him that it sucks before leaving the office promising that you'll see him tomorrow. 

After work you send Wanda a quick text letting her know what you think about the situation. When she doesn't respond, you assume it's because she's busy with the boys. Instead of checking your phone every five seconds, you get ready for your date. You shower and put on the nicest clothes that you own. You spend time making sure your hair looks perfect and smelling good. 

You drive to the address that Daisy gave you, it isn't Phil's house and you're curious why she's staying somewhere else but when she gets in the car she explains that she doesn't want her dad to know anything about her dating life unless it's someone worth mentioning. “That's pretty much what any single parent does,” you say with a small laugh. 

“I know, my friend comes from a broken home. I just thought after a few bad attempts of bringing people to meet my parents it would be best to have my own place when I was in the position to do so.” Daisy says as she fixes her makeup in the sun visor mirror. “You look amazing by the way. I had no idea that you cleaned up so well.” 

You smile as you take a moment to look at her during the stop light. “Thank you, I try. You are stunning, Daisy. I think I might lose you at some point tonight. I don't know how anyone will be able to look at anything else.” 

Daisy tries to hide her blush as she holds a seriousness in her eyes, “I don't care about anyone else. I only want your attention.” You start to lean in to kiss her but the car behind you honks the horn and you realize that the light is green. “Keep your eyes on the road. Wouldn't want to end up in the hospital on our first date.” She places her hand on your thigh, startling you, and squeezes. 

“Woah,” you say as you take her wrist and pull her hand off of you. Instead you hold it in your hand and drive with the other. “How was your day?” you ask in order to start some sort of conversation. The two of you find something to talk about the entire way to the restaurant, easing the nerves that had been eating at the both of you. 

When you're seated you notice a couple of guys looking over at your table but you don't think much of it. “Oh this pasta sounds good but so does this one,” Daisy says as she points them out on the menu in front of you.

“They do sound pretty appetizing. How about I order one and you order the other and we split it, so we can try both?” You suggest.

Daisy scrunches her face and denies the idea. “Actually, I think I'm going to get the steak,” she says as she browses the menu more. You nod and start to look for something else on the menu. 

After the both of you have ordered you're left staring at each other, sipping your drinks. “Can I ask why you wanted to go out with a single parent?” You finally pose the question that has been haunting you since last night. 

“I have always kind of wanted to date you,” she shrugs. “You’re good looking, kind, funny, wise, and have a good heart. What more could a girl ask for?” 

You fail at hiding the affect her words have on you and grin as you shake your head. “That is a really sweet answer but I'm trying to figure out what you want from dating me. I mean, I have a daughter and she will always be my number one priority. I know that many people aren't okay with that and-” 

“I’m not one of them,” she interrupts as she lays her hand on the table top for you to take. You place your hand on her wrist and the two of you hold each other like this from across the table. “I’ve met Rachel. You've had me babysit her in the past. She's a great kid and I love her. I don't blame you for putting her first. In fact, I respect you for it.” 

You fill with relief at her words and nod, “Thank you, I just wasn't sure. I mean, you're in your early twenties. You should be young and free and not dating someone like me.” 

Daisy shakes her head, “You're not some decrepit person that can't leave the nursing home. You're still young and free and in your twenties. I don’t know what you think people my age do but I've dated plenty of them. None of them want a real connection outside of physical. Honestly, I'm ready to start thinking about settling down with someone. Build a life, y'know?”

You nod and bite your tongue to keep from pointing out how young she is to start thinking about that stuff. You're in no position to say anything because you don't regret the decisions you've made and you know that at eighteen you wouldn't hear that kind of advice. By twenty-two you probably still wouldn't have listened. 

Halfway through what turns out to be a quiet meal, you excuse yourself to the restroom to give yourself some space and a pep talk to stop being so awkward. While you're exiting, your phone starts ringing and you answer when you see that it's Wanda. “Hey you,” you greet as you lean on the wall near the door. “How's your night going?”

“It’s going alright,” Wanda says as she puts the clean dishes away. “Did Pietro already tell you?” 

“Yeah,” you say sadly. Someone asks if there’s a line and you shake your head and point to the phone. You move a little further away from the door. “How bummed are you about it?” 

Wanda sighs, “Pretty bummed but the boys are home tonight so I can’t drink about it. Which is for the best. Don’t want to start that bad habit.” She starts to wipe down her counters. “What are you up to?” 

“Nothing much, just having dinner with an old friend,” you say as you glance around the wall to see if Daisy is okay. She looks bored and picks up her phone. 

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry for interrupting,” Wanda says. 

“Don’t be,” you assure her, “I could have not answered, you know? It’s not your fault.”

“That’s true,” she drags out the word in confusion. “Do you need me to come up with an excuse for you? I can have you out of there so fast, no questions asked.” 

You laugh at the offer, “No, it’s uh, it’s going.” You notice Daisy checking her watch and looking around the restaurant. You sigh as you figure that you’ve been away for too long. Are you avoiding her? You don’t know. “Which I probably should too. I think I’ve been gone too long, I don’t want her to think I’ve ditched her.” 

“Oh my goodness! You’re on a date!” Wanda gasps loudly. “You’re an idiot, go back to her. Don’t tell her you took a phone call either. Just say it was an embarrassing bathroom issue or something just… shit, hang up already!” 

You can’t help but laugh at Wanda as she rambles on, “Arlight, I’ll tell her all about my explosive bathroom episode.” Wanda makes a noise but tells you that it's perfect. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you end the call and walk back to the table. You feel guilty when Daisy’s eyes shine with relief and so you start rubbing your stomach. “I don’t want to be gross but that food went right through me!” You joke and Daisy laughs telling you that it’s fine. “So, are you thinking about having dessert here or should we go somewhere else?” 

Daisy hums in thought and reaches across the table for your hand which you allow her to take, “Depends, do you have any dessert at your place?” she asks flirtatiously, almost causing you to have a coughing fit. 

You clear your throat a couple of times as you start to avoid her gaze a bit in order to come up with a proper response. An easy let down that will have her laughing instead of feeling rejected. “Well, I don’t know whatever lies Steve might have told you, but I don’t put out on the first date.” Daisy is confused for a second before she bursts out laughing. You join her a little as you’re able to look at her again. 

“Ok, I have to admit. I was kind of testing you with that question and you passed with flying colors,” she says once she has settled down, you let her know that it’s a relief. “I’ve heard of this twenty-for seven cupcake ATM machine and I’ve been dying to try it but haven’t had the chance. Do you think we could do that?”

“Absolutely! Rachel loves that thing,” you say as you start to flag down the waiter to get some to-go boxes for the rest of the food on yours and hers plates. When the bill is settled, you and Daisy head over to the nearest cupcake ATM and you help her learn how to use the machine. She takes videos to share on her social media and even a few pictures with you to keep for herself. You don’t ask why she doesn’t post them because you’re happy to not have that conversation right now. The two of you walk and talk while you eat your cupcakes. She is a bit more relaxed and you have to admit that so are you. 

When the date has come to an end, you walk her to her door and wish her a goodnight. “Wait,” she stops you from leaving. “I know you don’t put out on a first date, except for Steve Rogers apparently,” you laugh a little at her statement. “But um, gosh I’ve never had to ask this before.” Daisy blinks a few times before gathering up the courage to ask, “Will you kiss me before you leave?” 

You are surprised by the request but it is a date after all. “Yeah, sorry,” you say as you step closer to her. This was weird, you’ve never been asked to kiss someone unless there was tension and right now there wasn’t any. You close your eyes as you lean in and kiss her on the lips. It turns out to be a decent kiss but it doesn’t have you craving more. It’s been a long time since you’ve craved someone. At this point you’re convinced it’s just you because Daisy goes in for more when you try to break away. You kiss her once more to try and clear your head but it still doesn't feel right, so you really take a step back. “I have an early day tomorrow, I’m sorry. I’ll let you know when I’m available next.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Daisy nods as she wipes her lips. “I’ll see you then. Or maybe you could stop by the Hub. We don't always have to see each other for dates, you know.” You agree and say that you'll try to stop by without promising too much. “Have a good week with Rachel.” She says with a sweet smile. 

“Thank you, I will,” you smile back and walk away. 

The next morning you go to Jean’s house to pick up Rachel. While you're waiting, you chat with Jean for a bit about nothing important until you notice her acting a little funny. You ask her what's up. “Nothing, nothing, I don't know anything about anything.”

You shake your head and ask in a low tone to keep Rachel from hearing, “Great, who told you about my date?” 

“No one,” she says as she fails to hold back her grin and you ask again. “Okay, it was Anna,” she confesses. You drop your head as you shake it again. “In her defense, it's your fault that you chose my favorite restaurant to take her to.” 

“Excuse you, I believe I won that restaurant in the divorce,” you say back lightly instead of reminding her that it was your favorite restaurant first. 

“Whatever, I was craving it last night and so we got a pick up order and she saw you when she was picking it up,” Jean finished the story. “She’s cute,” she says next and you take a slow breath. 

“She took a picture?” you rub your face, upset by the lack of privacy in your life lately. You never signed up to be a celebrity. 

“What? You think I was just going to believe her when she said that? I needed proof!” Jean exclaims, causing you to tell her to quiet down. “Sorry,” she grimaces. The both of you wait to hear any sign of Rachel before continuing. “So, how'd it go?”

“It went,” you reply. 

Jean rolls her eyes, “Come on, you can do better than that!” 

You sigh and sit up as you think about how to describe the date to your ex-wife. “It was good. A little bit awkward. She’s had a crush on me since she was seventeen, so it's-” 

“Hold on what,” Jean stops you with concern and fear in her eyes. 

“Oh! Sorry, she's twenty-two, completely legal. Um, remember Phil's daughter? She used to babysit Rach before she went off to college?” You try to jog Jean’s memory and it takes her a second to process. She pulls her phone out to look at the picture again and she starts to finally recognize her. 

“Oh?” she says as she straightens up and scowls at the picture. “She looks… grown up,” she says slowly. 

“Yeah well, she asked me out and Kate kind of encouraged me to say yes. Then I talked to Phil about it and he seemed to be somewhat okay about it,” you clear your throat as you shift uncomfortably from the lack of playfulness from Jean. “It’s not weird… is it?” 

Jean shakes her head, “Just, please tell me that you didn't find her attractive when we had her babysit for us when we were doing couples therapy.” 

You pinch your eyebrows together and frown, a little offended by the accusation. “I didn't know her when we were married,” you state first as you try to remember that first year that you worked at the bar. You know that you started there at twenty-one but you don't remember hiring Daisy then or even meeting her. Did you?  

“Well, that's kind of a relief, ” Jean mutters. “You got the job working for her dad to help us pay the therapy bills remember? And he offered for Daisy to watch Rachel when we needed,” now she is trying to jog your memory but as you've pointed out before, you don't really like to think back on that year. You shake your head as you come up blank. Is Daisy a year younger than you originally thought she was when you met her? The math isn't really holding up here. 

“That doesn't make sense, she said that she had a crush on me when she was seventeen. When we met,” you say. “She would be twenty-one now if we met when I was twenty-one.” You try to understand what Jean is saying. 

“Honey, her birthday is July second, she turned twenty-two only weeks ago. And you’ll be turning…” she draws out the end to let you catch up. 

“Twenty-eight this year,” you conclude as it all starts to make sense now. “Huh, I really should have paid more attention in school.” Jean laughs because she tried every year to get you to focus more on school instead of her or the next get rich fast scheme you always had cooking up. “Anyway, I wasn’t paying attention to her in that way back then, I promise. It’s still kind of hard for me to think of her in that way. Except it’s not like I still see her as a kid I just think I see her as more of a friend,” you explain. 

Jean nods, “So it didn’t go well.” 

