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headkiss · 11 months

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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thealogie · 2 months

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picture this. you're michael sheen, beloved queer-friendly welsh actor and recent twilight saga vampire. you want your favorite book to become a tv show, and you want to be the lead. so what do you do? you befriend the author. he wines and dines you, you become a confidant in the scriptwriting phase. and in the process of the GO script you decide you don't want to be crowley, actually, you want to be aziraphale. you put in the work for months to influence the author to the same conclusion. so when neil gaiman comes to you one day saying, "i know you joined on to be crowley... but how would you feel about playing aziraphale?" you say, what a novel idea! i was feeling the same way, i just didn't want to say anything! let's do it.

you're michael sheen, the lead in the adaptation of your favorite book. you meet david tennant as your leading man, a rising star (and vocal fan of yours) you've had a few vague interactions with in the past. on set you immediately find the closest friend you have ever and will ever find in your life, and you know this. the romance you have in your (yes, your) show is ambiguous, but you're michael sheen. you think that romance needs to be explicit. so what do you do? you become a nightmare on set. you get really hands-on; you make costume choices, you make story decisions, you tell your author friend at the very end of filming: aziraphale is in love with crowley and realizes it in 1941. now go do it again.

so the author goes and does it again. you get a season 2. you get 1941 part 2. you're michael sheen, and you are the lead of the adaptation of your favorite book, and the romance you littered into the character you built from the ground up has become unambiguous. everything goes according to plan. but, you see, you have a problem: the author you have baby trapped is acting a FIEND on twitter and tumblr. he's saying everything he can to imply aziraphale and crowley aren't sexually attracted to each other. he's getting a bit too bold with his character assumptions, is all i'm saying. so here's what you're going to do: you play it up with your pal david tennant. you made a show with him during lockdown. you're going to depict your lives as even more intertwined and homoerotically codependent as previously possible. you grow even closer. your wives become best friends, too, because how could they not? this has been the plan since the beginning, too. your lockdown show ends. it wasn't enough.

so you, michael sheen, of course you put in the work. if david tennant's there, you're damn sure you're there physically, spiritually, biblically, in whatever capacity you can be. it's not hard. david tennant is a big fan of yours, after all, so he MAKES SURE you're always in the conversation. you have him wrapped around your little finger, this lovely little boy, and so you know what you do next? you become neighbors. you make your directorial debut casting your best friend's wife watching her husband and male neighbor initiate sex with each other. you play into the swinging rumors (that you, michael sheen, had started). you create a narrative that you and david tennant are two homoerotic besties, and is there more going on in the background there? any deeper conspiracy? who really knows, but what you do know is that the world is talking about it.

and you, michael sheen, your entire acting career has led to this moment, your gay quips, your oscar wilde sex scene (and the interviews following), all of your queer roles, EVERYTHING has brought us to this conclusion. you have created the lab perfect conditions where season 3 must have an explicit gay sex scene. i'm sorry neil, my hands are tied! the people are clamoring for me and david tennant to have sex-- i mean aziraphale and crowley to have sex, the public decided this all on their own! i really don't think you have much choice. but of course, i would never deign to tell an author how to practice his veritable craft. i concede to whatever version of series 3 you create, and i will happy to bring this beloved character to his deserved ending.

and why do you say this? because you're michael sheen. you're just an actor who incidentally stumbled his way into leading the queer romance adaptation of your favorite book that wasn't a romance, and you just read the script the way that it was given to you. and if series 3 means an explicit sex scene between you and your best friend david tennant, then what a lovely coincidence that you had absolutely no part in making happen. because what power do you really have?

This is my favorite book I’ve read so far this year. A rare occasion where the author pulls off use of the second person pov. I really felt like I was a beloved welsh actor crossed with Machiavelli when I read this

#michael sheen

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sukunas-wife · 3 months

Text

Valentines Special

A little something for the masses 🤍💌 Happy Valentines Day everyone 🤍🤍🤍

“Two of whatever just came out.” Sukuna knew what came out, it was Friday on Friday they made snickerdoodles fresh. The smell always filled the school entrance and shoe locker room pulling students in to buy. He was always there just in time for the old to sell out and the fresh to come out. The same amount every day 143 yen, he kept the exact change daily in the stupid little coin pocket of his wallet. The jingle of his wallet while he took out the coins was always accompanied by the whispers and giggles of girls when Gojo Satoru would make his daily appearance gracing everyone with his cheeky smile, hands stuffed into his pockets, crude remarks being passed off as flirting.

“Thanks for that.” Gojo slid the pack of cookies Sukuna was about to pay for toward himself, “Fuck of Satoru don’t touch my shit unless your looking to lose the hand you jack off with.” Sukuna slammed the coins on the counter, snatching the pack away from him before walking away. He didn’t care to listen to whatever Gojo was screaming back at him, he had his own stuff to worry about, that stuff being finding you before you started running late to your class. Sure he was late to his classes but a teacher wouldn’t say a damn thing once they saw his face. But you, you were a mess. He didn’t understand what you saw in being Student Body President. You show up early to school, skip breakfast because your sense of time is shitty, stay late after school and always look so tired after dealing with incompetent fools. At lunch it’d be a miracle for you to eat on your own, more often than not he’s dragging you to the school's garden and feeding you whatever you packed him for lunch. And when it’s the right season, whatever fruit he can steal from the garden.

Perfect timing as always, he caught you running up the stairs. You stopped smiling up at him, he was at the top staring down at you, eyebrow raised at why you were holding your skirt down like you could flash anyone. Why were you wearing one of those slutty mini skirts anyways, usually only Gojo’s fan girl wore those to catch his eye. He usually saw you in those skirts that were knee length, sometimes ankle length. He liked it like that, you looked different from everyone else, it amused him when you’d grab the front of your skirt hitching it up to run up the stairs, his eyes would always long in your stocking covered squished thighs when you’d raise your skirt too high in a hurry. But this mini skirt, you didn’t miss the change in his face, and you looked down, “My skirt got torn by my desk and this is all the nurse had in the and found.. i don’t know how you lose a skirt really but…”

He sighed, “damnit Y/n you really are a mess ya know.” You watched as he untied the black sweater from his waist. He moved to stand behind you, one step down, “Ya know how many fucking perverts are in this damn school just waiting to get an up shot of some girls underwear.” You felt his arms come around your waist and you moved your hands away watching as he tied a knot with the sleeves, “It’s disgusting.” He didn’t move away, your hands rested on his around your waist, you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, “What happens if one day I’m not here to take care of you huh?” You turned your face to look at him, his red eyes were staring down at you. You did your best to kiss his cheek, “I’ll just have to suffer alone Kuna.” He scoffed at you, “whatever.”

You couldn’t help the smile when you pressed your lips to his cheek again, your lips lingering and he hummed before moving to face you, catching your lips. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, smiling up at him, his eyes were lidded with a lazy smile. The warning bell pulled you out of your little lovey staring contest, “Change that skirt when you get the chance or I’m killing the first pervert to look up your skirt.” You rushed up the stairs and he leisurely followed behind til you made it to your class. He never failed to eye your class out of judgement, more specifically looking for that dumbass Gojo that was in your class. He was always ready to get into a fight with that prissy twink. You watched him make a face and looked into your class, there was Gojo Satoru, staring right at your boyfriend with a frown of his own. Between the two it was like watching an adolescent Snow Leopard and Tiger getting ready to fight for a fresh meal. What would you expect from two of the most well known families in your city? Satoru’s family was well into being wealthy, their lineage producing world class Models and successful doctors, it was no surprise when on show and tell in elementary school Satoru brought in magazine’s of a white haired blue eyed child saying he was a baby/toddler model. As for Sukuna’s family, they have a much longer history in this city then Satoru’s. Trumping Satoru’s family in wealth, but what would you expect from a family who had long been dedicated to beating the head of a successful and thriving branch of the Yakuza.

You remember the first time you met Sukuna’s father. Sukuna had taken you out to buy a traditional kimono, get your hair done with jade combs and pins. Telling you about how his father was a very traditional man with values such as, respect your elders and those above you, never steal or wrong the everyday man or woman, never disrupt the harmony of your family or those around you, never become involved with drugs and always act chivalrously. You admired the way he talked about his dad, he looked up to him with respect, admiration so you agreed to do the best you could.

His house was not just a house, it was a Shinden Zukuri, it was massive, and glorious. It was exactly what you would have expected from his father from just hearing of him. “It’s…amazing Sukuna.” You turned to look at him and he was smirking down at you, “I know it is.” He led you along the path to one of the entrances and to the Genkan, you slid your shoes off and held onto your bag. Following sukuna further into the house, and out onto the engawa of the home until he stops at another room, he slid the shoji door open telling you to enter. He took your bag, placing it on a shelf against the wall, and you looked around the room. It was almost empty except for the white men's kimono on the kimono rack. You looked at Sukuna. His school shirt was open and he pulled it off, throwing it over your head, “Leave that on.”

you heard the rustle of fabric, all you could see was the white fabric in front of you until we pulled it off of you and you looked up at him, his brow was furrowed as he tried to fix a hair comb that came loose. You could see a part of his chest showing through his Kimono, he leaned closer mumbling something about the comb being difficult. He smelt good, it was masculine but clean, he smelt like a candle he once bought you, Bergamot, Lavender and Cedar. You couldn’t help the little sniff you took and he let out a single laugh pulling away from you, “weirdo.”

You just smiled up at him and he led you further into the “home.” Stopping right outside double sliding doors, “alright, if you’re not ready by now, you’ll never be. So if you're not ready and you fail, sorry to break it to you now you’ll probably never see me again.” He gave you a cheeky smile when he saw your scared and worried expression, “Su-alright no backing out now.” He slid the doors open bowing and greeting his father, and there he was, frozen for a second the man was massive in size and he was only sitting. He was shirtless and covered in tattoos, you swallowed before dropping into a deep bow greeting him and introducing yourself in a calm but confident way. You didn’t look back up until you heard him let out a low chuckle and tell you to stand at ease. Your face was still looking down, if that’s what Sukuna was going to look like when he was older, there was already no doubt in your mind you wanted to marry him but if there was even a smidge or shadow it was gone. Sukuna’s father cleared his throat, “Sit, I want to learn more about the little lady who managed to leash my boy.” Sukuna groaned as he put a hand on your lower back, ushering you forward to sit with him across from his dad…. The rest was history.

The Late bell pulled you from your memory, “I’ll see you-at Lunch yeah yeah go before that teacher Yaga comes in and marks you absent.” He nodded with his head finally looking at you, you smiled. You saw the small twitch in the corner of his lips before he stepped back and started walking to his own class with no haste.

——————

It had been a week since that day but more importantly it was the weekend before valentines. Here you were in your kitchen doing everything to make the perfect gift. You’d gone to the store that morning spending a decent amount of your savings on things to make sweets and bake little things for him. There was no doubt in your mind that just like last year, your boyfriend's locker would be filled with love notes and chocolates that he’d either let you have your choice of or throw away. The love letters, you’d read and go though all the candy bullying him about his little secret admirers before he’d crumple them up throwing them into the trash.

But right now! You were focused on making homemade chocolate filled with red velvet cream, smooth white chocolate, or almonds. You had taste tested so many you finally got the right flavour. They weren’t bitter, but not overly sweet like the store chocolate you watched him make a face at, one time. On the other hand, you had little chocolate heart shaped cookies you’d decorated with royal icing trying to make cute valentines designs. The lines weren’t the cleanest or fanciest but you liked them enough to pack them into a little treat bag with a red bow and a name tag. The Chocolate you packed into a gold box with a bright red satin ribbon. And the little cake tin you chose was a gold tin with a clear top. You wanted to make a milky cake with whipped cream and strawberries. You even bought a bigger bento box to make a special lunch for him, you had it all planned out. It was a three layer bento. Your plan was to stuff him and push him into a food coma for his final class. The first was beef and vegetables with white rice with pickled plum and pickled ginger he always ate like it was nothing. The second layer was tempura shrimp, a pickled cucumber salad and fried rice. The final layer was two egg salad onigiri with sesame snap pea salad. On the side was going to be your cake and a little egg pudding. There was no way he’d be cranky in his last class if he was stuffed to the brim.