“I wouldn’t,” before you can say anything else, Rachel is running towards you with the things she wanted to bring with her. “Hey, munchkin!” You rise and greet her with a tight hug. She hugs you back just as tight and it warms your heart knowing that your daughter loves you. “Are you ready? Because we have to get to Ms. Wanda’s a little earlier today.” 

“Yup, all ready! I have something I really want to show Billy and Tommy,” she says as she moves her bag around. “That’s what took me so long. Sorry, I needed to get it done before we left. I’ve been working on it all week.” You smile, impressed that she worked all week on something to show her friends. 

“It’s okay, I got to catch up with mommy,” you say as you tug one of the shoulder straps on her bag. “Do I get to see what you made?” 

“No,” she shakes her head before she turns around and opens the front door. “Let’s go!” She hops to your work truck and climbs in. 

You laugh and look at Jean, “Have you seen it?” 

She shakes her head, “Nope, she wouldn’t let me or Anna in her room because of it.” 

“Wow,” you look at her from the entryway of the home and she is sticking her head out of the window calling for you to hurry up. “I can’t believe it, ten-years-old and she already has secrets from us.” 

Jean shrugs, “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

“I know but I was hoping for later. Much, much later,” you say as you wipe fake tears. Jean pushes your arm as she calls you ridiculous, you smile as you pull her in for a half hug. “I better go. I’ll see you next week.” She rubs your back and pats you a couple of times. 

“You better update me on your whole cradle robbing situation,” she teases you. 

“I should have seen that coming,” you walk away as she calls you a few more names, making you laugh all the way to the truck. Rachel asks what’s so funny. “Your mom is a weirdo,” you say. Rachel agrees and then says that momma Anna is even weirder and you have to refrain from laughing by telling her that’s not nice. She says it’s true and you cut the conversation by playing her music on the car stereo. 

You and Pietro work fast in rebuilding the wall so that Wanda doesn't get into too much trouble with the representative from the homeowners association. It was turning out to be easier putting it back together than it was tearing it down. Of course though, now you don't have to worry about removing the wrong thing and causing the entire house to collapse. Everyone lucked out that you and Pietro hadn't started on expanding the floor yet. That would have been a little more difficult to fix up in the short window of time that Wanda was given. 

When lunch comes you and Pietro scarf the food down in order to keep working. Especially since the new siding for the house got delivered to the job site across town and the two of you had to go pick it up. The original siding for the house was destroyed the previous weekend when the two of you finally made it that far. Pietro thought it would be best to order new material at the time anyway since they would need it to cover the new extension of the house. 

All day you and Pietro are working inside and outside of the house to get the wall repaired with the material that you have available at the moment. Unfortunately, the beams that are needed in order to continue won't arrive until tomorrow. Which means that you are heading home earlier than expected. You slowly walk up the stairs to warn Rachel that you're packing up to leave but when you get close to the boy's room, you overhear them talking about some sort of plan. 

You take a small peek into the room through the crack in the door that should have been wide open. Rachel was holding up a notebook as if she was presenting to the boys sitting in front of her. That's possibly what she was working on. You try to get a better look by opening the door a little more but it knocks over a noisy toy and causes the four kids to scatter and pretend to look normal. You give Rachel a weird look as she asks you if you're done working. You confirm and then leave her to collect her things so that you can do the same. 

“Hey,” Wanda calls as you pass her office on the way back to the stairs.  “Do you have a second?” You look around to be certain that she's talking to you before you approach. She isn't on the phone and no one else is in the hall, so it could only be you.

“Uh, sure,” you say as you step closer. You didn't get to interact much with Wanda today and you couldn't tell if it was you avoiding her or her avoiding you. Last night after the awkward kiss with Daisy, you couldn't help but compare how you wanted to kiss Wanda the night before. Then you started to think that maybe if you got to kiss her, maybe it would feel right. But you couldn't test that theory out yet. Not when you're in too deep with Daisy. 

“Just for some peace of mind,” Wanda closes her laptop and focuses her attention on you. “And I don't want to make things awkward between us by saying this but, I feel like it kind of needs to be addressed.” Her rambling has you a little concerned but you let her continue. “I know we've said it to other people but I don't think we've really said it to each other. Um, we are just friends, right?” 

There is a slight pain in your chest when she says that but it's the truth. “Of course,” you say confidently. “Yeah, we're just friends,” you state again, this time with an unintentional undertone of disappointment. You clear your throat and look back before stepping in the office a little more. “Why did you feel like that needed clarification?” You ask, against your better judgment.

Wanda looks around her desk as if she wrote the answer somewhere but not a single blueprint can help her. “No reason it's just, I don't know… well, so many people assume things and I just want to make sure we're on the same page. Yeah, that's it. Just, I don't know. Forget I asked,” you don't press for more because you can tell that part of her might feel the way that part of you feels but you aren't quite sure what to do with that feeling. 

“Okay, well, we're done for the day, I was about to-” 

“How was your date?” she interrupts and your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth shuts. 

“Uh it was okay,” you say. You're not used to so many people knowing about your dating life. “I don't see a wedding anytime soon but it was good. We'll probably try to go out again when I don't have Rachel.” 

Wanda nods, “That’s fun, that's fun. How um, how long have you been seeing her?” 

“Yesterday was our first date, actually you met her. She was the waitress at the, ehem, the bar we met up at,” you say awkwardly. It feels like the two of you are trying to be friends. This conversation doesn't feel as natural as any other conversation. 

“I remember her,” she is a little disappointed that you chose someone younger but it's not her life. She might only be feeling this way because her ex-husband cheated on her with a college student. 

“Yeah, um,” you start to explain yourself once again but Rachel runs to your side and grabs your hand asking if you're ready to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Wanda who stands from her desk and walks over to you and Rachel to give proper goodbyes. She hugs both of you separately and thanks you for all of your help. You finally make your way downstairs and decide to leave the tools since Pietro already put away the dangerous ones. 

You leave the home conflicted by the conversation with Wanda but by the time you get home, you decide to not read into it too much. The two of you are friends and that's all you will ever be. 

On Wednesday, the representative from the homeowners association arrives in the early afternoon to inspect the house. On Sunday you and Pietro were so close to finishing the wall but it was going to take another day or two. Wanda was fine with explaining to whoever she had to that it was going to be fine. 

She was starting to get fired up again about it being her house so she should be allowed to do as she pleased. Especially when she received an email explaining that the appointment was rescheduled due to them wanting the entire house inspected. Which meant that she had to make sure the house was spotless. Especially the former man cave which she hasn't seen since Pietro destroyed everything. She hadn't known that you and him already cleaned up the mess until she made her way down there. 

The space needed some dusting and vacuuming but beyond that, it was clean. Luckily Pietro only trashed the stuff in the boxes that didn't include the furniture or the television. So the room still looked pretty decent, better even without all of the junk on the walls. 

As Wanda guided the woman around the house after she assessed the wall, she noticed that the woman was being a little bit flirty towards her. She wasn't sure if she was making it up or if she was misreading some of the woman's remarks. But Wanda was kind of into it. She hadn't been with a woman since her sophomore year of college. Raven Darkholme lived a couple doors down from hers and the two found themselves being left in the common area and locked out of their rooms often. One thing led to another and they dated for a solid six months before Wanda met Vision while taking his class. 

“I don't see any issues here, Mrs. St-” 

“Actually it's Ms. Maximoff,” Wanda corrects. “I’m not married anymore,” she adds although she wasn't sure if that was necessary information. 

“My apologies, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman smiles and looks her up and down before continuing. “As I was saying, other than the obvious incident with the wall which you said you're having repaired, I don't see why my visit was necessary. But I can't deny that I'm not happy to be here.” 

Wanda is starting to realize that it isn't in her head at all. “I must admit, I wasn't too thrilled about today, Ms. Romanoff. But it's been a relief knowing that my house is up to the HOA’s standards.”  

“Look, I know that this is totally inappropriate and unprofessional but um…” the inspector grabs one of her business cards and scribbles down her personal phone number. “Call me, if you're interested in letting me inspect you.” She says flirtatiously as she hands Wanda the card. The brunette blushes as she tries to hide her grin. That was quite a line. 

“I will keep that in mind, but you should know. I'm a mo-” 

“Mother of two boys? Yeah, we covered that when we walked around upstairs,” she finishes Wanda’s sentence. 

Wanda laughs as she is flustered, “Right, sorry, I'm just. Sorry, this hasn't happened to me in um years.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Natasha says. The two stand in the living room space staring at each other until the blonde's watch goes off, reminding her of her next appointment. “I better get going. I have another inspection in fifteen minutes. I'll let the board know that you're clear and that they don't need to send anything else. Call the business number on there when you have the wall finished and I'll send the paperwork to the board so that they'll leave you alone.” 

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” Wanda says carefully. 

“It's my pleasure,” Natasha says as they walk to the front door together. “I hope to hear from you soon.” The woman walks away and this is one time that Wanda is relieved that her boys aren't here with her to witness that interaction. She shuts her front door and bites her bottom lip as she looks at the phone number on the card. Natasha even drew a little heart above the number. Maybe she is ready to start putting herself out there. This just wasn't what she ever imagined.

Chapter 8

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters

#fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff au #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wonderstruck series #messedupfan

[poppy-metal]

ummm… could you maybe… elaborate more on um on- on eddie, nancy and us throuple… it’s for a schol project 👀

mm just like to think abt nancy being a little unsure about her place. her and eddie aren't into eachother, they're into you. but nancy is the newcomer, the 3rd, the one eddie is letting you explore with. she doesn't even realize you consider her your girlfriend until you act like the biggest cunt when you see her smiling at some other guy. give her such a big attitude about it and she's so angry with you.

you argue all the way in her car to eddies trailer and you stomp into it and throw yourself on eddies bed dramatically. eddie looks up from his guitar. glances towards his door when nancy shuts it, softly, and leans against it to glare at you. "Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?"

nancy looks pissed. "Your girlfriend seems to think she can dictate who i can and can't talk to."

you pipe up from eddies bed, "he wanted to fuck you!"

"and?" nancy scowls, "what's the problem?"

"My girlfriend." Eddie echoes, and he looks back at you. "Baby." He says, softly. "Baby, have you not told her?"

"Told me what?" Nancy snaps. You look away stubbornly. Eddie sighs, puts down his guitar. Steeples his fingers and uses them to point to you.

"She." Then he points to nancy "wants you to be her girlfriend. She's just been to chickenshit to ask."

"Eddie!" You squeal, and throw your pillow at him. "You weren't supposed to say anything! You promised!"

"Yeah well, you took your time and" he motions to the space between you two. "You can't keep people on a string like that, honey. You know better."

He's right but you don't like it being pointed out. You glance at nancy who's just. Staring at you. Hands flexing at her sides. You hug a pillow to your chest.

"You." She starts. Licks her pink lips. "You want me to be your girlfriend? For how long?" Her voice sounds small. Vulnerable.

You look away again and eddie scoffs. "Jesus, we need to work on your communication issues, babe. She's liked you since the beginning nance. Been a right stubborn brat about the whole thing, though."

Nancy looks at you. Her jaw tightens. She takes a step forward. "Is that true?"

"I...."

"Have you liked me this whole time but made me think you only wanted me as some fun side experiment while you plan a future with your real partner?"

When she puts it like that, it sounds bad. "Um."

"I can't believe you." Her blue eyes flare. Ice queen. "You're such a. Such a spoiled little brat."

"Im not!" You protest. Even though you are.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, leans back and cracks his neck. "in your shoes, and trust me i have been, she's a piece of work, I've found she responds particularly well to good ol' fashioned punishment. She's a brat for a reason."

He pauses, "and if you're her girlfriend now, assuming you still want to be, well." He grins. "She's all yours."

So he's really just throwing you to the wolves like that, huh. You glare at him. He shrugs, his dimples showing like he knows he just helped you. He probably did.

Nancy seems to calm down. Her shoulders relax.

"Can you lock the door, eddie?" She says, cooly. He's already on his feet. Fucker. "My girlfriend and i need to have a little talk about some things. Feel free to sit and watch."

Eddie closes his door and locks it. Takes his chair and spin it around so he can straddle it.

"You could probably teach me a thing or two about how to fix that attitude she's got."

Nancy smirks.

#ask #why is this dynamic so..... #nancy wheeler x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie spaghetti

[aneggofmystery]

The Monkie Kid Style Shift

(from the perspective of a fictive. i promise that's important)

To start, for those who are unaware of my existence bc you only know mills or just dont know us at all, hi! I'm Cicada, he/she pronouns, and I'm a Tang fictive. I wanted to give my opinion on all the shit that happened today, because I believe I and other fictives have unique experiences regarding source media changes :3

(the rest of the post will be under the cut, scroll away if you'd like to avoid spoilers from the trailer) (and, quick side note, NO MATTER WHAT I SAY HERE, PLEASE DO NOT HARASS ANYONE. CHRIST I CANT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS, BUT PLEASE DO NOT HARASS REAL PEOPLE OVER THESE LEGOS. K? K.)

Okay, so we all know that Flying Bark's animation has always been an integral part to the spirit of Monkie Kid as a show, and is the main reason why a lot of people love it. As a semi source-connected fictive, seeing that style is like literally seeing me and my family in photographs.

like, y'all have no idea the emotional damage this shot specifically does to me whenever i see it.

and while, yes, there is a possibility that WildBrain can simply just be learning the style (hell, even FlyingBark had to kinda learn their own style in the early days), it's an extremely drastic change and, thus, is bound to cause collateral damage.

I love speaking about my husbands, for example, and the FlyingBark style luckily gives me a great outlet to do so (pignapped lives in my mind rent free).

However, and I can't speak for any other fictives, but the art style shift is kind of like if you watched your family get replaced by aliens or robots right in front of you and couldn't do anything about it. Stiff, doesn't really have a lot of character. I've seen people theorize that they're gonna be animating on rigs instead of handrawn, which matches up. That means, however, that we can't achieve awesome shots such as. every lbd scene ever.

I know plenty of Singlet but neurodivergent people who are also distressed about this, there's familiarity. Especially in my fellow autistic folk, that feels natural, good, and we wouldn't give it up for the world.

(We mod in one of the biggest Monkie Kid discord servers and, dear gods, the fucking backlash. we're all going through it.)

I'm kind of worried that this was pushed, not only because of the ATLA movie, but also because everyone on the staff team was worried because the fandom was antsy.

Can't speak for anyone else, but all the "save me s5" jokes I made were just light hearted, and I'd much rather have quality over quantity. Personally, i'd be willing to wait years for the next monkie kid season if it meant that we could still have it animated by FlyingBark.

Now, of course, this isn't what we're getting, and we'll have to accept that, I just think it should also be valid for fans to be reasonable skeptical at the quality, no matter if it's still the same writers and VAs. It's a huge change, and all I ask is that you're patient with me.

WildBrain is an amazing studio, but I'm not sure they can adjust to the shift in style. Of course, someone's bound to be dissatisfied with it, including myself, and I ask that y'all are patient with people like that. Don't say shit like "if you're a real fan, you wouldn't care about the art style change." That's not nice.

sorry if this isn't coherent in the slightest, I have been crying for a while for the reasoning i mentioned about feeling like I've lost a part of myself. This is terrifying for me, and i ask that you please be kind to others like me <3

anyways, follow if you wanna hear me yap ab BreakfastShipping

#dissociative identity disorder #rich's rambles #lego monkie kid #lmk season 5 #fictive #lmk season 5 spoilers

[sixofpomegranates]

➢ Eddie Munson's eating habits and food head canons — PART 1:

→ ✿ ← Flowers will provide links to fanfictions of mine in which I used the headcanon above.

→ ☘︎ ← Clover will provide the link to an in-detail headcanon.

{TW: Food, Eating—Eddie’s little bit weird eating habits, Child Neglect, Overeating, Pot Brownies, Trailer Park Stigmatization, Manners, etc.}

Has eaten a worm for 10$ when he was 12.

→ [✿]

..."Please tell me that's a joke!" I squeal, sitting next to Eddie on the floor of my living room. He shakes his head, dipping another fry in his chocolate milkshake. "Nah, honest earned money." "You ate a worm for ten dollars," I exclaim, making him chuckle. "Yeah, because I was twelve and stupid. Today I would charge at least twenty bucks to eat one," he tells me proudly. "How about I give you fifty, and you promise to never eat a worm again?" "Deal, sweetheart." Grabbing my hand, Eddie shakes it eagerly, a boyish smirk on his lips. "See? Eating worms is already bringing in profits."...

Likes every flavor of milkshake there is. He loves that shit, so don't make him choose.

→ [✿]

Wayne used to bribe him with them when he was little. Trips to the dentist, doctor appointments, or tutoring sessions were rewarded with dinner at the diner afterward.

Dips his fries into his chocolate milkshake because “The sweet and the salty balance each other out."

→ [✿]

These are also top-tier for him:

salted caramel

Bacon & Chocolate

salted pretzels in chocolate

Popcorn and M&M’s

PB&J

He hates eating fish. The smell is enough to make him gag.

→ [☘︎]

This hate extends to:

Fish sticks.

Seafood.

Sushi. → May be interested in trying sushi without fish... But as he can't even look at raw fish you’d need to serve it to him in a safe environment.

Hates olives.

Loves apples.

He’s constantly snacking one if Wayne bought a bag. It's the crunch and that they’re juicy.

Drinks straight from the carton or bottle. (yes. milk, juice & soda)

Says that they wouldn't make it so easy to drink from them if you weren't supposed to, and it saves you from cleaning a glass.

When alone, eats out of the pan or pot instead of grabbing a plate. Doing dishes sucks.

Has pretty good table manners. (-if he wants to)

Wayne was very keen on teaching them to him. Little Eddie never cut his meat, digging into meals like a starving, feral hyena.

There is already the stigma of being uncultured and dirty following them as residents of a trailer park; Wayne wants his boy to be able and prove people wrong. Do good. Can't have him burp, talk with a full mouth, and tear the meat on his plate apart with his hands, never using cutlery. (Little Eddie was a hungry little raccoon.)

Healthy relationship with food. (Thanks to Wayne)

Used to overeat until he was sick.

After his mom died, there was never anything to eat at home. He was scared of being hungry and didn't know when the next time he'd get something to eat was.

Will finish your plate for you if you're stuffed. He's a big boy. He can eat a lot.

Loves everything cheese. Especially snacks.

Good at baking.

He found out that he's good at it when making pot brownies for the first time. Since then, he has made cakes for important celebrations like the end of a campaign and birthday cakes for friends, himself, and Wayne, muffins, and even more brownies—family-friendly ones as well.

Loves spicy food but doesn't have a high tolerance for it. He still eats it, even though he suffers a little.

Gareth once brought Eddie a bag of Rebanaditas (watermelon lollipops covered in spicy chili powder) from his vacation in Mexico. Eddie loves them and still has a couple of them stored away for special occasions.

#eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson imagine #stranger things headcanons #— 🧠 lynn’s headcanons

[rynwritesstuff]

feel free to totally ignore this if it sounds weird! but, could you maybe write some hurt/comfort where post-vecna!eddie has been gaining weight (injury recovery, depression, adjusting to eating again, etc.) and feels insecure about it? and the reader comforts him? thank you either way! i love your writing.

Anon . . . My sweet, darling anon, this idea means a lot to me. I've struggled with my weight my entire life, I'm still struggling, in fact, so anything that has to do with acceptance has a special place in my heart. Truly, thank you for requesting this. Writing this made me cry lol, so I hope you enjoy, my love <3

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Weight gain, insecurity, comforting

Reader comforts Eddie when he gets insecure about his weight gain post-Vecna.

You knew something was up when he stopped changing in front of you a few weeks back. You figured it was just because of the scars. He hates them, hates the way they look, but he's shown them to you before.

You've kissed each one, and you've touched each one, and you've promised him that he's still your beautiful boy. And he believed you. On those chilly, dark nights when all he wanted to do was forget, you made him believe that he was still beautiful.

You haven't seen him shirtless in weeks, now, and even when the two of you fucked (which wasn't often anymore) he kept as much clothing on as possible. You said nothing, not wanting to frustrate him or upset him or or or.

But now . . .

You've let yourself into his trailer, staying quiet just in case he's asleep. Wayne isn't here, there's no car aside from Eddie's van, and as you shut the door behind you, you hear Eddie's loud rock music coming from his bedroom. You smile, then walk down the hall.

You open his bedroom door, and--

He's got his t-shirt pulled up, and he's turned to the side, glaring at his reflection as he sees his small gut. The chub is adorable. That's your first thought. Your second thought is: Why does he look so . . . Disgusted? So sick? So . . . So emotional?

He sees you in the reflection, and his eyes widen. Eddie pulls his shirt down quickly, then turns to you.

"I didn't know you were coming today," he says. He sounds almost . . . Angry?

"I wanted to check on you," you say, taking a step forward. "You doing okay? Are the painkillers working?"

"I'm fine," Eddie says, crossing his arms. "Can you knock next time?"

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't--"

Eddie huffs, turning off his music. It's eerily silent, now, and you realize: His breathing is shaky.

He's trying not to cry.

"Baby--"

"Don't," Eddie says, turning away and shaking his head. "I don't wanna do this right now."

"Do what?" you ask. "Eddie, I just wanted to check on you."

"I didn't want you to see that!" he hisses, gesturing to the mirror. You're so confused, mostly at the suddenness of everything.

"What? You didn't want me to see what?" you ask, leaning against the doorway. You want to make sure that both of you are on the same page.

Eddie clenches his jaw as frustrated tears fill his eyes.

"How fucking fat I'm getting."

You're silent at first, shock and anger and hurt all gripping you at once.

"What did you just say?" you ask.

"I said that I'm getting fat," Eddie says, still turned away from you.

You step forward and yank on his arm, turning him around.

"Look at me," you say sternly. He doesn't. You grip his jaw softly. "Eddie Munson, look at me. Now."

His tear-filled eyes meet yours finally, and god, you hate seeing him like this.

"Never, ever say that again. Do you understand me?"

He tries to turn away again, but you hold onto him.

"No. Stop. Just listen to me for a bit. Can you do that, please?"

Eddie nods, chewing at his lip.

"God, Eddie . . . You've been through so much, baby. Chrissy, and the murder thing, and hiding, and the Upside Down, and Vecna, and almost fucking dying . . ."

You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Baby . . . You've gotta give yourself more credit. You have to. Cut yourself some slack. You saved the fucking world. A-And . . . Eddie, you're so beautiful--"

"Stop," he says softly, and when he blinks, tears run down his cheeks.

"No! No, I'm not gonna stop, because it's true, baby!"

He's crying, now, breathing hitching and un-hitching as he tries to calm himself. It's not working.

"You've got the prettiest smile, and these big brown eyes, and pink lips . . . Your arms are strong, and your freckles are perfect, and your hands . . . " You take his hands in yours as you look down at them. "Your hands are my favorite thing. I love holding them, and I love feeling them on me, and I love kissing every finger until you're laughing and giggling like a little girl, Eds."

His face is red as he holds in sobs.

You put your hands on his chest.

"Baby, I don't care if you gain weight. In fact, I think it's a good thing. It proves that you're eating and resting enough. I'm gonna love you no matter how your body changes, Eddie. Stretch marks and scars aren't gonna scare me away. I am in love with you. You got that?"

You mess up his hair.

"Is that deep enough in that head of yours, baby?"

He says nothing.

"I need an answer, Eds. Do you know how in love with you I am?"