——————

“no more…” You watched Sukuna as he dramatically fell over into your lap breathing heavily as he huffed. One arm thrown over his eyes, the other hanging down still holding the onigiri he had yet to bite into. Your hand scratching his head gently, “Happy Valentine's Kuna.” You did your best to angle yourself and lean over to kiss his forehead. You didn't miss the smile on his lips when you pulled away, he held the onigiri up blocking the sun when he uncovered his eyes, the little face you worked so diligently on for him. “Maybe one more.” You watched wide eyes when he stuffed half of it in his mouth before holding it up to your lips, his cheeks puffed out while chewing, it was cute for someone who without a doubt could snap your neck or make anyone cry and want to die with just words without having to raise his voice. He hummed offering to feed you some of the onigiri again and you took a small bite. Before your finger came to pick a grain of rice off his cheek, it was cliche and even worse when he eyed your finger and pulled it to his lips licking the grain off. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me.” His cheeky smile made you break out into a smile when he shoved the last of his rice ball into his mouth struggling to sit up, “damnit, I can’t.” He gave up and laid back in your lap, “I live here now.”

“Wait there’s one mo-no I can't I’m full, look at me.” He patted his stomach with his hands, you didn't see a difference in his fit form, that was until he saw the reflective gold and his eyes widened, “wait!” You watched him wiggling and struggling to sit up, putting a hand on his back to push him up, he made grabby hands at the tin when you pulled it away, “I thought you couldn’t- I can! I lied, I do that sometimes.” He tried to lean over you to grab it but you leaned further, so he did what he would never do publicly. He grabbed you and hauled you over into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist holding you there, “Now feed me y/n.” He rested his chin on your shoulder looking at the cake. Whipped cream and a heart made of strawberry purée and strawberries, “heh, you do all this for me, pretty girl?” Your smile was big and ungraceful when you laughed at his nose grazing your jaw and neck. “Yes, it’s all for you Sukuna, I wouldn’t do this much for anyone else.” You turned and kissed the side of his temple and he smiled, “cmon open it.” You fed him and he hummed, his chin resting on your shoulder tilting it so it rested against yours.

You sat like this for while feeding him and yourself until the bell rang, he squeezed you holding you against him, “C‘mom even little miss perfect can take a break, let’s stay out here a little longer.” You reluctantly agreed and kept feeding him what was left of the box cake. Eventually he just held you there, smiling and laughing at how you told him your story of how you messed up and your poor parents who had to be taste testers.

Soon the last school bell rang, he opened his eyes just barely glaring at the intercom that played the obnoxious chime. One arm was tucked behind his head, the other around your shoulders holding you against him. He was sitting back leaning against the plum tree the school planted. Your head on his chest, eyes closed with soft breaths, arm draped over his chest. His school coat was over you, he almost didn’t want to wake you, but his back and butt were aching from being in this slouched angle for so long. So slowly he started to sit up, trying to gently wake you, your eyes opening to look up at him. He was so beautiful in the setting sun in your eyes, “What time is it?” Your question went almost unanswered until he pulled out his phone, “it’s time to go home is all that matters.” You didn’t look away from his face and he looked back at you, holding eye contact. “Happy Valentine’s Day Kuna.” Your small tires smile and sleepy eyes squeezed his heart. He leaned in nuzzling his head to yours, “it’s not your day yet but Happy Valentine’s Day Brat.” You closed your eyes smiling until you felt his lips, you were delighted to kiss him back before he sat up pulling away, “we gotta get up my ass is starting to hurt.” You laughed getting up with the help of his outstretched hand, “I guess you’ll just have to take these home with you.” You didn’t miss the flash of excitement in his eyes when you pulled out the gold box of Chocolates and red ribbon tied cookies. You smiled and he grinned like a mad man carefully stuffing them into his bag.

“Ya know brat, I never celebrated Valentines before…” he trailed off and you didn’t miss the hint of pink on his cheeks, it made you smile and take his hand. “Guess I’ll just have to spoil you next year too.” He scoffed looking away but you didn’t miss the way he held on tighter to your hand, “Good because if you think you can just leave your dead wrong.”

It was the full bloom of red on his shocked face when you kissed his cheek so innocently and said “If I leave anything it’ll be my last name,” that assured you in a way he wouldn’t fight you on that subject.

Tag: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@cyder-puff @bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

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stevie-petey · 4 months

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we thought love was something (we weren't meant to find)

﹂ season two of "come home"

as you approach a year since will's disappearance, things seem to be back to how they were. you still have jonathan and the boys, hawkins is boring again, and you and steve harrington aren't really friends. you convince yourself that it's fine, but time can't heal all wounds, and you sure as hell have your fair share of them. when will starts having episodes and your brother hides a literal monster from you, junior year becomes a lot more painful than it already was. (and because you can never win, steve gets dragged into it). (more complicated feelings arise). (as usual).

episode one: MADMAX - what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

episode two: trick or treat, freak - you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

episode three: the pollywog - you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

episode four: will the wise - jonathan is gone for one day and suddenly all hell breaks loose, your hesitant friendship with steve is already rocky (thanks billy) but steve is hot when he's angry tbh, you become a couple's counselor to lucas and max (sorry dustin), and you're now officially the world's worst cat owner ever. and babysitter. but what else is new ?

episode five: dig dug - you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

episode six: the spy - dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

episode seven: the mind flayer - jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

episode eight: the gate - you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 2 and 3

﹂ episode nine: the fall - surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season two title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #get ready gamers #season two is alllll about steve and the kids #this is the season ive been waiting for <3

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jqngkooz · 5 months

Text

'tis the damn season (1) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+ (no smut in this chapter though!)

genre: f2l? more like idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, eventual smut

warnings: the miscommunication in this is so frustrating (sorry 🙃), previous love confessions, unrequited love (not for long), crying, rejection, very pg sexual tension, alcohol

w/c: 2.8k words

a/n: hiii omg okay so this is my first time ever posting something i've written. i've always been a silent reader but i really want to start posting because i love writing. hopefully this is good, hope you enjoy!

summary: When Jimin convinces you to spend christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your entire friend group, you’re forced to face the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for your best friend Jungkook after all these years.

Your parents had never gone away for the holidays. Every year without fail they pull out the itchy christmas jumpers that you and your brother hate so much and cook a ridiculous amount of food. So when they told you they were planning on spending this christmas on a cruise ship around the Caribbean, you were left with nowhere to spend the holidays. Sure, your brother had his wife and kids to spend it with, but you? No one. And now it’s five days before christmas and still with no plans you’re not left with many options.

“Jimin,” you groan, “I’m looking for serious suggestions here.”

He doesn’t look up from behind the kitchen island as he chops onions.

“I am being serious. You’re not spending christmas alone with your cat and your vibrator, come with us”

You slump further down into the couch, weighing up your options. Spending christmas alone at your age is embarrassing. The fact that you don’t have a boyfriend and haven’t had one in months is embarrassing enough on its own. But having to see Jungkook again was by far the worst-case scenario.

Jimin puts the knife down, wipes his hands on his apron and comes behind the couch, gently massaging your shoulders.

“Please come. It’ll be so nice. Tae’s aunt has the nicest cabin in the mountains. We can get shitfaced, roast marshmallows, hell I’ll even watch one of those crappy Hallmark movies you love”

He leans down, forehead on your shoulder and puts on his sweetest voice as you sigh.

“Pleaseeee, you won’t even notice he’s there”

The last time you saw Jungkook he had turned up at your door, shaking from the rain.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here? It’s freezing”

You drag him out of the September chill as he steps into your apartment, big black boots treading muddy water on your floor tiles.

He sighs, “Don’t marry him.”

His eyes are big and glossy, staring down at you in the twinkly way they always do.

“Jimin told me he proposed. Don’t say yes. Well I mean obviously you already said yes,” He rambles, glancing down at the ring on your finger as he nervously bounces on the balls of his feet, “but take it back.”

You must look absolutely dumbfounded, watching in confusion as he stands in your hallway soaking wet and pleading.

You shake your head, “No, you can’t do this right now. Are you seriously doing this right now?”

You laugh dryly.

“I can’t believe you. I thought you liked Mark I don’t- I don’t understand”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth. His nerves running rampant. He knows he has no right at all to spring this on you but he can’t watch you get engaged to this guy that he knows isn’t right for you. He knows that he should have confessed earlier, years earlier. He’s had the chance to tell you since high school and he never did, he was always so afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I do like him, he’s fine. But I can’t- fuck I can’t let you get married to him without you knowing how I feel. You know I’ve always had a thing for you, you’re not stupid. And god, I know this is a bad time but if I don’t say this now I’ll never get the chance to”

No, no, no.

“Please don’t say it” You practically beg.

“I love you. I always have.”

He’s utterly desperate, he’s sure he looks foolish, but he doesn’t care right now.

“I’m in love with you” He repeats.

That night you had turned him away, back into the cold. Jungkook wasn’t much of a crier but his bottom lip wobbled as he stood staring at your front door. It’s not that he expected you to just drop everything, drop Mark, and fall into his arms, but he hadn’t exactly expected you to turn him away either. He stopped hanging out with Jimin and Yoongi after that, too afraid to see you again. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did, ‘Sorry for telling you I love you the day you got engaged’?

“He won’t want me there, Jimin. He hasn’t spoken to me in months, it’ll be awkward.” You groan, resting your head against his.

He chuckles, “You two have got to just get over it. You’re adults for god’s sake. You bickered all the time in high school but you always made up. Please, I really want you there, it won’t be fun without you”

Goddamn Jimin and his persuasiveness.

Somehow, you find yourself piling into Tae’s car. Yoongi slings all of your bags into the trunk before sliding into the backseat next to you.

“Namjoon is bringing Seokjin, Hobi and Jungkook. He said they should arrive around 5 ish so, just a little after us” Tae says. Your stomach turns, what do you even say to him? If you attempt to make conversation you’re certain he won’t reciprocate but if you ignore him that’s even worse. And unfortunately, you love your friends and there’s no way you’ll be the one to ruin this trip for them by making things awkward.

“God I’m so ready for some actual fun. I’m surprised work even let me have christmas off, it’s a nice change not being treated like a slave for once.”

He lays his head back and closes his eyes.

“Nice to know at least one of us is gonna be having a nice time. This is gonna be hell.” You retort.

Tae adjusts the rearview mirror as Jimin hops into the passenger seat before he speaks, “You’ll be fine. You’ll make up, hold hands, maybe fuck it out. Stop worrying”

“Hey,” he adds “If Jungkook’s not willing to, I will”

Jimin grimaces, “You’re sick."

When you arrive, the cabin is huge, a mix of wood and sleek whiteness. Fairy lights twinkle around the outside of the house, reflecting off of the snow.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi squints out of the car window, “This place is amazing, what the hell does your aunt do for work?”

Tae shrugs as he parks up and the engine turns off, “I don’t know, something for the government. She’s not allowed to tell us or some shit”

The boys begin taking the bags into the cabin and dumping them in the hallway.

“Someone needs to get us some food. My aunt said she left some cans and stuff but nothing perishable so.” Tae shouts from the kitchen as he rummages through the cupboards.

You take in the cabin. It’s impeccably clean, with a fireplace below the ridiculously huge TV and a cream couch in front of it. The walls in the living room are painted a forest green and littered with mismatching photo frames filled with old pictures of Taehyung’s cousins and family.

“You were so cute Tae,” You shout back, leaning closer to a baby picture of him standing on the beach, cheesing at the camera, “What happened?”

“You’re going to the supermarket for that.” He quips.

But you don’t mind, you want to see the town anyway. You love the snow and have always dreamed of living way off the grid in a place like this. Sure, the city is great, all busy and fast and full of light but there’s something about a place like this in the middle of nowhere that you love. Maybe one day when you have kids of your own you’ll move out of the city and into somewhere like this. God knows you don’t want to raise them in the city.

You feel like your fingers are going to fall off. Your nose is probably an embarrassing shade of red and you feel like your eyes might actually get iced shut soon. The supermarket is warm, thank god, and you glance down at the shopping list.

Don’t forget wine!!! Is scribbled at the bottom, with a small smiley face.

You have no idea what wine everyone likes, or if they even all like the same wine so you grab a few red and white, along with some chocolate that you’re ready to stash in your room for yourself.

“Sorry, can I just get to the-”

A figure squeezes in front of you, reaching up to grab a bottle of wine. You’d recognise that tattooed hand anywhere. You step back, squeaking out a “sure” that has his head whipping around at the sound of your voice.

“Sorry, I- I didn’t recognise you. Your hair it’s um, shorter” He’s biting his lip. It’s a nervous habit he has, like how he fiddles with his fingers when he’s sad or grins with those bunny teeth when he’s really happy.

On the contrary, his hair is longer, falling down in dark waves that frame his face and partially cover his ears. His lip shimmers with a silver ring, that’s new.

“Oh yeah that’s okay, it is.” You reply, looking down at your shoes like an idiot.

A beat passes. The supermarket isn’t busy and there’s no other shoppers to help cushion the awkward silence. No one comes down the aisle.

He clears his throat, “It’s really nice to see you. How have you been?”

You had thought about this moment a million times over in your head, wondering if he’d be cold, mad, anything. But he’s not. Of course he’s not because he’s Jungkook. The same shy, 15-year-old you met in math class, who whispered the answer to you when he saw the panicked look on your face. He’s probably the kindest guy you know, you’re certain there's not a bad bone in his body.

“Um, I’ve been good yeah. What about you?”

There’s an unfamiliar space between you as you both stand a few feet away. It’s weird. He’s always been a touchy guy, never hesitating to hug you or stand close to you. Seeing him for the first time in months makes you realise how much you miss it all. Even his annoying inability to walk in a straight line, always leaning into you and accidentally pushing you into the road doesn’t seem so annoying right now.

He takes a sharp breath in as you look up at him.

“Yeah I’ve been okay” He starts, “I’m guessing they sent you out for food too?”

He glances down at your basket.

“Yeah, I’m on turkey, veg and wine duty.” You say with a small laugh. He can’t believe how much he’s missed that sound, his stomach turning. Of course he had to ruin what you had by telling you he loved you. He must have replayed that scene every night in his head, cursing himself for being such a selfish idiot.

“Ah I’m on snack duty, just thought I should pick up some wine but I see you’ve got that covered.” He smiles. That damn smile.

Another awkward silence.

“You never called.” You blurt out.

He seems a little taken aback, not expecting you to talk about it so soon. He thought maybe you’d pretend that it never happened. He shifts his weight onto his other leg. The basket feels heavy and he swears he’s sweating under the bright lights.

“I didn’t know what to say. You didn’t exactly wanna talk to me that night. I thought it was better to give you space”

You purse your lips into a fine line, nodding.

“I’m sorry,” You might as well lay it all out on the table now, “about everything. I should have called too. I just want this christmas to be nice and I don’t wanna make It awkward for the rest of the guys. I just um, I just wanna be normal again. With you”

You screw one of your eyes shut, bracing for his response. He nods.

“Agreed. And I’m sorry too. Really fucking sorry.” He laughs shyly, “Say the word and it’s forgotten.”

It’s almost completely dark when you get back, pushing the cabin’s door open. The fireplace is on and the house is loud with laughter. Jimin and Namjoon are standing in the kitchen, the rest in the living room watching a football game.

“Namjoon’s car’s here!” Jimin says happily as you step inside, shaking off the snow. Jungkook follows behind you, closing the door.

“I know.” You shoot Jimin a look as his eyes flicker between you and Jungkook both holding shopping bags. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we sent both of you…miscommunication I guess” Jimin says sheepishly.

Once the shopping is put away and the fireplace has finally defrosted you, Hobi brings out the board games. You munch on some pretzels as you all sit on the floor huddled around a Monopoly board.

“You’re totally cheating- he’s totally cheating!” Seokjin sighs out of frustration.

“No, I’m fucking not,” Hobi’s eyes go wide at the accusation. “I had a get out of jail free card.”

“You already used it!” Jimin and Tae say in unison, bursting out laughing. It’s nice, being together as a group again. Yours and Jungkook's fight, if you could even call it that, meant that the whole group hadn’t been together in a while. Even now as everyone argues it’s nice, it’s familiar. As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook leans towards you and says quietly,

“This is nice. Reminds me of when we all used to play uno during our lunch periods. You always used to peek at my cards.”

You look at him in shock, “You knew about that? I thought I was sneaky.”

He chuckles, his shoulders bouncing up and down in the fitted black shirt he’s wearing. He’s gotten buffer in those three months you haven’t seen him and you’re wondering how his sleeves aren’t bursting at the seams.

“Of course I knew, I just always let you win because it made you happy.”

You laugh at that. To him, you’ve gotten impossibly prettier since the last time he saw you. It’s like your eyes have gotten bigger and rounder and your smile even wider. If he’s gonna be honest with himself, he’s still in love with you. How could he not be? He has been since he was 16, but something always got in the way. A college boyfriend of yours or his job or a girlfriend of his or your fiancé. Every time he felt like you two might be getting close something came in the way. Library study sessions where your hands would brush against each other and neither of you would pull away, or nights where you’d turn up at his dorm in tears over a stupid boy that hadn’t treated you right, and he’d gotten so close to just kissing you. He was afraid to ruin the friendship you had, always pulling back before it got too real and turning to flings and hook-ups to try and dull the ache in his chest that only you could relieve.

“I really missed you,” he says before correcting himself, “missed being friends with you. I’m sorry that I messed everything up. I wish I could go back and just, not turn up that night.” He runs a hand through his hair, “I shouldn’t have interfered with your relationship, no matter how I felt. I just really want you to know that I’m sorry.”

Your chest warms but his use of the word ‘felt’ isn’t lost on you. You hadn’t expected him to still feel the same way but it still stings. “I missed you too Jungkook. I felt so stupid after I closed the door on you, I should have just heard you out and listened. Mark and I were never going to work out anyway.” You laugh awkwardly and take a sip of your wine.

He nods, “I know but it still wasn’t right. I was an idiot. No feelings are worth losing a friendship over. At least that’s all in the past now right?”

Right, definitely in the past. Your stomach’s definitely not in a knot right now, twisting and turning at the smell of his aftershave as he leans next to you so close that you can feel his body heat. Those feelings are definitely in the past as you look into his big eyes, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire behind you.

You gulp, “Yeah.”

The doorbell rings, stopping your conversation with Jungkook and the ridiculous argument about whether or not Hoseok is cheating. Jungkook stands up, jogging towards the door.

Jimin looks at you confused as if you have the answer. You shrug, everyone’s attention is on the door.

“Guys this is Isabelle. I thought it’d be cool if she stayed for a few days.”

The girl stands in the hallway, pretty and well put together as she sends you all a small wave. Jungkook looks down at her with a smile, squeezing her shoulder. There’s an awkward silence, no one really knowing what to say.

You feel like your heart has dropped so far that it might be in your ass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #fanfic #fanfiction

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eriexplosion · 2 months

Text

Tech Lives: An Ungodly Long Essay

(AKA: Turns out that my Tech Lives compilation post comment was actually a threat.)

There have been hundreds if not thousands of posts since Plan 99 aired wondering if Tech might have made it after his fall - it's probably been brought up more than any other hanging plot point, even after season 2 scooped up Omega and left us on a massive cliffhanger. Now that season 3 has started, though, Omega and Crosshair are home (for now) but we have received an almost aggressive lack of Tech info. So, I've gathered up some of the stronger Evidence for why Tech might be fashionably late but still on his way back from The Void!

THE LEAD UP

So to start, let's go back to what came before the whole Incident. This will focus mostly on season 2, seeing as that was definitely Tech's season to shine, but with bits about plotlines in season 1. Which brings us to our first bit, that's not really evidence so much as some gentle push-back on a common argument.

Doomed By Character Development?

We've all seen this particular situation before - a character is slated for a tragic death, so just before it happens the writers gives them a little extra relevance to the plot to make sure the audience really feels it when the time comes. The Clone Wars was especially good at this, giving characters like Fives an arc of his own that ended in his tragic death. Season 7 gave us a better look at Jesse, first in the Bad Batch's intro arc and then again through the Siege of Mandalore, all to bring us to the chip activation that led to his ultimate death.

When season 2 started off with one of the two intro episodes spotlighting Tech and our first breather episode of the season also spotlighting him, people started to get worried. So is it fair to say that his spotlight in season 2 was setting him up for a permadeath?

Looking at it, I don't think so, for multiple reasons. For one, Tech didn't just get a spotlight episode, his development dominated a good chunk of the whole damned season, often taking priority over the other characters that wouldn't be dropped into the mists. While giving a little bit of character development to a doomed character can be a good move, giving ALL your development to a doomed character ends up feeling like a good portion of your season was actively pointless.

The Bad Batch is not an open ended show. It seems to have been planned for the three seasons it got, and they would have gone into it knowing they had a set amount of time to work with. Dedicating so much time to developing Tech in preparation for a character death takes away all of their opportunity to develop, well, anything else.

But, along with the amount of time that was dedicated to Tech as a character through season 2, they also didn't develop him in the ways that most often get used for a doomed character. Namely...

That Sure Is A Lot Of Open Plot Lines

And not one of them got tied up. Currently, Tech has two open plot lines to himself, both started in season 2, as well as a key place in the overall show narrative arc. As the overall show narrative arc takes precedence, we'll start with that.

The Bad Batch sets up a few different narrative arcs very early. One is if clones can be more than soldiers - this is the central thing that we see them struggling against from the start, they've been created to be soldiers and don't know much else about how to function in the world. Theoretically this arc can be fulfilled with one or two of them still dying as soldiers, as long as a few of them make it to find a new life for themselves.

The arc that can't be fulfilled without everyone though is the ongoing thread of reuniting the batch. Much of the show is geared towards making the viewer want this specific end result, as soon as they talk about Crosshair, Omega says they'll just have to get him back and complete their family. The end of season 1 teases us with this only to pull it away at the last moment, then season 2 teases us with it again only to yet again pull it away, this time seemingly permanently.

Ending one of your key narrative threads you've been using to draw audiences in only 2/3rds of the way into the show and without ever resolving it... well it would be a choice. If Tech is gone for good then the last time we saw everyone together would be the end of season 1. Rewatches would lack impact because something that was made to seem so vital ended up going nowhere, and the series finale would never quite reach the height that hearing the full batch theme kick in over the team fighting droids together did. It absolutely destroys the central narrative to leave him gone without ever having reunited the family.

And then there's his personal plots.

Let's start with the obvious one. Tech got a whole potential love interest this season and they absolutely did not resolve a damn thing about it.

Again, this takes a trope that we all know - the young army man that's going to go home and finally marry his girl, who has his whole life ahead of him, but dies tragically in his final mission - and seemingly intentionally subverts the beats. Because what makes the trope work is that the plot line is resolved as soon as that young man decides how he's going to move forward. He can't die uncertain of if he's going to marry his girl, he has to make a decision, and the longer we spend on the relationship to his girl the stronger the decision has to be to consider the narrative line resolved and free him up for some tragedy.

Tech/Phee is a tentative little 'will they or won't they' romance. They're flirting, they're feeling each other out, they're seeing if they're compatible. To tie up this narrative line we would have to find out if they are or not, get a yes or a no on the question. Will they or won't they? We simply don't know because the writers didn't put a resolution in.

We do get the traditional pre-mission scene with them, which would normally be when we get the first kiss or perhaps the promise of a date, either of which would have had me digging Tech's grave for him to fall into from the second it happened. Or even a 'we can't do this right now, but maybe some day it will be the right time' which would have been a kind of lukewarm resolution but would have at least represented a decision.

Instead we get a scene that almost aggressively refuses to resolve anything. They have an awkward interaction, but not one that says they won't get together, no promises are made for the future, no decision point is reached, and the plot line is still dangling wide open when Tech falls to his supposed death. If we truly leave it off here, well, what was the Tech/Phee subplot for? Why did we spend precious time on it when it could have been spent on something else, if it was meant to make Tech's death hit harder why did it not go further?

A second subplot with Tech is that he certainly made the most progress on seeing options outside of the Empire - it starts early on in Ruins of War when he meets Romar and gets his eyes opened to the idea of cultures that existed unconnected to the war. Serenno existed before the war and before the separatists, and Romar introduces Tech to that idea of an ongoing culture. He gets a taste of racing in front of a cheering crowd, leans further into his teaching of Omega and gets new insights from her regarding their lives as soldiers, his relationship with Phee picks up right when he finds out that she is interested in the preservation of cultures. It's a quiet little subplot, but Tech was seeing the full scope of what the galaxy contained beyond being a soldier in a war.

But, like the Tech/Phee, it never resolves. He never decides to settle down, he never chooses to stop being a soldier or even openly discusses the idea of what life will look like after. Rescuing Crosshair isn't positioned as a final mission that they have to complete in order to give up their lives as soldiers. Without that decision point being reached, the plot stays open, we never find out what he Would Have Done so we don't get a sense of the future that he would lose by dying, which is what the purpose of these types of plots is for a planned permadeath.

The Kaminoans don't create without purpose and writers working on a three season timeline don't typically write without it either. So if we spent the time on Tech/Phee but Tech is dead before it ever went anywhere, if we spent time on Tech's relationship with being something other than a soldier but he never really pursues it, what is the payoff?

Too Much of a Survivor To Die?

There's also the matter of how they chose to build Tech's character this season. Namely they beefed that man's skills up incredibly high making it intensely unbelievable that he's dead without seeing some sort of concrete proof. Things we know about Tech as of the end of season 2 include:

Incredible pain tolerance - Tech fractures his femur in Ruins of War and seems shockingly unbothered by it. The femur is frequently listed as one of the most painful bones to break. This is not a broken toe the man is hobbling around on, he fractured the strongest bone in the body and kept going through the woods. He physically fought and killed a man with that busted femur.