He nods, and that's probably the most relieved you've ever been in your entire life.

You put your hands on his cheeks.

"I love you so much, baby," you say, voice cracking. "So much, and I almost lost you, and you . . . You really think I'm gonna care if you gain weight? You really think I'd leave you if you got a bit bigger? Or even a lot bigger?"

Eddie wraps his arms around you and presses his face against your shoulder. His body is trembling, shaking with sobs, and you hold him.

"I've got you. You don't have to say anything, just know that I've got you, okay?"

Eddie nods, and that's enough.

He's enough, and he always will be.

#rynwritesstuff #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson x reader comfort #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fandom

[captainlunaxmen]

The Lady and the Lord

Chapter 9

Eddie munson x fem!reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: time to kill the bastard.

Chapter warnings: spoiler season 4, blood, violence, trauma.

Our first stop is Creel's house.

Erica, Lucas and Max goes to get out of the camper.

"Be careful, okay?" Steve tells them, then turn to Lucas. "I'm counting on you Sinclair. Anything happens, you put those headphones on her head, immediately"

"I will" Lucas replies with determination.

"We got it" Max remarks.

"We know you do" I give her an encouraging smile.

They all nod and go out... to the Creel's house.

"They're gonna be fine" Eddie whispers at me.

"Yeah... yeah, I know" I nod.

Then it's time to drive off to the trailer park.

We manage to find a good spot to leave the camper so...Time to go over the plan one last time.

"Okay. I wanna run through it one more time" Nancy starts "phase one"

"We meet Erica at the playground" Robin says while Nancy nods. "She'll signal Max and Lucas when we're ready."

"Phase two" Nancy asks.

"Max baits Vecna. He'll go after her, which'll put him in his trance." Steve answers.

"Phase three?"

"Me and Eddie draw the bat's away." Dustin answers.

"Four"

"We head into Vecna's lair, and... we kill him" I say.

"Nobody moves on to the next phase until we've all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what. Got it?" Nancy firmly instructs.

"Got it" we all say and get up, heading to Eddie's trailer.

We walk, literally, in the dark once again sneaking around the trailer park, careful not to make noise and catch everyone's attention. Finally we arrive at his trailer.

Obviously, Steve's the one to go first and set another mattress under the portal.

"Be careful" Dustin tells him.

"Thanks, buddy" Steve replies before grabbing the rope and climbs up and then down into the Upside Down with, what he thinks, is a cool flip, he even looks up to us with a proud grin.

"Wow.. what does he wants us to do, applaud?" Robin asks sarcastically.

"Yap. I think he misses the attention" I mutter, earning an amused cough from Nancy.

In the meantime Steve brought the mattress.

"Let's go" he tells us.

Nancy goes frist, with Robin's help she climbs to the Upside Down.

After her we throw the weapons through the gate and then we climb up too.

After retrieving weapons, bombs and shields we walk out.

"Hey, guys. Listen" Steve turns to Dusntin and Eddie. "If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep 'em busy for a minute or two. We'll take care of Vecna. Don't try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just--"

"Decoys" Dustin says for him. "Don't worry. You can be the hero, Steve"

I let out a small laugh.

"Absolutely. I mean, look at us. We're not heroes." Eddie agrees, showing a nervous smile.

So Steve starts to walk off, but Eddie stops him.

"Hey, Steve?" Steve turns to him and after a small pause Eddie speaks again "make him pay"

Steve nods and walks off, I send both him and Dustin a smile before following the other.

"Y/n?"

I turn around seeing Eddie walking towards me.

"I'll be right behind you guys, give me a minute" I tell them.

They a nod and walk away.

"Yes?" I ask Eddie, who looks back to check Dustin walking back in the trailer

"Uh... listen... since we don't know how this is gonna end... uh... can I kiss you?" He blurts out in a whisper.

That took me completely by surprise.

"I... sorry. I don't want our first kiss to be because something bad might happen. I want you to kiss me properly, when all this is over." I tell him.

"What you mean by 'properly', uh?" He asks.

"Push me against the wall, kinda thing, grab my hips... you know" I say with and embarrassed chuckle.

"Is that so?" He softly laughs.

"Yeah."

"Thought you wanted something sweet and soft" he teases.

"Oh, my lord, you'd be surprised" I wink.

"Is that a promise then? We get out of here and I finally get to kiss you?" He ask with a grin.

"And anything else you want" I smirk.

"Anything? I like the sound of that"

"Better stay alive then, uh?" I hug him and walk backwards before following Robin, Steve and Nancy.

We've been walking for, what feels like, forever. The Creel's house surely is far.

"Uh.. I don't mean to freak anyone out" Robin speaks up, breaking the silence "but I swear we've seen this tree before"

"That's impossible" Nancy immediately says.

"That would suck, right? If Vecna destroyed the world because... 'Cause we got lost on the woods?" Robin replies, rambling nervously.

"We're not lost, don't worry, okay? We'll get there soon enough" I try to reassure her.

She just chuckles and starts to walk faster ahead of us.

"Robin, hey. Watch out for the vines! Hive mind. Remember?" Nancy warns her.

"Ugh... I better catch up with her... before she falls" I say rushing to catch up with her.

"Thank you!" Steve says loudly.

With Robin sometimes it's like... co-parenting... she's cute, but...challenging.

"Robin, wait!" I say.

Once I finally do catch up with her, she grabs my hand and pulls me close to her as we walk.

"You good?" I ask with a chuckle.

"Just... freaked out" she admits.

"Hey.. you know we're gonna make it.. as always" I try once again to assure her.

"Nor even you fully believe that. You really can't sugar-coat things. Like... What if we don't make it? What if we fucked up and everything goes to shit?"

"You're right... I really can't sugar-coat anything...and well... if everything does go to shit. We tried. At least we tried." I squeeze her hand "I don't see anyone else here, do you?"

"No.."

"See? We're trying to do something, we might fail... that possibility has always been there, yet here we are, all of us."

"You're right" she simply says.

"I'm always right" I proudly say.

"Being friends with Steve made you a little too cocky, uh?" She teases.

"Oh.. God yes... please make it stop" I joke making her laugh.

"I will, I promise" she laughs.

Her gaze catch onto something in front of us.

The Creel's house.

"Shit! Told you we weren't lost!" I tell her, who immediately rush back to Steve and Nancy leaving me there.

"Be right back!" She tells me.

She comes back soon after with Nancy and Steve with her.

"There it is" I say pointing at the house "and... there they fucking are" I point at the bats flying over the house. "I think the guys are ready" I nod to the playground in front of the house where a small ball of energy sparks.

"Erica" Steve says and I nod.

So we head to her.

So far, so good.

We warn her we ready.

"Okay, the lovebirds have copied. Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna." She informs us.

"So far, so smooth" Robin comments.

"Yeah, we're not even at the hard part yet" Steve replies.

"Take the bait, you son of a bitch" I hear Nancy saying looking straight to the house.

Please Max be careful, I think.

"Hey.. it's okay." Steve whispers to me.

"I know... I know.. I'm just worried. I'm fine, Steve, I promise" I assure him.

"Tell me, though. Please"

"I will" I give him a smile before kneeling down to try and calm my nerves.

We wait and wait and wait.

Finally Erica speaks again.

"Okay, she's in. Initiate phase three"

Robin immediately grabs the walkie and inform Dustin and Eddie.

"She's in. Move on to phase three"

"Copy that. Initiating phase three" Dustin replies.

"Time for the concert of your life, Eddie" I mutter.

After a moment we faintly hear the unmistakable sound of an electric guitar.

Oh my god... that's of the new Metallica songs... fuck! how is it called? Master of Puppets, yes!

"Oh he's good" I comment.

The bats hear it too, they're quickly flying towards the "noise".

"Okay. It's working. Let's go" Nancy says.

We all stand walking to the house.

We enter the house, careful not to step on the vines. It's kind of difficult when the whole place is literally covered in them. Steve goes first, then Nancy, Robin and then me.

They start to walking up the stairs when I hear a noise. I stop for a moment to check if it's another creature or not.

"Guys" I whisper-shouts.

They turn to look at me from upstairs, but before I can tell them a big earthquake interrupts me.

"You guys okay?" I ask once the earthquake stops.

They don't have time to answer because a vine tied itself to Robin's ankle, next thing I know she's being held to the wall screaming for help.

I try to get upstairs while Steve and Nancy try to cut the vines and free her, but they're stopped by more tentacles slithering grabbing them, choking them against the wall.

I'm almost on top, almost to them, when I feel something wet crawling my leg. I try to wriggle free from it, but its hold is too tight, wrapped firmly on my leg, pulling.

I fell on the ground, hitting my arm hard, but I don't have enough time to react because I'm being dragged back downstairs and literally thrown back outside.

When I hit the ground I feel my sight darkening until I see nothing at all.

I finally open my eyes again.

It's difficult to breath, I feel vines still crawling over my body and I struggle to get free.

I manage to grab the shotgun and start to shoot at the roots, finally freeing myself.

I immediately stand up and run back to the house, but the door is closed shut.

"Hey! Can you hear me?" I try "Steve! Nancy! Robin!"

Fuck... I hope they're not answering because they can't hear me and not because they're still trapped.

"Y/N!"

Nancy.

"Nancy! I can't get back in!"

"Go back to the trailer then!" She tells me. "We can't open it either. We'll go upstairs and kill Vecna, you go back and find something to open this"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! We got it."

"Be careful, please!"

And then no answer again.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I take a very deep breath as soon as I feel myself shaking.

I'll go back to Dustin and Eddie and with them I can find a way. Yeah.

Another deep breath.

I start to run back to the trailer park.

I run as fast as I can.

All sorts of thought invade my mind.

What if they can't kill him?

What if he kills them first?

I couldn't stand losing any of them.. let alone all of them... I couldn't stand it again

I looked for Hopper when I saw Joyce back at Starcourt.

No signs of him.

Maybe he's talking to someone about this whole situation, I thought.

But then... I saw Joyce's face looking at El.

She wasn't happy, like "we won" kind of happy. No... she was devastated.

That's not possible, I said to myself. It can't be.

I kept looking at Joyce and El talking and then hugging. Joyce trying to comfort her.

When her eyes locked into mine... I fall.

Hopper was gone and I couldn't do anything about it.

I cried, my chest hurt... I couldn't breath.

But then, a hand touched my shoulder.

"Y/n..." Dustin's voice calmed me a little.

"Sweetheart..." Joyce. "I'm so sorry"

She kneeled with me holding me as I sobbed against her.

"I know.. I know."

I've never felt that pain before... not like that...

How can anyone survive that?

How?

"Ma'am?" Someone calls.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Joyce whispered at me.

"I'll stay here" Dustin offered then proceeded to kneel beside me and put his head on my shoulder reassuringly. "You know... uh, my mom always asks about you. Insists you're always too thin, well.. ever if you weighted more than a whale, you'd still be too thin for her..." he let out a small laugh "what I mean is, uh.. you're always welcome, you know"

"Thank you Dustin" I managed to say.

"You're always welcome at my house too" I turned around to see Mike standing up, holding El's hand. "I mean.. my whole family love you more than they love me so.. might as well" he added, with a chuckle.

I hold my hand out for El, who gently accepted it to sit with me as we hugged each other.

"At my house too" Lucas joined.

"Same" Max with him.

"And obviously.. same at mine" Will.

"Thank you guys"

As I approach the trailer park I see something moving... running.

I stop for a moment, trying to understand what's happening there.

Oh my god.

It's Eddie. He's running from the bats.. but why?

I scream as I see the bats knock Eddie over, off of the bike, but he stands up quickly, thankfully.

I get back to running, eyes fixed on him, I don't think he can see me, yet.

He's running away, but stops, turns around and grabs the shield and the spear.

Fuck.

No. No. No.

He manages to fight off a lots of them, but they're still too many and they manage to attack themselves at Eddie's sides.

I stop. Grab the shotgun... and aim.

I'm able to hit a few of them, before Eddie turns around and sees me.

I keep getting closer and closer as I shoot the creatures, until I'm basically by Eddie's side.

"What part of 'don't be heroes' you didn't understand, uh?" I scold him.

"Can't run forever" he simply answers.

I take care of those bats above us while Eddie the ones getting too close.

After what feels like eternity, the demobats, suddenly, fell.

"Maybe they did it..." I breath out.

"You think?" Eddie asks me.

"I hope... fuck..."

I feel Eddie's hand on my shoulder, to keep himself up, but he falls on the ground.

"Eddie?" I kneel down beside him, noticing just now the huge wounds on his body.

"Oh shit.. okay.. " I shakily say.

"That bad, uh?" He asks.

"No. Hey, look at me okay? It's okay. They're... not exactly good, but they're not that bad" I insist.

"Has anyone told you you can't sugar-coat anything?" He asks. Voice tired and weak.

I feel my eyes watering, there's so much blood... too much blood.

I have nothing to help him, except maybe...

I immediately take off the shirt he gave me and start to rip it.

"I'm gonna buy you a new one, I promise" I tell him.

"Hey... hey..." he weakly calls "I know we said after all this, but...seeing the situation..do you think I could get that kiss now?"

He laughs it off, but I can tell he's scared.

"I'm sorry, love" I force myself to smile as I put pressure on his wounds with some ripped tissues "We're gonna get you to the hospital. You're gonna be fine and then... you'll kiss me properly."

"Hey... uh... I didn't run away this time, right?" He asks and I let the tears freely fell.

"You didn't. You're so brave" I caress his cheek with one hand. "And you played amazingly too"

"Yeah?" He asks. "Did you hear it?"

"Definitely. Gotta have to play for me, one of these days" I wink at him.

"I'll play whatever you want, m'lady" he says in a pained whisper.

I keep putting pressure and clean his wounds, trying my best to take deep breaths and keep my hands steady.

"I liked that, you know" he speaks again in a whisper.

"What?"

"You calling me 'love'... I liked it" he admits almost shyly.

"You're getting shy on me now, Munson?" I try to joke, even if my tears disagree.

"With you? Always"

"Eddie!" I look up and see Dustin running to us. He's.. limping towards us.

"Dustin.. what the hell happened?"

"Hey buddy" Eddie says.

"He.. he said he wanted to buy more time and.. and cut the rope and took the mattress off so I had to climb up.." he cries.

"Okay.. Dustin listen. Keep pressure here, I'll run get the others"

"Are they okay? Why are you here?" He asks me.

"They're at the house, but the door closed and we couldn't open it. Now, please, keep pressing there okay?" I tell him, standing up and grabbing a spear, I don't know how helpful it would be but there's nothing much here.

"Hey.. don't leave me." Eddie's weak voice breaks my heart.

"I'll be right back. Okay? I promise" I tell him.

I turn back ready to run back to the Creel's house when I spot Nancy, Steve and Robin in the distance.

I rush to them, they do the same.

We meet halfway.

Steve's quickly to wrap his arms tightly around me, as Nancy and Robin catch up with him.

"Thank god you're okay, honey" he whispers.

"I was so scared" I say back, letting him go and immediately hugging Robin and Nancy.

"You did it?" I ask.

"Perfect flambé" Robin winks.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Eddie... You.. you guys need to help us"

I run with them back to Eddie and Dustin.

"Hey" I say kneeling back down with Dustin "told you I'd be back"

"Hey, m'lady" he weakly smile at me as I grab his hand, feeling more tears coming out.

"Help.. please" I look up to Steve who looks more scared than ever, not sure on what to do "please" I whisper.

Robin gently grabs me to make me stand up as Steve kneels down and with Dustin's help they manage to make Eddie stand.

That's a good sign.. right?

"It's gonna be okay, Y/n" Nancy tells me.

I just nod, eyes focused on Eddie's back as they walk to the trailer.

It's gonna be okay. I keep repeating in my head.

It has to...

#stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

[eddieslilkitten]

I'll keep you safe Eddie x Reader

Y/N runs to Eddie after her father hits her, Eddie promises she's safe and wont have to worry about him ever again.

Warnings: Cursing, abuse, (hitting, gaslighting) Modern AU.

"Just because you are Eighteen doesn't mean you get to raise your voice to me!" "You don't listen any other way!" A smack sounds through the tiny living room, blood starts to make its way down my cheek "See what you made me do!" My father shouts turning away giving me a chance to sprint for the front door "You'll be back you stupid bitch you have no where else to go!"

My feet pound the uneven gravel in the trailer park pushing myself closer to my safe place, Mr. Munson is standing on the porch as I approach "Y/N are you okay?" "N-not really, is eddie home?" "He's in his room, go on and head in" "Thank you" Tears still find their way down my face as I knock on my boyfriends door "Wayne, has Y/N left me any messages or- Y/N!" His hands pull me into his chest "Princess what happened?" "H-he hit me again"

Hiccups and whimpers sound through the boys bedroom as he moves her to the bed "Let me take your shoes off and I'll hold you okay, you'll never have to go back there. Wayne likes you he'd let you move in with us. Never gonna let you get hurt again" Eddie climbs on to the bed, gently pulling you to lay on his chest.

"Shh, your safe, I won't let you go" "Eddie, I'm scared what if he follows me?" "Wayne and I will protect you baby I promise" "Eddie can you come here for a moment?" Wayne calls through the trailer. "Yeah one second!" The boy climbs off the bed finding his favorite sweater and pulls it over my trembling body "I'll be right back" Eddie rushes out to the living room.

"How's she doing?" "She's shaken up, I'm scared he's gonna kill her one of these days" "She's eighteen right?" "Yeah, why?" "She's moving in with us, no if ands or butts when Y/N is up for it we will take her down there and get her stuff. I'll keep her dad distracted while y'all pack up her room" "Thank you Wayne"

"Babbbyyyy" Eddie sings out heading down the hall, the door swinging open "what's wrong?" "He keeps calling and texting" *Text Message* "I'm sorry come home" "you stupid bitch you'll never escape me" "Baby, Wayne says you can stay here, we will protect you" "Y/N you stupid bitch come out you won't escape me!"

Wayne rushes down the hall with his keys "Go out the back door escape in my car,get her stuff and I'll keep him distracted" "Thank you" Eddie and I sprint out the back door and around the front to Wayne's car we make it to my house "most of my stuff is in boxes, Robin was going to let me stay with her" Eddie nods grabbing my favorite blankets and stuffed animals. Within five minutes everything else was packed and in the car.

"Let's go home" We walk back to the car as my mom pulls in the driveway. "Stay safe Y/N I'll keep paying your phone bill" "Thank you Mom" Eddie puts the car into drive as we pull away "He wont hurt her right?" "No, he resents me told me I ruined his life" "I'm sorry baby, let's get home order pizza and watch that um one show with the firefighters" "Chicago Fire?" I giggle at his description. "Yeah that one!"

My chest feels lighter at the fact that I'm finally safe with my favorite person and that he's wiling to do anything for me.

#eddie munson #eddie muson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff

[catherinnn]

The Great War

based on "The Great War" by Taylor Swift.

Eddie Munson x reader.

"my interpretation of the song: it recounts a couple's fight that was as big as the Great War. It explains that it was mostly the narrator's fault. She was accusing him of things he never did. He tries to reach a peace agreement, but she has a hard time trusting people because of her past. She almost loses the guy, but they survive the war and she promises to always be his and not to fight again in such way." says 'my mess' about this song, on YouTube.

warnings: fighting, jealously, mention of drug deals, so much angst but happy ending.

You didn't mean for it to become so serious. You just wanted to know. After Eddie came back from a deal in very bad mood, he knew you were at his trailer waiting for him but he was just very angry and stressed and tried to calm down before he would say anything to you that he would regret later. But you didn't understand it that way. You really thought he was ignoring you. So this clearly made you mad too.

"Could you please talk to me right now?" you said angrily.

"Can you give me a minute?" He didn't even look at you.

"I just want to know what happened! Why did you come back so angry?"

"It's not important"

You couldn't even decipher what was going through his head right now. He didn't show an emotion on his face, so serious and his eyes going from the wall to the floor instead of going to your face while you talked to him.

You couldn't help it. You weren't trying to be an asshole, or selfish. You were just worried about him, worried that something had happened to him and he didn't trust you enough to tell you. But you never admitted that. You just kept pushing him into telling you what was going on.

And a thought came into your head. A truly hurtful thought.

Maybe he had just came from a deal with Chrissy.

For some background information: Eddie and Chrissy started meeting up for drug deals after you and him started dating. You knew he had had a crush on her for a long time before he liked you. You couldn't help but think that maybe meeting with her so often made him develop feelings for her again. And maybe now he was angry because he had to come back home to you instead of her.

You, with more hurt mixed with anger and jealousy in your voice now, started to push him again.

"You were with her, with Chrissy, right?" your voice started shaking and your eyes filling with water. Tears that threatened to come down at any given moment.

"Yeah, I had a deal with her, why does she matter?"

"Well, she matters to you, doesn't she?"

"What? what do you mean?" he looked at you confused.

"You prefer her, don't you?" you could hardly speak, all of your strength on trying not to cry.

"What? Y/n" he didn't move his eyes away from you now, but now you wanted nothing more for them to go back to the wall and floor. Or anywhere that wasn't your teary eyes.

"Just tell me... Tell me now. Make the choice now. It's her, isn't she?"

"Y/n, please tell me you're not saying what I think you are" his hand reached to his forehead showing frustration.

"You've liked her for so long, Eddie. I was just a distraction. Or an attempt to forget about her. And now you realized that it has always been her"

"No, baby, not at all! you-"

"Stop lying to me! I've seen the looks you and Gareth share everything she passes by. I've heard the way you talked about her before we started dating... Eddie, you started going to the championship games now! How did I not see it before?! It was all just to see her performance!"

"Baby, that is because Lucas is on the basketball team now, we are all going to the games to see him"

You shook your head. Tears already running down your checks as if it was a marathon. You felt so ashamed and humiliated. So insecure. You could feel your heart break. Your emotions going from angry to sad and only those two, back and forth.

"Y/n, you have to trust me. Listen to me, please"

My hand was the one he reached for while he told I have to trust more freely. But the only thought in my head was her. Him. Them. And the sense I've been betrayed.

"Why would you do this to me? Why do you keep lying?! You were so in love with her, why did I believe it would all erase once you were with me? How could I be so stupid?"

"I was! That's the important word, baby, I couldn't care less about her now, not when I have you, you're everything I want now, please just calm down and listen to me, please" he started crying too.

"No, Eds, I think I just... I just want to go" you turned around to reach for your purse but he beat you to it. He grabbed it first and hide his hands behind his back so you didn't take it.

"Let me go, Eddie! I want to leave! I don't want to be with you anymore!"

"You don't mean that... please tell me you don't mean that, and please don't leave me, not like this, don't leave me over something that isn't true!" his eyes all broken and his voice all blue.

"Why were you so angry before? You met up with her, why did you come back to me in such a bad mood? Was it just because it was me and not her?" you could only cry and beg him for answers.

"I will explain everything if you promise to calm down" he never felt so scared. Was it really over? It was the Great War and the only thing he could do was ask for peace.

You saw him. You really saw the look on his face and the shaking of his voice. The same broken and blue look you saw seconds ago but now you understood. So you called off the troops. And finally listened to him.

"I met Chrissy for a deal, and I have been for a few weeks now, you know this. But I didn't fall back in love with her, not when I am so undoubtedly in love with you"

You kept crying, feeling so many emotions at once. So stupid, so insecure, so sorry. Because you were the one that started this. Drinking your poison all alone. It was all based on your insecurities, your trusting issues. You almost left him, for God's sake.