Lightning fast mental processing - this is of course on display nowhere so much as Faster where he's put up against droids and wins by taking calculated risks that no one else is willing to try.

A cool head in stressful circumstances - this one is hilarious because he outright says it, but Tech does demonstrate time and time again that when it comes down to it, he's able to keep calm no matter the circumstances.

Essentially, we spend the entirety of season 2 setting up why Tech is the perfect person to drop out of the sky and have him survive. He has the ability to keep calm and come up with a plan in seconds and he has the grit to keep moving even if he's grievously injured once he hits the ground. When you set a character up like this, you can still kill them, but you have to work harder to do it convincingly. Leaving Tech not at the moment of death but with probably at least a minute to act in and then not showing us the body is the exact opposite.

We have a moment in The Crossing showing us Tech's precise aim, and it comes up again to brutal effect when he shoots out the connection on the rail car. If moments through the season were used to set up that particular instant of the finale, then we can't discount the numerous scenes demonstrating his survival skills as being irrelevant to his chances.

Plus, looking back at Ruins of War - one of the big moments in the episode is towards the end, where Romar tells Tech, "I'm a survivor. Remember?" The camera then lingers on Tech for a long moment. It's not the kind of action that demonstrates his capabilities as above, but it works to associate the words with Tech in the viewers mind. Romar is a survivor, and Tech is a survivor too. And when you intend to kill someone off, it's kind of an odd choice to spend that whole season setting them up as a survivor.

THE FALL

Which brings us to the scene itself. Plan 99, implied to be one of the last ditch plans that they have. It's absolutely a heartbreaking scene, and one that can be tough to analyze when it's so well done, because it's rough to watch repeatedly. But, it's worth doing, because the scene itself is FULL of questions, some structural others more based in the visual presentation.

What is Plan 99?

Well, that's just it, we don't actually know.

We know what it's implied to be, a self sacrifice plan where one of the batch gives their life for the others to get away. But in show it's never actually defined, leaving the full meaning of Plan 99 up to interpretation. It could be as simple as what it's implied to be, but that brings up questions like 'why not provide any lead up or foreshadowing for it?' and 'does killing yourself actually count as a plan?'

Removing the assumptions from it gives us room to speculate. Is the plan actually that they leave him behind, dead or alive? Hunter ordered them to do so without a plan number in season 1, but he is the sergeant, so plan 99 could easily be something that bypasses his authority - if a batcher calls a plan 99, you go and you don't question his decision. It's certainly closer to a plan if there's something they are supposed to be doing from their end rather than just an announcement of intent.

It's not strictly evidence one way or another, but it is something of note when Tech's entire sacrifice is based around a plan that we're not privy to the details of. TBB has hidden its twists in ambiguity before, so it would not be the first time that it let us assume something only to pull the rug out later. But ambiguity is not the only thing that makes this scene stand out in the raising questions department.

Pacing Goes Out The Window

Generally speaking, a self sacrifice is the climax of an episode. Think Kanan, Hardcase, Gregor, Hevy, etc - Even a minor character sacrificing their life tends to make up the most climactic portion of any given episode, let alone one of the characters from the title squad. It gets to be the big central moment, the big rush of music and feeling, the pinnacle of the viewers attention.

Tech's sacrifice is not. It happens around 5 minutes into the episode, is rapidly moved past with barely a moment to think, and then the actual climax is Omega's capture on Ord Mantell. They even repeat the music when Omega is captured, except much stronger this time, making it clear that this is the emotional crux of the episode, this is the scene that is supposed to stick with you.

The opportunity to make it the climax of an episode was certainly there. The storyline could have been adjusted to put Tech's fall at the end of The Summit, allowing more time in Plan 99 for processing his loss and making it feel final. The pacing choice is one that doesn't allow the viewer to process the loss, only giving us maybe a couple minutes of time with actual emotional reactions before we're barreling off to the next plot point. Why was Tech's death de-emphasized within the episode if it is indeed our last moment with this central character?

Tarkin, Eriadu, & Saw Gerrera

A lot goes into the set-up for Plan 99. We have Tarkin's base on Eriadu as the setting they're working within, going up against Tarkin for the first time since early season 1. This is the big leagues, and something that's come up in multiple interviews is that when going into the den of one of the franchise's big bads we have to have consequences, something to demonstrate that Tarkin is not to be trifled with.

Sounds reasonable enough. Except Tarkin doesn't actually do anything in either of these episodes. The thing that actually threw them off was Saw's planning mixing in with their own.

All Tarkin does upon finding out that the batch is stuck on the rail is order an air strike and ignore that this would kill many of his own men. This is certainly evil, but it's standard Imperial evil. Rampart would have given that order. Hemlock would have given that order. The guy in Tipping Point that we know for 5 minutes before he fried himself would have given that order.

So if the point of this finale was to demonstrate Tarkin's power, then bringing Saw in both complicates the plot and devalues what they're claiming they are trying to show. So is the point to get them to Tantiss? No, because they fail in that. They don't plant the tracker, they're no closer to finding Crosshair than they were before.

By all accounts the point of the whole endeavor is in fact just to drop Tech off a sky rail for reasons unknown and injure Omega to force them to go back to Ord Mantell. These two things could have happened anywhere in any way of course, so why choose Eriadu and why choose to complicate the plot by introducing Saw rather than letting Tarkin handle the job?

They're questions we don't have answers to yet, but they're very hard to get answers to if Tech is dead and completely out of the picture. Having a dead body on Eriadu is fairly useless to the plot, having a living Tech on Eriadu though? That has potential to move them huge leaps forward in a very short amount of time once we bring him back in. Especially given his conversation with Saw prior to everything going downhill - Tech was in favor of gathering intel from the facility rather than destroying it.

And what about Saw, anyway? If he was genuinely there to cause problems and fly away, again, that's a plot wrinkle that isn't needed and took time away from everything else. If he's there because they needed someone to pick Tech up though? There's potential there.

Did Tech's Sacrifice Mean Anything?

In universe, Tech's sacrifice means everything, of course. It's a decision made in the moment to risk everything to save his family. It's a noble deed and one he does without hesitation. But pulling away from that narrow scope of an in universe perspective, what did we accomplish narratively with his fall?

Well... not much actually! They got over the bump in the road that they encountered all of five seconds ago and promptly crashed headfirst into another, different bump in the road. Tech's dramatic sacrifice didn't allow them to escape unharmed, it didn't allow them to find Crosshair, it just allowed them to move a few steps forward, after which Omega is almost killed and then captured, which is a fairly weak reason to sacrifice a whole major character.

But not every character death is exclusively about narrative, sometimes it's about the character arc itself. So does this close out anything for Tech's character development? Again, not really. Tech has always been completely loyal to the squad and would have risked anything for his family. He never had a choice not to fall, it was either just him or the whole team, and he is an endlessly logical actor. The action would have played out the same had it happened in the series premier or the season 1 finale, or any other time in the show. If anything it's a backtrack on his character by putting him solidly back into the soldier box that the show is trying to let the clones grow out of.

Maybe it's not about Tech's character though, maybe it's about everyone else's! Does his death change anyone's trajectory? Again... no, not really. We'll get into season 3's lack of mentioning Tech later, but in the immediate aftermath of his fall, no one's course or actions is majorly changed because of his loss. Hunter wants to go back to Pabu where it's safe, the same thing he wanted to do before they ever left for this mission. Omega puts herself in danger to save her brothers, which has been one of her defining traits since season one. Wrecker is following Hunter's lead, same as he always did. (We get very little of what Echo hopes to do, but the opening of season 3 reveals that they went back to work with Rex, exactly like they were doing before.)

So narratively nothing required him to die, the character's arc isn't completed, and the other characters aren't motivated to change. If Tech dies here, it's the picture of a shock value death. It doesn't complete or inform his character, it doesn't need to narratively happen in order to put Omega on the path to being captured, and thematically it exists just to give the viewer an unnecessary gut-punch when just the failure to rescue Crosshair and the loss of Omega would have been enough.

Framing is Everything

In a death scene there's nothing more powerful than our final shot of a character. The very last we'll ever see of them, the image that will linger in our minds when we think of that character from then on. This is especially important in animation where everything has to go through several iterations before deciding on what that final look will be. You want it to be impactful, you want the audience to have one final connection to the character before they're gone for good.

So why does Tech die with his helmet on?

If there's one thing TBB is good at, it's their expression work, and a death scene is a perfect place to show off their full range, which is why most deaths meant to have a heavy impact occur with faces unobscured. Crosshair loses his helmet and takes Mayday's off so we can see both of their faces as Mayday dies, Slip, Cade, even Clone X and Wilco, all die helmetless. Looking into older series you have Kanan dying without his mask, Fives, Hardcase, Waxer all dying helmetless with one last good look at their faces and expressions.

And while Tech's helmet gives us a good look at his eyes, the rest of his face goes unseen, and Wrecker's face as he watches this happen is completely obscured. We're denied a look at a lot of their expressions as the decision is made and Plan 99 is executed, rendering it less personal than it otherwise could have been. Tech could have lost his helmet in the blast that knocked him from the rail, Wrecker could have had his helmet knocked off at some point to give us a good look at his expression. TBB isn't known for pulling its punches, so why leave our final look at Tech's face back in The Summit and not here?

Then there's the framing choices. We get some absolutely amazing shots of Tech during the fall, from taking the shot to falling backwards towards the cloudy cover - but here's where some interesting choices are made. Rather than letting our last shot of him be a face up shot that keeps eye contact with the camera as he falls, they make the choice to have him flip over, and we hold the shot as the rail car goes down after him, partially obscuring him.

Which means instead of our last glimpse of Tech being something like this.

We end up with something closer to this.

Which, while we all love those Tech crotch shots is somewhat less impactful emotionally. These frames go through multiple departments and get multiple eyes on them before going through final animation, and no one thought that leaving him face up and unobscured until he disappears into the fog would stick more firmly in the viewer's memory?

The Flip Might be Intentional

And I don't just mean out of universe, as every detail of animation is often intentional, but in universe as well. If you look closely at Tech as he falls, he seems to roll his shoulders back in order to begin flipping over. It was a specific enough detail to send me searching for a reason and I found it in instructions on how to survive a long fall - the first thing that you're supposed to do? Get into the arch position like a skydiver to slow and control your fall.

The flip was important enough to not only include but to include the small detail of Tech intentionally flipping himself over into said position. It's not a confirmation but it's an interesting detail, and one that has very few other reasons to exist.

THE AFTERMATH

Image chosen because even thinking he's alive I didn't want to pull from Omega reacting to the fall on Ord Mantell. Looking at her makes me Sad. So the fall has happened, the rail car has rushed forward and crashed, and Omega fades in and out of consciousness until finally waking up on Ord Mantell to the bad news.

"What if he's hurt?"

Omega is our POV character for the show. We may sometimes see things she doesn't, but emotionally she remains the center of the narrative, the character that the target audience will see themselves in. Her ultimate thoughts on a situation are the closest we have to a clear indicator of our intended takeaway.

So it's interesting that the first thing we hear out of her, having heard that Tech 'didn't make it,' is a firm denial. He can't be gone, he might be hurt, he needs them and they need to go back for him. And, despite Hunter continuing to talk with her about it for a bit, we never actually hear Omega explicitly take it back or verbally acknowledge Tech as dead. The closest we get is 'lost' which she also uses for Echo in The Crossing.

Now, here's where the interpretation between the adult and child audience will likely differ. From an adult perspective, this is a reasonable reaction for a child her age. It comes off as very natural that she doesn't want to accept it and that she doesn't have time to really process that it's true before the scene moves on. It makes sense from an in universe perspective.

However, the main audience is still children who actually are Omega's age and who are being presented with her as their window into this world. And their takeaway, seeing that same scene, is likely to be that Omega is correct. They don't know that Tech's dead, just because an adult says it doesn't make it true and just because Hemlock says it DEFINITELY doesn't mean it's true, they have to go back and check.

If they wanted the main audience to think that Tech is dead for sure, they could have had Omega be the one to say that he's gone, with Hunter simply confirming it for her. Alternatively, Omega accepting it when Hunter tells her would also function in the same way - ultimately, as the POV character, if Omega doesn't accept it there's a strong possibility much of the audience won't accept it either, especially without other evidence.

No Body?

And, as we all know, we simply don't have other concrete evidence. Not only are the batch given no time to look for Tech's body or any confirmation that he died, but we get a whole scene with Hemlock and the goggles where he also confirms verbally that he doesn't have a body either. There's very little reason to have him say this outside of putting a bug in the viewer's ear that he might not be gone for good.

Not only do we have that verbal confirmation, but we have multiple places where a body could have been included or implied without adding much to the runtime.