"Baby, please" Eddie came even closer, he started leaving sweet little kisses on your cheek, neck, hair. You could still feel his tears against your skin and you were sure he could feel yours against his.

You decided not to fight anymore.

"I'm sorry" You hugged him and kept crying on his shoulder. You both had felt so scared.

After a few moments of hugging and crying on each others arms, you spoke again.

"Can I ask why were you angry?"

"It was stupid. I met with Chrissy for the deal and apparently Jason found out she's doing drugs, so he showed up so furious, blaming it all on me, saying I'm forcing her to do drugs. Started calling me al sorts of names and threatening me, until Chrissy was able to calm him down" he explained.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry" You hugged him again, holding him tight into your arms. "And I'm sorry you had to come back after all of that, and fight with me"

"Honestly, I'd take fighting with Jason over fighting with you any time. You scared me so much, princess, I really thought I'd lose you"

And that will be stay in your memories as the night you thought you were going to lose each other. It was war and it wasn't fair. But you'll never come back that bloodshed. The worst was over. You had survived the Great War.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #taylor swift #midnights taylor swift #midnights

[invisiblegarters]

Only Friends Character Rankings - Ep 5

Probably I should wait to do this but lbr I'm not watching that episode again lol. I am far too invested in Sand to watch it. Yep, I have become that person and while I actually enjoy all these characters I would see them all burn (metaphorically please no people roasts in this show) if it meant that Sand would get out mostly unscathed.

Alas, this is not shaping up to be that show. I said I will defend Sand's wrongs and that includes sticking around a dude who is not going to give him what he wants but damn, I do wish he loved himself more.

But let's get to it.

(Quick disclaimer: these are just my personal opinions and do not necessarily reflect an accurate interpretation of these characters or the show itself. In case that wasn't glaringly obvious)

Characters (From Most to Least Fave atm)

Sand. Oh my darling dumbass. I feel like he thought that Ray could be a bright shining thing in his life and now he's been smacked with cold hard reality courtesy of Boston. He thinks he's building his walls up but unfortunately I've seen the trailer so I know he's not, he's just papering them over and telling himself that's good enough (you need stronger materials hon). He compared Ray to a dog this ep but honestly he is starting to remind me of one, and not in the good way. That said, he is my ride or die for better or worse and so while I hate this for him eventually kicked dogs do stop coming back so I will wait for that day (well, they either stop coming back or they turn on the person kicking them).

I get now what First meant when he said that Sand has to deal with his feelings on his own. I mean I already got it but we're seeing it put in to practice here. Because Ray doesn't owe Sand anything, he's never made promises, Sand got ahead of himself and now he's gotta deal with reality on his own. Them's the breaks. And I think we all know the best thing for him would be to take a couple steps back until he can move past this thing (and I don't even think it would take that long tbh - Sand's got too much on his plate to be indulging in pesky feelings like this and if he was out of Ray's orbit I don't actually think it would be difficult for him to remember that. He just gets swept up because Ray is kind of a whirlwind and he makes it easy to forget that real life exists. But it does, and Sand's real life is a lot different from Ray's and involves a lot more pragmatism and compartmentalization).

Aside from that, I was so happy to get a Sand episode my goodness. I cheered aloud when I heard him start to narrate lol. And I do think that both the debt collectors and his dad are gonna come up again - I can't help but assume one of our main cast shares that father. My gut feeling is Top but I've seen around that it could be Boston because politician daddy and if so I would be here for it. I would also be highkey amused if it's Ray but I do not think the show will go there. Mew is another good possibility but as I am still hoping that the show will let them make out at some point and I doubt that will happen if they are blood related I am choosing to believe that's not the case.

I do like that the show is doing the work with him. Am I frustrated that I already know he's gonna keep letting this thing with Ray go on until it destroys him? Yes. But I also see where it's coming from. If Sand starts to really see what's going on with Ray re: alcohol, I think he'll slip into caretaker mode and feel he *can't* walk away, and he feels that way because he's already taking care of his mom, paying off her debts and working nonstop so that he can do that while also going to school. His life has set him up to be weak to someone like Ray, it's not entirely on him being stupid, and at least I have that as a consolation for when he inevitably makes me want to shake some sense into his beautiful dumb head.

Lastly, the way he yelled at Boston and Nick to go to Nick's room (and the fact that they *did*! And Boston's "oh shit" face. Even the sullen little eyeroll while he did as told was funny - Sand effectively reduced him to a kid again and he knew it) cracked me up. Reminded me of Mew telling Ray to lie in bed and think of what he did last episode. My SandMew feelings are intensifying I need those two to meet and maybe hook up okay show thank you (I know they won't hook up but I can dream).

Boston. Yes, Boston. My guy really out here doing the most to cause drama again and I still love him for it. This time there is no real goal except destruction and Boston being all caught up in his feelings about Top and Mew and I'm that Lady Gaga meme. You keep on doing the most darling because you are really the only reason any shit is getting done, even if the shit that is getting done is breaking everything in sight.

And also, it has to be said, he wasn't wrong about anything he said. I mean, he was awful about how he revealed things and the way he escalated the situation was absolutely bananas but he wasn't wrong.

I still see him and Ray as very similar. In this ep they both decided to love the one they're with (figure of speech don't get excited I see no love there my guys) since they can't be with the ones they want, with varying degrees of success. Until Boston decided to piss in the sandbox, that is.

Ray. I feel like this might come as a shock since I clearly don't like him much and because I love Sand to the point that I just want him out of the way of all these dumbasses, but. I also can't stress enough that Ray hasn't done anything wrong. I don't love how he keeps pushing his way past every boundary that Sand tries to put down but Sand is also very much showing him every place to push to make him give in. And yes Ray is definitely intentionally using Sand to try to move on from Mew but well, as far as he knows this is all just fun anyway. no pressure and no commitment. And right up until the end of this episode Sand was deliberately letting him think that (yes I love him but I don't think I've quite reached the point where I'm not seeing how he's contributing to his own misery. He's doing it both by not walking away and by letting Ray think he doesn't give a shit. You can't be surprised when the guy you've told to his face doesn't mean much to you assumes that that's the case).

Plus he's been up front about how he sees Sand. I want to be mad at him for it because I hate seeing Sand cry, but Ray has been very clear at every given opportunity that he does not see Sand as a possible romantic partner. He will fuck him, he will follow him around and beg for his attention, but he will not date him. Yeah, his nervous denials in front of Boston stung because Sand let himself think that wasn't the case (and because in hindsight he has to realize that Ray was so adamant because he was afraid Boston would relay this back to Mew - that was an instinctive, kneejerk no don't tell my lover I'm cheating response and Sand has to have realized that with some time to think. And what's worse, it's not the first time he's reacted that way), but he's never said otherwise. If Sand can't handle it it's on him to take the steps necessary to make it not a problem.

And now that I've said all that I reserve the right to be furious when Ray continues to use Sand knowing that he is in deeper than Ray himself is. Because while his feelings are not Ray's responsibility, deliberately toying with someone you KNOW wants more from you is shitty.

Since he was all tangled up in Sand's stuff this ep there's not much else to say about him really.

Well, yes. There is one thing. I am surer than ever he is going to get behind the wheel drunk and he's going to hurt some- no. He's going to hurt Sand. Because you don't have these two together bringing up dangerous driving this much and have it not come back to hurt everyone later. Mark my words, the First Kanaphan character in a hospital bed universe is getting a new member (if the morgue doesn't collect him first I wish I were joking I hate myself). Also the way his face flickered lightning fast from gut punched before he wiped it off when Sand said he didn't trust Ray with his life was excellent, kudos to Khaotung for that one.

Top. Look at this man getting exactly what he wants this ep. He was more fun on the whole last episode reading everyone to filth but he's still reaping the benefits of it and I can't really say I hate that for him. Also I can't really get enough of his unimpressed reaction to Boston doing literally anything. Boston could be out here doing the best of works and Top would just be like "loser" and I respect that.

Things are gonna go to shit for him very fast so I hope he enjoys his moment of winning.

Mew. MEW what are you DOING. I can't tell if his whole "oh wow we just saw a bunch of guys who want Top but Top was focused only on me" thing was in his own head or if Top deliberately took him 'round to all his hookups so that Mew can see how much he's changed, but either way, no my dude. Stop.

I keep thinking to what he told Top in the first episode. If I sleep with you, I'm going to be so obsessed. And I think we're gonna see that happening next ep.

But frankly he's mostly here because of that preview. You're really going to get Lasik surgery for this dude? MEW I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHERE'S MY TYRA GIF.

Nick. Pretty much the same as above. Nick, do not start trying to tone up and wearing Dad Chic to try to get Boston to love you. Top barely pulls the golf dad look off, you are much better as you are. The hell my dude. I was literally so annoyed by this the entire episode that I had a hard time paying attention to his scenes. So I guess I will have to watch those again. You also made your roommate send your fuck buddy to your room like a naughty child like Nick if you can't actually handle it when Boston does this shit you are not on the level I thought you were. Seriously disappointed in you (but not that disappointed because as I said, Sand sending them both to Nick's room was peak hilarity for me).

Relationships (Fave to Least Fave atm)

Sand and Nick. They are lovely, and I still have hope that they make out a little once things go really pear shaped. I just like every interaction they have, honestly and I'd be happy to see more.

Boston and Mew. These two fucking fascinate me. There is so much animosity there, and only Boston's is mostly up front. They both have so much disdain for the way the other chooses to live their life. and it just feels so deeply personal that I figure that there has to be a fuckton of projection going down on both sides.

And now I'm gonna step outside the characters and say that it makes perfect sense to me that this war is breaking open over a dude that now they've both slept with, especially when you think about their differing attitudes towards sex and how derisive they both are of the opposite view. Of course this thing with Top is now a competition for both of them - whoever Top chooses to be with in the end will be the one who was right, after all.

And this is why I suspect that even after he finds out about Top and Boston, Mew won't leave. Because he's gotta win at all costs, even if he doesn't even really like the person he's with (although I still think he'll sleep with Ray for real at some point, that doesn't necessarily mean he'll let go of Top).

TopMew. I dunno, I actually thought they were sweet this ep. It's all gonna go to hell in a handbasket because Toto can't stop biting (yes this a Wizard of Oz reference and yes Boston is Toto) but I do genuinely enjoy them onscreen. *shrugs* I don't know maybe I'm just weird. Also I'm really looking forward to this implosion and the sweeter they are now the worse it'll be later. Mess, mess, mess!

And someone else pointed this out but it is interesting that all of Mew and Top's dates have elements of hiding/obfuscating (someone let me know who so I can link it, it was good). In the first one they are literally hunting each other, the second they can't hear (but I do think it's relevant that they choose to listen to the same song. Or well. Mew does), and in the third they can't see each other. And my own thought to add to that is that in every last one Mew is the one who gives himself away or changes or shifts.

But remember that in laser tag Mew was the one who shot. He might be blinded now but he's getting Lasik next ep (still hate that for him and if I don't joke about it this will just turn into a rant about not changing anything about yourself for a dude so).

I am wondering though if Top is going to tell Mew about what happened with Boston after the confrontation on Mew's birthday. Because he has to know that Mew is edging closer to the truth here, and Ray isn't just gonna give up because Mew hits him once (oh it'll set him back and as I said, probably send him haring after Sand to play the blame game, but Ray ain't giving up, both I think from genuine concern and because he will (maybe rightly) assume this will leave Mew vulnerable enough he'll consider Ray an option (to be clear, I don't think that this bit will be something he is consciously aware of or plans it just feels right to me)).