Easiest place would probably be when Omega passes out - there's a trooper's corpse right there in front of her, and it would have been very easy to make that identifiable as Tech. Have one of the boys check his pulse like Crosshair did with Mayday and then be forced to leave after confirming he's dead. Would it require a little bit of fudging the details of how he landed so close to them, sure, but it would have been narratively streamlined and easy.

Have Hemlock bring his helmet rather than his goggles (and damage it in a way clearly incompatible with survival) or confirm that he did find a body but has no use for the goggles.

Put the body in Hemlock's lab when Omega is brought there at the end of the episode. Have a sheet covering him even if you want and just one of his hands hanging out, especially the one with the distinctive light on the back of it. Give us her reaction to that.

These are just the ones that don't involve adding scenes or making major changes - instead, in a franchise known for bringing back everyone and their grandmother especially if there's no body, they chose to leave it extremely vague.

Reused Score

The soundtrack for Tech's sacrifice is fantastic, I don't think anyone can argue that. In fact it's so good that it's used occasionally used as a reason for why he's dead for real. If it's a fakeout, why go so hard on the music?

It almost sounds like a reasonable argument, except that the music isn't even unique to Tech's fall. We get the same motif later in the episode with Omega's capture, and it actually comes in even harder and more impactful there than it did with Tech falling.

Reusing bits of the music has two results. It lessens the impact of hearing it with Tech if it is in fact his Death music, because it makes it clear that he is not the central feeling of the episode but rather, Omega's capture is. As mentioned before, deaths are usually the climax of their own episodes partially to avoid them being upstaged by any other plot points, but here Omega's capture is fully prioritized over the loss of one of our central characters.

The second result is that it changes the meaning of the music. It's no longer meant specifically to underscore a tragic death, but rather a more general one of loss and separation. And if it's simply about that separation, then it no longer requires Tech to be dead to have that same impact. They're apart from each other, and that's painful enough.

SEASON 3 SO FAR

Which of course finally brings us to season 3! We're five episodes in as of the posting of this, so a full 1/3rd of the season down, which gives us a good idea of how they're handling the whole grief aspect of this scenario.

They Aren't!

That's right, we simply have not directly acknowledged or dealt with the whole 'watching your squadmate fall to a presumed horrible death' thing even once in five episodes. Tech has been mentioned by name twice, we've seen his goggles once, and Wrecker makes one sideways reference to him having not made it back.

In universe, there is a several month timeskip and it seems to be implied that the majority of the grief milestones happened in that gap. For example, we don't see Crosshair finding out from Omega, we don't see Omega grieving her brother, we don't see Phee finding out (more on her in a bit) despite her fledgling romance. Months of grieving and processing skipped over and what comes out the other side is single line mentions that go by in seconds.

This is especially apparent after episode 5, where we got something to compare it to. Crosshair has a long, painful moment of grieving with Mayday's helmet when they return to Barton IV. It's deep, personal, and intimate and we take a minute with him gathering up the helmets of Mayday and his men to set them up on the crates the same way that Mayday had honored them.

Mayday is a one episode character that was important to only a single character, Crosshair - Tech is a core member of the team present through two full seasons and shown as close to every member of the squad. Yet the single scene grieving Mayday is longer and more emotionally gripping than every short mention of Tech so far in season 3.

Narrative Grief

Seeing characters grieve their loved ones onscreen is about more than just the characters themselves. It's also part of the viewer experience - through the characters' grief, we're able to process our own grief at the loss. It makes it feel real, it makes it feel personal, and the amount of grieving needs to be proportionate to the character's importance in the story.

This is especially true in a show written for children like The Bad Batch. Kids don't typically have the same experience with death as adults, and a well written main character death within a children's show will need more time and energy spent towards making the loss feel real. We see this with deaths like Kanan's; it wasn't Jedi Night that told the viewer that Kanan was really, truly dead, it was Dume, where the characters mourned him and dealt with the aftermath.

Currently, with Tech, we do see holes in the team that make us miss Tech but they remain completely unaddressed by the characters. We see Tech's goggles, but Hunter isn't looking at them, he's looking at Lula. Omega mentions Tech having taught her all the plans, but without any real sadness on her or Crosshair's part. The closest we get to actually bringing it up are Wrecker saying 'not everyone came back' and Echo mentioning the datapad would be difficult without Tech, and both of those are only seconds long before moving on. They don't serve as any kind of catharsis for the viewer, relying more on gut punch impact and keeping the wound open rather than allowing it to heal. The difference between the treatment of Tech's death and Mayday's just makes it more stark.

How Do You Like Yearning?

Interestingly, though, it strongly resembles the writing team's handling of another situation: Crosshair's departure from the team in season 1 vs Echo's in season 2. The show even drew a lot of flack for the lack of discussion on Crosshair's betrayal, as outside of a couple conversations the matter often went unremarked on. Echo leaving, on the other hand, got a whole episode dedicated to processing the loss immediately after it happened.

So what was the difference? Crosshair's departure is part of a long term plot point. We're supposed to want him back, we're supposed to want the team to talk about him, anything that would ease the tension. The writers on the other hand want that tension to remain until it's time to actually resolve the plot. So we get those slow drips in between bigger encounters, we get opportunities for Crosshair to come home that he doesn't take, and we don't get the catharsis of the team actually talking about any of it. We're left to want and imagine it, using the yearning to keep it on people's minds more than anything.

If Crosshair had been discussed on screen long enough for the characters to actually come to terms with his absence, though, that would have made the plot feel more settled and resolved early on. It might be conversations we want to see, but it doesn't keep the viewer on edge and craving a resolution. Best case scenario we're just not as desperate for Crosshair to come home - worst case scenario we accept that he won't be returning and find the fact that he eventually does to be unrealistic.

Echo on the other hand gets their absence processed immediately, because their absence from the team is not meant to be a huge plot point. It's something the team has to deal with, yes, and the viewer wants to see them again just like Omega does, but Echo returning isn't meant to be a maybe, and it's not supposed to keep the viewer wondering and worrying. It's a when, not an if.

Similarly to Crosshair, Tech has never felt like a resolved plot point. We don't get confirmation on his death, we don't get any long term grieving, and we get drip fed acknowledgements that pry the wound back open. If we actually see the team discuss and come to terms with their grief and loss, the plot point closes, the wound closes and we begin to fully accept a team without Tech in it, which makes it harder to reinsert him into the storyline if he is in fact alive.

If he's truly gone for good, what is the point of denying closure to the audience? We know that they are capable of writing an intense mourning moment that feels completely in character for otherwise emotionally repressed men such as Crosshair, so why not give us that with the team mourning for Tech? A memorial, an intimate moment with the goggles, a short scene of Crosshair finding out about the loss, or anything at all really? Once again it's something that makes sense if he's alive and we're simply not being shown yet, but makes very little sense to not capitalize on if he's dead.

What's to Come

We have ten episodes of season 3 to go, and a lot to cover. Reviews have indicated that Tech is not explicitly brought up in the first eight, so the earliest we could possibly have a survival reveal is in episode 9. Will it actually happen? Maybe, maybe not. Though interestingly episode 9, The Harbinger, is almost exactly one year after Plan 99, just like The Return aired almost one year after The Outpost. Could mean nothing, but they do enjoy their anniversary dates.

One thing we do know for sure is coming up is Phee's inclusion - she's seen in the official trailer, as well as briefly in a recent twitter spot. This is interesting as Phee is, of course, Tech's teased love interest, and her connection to Tech has been emphasized multiple times, including on her Databank entry and the official 'what you need to know about season 3' guide. When she comes onto the scene, it's very likely that more information about Tech will too.

MARKETING, INTERVIEWS, & SOCIAL MEDIA

I wanted to keep this mostly focused on what can be seen within the show itself, but it's impossible to talk about whether or not Tech is alive without pointing to the absolutely bizarre messaging from the cast and crew, as well as the marketing choices surrounding his sacrifice. (Example: the Instagram Mourning Filter they layered over him in the official trailer, as seen above) I won't get quite as detailed here as in the above, but it does have to be mentioned.

Constant Focus

In between the end of season 2 and the posting of the season 3 trailer in late January, there were several posts on various official Star Wars media. The majority of them were about Tech and Plan 99. In fact, I don't think I ever saw anything mentioning the giant 'Omega's been captured' cliffhanger, just Tech. Over and over again.

Once a character is dead, marketing generally stops caring about them. They're forward focused after all, they want you coming back for what's to come not lingering on what won't be relevant again. So why the constant focus on Tech?

And it wasn't just the social media either - a huge portion of the trailers and reels included old footage of him too. For the most part this was from Plan 99 and bringing up his fall again to rip open those old wounds, but in one case they included action footage from The Summit. This was an interesting case, because the majority of people watching wouldn't have recognized it immediately. Fittingly, the entire comment section was full of nothing but 'Was that Tech?' style comments, which they would have known was going to be the case to start with.

So why are we so focused on a man that's supposedly dead? If he's genuinely never going to show up again why keep putting him in? Everything? While not even bringing him up all that often in the show? If he's dead, this is a truly bizarre marketing decision.

Never Say Die

In interviews or in official material. For several months the word 'dead' was never used for Tech anywhere, not in interviews, not in official material, nowhere. It took until January 23rd for all of the databank entries to be updated, and among all of the main cast he's only referred to as 'killed' once, and it's on Hunter's page not even his own. Then, the Friday before the premier, an interview came out referring to him as dead - on the part of the interviewer, not the creators themselves.

Everything else seems to use a variety of euphemisms. His sacrifice, his absence, his loss, he 'plummeted out of sight', he 'fell from a tram car', he did absolutely anything it's possible to do except outright die apparently.

It's an odd choice when there's known controversy over if he's dead or not. The standard operating protocol of course, in a planned comeback, is to refer to them as dead anyway and allow fandom to fuel its own speculation, but with a fandom as devastated as TBB's was, it's quite possible that the odd behavior had to be introduced just to keep speculation going. The only interviews that sound remotely final came out right before the episodes started coming out - if they had done that from the beginning, the chances of people outright refusing to come back to the show likely would have been higher.

Much like the marketing, this is not necessarily proof of anything - but in combination with the multiple odd things in the show itself, it's certainly suspicious. Speaking of suspicious...

What an Odd Thing to Say

The cast and crew themselves have not been skimping on making strange comments when it comes to the Tech situation.

There is of course the well known Joel Aron (lighting director for the series) tweet that came out the day of the Celebrations panel (AKA when the Tech trauma was at an all time high) and in direct reply to a fan that was having a hard time with Tech's death. It's hard to take it as anything but a reference to Tech given the timing, and it was certainly taken as being about Tech in the quote tweets. If it's not about Tech, why tease the fandom with it? And the specification for it being a mid s3 episode as well...

Also from the day of Celebrations, and from the panel itself, we have Michelle Ang saying in front of God and everybody, that Tech "doesn't come back... in this episode, at least." At the time there was a possibility she didn't know and was just leaving it open, but with that only being ten months ago and the extremely long timeframe of animation, it's almost certain that she would have been done with all primary recording by that point. If you know he's not coming back, how do you accidentally imply that he is with no one correcting it?

Dee Bradley Baker, when asked for a farewell message from Tech at a con, came out with "the life of a soldier is fulfilled by fulfilling his mission and supporting his brothers. And this was the end of mine. And that's a good thing." Which was a perfectly serviceable goodbye right up until he said that the end of Tech's (life? soldier's life? mission?) was a good thing.

During an instagram interview we have Deana Kiner, one of the composers, in response to the interviewer talking about the final episode containing a major loss, saying, "It's kind of a loss... It's complicated." The claim on twitter was that this was about Omega, because everyone knows that when someone mentions the major loss in Plan 99 they're definitely talking about Omega.

So is Tech alive? Is Tech dead? We still don't know. But while one or two of the above might be a coincidence, having all of them at once coalesce around this single character death is a lot to chew over. The Bad Batch team has shown willingness to address grief and loss prior, as well as a willingness to show us death onscreen and front and center. So why, with such an important character, sidestep it all in order to keep it vague? Why keep it from sounding final for so long, if the intent the entire time was for him to be dead for good?

We won't know until he either shows back up or the show ends. If Tech's alive, all of the above starts to make sense. If he's dead... well a lot of things will just never quite add up. I feel that this team has shown enough willingness to follow up on their trailing plotlines that they've earned my trust. Fingers crossed for a satisfying resolution for all of us, and for our boy Tech, whatever that resolution may be.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch speculation #this thing is some 7500 words i might have an obsession problem

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Text

You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city.

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas.

You missed it the past two years.

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles.

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston.

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck.

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding.

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it.

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines.

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you. ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner.

You heard him before you saw him.

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo.

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas.

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant.

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out.

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges.

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition.

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out.

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher.

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’

A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party. You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities.

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people.

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you.

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater.

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine.

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence.

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected.

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas.

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing.

‘’What do you mean?’’

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left.

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them.

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable.

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight.

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes.

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness.

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise @sickntiredtoo @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl @hopelessromantic727 @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer @alllriseabove @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog @r1vrsefx @sierraluvzz @rodriqos @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @aesthetixhoe

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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livwritesstuff · 4 months

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‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday.

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness.

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter #to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post #shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters #y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 10

Chapter Summary: The Russian invasion and the upside down begin to merge as you meet up with the rest of the crew. You are in the fight of your lives as you scramble to try to stop the monstrous creature from the upside down before it destroys you.

Content Warning: violence, upside down, swearing

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Right now I can’t decide if I should start on season 4 or if it would maybe be best to pick up the story after season 5 drops since it ended on such a cliffhanger. Let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist | Chapter 9 | Next Part

***

The five of you exited the bathroom quietly, merging with the crowd leaving the movie to blend in, hoping that no Russians would find you. Your eyes darted around, scanning for any potential threat as you made your way through the crowd. There were so many people, you were beginning to feel claustrophobic. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your arm, and your heart jumped to your throat as you turned around and prepared for the worst.

You were met with the concerned eyes of a stranger. You recognized him from somewhere, but right now you couldn’t quite place it. You wriggled free from his grasp as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, are you okay? What happened to you?”

“Oh, I’m fine…yeah, I-I just got into a bit of a…car accident a couple of days ago—while I was out of town!” You quickly added at the end. Hawkins was a small enough town that any car accidents would certainly be reported. He looked skeptical and opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly cut him off, “I really have to be going now.”

Without another word, you slipped through the crowd, putting more distance between yourself and the boy while you tried to connect the dots to figure out where you knew him from. It finally dawned on you as your mind flashed back to the Hellfire Club shirt he was wearing under his leather jacket. It was Eddie Munson. You never got the chance to really talk to him at school, mainly knowing him via the rumors that circulated around about him being bad news.

“Y/n! Where were you?” Steve whisper-shouted as you finally made your way next to him. His mind had flashed to the worst case scenario when you were no longer beside him, and he was ready to fight tooth and nail to find you.

“I just fell behind a little bit…sue me,” you rolled your eyes, trying to stay casual. You didn’t want to tell him about how Eddie had noticed that you were injured. The more low-profile you stayed right now, the better.

“Alright, we just need to get on the bus with the rest of these people, and home sweet home, here we come,” Dustin spoke up. No sooner had he said the words did you recall a very important detail from your conversation with the Russians.

“Uh, Dustin?” You spoke up hesitantly, “yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well, I might’ve told them your full name,” Steve spoke up sheepishly. He felt really guilty about it, but he couldn’t really go back and undo it.

“What is wrong with you?!” Dustin seethed, exasperated with the idiot that his babysitter was somehow in love with against all odds.

“Dude, I was drugged.”

“So? You resist! You tough it out like a man!”

“Oh yeah, that’s easy for you to say,” you rolled your eyes as you came to Steve’s defense. You were in the same position that he had been in and you knew for a fact that you had “toughed it out” and it didn’t make a damn difference with that shit in your system.

“Guys,” Robin spoke up hesitantly. You noticed men dressed in black, checking bags as people left the mall. You immediately could tell that they weren’t some low level mall security guys…these were Russians. One of them turned and made direct eye contact with you and your heart began to race again, mind flashing back to what it was like to be tied up in that underground facility.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin yelled as you all turned to run the other way. You darted to the escalator, hopping up on the divider between the two and sliding down to the lower level. As you entered the food court, you jumped the counter to one of the various food stands, gesturing for your friends to join you.

“Come on!” You shouted. They swiftly moved behind the counter and the five of you sat with your backs to it as you listened to the footsteps of the Russian guards. Steve’s hand gently began to interlock with yours and you held on tightly, trying to ease the panic that was settling in your chest.

“Y/n, we’re gonna be okay—I’m gonna make sure of it,” he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered ever so quietly. You turned towards him, fear in your eyes as you whispered back.

“I don’t know what to do Steve. It’s not like they’re going to give up,” you started, “they’ll leave when we’re dead.”

Your suspicions seemed to be confirmed as you heard footsteps approaching. It sounded like there was more than one of them, indicating to you that they had found your hiding spot. Your breathing picked up as you braced yourself for the worst. The footsteps stopped and a silence fell across the mall. You squeezed your eyes shut as a single tear ran down your cheek.

Suddenly, a car alarm began blaring loudly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You heard the sound of metal being crushed, and you imagined the car flipping as you felt the ground reverberate with each thud of the vehicle against the tiled food court floor. Slowly, but surely, the five of you peaked out over the counter, taking in the sight of the four Russian guards, presumably dead on the floor.

You looked around, taking in the sight of the crashed car before your eyes finally caught sight of Eleven on the railing. The rest of the kids were with her, as well as Nancy and Jonathan. The seven of them ran down the escalator, meeting you in the middle of the mall.

“What are you doing here?!” Lucas yelled at Erica and you cringed knowing it was on you for putting the Sinclair girl in harm’s way.

“Ask them, it’s their fault!” She pointed at you and Steve.

“True, yeah. Totally true; absolutely our fault,” Steve quickly fessed up, not wanting it to turn into a huge argument.

“I don’t understand what happened to that car,” Robin interjected, her eyes wide as she tried and failed to understand the physics of it all.

“El has superpowers,” Dustin answered simply.

“I’m sorry?” Robin responded, clearly dumbfounded by the boy’s explanation. This was the first time in a while that you realized how ridiculous everything that you had went through in the past two years sounded.

“Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C’mon, catch up,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy asked looking at Robin.

“I’m Robin. I work with Steve and y/n.”

“She cracked the top secret code,” you chimed in.

“Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians,” Steve continued.

“Russians? What Russians?” Jonathan asked confused.

“The Russians!” Steve shouted back.

“Those were Russians?” Max spoke up. Clearly you had all be dealing with different shit and after several miscommunications later, you were still trying to catch everyone up on the latest dangers pervading Hawkins. Suddenly, El collapsed to the floor, quickly ending your very confused conversation as Mike ran over to her followed by the rest of you.

“El! What’s wrong?!” He asked.

“My leg. My leg,” she whimpered, as tears began to run from her eyes. Her face was twisted in pain and your heart ached for her. Nancy unwrapped her wound and you all realized that there was something in her leg, watching as it writhed and slithered underneath her very infected looking skin. She began screaming out in pain and Mike continued to talk to her, desperately worried for his girlfriend.

“Keep her talking, keep her awake, okay?” You looked at everyone before darting off to a storefront in the food court. You pulled several drawers open, desperately looking for anything you could use to remove whatever that thing was crawling in the poor girls leg. You finally gathered a knife, a wooden spoon, and gloves, turning on a burner to the stove and sterilizing the kitchen knife in the flame.

You sprinted back over to the group, who had repositioned El, propping her up. “Okay. Alright, El? This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?” You spoke to her softly.

“Okay,” she gasped in pain.

“I need you to stay very still for me. You’re gonna want to bite down on this,” you handed Mike the wooden spoon and he placed it gently in her mouth, her teeth already biting down on the handle as she cried in pain. Everyone was terrified, and your heart was beating wildly. You didn’t know what the hell you were doing, but given all the weird ass shit you’d been through, you knew you had to get whatever the hell it was win her leg out.

You pressed the knife to her shin, drawing it downwards to make an incision, wincing greatly as she cried out in pain. “I’m so sorry, El,” you breathed out, taking your gloved hand and sinking it into the incision. El screamed out while everyone else exclaimed in disgust. Your eyes started watering and tears began to cloud your vision as you attempted to feel for the thing writhing under her skin but to no such avail.

“No! Stop it!” Eleven dropped the spoon and began yelling at you. You quickly pulled your hand away and scooted back. “I can do it.”

Your heart broke at how pained her voice sounded, and she held up her hand above the broken skin. The slug came back to life as it began to slither across the side of her calf, moving closer towards the incision. She screamed and the storefront windows behind you shattered. Steve and Robin backed up as you darted forward, shielding kids’ heads from the glass raining down.

Eleven finally pulled the creature out of her leg and the sight of it made you immediately nauseous. It looked like a mess of bone and flesh and blood, and she tossed it across the mall from you. It began to skitter away before being quickly smashed under the shoe of the one and only Jim Hopper.

While everybody stared at Jim and Joyce and Murray, you rushed to El’s side, pulling her into a tight hug and cradling her head. She cried in exhaustion as she held onto you. “Shhhh, it’s okay; everything’s going to be okay,” you whispered into her hair, trying to calm her down. You were crying too, tears silently falling down your face as you rubbed soothing circles across her back.

By the looks of it, the three adults had experienced some shit too, and you were afraid of what they had to say as they approached the rest of you.

How much more complicated could all this shit get?

***

After about fifteen minutes of explaining, you were all on at least slightly the same page. It was difficult to wrap your head around it all. It was difficult to imagine all of the people that Hawkins had just quietly lost, disappearing over a matter of days.

“Okay, so, just to be clear, this…big fleshy monster thing that hurt El, it’s some kind of gigantic…weapon?” Steve asked, feeling the need to clarify what he had heard.

“Yes,” Nancy answered. Knowing that her and Steve dated often made you feel small in her presence. Especially since things hadn’t ended quite amicably between them.

“But instead of, like, screws and metal, the mind flayer made its weapon…out of melted people.

“Yes, exactly,” Nancy replied again, her tone indicating that she was a bit tired with his clarifying questions.

“Yeah, okay, just making sure.”

“Are we sure this thing is still out there? Still alive?” Joyce asked. You were grateful the adults were here. Something told you that if you tried to tell any other grown ups about all this messed up shit, no one would believe you. You were glad you at least had the chief of police and probably the most badass mom in all of Hawkins on your side.

“El beat the shit out of it, but yeah, it’s still alive,” Max confirmed.

“But if we close the gate again—“ Will spoke up.

“We cut the brain off from the body, and we kill it…theoretically,” Lucas finished his thought. Hopper looked hesitant and you felt the same way. It seemed like all of you kept going through all of this shit just for it to come back. You were damn tired of it coming back.

“Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo!” Murray Bauman’s voice rang out, cutting off your doomsday thinking. He frantically waved papers in the air and pulled Hopper and Joyce aside to explain the maps he’d drawn up of the Russian facility. You hovered behind him, noticing how crudely drawn they were, knowing that his estimates were far off.

“…I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room…maybe fifty feet or so,” Murray finished explaining the location of the gate. You scoffed trying to bite back a chuckle at how grossly he’d miscalculated.

“More like five hundred,” Erica chimed in, “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Murray spat at the young girl. Geez, he could use some lessons in babysitting, you thought as you rolled your eyes at his condescension.

“Erica Sinclair. Who are you?” She shot back and you couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes her sass really did pay off…so long as it wasn’t directed at you.

“Murray…Bauman,” he answered, his voice trailing off as he wondered why he was even entertaining her question.

“Listen Mr. Bunman, I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shit hole for twenty four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”

“I’m sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?”

“Um, I’m ten, you bald bastard,” Erica shot back. You grabbed her shoulders to settle her down.

“Erica!” Lucas scolded.

“Just the facts!” She defended herself.

“She’s right. You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Sorry, may I?” Dustin asked as he sat down with the map. “It’s a bit of a maze down there but between me and Erica, we can show you the way.”

“You can show us the way?” Hopper asked incredulously.

“Don’t worry, you can do all the fighting and dangerous hero shit, and we’ll just be your…navigators,” Dustin assured the man. You couldn’t believe that was even a genuine suggestion the boy had, as you pushed past Hopper, slamming your hands down on the table causing Dustin to jump.

“No way in hell. Literally over my dead body,” you shouted, “what the fuck has gotten into you? I can’t believe you would just—”

Hopper quickly cut you off, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Cool it, okay?” He reminded you before turning to Dustin. “She’s right though. Absolutely no way in hell.”

Hopper moved to start gathering materials and you moved to join Steve as he sat on the countertop of one of the restaurants. “This is all pretty batshit crazy,” you spoke up, hugging your knees to your chest.

“It really is,” he sighed looking around at everyone prepping for the worst. “I mean, I just don’t know how we keep getting ourselves into all this shit, you know?”

“I think we just care too much,” you answered laughing. He chuckled back and there was a pause, both of your minds elsewhere as you tried to process all the shit that was inevitably about to go down.

“Hey,” you spoke up again. He looked up at you and you took in the sight of his bruised eye and his busted lip. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“What you said earlier…did you really mean it?” You held your breath as his lips turned up into a small smirk.