I still think that Mew has clocked enough weird interactions that he suspects something is up with Boston, and that is why he called him this ep. And I further think that he laid his nerves on so thick deliberately. I just don't think that him calling Boston to toy with him negates having actual feelings for Top. I think both can be true.

BostonNick. They had me in a chokehold last ep but as I said I'm not a fan of NIck Single White Femaling Top to be more appealing to Boston. Number one, Top's fashion sucks. Number two, Top's fashion sucks.

I wanted Nick to be more unhinged than this. I am disappointed that he's not.

That said, on a scale of "I can see it" to "dear god get it away from me", I still ship it more than

SandRay. Well they weren't kidding when they said that this is gonna be the angsty, dramatic one. I do still have hope that their angst isn't all about Ray being in love with Mew though. What can I say, I'm like Sand in a lot of ways, including my stupid, unsinkable hope that the clear writing on the wall will change if I just give it enough time.

I just feel like there are more interesting, far more relationship breaking ways to go with them. Like sure, Ray's in love with Mew, he's gonna wreck shit for that specific reason. But he's also kind of a dick about Sand's entire existence? Like he just can't stop being a spoiled rotten little rich boy for two seconds, can he? Don't think I missed all of his little digs about literally every step of the "let's spend a day living how Sand lives" experience. Because I did not.

I was also genuinely surprised that Ray asked about Sand's dreams, mostly because he's shown less than zero interest in Sand as a person unless it'll get him into his bed (or his hand down his pants). I mean I was happy he did because I wanted to know, but it seemed out of left field for me.

Ray's problems with alcohol would be an interesting direction to take things. Because that's another huge issue, and one I think Sand has only just cottoned on to (oh not that Ray drinks too much - he clocked that way back - but just how very very bad it actually is). Is he gonna stick his nose in? I feel like he might.

What does give me hope that at least some of this is planned is that we are getting the Mew Problem so early. That it will continue to be one I have no doubt - I've said it before and I'll say it again, Ray will let go of that crush only if someone pries him away from it finger by finger - but surely that can't be it, not when we're getting so many other ways that these two don't work?

I also think that Sand's tendency to turtle is going to cause problems, although I understand him far more than Ray (in case it wasn't obvious). Personally the reason he frustrates me so much is I wouldn't just turtle away from any of it, I'd reel back so hard and so far that you'd never find me again, haha. So Sand's continued return to the same things that hurt him frustrates me beyond belief.

I think he should have just asked his questions. I get why he didn't, why he retreated into "you don't owe me anything and I have no right to ask" rather than hear it directly from Ray that all Boston said was true. Of course he doesn't need to hear it, Ray's reaction was enough, but also it might have done them both good to have Ray say it. I said it already, but in some ways Sand is doing this to himself, and not just by sticking around when everyone knows he should not.

I also wonder how much his ex trauma is playing into his withdrawal here. Because when Nick was saying that he feels like nothing compared to Top, Sand's response was "I know how that feels" (probably not an exact quote, but you get it). He's already played this game before and lost. I can see why he might try to just take himself out of it the second time around.

That said, the way I need that ex to show up real time and not just in flashbacks is insane. I need them to show up and I need for all those feelings Sand's clearly just shoved down to come bubbling back up and make everything worse. Please let the ex show up at the worst possible time. Please please please I'm begging. 🙏🙏🙏

I wonder how long this attempt to keep boundaries with Ray is going to last. Not long, is my guess.

In Conclusion

All these bitches are messy, some in a more fun way for me personally than others.

Yo is the best character in this entire show and I will hear no arguments.

And where are the lesbians?

#only friends #only friends the series #rankings

[hollowpointwords0o]

Not stopping

18 or older>

Based on a dream i had, so i am gonna try to write this as best as i can. This is a Jensen imagine.

Jensen: You are an actor on the show, your Deans love interest and ere comes a kiss scene, After the actor yells cut do you stop or continue.

Warning:: Smut. Fem oral, P in V Protected sex. Slight Daddy kink,

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

You were getting ready for your scene with Jensen, Jared and Misha. You joined the show only a few months ago. Dean and Sam found your character (Mac) when they were hunting and took you into the bunker, things just took off from there.

"Y/N we are ready for you on set." you nodded and got the final touches of the makeup done. Walking to the set, heart pounding. Why though? Oh yeah cause your dumbass is in love with Jensen. Knowing you shouldn't be because he's married but it happened and you wish it didn't. Jared is the only one that knows about this. He over heard a phone call with your mother.

*FLASHBACK*

"I know mom but what can I do. I love him but I'm not allowed to. Fuck why did my heart have to pick Jensen?" "You love Jensen?" Jared screamed.

"Gotta go mom. Dude you can not tell anyone what you heard okay. Promise me."

"YOu know his married right.

"No shit Jar. It's not like I meant to fall for him. Please don't tell him"

"I wont but you should before things get worse." You just nodded my head and he walked away. Of course you didn't say anything. And now your here on your way to kiss the man you secretly love.

"ACTION"

Dean: Dammit Mac you cant just run into a nest of vamps like that. You could have gotten your self killed.

Mac: But I didn't and I had to save the kids.

Dean" Just do not ever do it again. You can't be that stupid.

Mac: Oh why do you even care Dean. Since I got here all you do is tell me what I do wrong. You could give two fuck less if i died.

Dean: You wrong.

Mac: Oh yeah and why is that.

Dean: Because I love you. I have since the minute I met you. Dammit i can't lose you. I won't.

Dean/Jensen walks up to you and kisses you. *CUT* calls the director. But Jensen doesn't pull away and neither do you. the kiss deepens. His hand finds your waist while yours finds his hair. Jared walks up and pulls you two apart. He looks at the both of you and says that they yelled cut 2 minutes ago. "excuse me" . Speeding walking, more like running the hell out of there and into the bathroom. Locking the door behind you, sliding down the door and started crying.

Why did you have to kiss him. Why didn't he stop. Does he feel the same way. So many thoughts run through your mind. Getting up you go your trailer, grabbing your keys and leaving.

It's the weekend thank god so you have time to figure things out. Jensen tried calling. never answered though. Monday rolls around and you have a meeting with the directors.

"I need to leave the show" They nodded knowing full well why you are leaving. Back at your trailer, Jared walks in seeing you pack your things.

"Are you leaving" Words would not come out so you continue packing. "You can't just leave Y/N. If this is about what happened you can move past it. It will be okay..."

"LIKE HELL IT WILL BE JAR. IT'S TOO MUCH. THIS IS BEST THING RIGHT NOW"

"What about Jensen" "What about him. He's married. Happily i might add. He doesn't love me. He doesn't want me." You finished packing everything in your box. You took off your necklace that you wore since the first episode you were in and set on the table. Jared looked at you and his eyes filled with more sadness. Taking it off meant you wanted to leave this whole thing behind you and not just the show, but the town. He hugged you "Don't be a stranger he whispered. ANd with that you walked out.

A few hours later you were at home packing. Not everything but enough to stay with your mom until you get things in order.

*AT THE SET*

Jensen is houting your name looking every where he can. Worry flooded his mind when he couldn't find you. Finally he goes to trailer in hopes that you would be there taking a nap and that's why you didn't hear him. Walking him he sees Jared sitting at the table with his head in his hands. "Where is she man1' "She's gone dude"

"What you mean she's gone." "She left Jensen. Shit got too much and she left" "What shit. Man what are you going on about?" She's in love with you man. Has been for a while. And that kiss made things in her head blur. Why did you have kiss her like that." "I don't know man, Things have been blurred for me too okay. But I don't have time to explain please just tell me where she is. "

"Like I said man she's gone" Jared but the necklace in Jensen's hand. Looking at he knew. Shoving it into his pocket he ran outside and to his car. But it blocked in. Looking around he sees one car that isn't. BABY. He drabs the keys from the set and hops in. Speeding off to your house. The whole time shouting and praying that he gets there in time.

He slams BABY into park and runs to your door knocking on it as loud as he could.

As your packing you hear a loud banging on the door. Heading down the hallway you open the door. Only to see a panting Jensen at your door. Before you could speak he chimes in.

"You cant leave. The show, the town or me. Okay I need you here with me Y/N. Since I met you all I can think about is you. I look forward to seeing you smile and being around you. Okay that kiss it wasn't Dean kissing Mac, that was Jensen kissing Y/N. I didn't want to stop. When Jared pulled us apart all I wanted to do was pull you back in. I love you baby. Please don't go. " He waits for you to answer. You stand there for a minute. "What about your wife" "That's over, it's been over for a while. We are just holding out for the kids." Before getting a chance to sat anything his lips were on yours.

Once again the kiss deepens. He kicks the door shut with his foot and pushes you up against the nearest wall. His hands roam your body while yours tugs at his hair. A slight moan leaves his lips, turning you on more. HIs lips move down to your neck, biting hard, for sure to leave a mark but right now you don't care. You tug at his shirt. "Impatient are we" He laughs. You nod. "Jump" You jump up and wrap your legs around his hips. He walks to your room. Laying you down on the bed he kisses you again. Tugging at his shirt once more he finally takes it off. You hun your hands up and down his abs which earn a slight moan from him. He helps you take off your shirt and bra which he undoes with one hand. His lips find your breast while his hand plays with the other one. "Fuck" you moan while arching into him

He switches breasts and hands. Moans escape your lips and you feel him smirk while sucking on you nipple. Jensen kisses down your stomach and stops right at the line of your jeans. Helping you take them off he kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks a strip between your folds causing you the throw your head back. Jensen starts sucking on your clit. "OH shit Jensen" You moans while tugging at his hair. He groans at the sound of his name leaving your mouth in pleasure. He adds a finger, then two. Moans and profanities is all that you can make. "Jensen Im..I'm close. Oh fuck gonna cum" "do it baby. Cum for me, let it all go" And with that you scream his name and cum hard. So hard it cause you to black out for a second. You open your eyes to see a surprised Jensen. "Damn babe I think you squirted. That was hot. Do it again for me yeah." Before you could protest his mouth was back on your clit and fingers pumping in out of you at ungodly speed. "OH GOD JENSEN YES> FUCK DONT STOP RIGHT THERE." You came quicker then before and harder. Squirting once again. Jensen comes back to kiss you. Making you taste yourself. Your take your hand and rub his hard on. "As much I want to feel your mouth of my dick I need to be inside you right now. He takes off his pants and grabs a condom from his wallet.

Climbing on top of you, he looks at you one more time, nodding your head "yes" And with that he slowly pushes inside you. Giving you time adjust, "Move" He moves slow giving you time but you can tell he wants more and that's exactly what you tell him. "More Jensen please" "Baby I give you more I won't be able to hold back, i will pound this sweet tight little pussy of yours raw. You won't be able to walk tomorrow." Do it" Jensen's sped starting increasing more and more. Pounding into you just like he said he would. He goes faster and hard the more you moan and scream for him. He groans and moans in your ear. Fuck how is is possible to get more turned on while getting railed. To deep into your thoughts you didn't hear him. He halts his movements which brings you back to reality.

"Oh look at my pretty little slut. Too dick drunk to even listen to daddy's words. I said you won't cum until I tell you to understood." Words won't from so you nod. This causes Jensen to pull out and slam hard into you. "Words darling. use your words" You didn't though. Mind fuzzy, you didn't speak. which again cause Jensen to pull out and slams into you. "SHIT" you moaned loud. "YES I understand daddy please just move. I need you" Jensen smirks and moves once more. Nails digging into his back. God" he groans in both pain and pleasure. He sits up on his, grabs your hips and pulls you closer, going harder then before he takes his thumb and pushes it hard against your numb. "Yes right there. Oh god." "Wrong darling. Me. God don't got shit to this with this. It's all me. Making you feel this good. Making you dick drunk. Me who is causing those sweet moans to come out.. He grabs your hand and puts it on your stomach. "Feel that baby. That's all me, filling you up." He grabs your neck making you look at him. " Do not moan god's name again." He goes back to fucking you senseless, and rubbing your numb. You clench down against him. Trying to hold it in. "Jensen I can't hold it. I'm so close. Please."