“Every word,” he responded simply. When you didn’t really smile in return, he was quick to speak up, sliding towards you as he grabbed your hand. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“I just…I-I don’t wanna be another one of your girls,” you repeated the sentiment from your fight earlier, but this time it wasn’t accompanied by seething rage. Instead, it was born of pain and fear. Fear that you weren’t enough for him. Fear that he would leave you. Steve’s heart sank and he wished that he could go back and erase his mistakes, but he couldn’t. What he could do was fix them though.

“Y/n, you’re not just ‘another one of my girls.’ I wish you would understand that,” he started, looking you in the eyes with so much sincerity that you felt compelled to look away, but you didn’t. “You are the girl y/n. I don’t want any of those other girls….I mean, why would I when I have the perfect one right in front of me?”

“But, that’s the thing…I’m not perfect,” you countered as you began to tear up. “I yell at you all the time, and-and I get you into these fucked up situations, not to mention the amount of times you’ve gotten the shit beat out of you so that I don’t get the shit beat out of me, and I’m not pretty like the other girls you talk to and—“

“Woah, woah, woah! Y/n, are you kidding me? You’re fucking gorgeous! Those other girls don’t even come close to how amazing you are. And there’s no one I’d rather get the shit kicked out of me for than you, okay? I need you to understand that,” Steve pleaded. You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you held him close. He placed a kiss to your temple, and you held onto each other like that until Hopper came up to the two of you, speaking suddenly and causing you to jump.

“Hey, here,” he said tossing a set of keys that Steve barely caught in time, “I need you to take the kid to his dumbass radio or whatever.”

“Of course, yeah we can do that,” Steve replied hopping off the counter as he reached a hand out to help you down.

“Good…and you two—you’re, uh, being safe, right?” Hopper suddenly asked. You looked at him quizzically, unsure what his line of questioning was getting at before he added, “you know, we don’t need any more kids running around here complicating shit.”

You felt your entire face heat up as you caught on to what he was implying before Steve quickly spoke up, “No—I mean, yes! Wait, no. It’s just, we’re not…we’re not you know—“

“We’re not engaging in any activities that would add to the population,” you answered for Steve, rolling your eyes at Hopper’s intrusive question as you added, “so you don’t have anything to worry about in that department.”

The look Hopper gave you told you that he wasn’t buying what you were selling, and you rolled your eyes again, pulling Steve behind you as you grabbed Robin, Erica, and Dustin, heading out to the parking lot. When Steve saw the car he would be driving, his face lit up and suddenly he didn’t mind being on babysitting duty anymore.

“Oh, man, now this…this is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“‘Toddfather’?” You read the license plate, thinking about how stupid men were.

“Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now!” The boy exclaimed as he hopped in the driver’s seat.

“Did you just talk about yourself in the third person?” You asked incredulously.

“Did he just call himself daddy?” Robin added, her question focusing on the more outrageous aspect of Steve’s statement. Steve ignored both of you as he peeled out of the parking lot, chuckling as he honked the horn a couple of times.

“This isn’t a joyride! We’re trying to be inconspicuous here!” You reminded him, a scowl etched on his face.

“Sorry,” he replied but he couldn’t quite wipe the smile off of his face. He thought about how perfect this moment would be if the world wasn’t basically ending…and there weren’t three other people in the car. Just him and the girl of his dreams in a fancy ass convertible, driving as if they had all the time in the world.

Time passed and the glee that Steve was once filled with dissipated, as he continued down the same road for what felt like forever.

“How far away is this place?” He asked Dustin, frustrated and hoping that the boy was relaying the right directions.

“Relax, we’re almost there.”

“This Suzie girl must be pretty special if you lugged this thing all the way out here just to talk to her,” you spoke up, turning around as you smiled at the boy behind you. The young love was pretty cute, you had to admit…even if Henderson was a pain in the ass.

“I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as is humanly possible,” Dustin smiled back at you as he explained.

“She sound made up to me. She sound made up to you?” Erica chimed in, unable to believe the fact that the annoying boy to her left could possibly have pulled a girl as perfect as he was describing. No one said anything, and Dustin’s face twisted into a frown as he looked to Steve.

“Why are you hesitating, Steve?”

“I’m—I’m—I’m not! I’m not! I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real,” Steve spoke up.

“Left! Turn left!” Dustin suddenly yelled out.

“There’s not a road here?” You replied, turning in your seat to look back at the boy.

“Turn left now!”

Steve cut the wheel hard and you slid in your seat, grateful for the seatbelt holding you in place as you shrieked and Steve began ascending the unpaved hill. The ride was bumpy and as gravity began to work against you, you could feel the car beginning to struggle.

“We’re not going to make it!” You shouted at Steve.

“Yes we are! Come on, baby, come on!” The car stopped as its wheels spun. Steve kept revving the engine, but to no avail.

“Guess the Toddfather has its limitations,” Robin spoke up from the backseat. Steve scowled, putting the car in park as you all got out, walking the rest of the way to Dustin’s radio.

As Dustin gave Murray directions, things were pretty boring for you, Steve, and Robin. You had been drugged during the time the kids were moving through the ducts, so you weren’t useful in navigating. So, you laid on your back staring up at the stars as you waited. Being so far away from Hawkins made them easier to see, and you took a deep breath as you reveled in the moment of calmness, trying to forget about the horrors you were facing, just for a minute.

Your moment of tranquility ended sooner than you had expected, as you heard Steve’s voice ring out. “Hey guys.”

You immediately shot up, joining him as he looked down the hill. You could see all of Hawkins from here and the lights on the mall were going ballistic. You all ran back towards the radio and Dustin screamed into the transmitter. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop! Do you copy? Over!”

You heard a monstrous shriek over the radio as an inhuman scream ripped through the air around you. Dustin kept repeating his call over the radio but it was no use. They were in deep shit back at Starcourt.

Steve got up, sprinting away and you were right on his tail as Erica shouted at you. “Where are you going?!”

“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve shouted back.

“Stay here, contact the others!” You yelled, following Steve to the car.

“Stay in touch,” Robin tossed you a walkie talkie, letting you know that she’d keep the kids safe and far from danger as you hopped into the passenger seat. Steve took off down the hill and you gripped to anything you could hold onto as he drove recklessly back towards the mall.

“Steve, I’m scared,” you spoke up, gripping the armrest of your seat.

“I know, y/n. I am too,” he replied, “but if I know anything about the two of us—after all this shit we’ve been through—it’s that we’ve got this, okay? So we’re gonna get them and get the hell out.” You took a deep breath as he said it, nodding. You drove the rest of the way in silence, trying to control your breathing as you psyched yourself up for the hell you were about to face. Steve described it so simply, but you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Just as you were peeling into the parking lot, you saw the familiar sight of Billy’s car…speeding straight toward Nancy Wheeler. Steve pressed his foot to the floor, ramming into Billy’s car just in time to knock it off course and save Nancy from getting mowed down. You would definitely have whiplash the next day, but you decided it was very much worth it if it meant that Nancy was unharmed. You and Steve finally looked up, catching your first glimpse of the massive creature scaling the outside of the mall. It looked exactly like the shadow monster Will had drawn, except it was fleshy and bones stuck out at odd angles every which way.

“Get in!” Nancy shouted, as she pulled her car around and the two of you piled in the back. The monster leapt from the building, following as Nancy sped off out of the parking lot. Your heart raced and you buried your head in Steve’s neck as you grabbed onto him, not wanting to look at the creature anymore.

After getting a considerable distance away from the mall, hearing a weird ass musical number from Dustin and his girlfriend, who against all odds really did exist, you realized that the monster that had been following you had turned around.

“It’s turning around!” You yelled out.

“Maybe we wore it out?” Lucas suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan spoke up, quickly cutting the wheel and turning back towards the mall. Lucas passed all of you several fireworks and you split up, making your ways to different spots on the upper level.

When you got back into position, the flesh monster was standing right in front of El and Billy, reaching for her as you enacted your plan. You threw the first firework, it exploding in a spray of sparks as the creature shrieked, it exploding against its fleshy exterior.

It was really a sight to behold as the mall erupted into bright flashes of color. It was being hit from all sides, distracted from El, as it continued to get knocked from side to side.

“Hey asshole! Over here!” Steve yelled as he lit another firework and chucked it as far as he could. This is absolutely batshit fucking crazy, you thought as you threw another firework. As you threw them, you thought about all that you had been through. You thought about the young kids around you who had to grow up way too quickly. You thought about Will and Barb and Bob Newby and the horrors they had faced. You thought about all of the people that were killed to form the fleshy creature right before your eyes.

You thought about all that you had lost and you threw the fireworks with all your might.

Your stash was dwindling and as you lit another firework to throw it, Steve screamed over the walkie talkie. “Dustin! We’re out of time!”

“Hurry! Close it now!” You heard Dustin’s voice crackle through the receiver, letting the adults know that it was their time to shine. Steve threw your last firework, which went off in a fiery spray of multicolored sparks, before you realized that there were no more fireworks to be thrown.

You could see Billy standing in front of the massive monster, stoping one of its clawed arms as it reached out towards El. More bony arms appeared, slithering out of the creature as they darted forward stabbing into Billy’s side. You stared wide eyed, in shock and unable to look away. You began to hyperventilate, terror gripping every inch of your body as your legs began to give. Steve was quick to grab you before you fell, quickly pulling you to the floor as he sat, cradling the back of your head as he pulled your face into his neck.

“Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,” he whispered to you and you could hear the terror in his voice as well, “I’m here, y/n. I’m here, okay?” He wanted to tell you that everything would be fine, but this time he wasn’t so sure. He glanced over at Billy as another arm darted forward, piercing through Billy’s chest. Steve quickly averted his eyes, wishing he had taken his own advice and hadn’t looked. Billy wasn’t coming back from that.

Max screamed out to her brother and you sobbed into Steve’s chest. Suddenly the creature began writhing, screeching and snarling in pain as it stumbled around the mall. It crashed into pillars and Steve was barely able to move you both out of the way as it careened into the railing right beside you. It thrashed a bit longer before finally falling to the ground with a resonating thud. You all gawked at it, and even though it sat in a heap on the floor, you couldn’t help but feel unease at the sight.

You didn’t get to stare at it for long before the army was bursting through the doors of the mall, guns a-blazin’ just as Steve had predicted. You all put your hands up to display that you weren’t a threat as the US soldiers escorted you out of the building. You all sat in the parking lot while they searched the facility, finally torching the mall once everyone was out. It was an elaborate cover up but you understood why it had to remain a secret.

Emergency vehicles soon showed up to attend to the fire and the wounded, and you and Steve sat side by side on a gurney. You weren’t really sure what to say. It didn’t feel like there was anything you could say in this moment. It felt like the world had ended and you were just so damn tired.

“I guess we’re gonna have to find new jobs now,” Steve finally sighed as he spoke up, smirking at you after his statement.

“Yeah….maybe ones with less obnoxious uniforms this time,” you smiled a sad smile back as you leaned into him. He threw his arm around you and it all felt so comfortable. You wished it could be under better circumstances.

After getting checked out by the EMTs on scene, your face was looking a lot better; no longer caked in dried blood. Miraculously, a soldier had located Steve’s car keys in the Russian base, and an EMT returned them to him as you sat there.

“That was quite the fire,” the EMT spoke up. You stared wide eyed and clueless for a second as you tried to gather your thoughts enough to play to the narrative that had been constructed.

“Uh, yeah…we were, um, we were really scared,” you breathed out, deciding it was better to focus on half truths at least. You never were the greatest liar.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” the EMT responded, flashing his light to check your eyes. He continued as he clicked it off, “I just don’t quite get how you both would have sustained injuries like this though. I mean, seems a bit odd considering none of the other kids showed up looking like this. And I guess I’m a bit put off by the fact that the US military is here. Hawkins is a safe town, seems a bit extreme for a mall fire.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. There was a fire and we got hurt. And I don’t really have a clue why the military is here; I’m just some dude working for minimum wage at a nautical themed ice cream parlor,” Steve spoke up, his tone very much indicating that he wasn’t going to give the EMT any more information.

“Whatever you say I guess. Anywho, you guys are good to go,” the EMT replied, dismissing you from the gurney. Steve and you walked over to his car, and he opened the passenger door for you and you went to get in, hesitating before you ducked down.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Steve asked, his hand still on the door. You turned around quickly, staring up at him through your lashes. Your eyes met his and you just stared at each other for a while before you glanced down at his lips. He got the hint and began to lean in towards you, one hand going to the nape of your neck as the other wrapped around your waist to pull you closer.