He shakes his head. "Not yet baby. I'm almost there okay hold it for me yeah. You can do it. With in a few minutes his thrust gets sloppy and his breath pick up. "Come with me Y/N" You and him let go at the same time. Riding out yall's highs he stops and lays on you for a minute before laying beside you discarding the condom into the trash can beside your bed.. You turn to lay on his chest while trying to calm your beathing.

"I love you Y/N . Will you be mine." He looks at you with eyes pleading. You smile and look up at him. "I already am" HE smiles and kisses you one last time before pulling the cover over you and falling sleep with you in arms.

************************************************************************

First time writing something like this. I hope you enjoy.

#dean winchester #dean smut #jensen ackles #imagine

[wherestoriescomefrom]

https://lithub.com/from-fleabag-to-persuasion-the-rise-of-the-mussy-haired-self-hating-sarcasm-machine/

bringing you excoriating persuasion reviews 🙏

you have to be my favourite person. thank god my mutuals are not running away from my english canon era, i promise it will pass soon and i will NOT be discussing tristam shandy or anything..................... i will spare all of u that pain.

also thank u for this review it made me think a lot ngl. lithub always does really nice contextualisations of any text, but yeah, this one was particularly interesting because i don't see why self awareness and fourth wall breaking has to happen from fleabag-esque characters also. i don't actually fault the method of fourth wall breaking, you know... i know it would work better with something like Northanger Abbey. many have argued this, and i totally agree, but i have so many reservations at hollywood being able to pull it off. because catherine moreland is once again not a fleabag-esque heroine, and if she was looking at the camera, she'd be excited that she found a stash of secret letters that turn out to be linen inventory, if you know what i mean?? i think it could work, if she looked at the camera in happiness and thrill, and then found that no, she isn't in a gothic story. but that would require hollywood to know that self-awareness does not go hand in hand with messy heroines, that girls who are aware of tropes and cameras and everything else can also be happy people, angry people, sad people, and most of all, sweet people.

anne was supposed to be a kind person, someone who was very perceptive. can't an introvert with a generous heart look at the camera every once in a while? does self awareness always come with bitterness?? arguably, anne elliot's character was the most painfully self aware of all of austen's heroines, she was so able to pierce through her own faults and still recognise what made her a worthwhile person. she was so kind despite her circumstances, and her only mistake was in not learning soon enough how to prioritise herself.

i think most of all,,,, rom coms have become too aware that women like rom coms, and if a woman likes something, the thing itself will go out of its way to assure you that We're Cool Actually. even the trailer for that movie - Honor Society, i thought it was fun and cool, and i liked the ruthless main heroine even though i am yet to watch the movie - but it's just,,,, so conscious, it doesn't even try to be sincere. everyone's winking at the camera, aware that it exists, promising you that we're better than the camera. that the camera is in on the secret, that we need not be sincere. no one is looking at the camera and being truthful - being earnest, being conscious. i don't think anne would look at the camera in judgement. she would look at the camera in compassion. thats who she is - despite her loneliness and isolation, that's who she would try to be. i still don't think persuasion is the best story for this technique, but if you wanted to try doing it, you could. and this movie just didn't.

anyway im sorry for this i just had a lot of feelings and i had to put them somewhere. thank u for giving me this opportunity <3

#jane austen #persuasion #persuasion 2022 #northanger abbey #the people??? want me to answer??? #i talk about books for the hundredth time like its a new thing #hello void this is ridiculosity

[prismatica-the-strange]

I'm Falling Down Like Starlight

Warnings: 18+, blood, Spoilers for Stranger Things season 4 Vol. 2

Synopsis: Angsty Fix it fic. The last Time Eddie and Mika see each other before they attack Vecna, and the first time after.

Pairings: Forged in Hellfire

Song: Once and Never More by Shadow Academy

This was just supposed to be the before but I couldn't stop and now I'm crying.

The Winnebago slows to a stop in front of the Creel house.

"You guys be careful, you understand me?" Steve says as Erica opens the door.

"Don't do anything stupid," Mika says, leaning in to kiss Eddie goodbye. With her hurt ankle she wouldn't be able to run around in the Upside Down, so she was put on babysitting duty, in case anyone decided to give Lucas, Erica, and Max trouble.

"Promise," he says against her lips. His hand finds hers and he holds on tight, "I love you."

"I love you more," she says as she pulls away, starting to back away.

He doesn't let go, and he lags behind her, "I don't think you do, Songbird."

He stops when Robin grabs the back of his vest, but he keeps squeezing her hand.

"Eds," she keeps moving for the door.

"No... No Mika, I don't like this," his chest fills with anxiety as her fingers start to slip from his, "Stop."

"I'll see you soon, I promise."

"Mika please," he tries to step forward, but Robin holds him back. His chest heaves and his eyes dart around the rv at the others, he feels like he's saying goodbye for real, like he's never gonna see her again, "I fucking hate this- Mika wait!"

Her hand falls from his, "Mikaela Please!"

She mouths another 'I love you' before she steps outside with her bug zapper and notepad.

When they start driving off he bolts to the back. He throws open the curtain and slaps his hand on the window, "Hey! HEY!"

She stops on the sidewalk and looks over.

"I love you! I'll be back soon! Be careful! "

His voice is muffled by the glass and distance but she hears him and she almost starts crying as she waves them off.

▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎

The four book it back to Eddie's trailer, the cars not theirs but at this point they don't care.

Max is in the back with Lucas, she has a broken arm but is otherwise fine.

They get there and the trailer is surrounded by cars, men with big guns, and an ambulance.

They come to a sudden stop when she sees them wheel someone out on a stretcher, Dustin hobbling close behind.

"Jesus Christ."

That's Eddie

She throws the door open, car still running as stumbles towards him.

"Eddie!"

Two of the men stop her. They're telling her she needs to leave, but she can't hear them over her heart pounding in her ears.

"Let me go!" She struggles against them, "He needs me!"

"Let her go," She doesn't even register Owens, who she met after the lab incident, as he pulls her through the line. She's running now, needing to get to him.

The paramedics look at Owens when she reaches for him, brushing his hair from his face.

He's laying so still and his Hellfire shirt is torn to shreds. There's so much blood, soaking through his clothes, drying on his lips, sticking in his hair.

"Jesus fucking christ," she feels tears roll down her face, "Eddie? Baby? Wake up. Baby wake up. Please. Please."

"Miss Carlisle-"

"Eddie, wake up! Edgar!" Her shaking hands cup his face. "Eddie look at me!"

"Mikaela," Owens gently tries to pull her away, "You need to let go. He-"

"No!" She cries, the others all watching her from the trailer door, "I'm never letting him go again!"

She presses her forehead against his, "God, please wake up. Please Eds. I need you."

Dustin, who up until now was crying in his sister's arms, steps towards her, nearly falling on his probably fractured leg.

"Mika," he puts his hand on her back, "They need to get him to the hospital... He'll be okay, but you need to let him go."

She looks over at the freshman, his clothes stained with blood, his eyes red, and cheeks wet with tears.

She looks back at Eddie's face still held in her hands. She lightly presses her lips to his and her heart stutters at how completely unresponsive he is.

"Okay," she breathes, tucking some of his unruly curls behind his ear before stepping back. She feels Dustin wrap his arms around her waist, and she hugs him back as they watch them load Eddie into the ambulance.

▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎

She's completely numb as she stares down the empty hallway.

The waiting room is cut off from anyone else as Owens assures them that he'll take care of everything. All the hospital bills, Eddie being wanted for murder, all of it. He even says he'll take care of what Mika did to Jason when Lucas explains what happened.

She doesn't care about any of that, not then. She just keeps seeing Eddie, her Eddie, laying there, looking dead.

He's never been that still before, not even when he's asleep. He truly looked dead.

Whoever is talking stops when she let's out a small sob, hand covering her mouth as her legs give out, "Oh god!"

"Guys?" Robin looks back at them, her hands on her shoulders, easing her down to sit against the wall, "I don't think she's okay."

She not.

Her whole body shudders as she tries to breathe, hand clawing at the silver chain around her neck.

"Hey. Hey, Mika," Nancy takes over, hands squeezing her arms comfortingly, "Look at me, yeah?"

She forces her eyes to focus on her face.

"Eddie's going to be fine, okay?" She tries to reassure, "Sure he's banged up now, but the doctors are back there fixing him up for you."

Her lip trembles.

"I-I can't... I keep seeing him just-" She falls into her, "He looked so still."

Nancy looks at Robin in shock as Mika shakes him her loose hug.

They'd never seen her like this, not even after she was attacked by packs of Demodogs and bats.

They all knew her as a girl that got into fights and smoked weed with her punk boyfriend.

▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎

"He'll need time to heal," Doctor explains, "We're not sure when he'll wake up."

8 hours on the table and he still looks so still, so close to death.

"But he will wake up?" Wayne asks. He was called in after the group was done coming up with a cover. It took longer than expected because Jason wasn't quite dead, so they couldn't blame it on him. But they manage.

"It'll be touch and go for a while," The doctor continues as they watch Mika step towards the bed, "But whether he wakes up or not is up to him."

She sit on the bed next to him, fingers shaking as she so so gently wraps them around his hand.

It feels odd to not have his rings against her skin.

Something about seeing him like this, hair washed, dressed in a hospital gown, hooked up to an IV, and wired to the beeping monitor next to him makes it all come crashing down on her.

He's alive.

That beeping is the sound of his heart. He's breathing on his own.

He's alive.

She let's out a shuddering sigh as she leans down slightly, lifting his hand to her lips.

"You'll be okay," she mutters, linking their fingers and holding the back of his hand to her cheek, "You're okay."

She spends the next week there, sat at his bedside. She rarely goes to the cafeteria to get food and ends up eating whatever junk is in the vending machine in the hall. Her mom visits often and brings her real food.

She spends most of her time talking to him, holding his hand, playing with his hair, and sometimes she just stares at his face, trying so hard to memorize him harder than she already has.

His uncle doesn't know how she sleeps with her back bent like that, head on her arms on the bed while she holds his hand.

She doesn't want to think he's alone when she sleeps.

A week later, she's leaned back in her chair, feel kicked up on the bed next to his legs, as she very animatedly reads The Hobbit, when she hears a noise. She almost doesn't notice it, but it's just loud enough to catch her attention.

She looks over at Eddie's peacefully sleeping silhouette. She sees his Adams apple bob and his eyebrows scrunch before his mouth opens. A small, crackly, groan comes out.

"Eddie?" She sets the book aside and sits up as her her feet drop to the floor.

"Mm... Mi-" he loses the word to a choked sound.

"Hey," she moves to sit next to him, one hand holding his as the other cups his cheek, "Don't try to talk. Can you open your eyes for me?"

It takes a moment but he manages to force them open.

Tears sting her eyes when she feels him weakly squeeze her fingers

"Mornin' Sleeping Beauty," she laughs tearfully, unable to stop herself when she leans forward to press the softest kiss she can against his lips.

"I'm gonna go get a doctor," but when she gets up he refuses to let go.

"I-...I-" his voice is shot from disuse, he can't get the words out.

"Shhh..." She kisses his hand, "I'll just be at the door."

"I-... I Died?"

Her face falls and she sits back down, "No. No baby you're alive. You just got hurt bad."

"I-" He tries to swallow, "h-heard you... crying."

He lifts his left hand to caress her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"I-it's okay p-pretty thi-thing," he croaks out, "E-Eddie's her-re now."

°•°•°•°•°•°

Forged in Hellfire taglist: @pointlesslygay

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x OC #prisma self ships #forged in hellfire #fix it fic #prisma writes #angst #shadow Academy