Finally, his lips were on yours, and it was well worth the wait. Maybe you were two broken people who walked through hell and back, but right now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he was kissing you like his life depended on it. You didn’t care about the way your lip was still split and bruised, reveling in the pain if it meant that you got to have him; if it meant that he could be yours.

Your lips moved with his in such a perfect harmony that you felt like you were dreaming. After a moment, he placed a few more gentle pecks against your lips before pulling away. Your lips chased his, desperately wanting more, but you opened your eyes to look up at him. Your heart caught in your throat at the expression on his face. You’d never seen him look at you like that before.

“Steve?”

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to find the right words. How was he supposed to tell you that you were perfect? That you were the only thing really holding him together? That you were the reason that he woke up in the morning and showed up to that shitty job and the reason that he decided to stay in Hawkins instead of trying to move away from his shitty parents?

How was he supposed to tell you that you were his reason for being?

He didn’t think he would ever find the words, so instead he settled on “I really love you y/n—like a lot.”

You smiled up at him and pulled him into a hug. “I think I love you too, Steve,” you chuckled, pulling back to plant another kiss on his lips. He smiled into the kiss, realizing that he would never get tired of kissing you.

***

It was three months later and you and Steve were finally, officially dating. You were rocking out to the radio in the front seat of his BMW, singing off key with Robin as Steve pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins’ Family Video.

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin asked incredulously as she stepped out of the car.

“Yeah. Why not? She’s like, super well-respected,” Steve argued and you rolled your eyes, biting back a smile.

“You’re such a dingus,” Robin sighed, stepping through the door Steve held open. You stepped through the doorway after, Steve placing a hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the store.

Your nose twitched a bit when you realized that Keith worked here. He was kind of really icky and had asked out just about every girl you went to high school with. You’d never met someone that desperate for a girlfriend before. When you had handed him your resumes, he looked at you all like you were idiots, clearly irritated that you were wasting his time.

“We didn’t get fired, you know,” you spoke up as you scowled, annoyed with the boy at the counter.

“Yeah, the mall burned down, and like killed a bunch of people,” Robin chimed in. In a way, she was looking for pity…most of the Hawkins’ community knew that you kids had been there when shit went down.

“Thanks for sharing. Didn’t know,” Keith deadpanned. “Three favorite movies, go!” He added pointing at Robin.

“Uh....The Apartment, Hidden fortress, Children of Paradise.” She quickly answered.

“You, go!” He swiveled and pointed at Steve.

“Favorite movies?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Uhhh…Animal House for sure…yeah, uh, um—Star Wars!”

“Which one?” You asked, looking up at him, annoyed that he’d just named an entire franchise.

“The one with the teddy bears, duh,” he smirked back at you as you groaned while he squeaked like an Ewok. “No? Uh…oh, the one that just came out. The movie that just came out—the one with the DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton, and he’s trying to bang his mom,” Steve chuckled while he explained it and you rolled your eyes.

Keith couldn’t really believe what he was hearing and he pointed at you and Robin. “You two start Monday,” he said before turning to Steve, “and you start never.”

“Will you just, give us a minute,” you said gesturing to you Robin and Keith.

“Why?” Steve asked, annoyed.

“Steve,” you warned the boy not to make things more difficult, placing a small peck on his lips which was enough to convince him to move along.

“Oh come on! Steve, y/n? Steve?”

“Listen, I know he’s a bit…he’s a bit of an idiot, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, he’s got other qualities,” you argued.

“He’s a douchebag of the highest order, y/n.”

“He was a bit of a prick to us in high school, I’ll grant you that, but he remains…a total chick magnet,” Robin gestured to you, and you flushed wildly.

“And this is relevant to me how?” Keith questioned, done with Robin’s bullshit.

“Uh, earth to Keith….the ladies will come in just to see him. They’ll come in, in droves. We sold so much ice cream they had to get a second shipment from Michigan! Isn’t that right, y/n?”

“Yep. Michigan,” you confirmed her lie.

“And these ladies are hot,” Robin continued, “they are so very hot. And there are too many of them for little Steve, especially now that he’s unavailable. He needs your assistance Keith.”

“What’s in it for you? Are you guys some sort of weird ass thruple?”

As soon as he said it, Steve clumsily knocked down a cardboard cutout, awkwardly trying to fix it.

“Gross, no,” Robin replied, “we’re just friends.”

Steve turned around the cardboard cutout recognizing immediately the movie it was from. “Oh Fast Times! Fast Times, ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.”

You and Robin laughed, and Keith groaned. “Fine, but if he screws up, it’s on the two of you.”

You knew he was gonna screw up, but you didn’t care, running over to him as he pulled you into a hug. “You ready to be coworkers again?” You asked as you smiled up at him.

“I mean, we do make a pretty kick-ass team.”

***

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this! If I end up going on hiatus, send me some requests! I’m definitely interested in continuing writing for Steve as a character. Reblog if you’re feeling generous ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1

#stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #netflix #steve harrington fanfic #friends to lovers #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you

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topherwrites · 4 months

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FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

#rhett abbott x reader #rafe cameron x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #rafe cameron #eddie munson #rhett abbott #steve harrington #fic rec list #fic rec

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writing-intheundercroft · 6 months

Text

Tis the Damn Season - Garreth Weasley

Read on AO3

Word Count: 4,145

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, Oral and Vaginal Sex, NSFW, MDNI

Summary: You're back from five years of traveling the world and living in America, and Garreth Weasley invites you on a foraging trip down to his family cottage in Cornwall. You accept, having regretted not sharing your feelings when you last said goodbye. Or, the origin story of the Weasley knitted sweaters.

A/N: An exercise in writing smut turned into a delicious one shot for Garreth. I've clearly been listening to too much Taylor Swift.

“Welcome home!” Leonora giggled, over the sound of merriment in the Leaky Cauldron. The class of 1893 was celebrating their five year reunion, with almost all of the graduates in attendance. Sebastian and Ominis had decided to sit out the reunion, staying at your shared home in New York, sending their well wishes with you as you boarded an ocean liner back to London. Cross-Atlantic apparition had never been your thing.

“I’m glad to be back,” you smiled honestly. London had never really been home, not really. You’d landed in a shared flat with the boys for a month after graduation before embarking on your world tour, but you hadn’t stayed long enough to make it feel like home.

Leonora and Poppy started detailing the whereabouts and day to day lives of your classmates. Violet McDowell had married, as had Grace Pinch-Smedley. Duncan Hobhouse was still painfully single and afraid of not just puffskeins, but now nifflers too after an incident with Amit Thakkar at the bank. Leander Prewett was still gangly, and proudly wearing his ministry of magic badge for all to see.

“Oh, and Garreth–I’m sure you heard about him and Samantha Dale,” Leonora giggled, pointing across the room.

Your heart sank as you thought of him. If you had wanted to know who Garreth had been dating while you were away, you would’ve brought it up yourself–now, you had to face the burning jealousy that bubbled in your throat as you thought of the pretty Ravenclaw who currently had her hand placed on his forearm.

Poppy sensed your emotions, elbowing Leonora to stop. “They broke up,” she cooed softly. “Months ago. They’re just friends now.” Poppy cradled her swelling stomach, your future niece or nephew growing inside.

“Good for them,” you said blithely, trying to feign indifference.

“He’s coming over here.” Leonora whispered.

You adjusted your skirt as Garreth cheerfully bounced over, red waves crashing over his head. He’d grown since you last saw him, thicker and sturdier than the stocky teenager you’d last seen. No wonder Samantha Dale had been interested in him, you thought. He was impossibly handsome, with emerald green eyes that shined at whoever he spoke with.

“You’re monopolizing our New Yorker,” Garreth announced, cheeks tinged pink from the alcohol.

“Excuse us, then.” Poppy grinned, winking at you as she tugged Leonora away.

You smiled at your Gryffindor friend, who leaned against the bar next to you. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded eagerly. “It’s good to be back together again, you included.” he nudged. “I wish we could spend more time together before you go home.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” You asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Taking a trip down to my family’s cottage in Cornwall,” he sighed. “I need to gather some more horklumps for my potions.” Garreth took a lengthy sip from his beer, but his eyes never left yours. “How about you come with me? Been a while since we had an adventure.”

You blushed. “Are you sure I won’t just get in your way?”

Garreth smiled earnestly at you. “Anything to spend a little extra time with you.”

So, you agreed. Garreth spent the rest of the evening by your side; you felt smug when Samantha Dale stared at the two of you, and the little bubble of regret in your heart grew when Garreth leaned against you. It had been five years since you’d said goodbye, and you wished you’d been honest about your feelings with him the day you both left Hogwarts.

Instead, he’d given the back of your hand a chaste kiss, letting you go for the last time.

“Don’t mind the dust,” Garreth advised, pushing the door in. “Mum usually cleans up before we all get in for the holidays.”

You peered over his shoulder as he guided you into the cottage. It was dark, clearly uninhabited over the colder months. You settled the bag of horklumps the two of you had foraged on the wooden table as he walked around the kitchen, lighting candles. Waves crashed outside the walls of the cottage; you imagined how this place might look during the summer time. Visions of Garreth and his many siblings running around the beach flashed in your head, leaving a lump in your throat.

“There,” Garreth said proudly, assessing the lighting situation. “And we can start a fire in the living room. Will probably be too cold to sleep upstairs anyways.” He led you to the living room, a small den with two loveseats opposite one another, and a stone fireplace in the center.

“You just had to drag me on a foraging trip before a snow storm,” you teased.

“What can I say? You’re an awfully great helper,” Garreth said sweetly, casting his wand at the fireplace. It lit up beautifully, and the room started to warm.

You hadn’t seen Garreth since you and your Slytherin boys had left school for a worldwide tour at eighteen. Eighteen became nineteen, and then twenty. Suddenly, London no longer felt like home, and the boys wanted to go to America. You’d tagged along, their third wheel as you’d been all throughout your Hogwarts years, because there was no one else in London for you; why not experience New York?

Correspondence from your classmates steadily declined as you all got older and busier. Some had started families (Poppy was pregnant with her first child already) and others were dominating their careers (Imelda was quick on her way to captain of the Holyhead Harpies at twenty three).

Only one remained constant.

Garreth Weasley never stopped writing it seemed. A letter once a week; two in one week if he missed an owl. You shared your adventures, and Garreth told stories of the little potions stand he’d opened in Diagon Alley. It wasn’t glamorous, he wrote, but it paid a living, and he was finally able to move out of his family home and into a modest flat he shared with Lucan Brattleby. Garreth was the one who’d arranged the five year reunion, right before Christmas time. He had convinced you to attend when Sebastian and Ominis declined, claiming everyone would be glad to see you. He was there to pick you up from the dock when you landed, and had escorted you to the room you were renting for the week at the Leaky Cauldron.

Garreth–the sweetest Gryffindor you’d ever known.

“You alright?” Garreth asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He stood before you with stacks of woolen blankets in his arms.

“I’m fine,” you uttered. “Just thinking,” you shrugged, grabbing some of the blankets to spread on the loveseat. Garreth did the same, setting the one opposite you, and your heart sank into your stomach.

Why had Garreth invited you to Cornwall? Was it really just to forage the finest horklumps for his potions? You’d assumed that he wanted to get you alone, and that you could finally confess your long held feelings for him. Instead, he’d made you stomp through the brutally wet weather, stashing the spiky bastards in your bags for his famed wiggenweld brews. Your heart had done flips when he assessed the weather, claiming it was too cold and too far to apparate back to London. He’d offered up the Weasley family’s summer home for the night, claiming the two of you could catch up over a bottle of firewhiskey instead of trekking home in the snow. You felt that familiar warmth in the lower part of your belly when Garreth held you by the waist as you walked down the dune towards Shell Cottage.

You’d only spent the last six years of your life dreaming of a night spent with Garreth Weasley, after all, and now he was tucking the sheets onto the couch opposite of you, preparing for an innocent sleepover. You couldn’t help the flutter of disappointment, both emotionally and sexually.

“Well I think we should drink, and then we can properly catch up, just the two of us.” Garreth announced. “Be right back.”

You let out a hot puff of air, sinking to your knees in front of the fireplace. So much for seducing him, you thought.

Garreth returned with two glasses and a near full bottle of firewhiskey. He landed on his arse next to you and you smiled, remembering the clumsy, boisterous teenage boy he’d been when you last saw him. That boy seemed to live inside this grown adult–all muscle, shaggy hair, and hints of red scruff on his chin. He pushed his hair back as he held up his glass to yours, clinking them softly. You caught up on everything you’d missed in the past five years; how Leander was still his best friend, despite being an annoyance, and how Lucan was a messy roommate. You told him about your travels around the world, how Ominis snored, and Sebastian was a terrible cook.

“How is Samantha Dale?” You asked, breaking the ice. “I heard you two dated.

Garreth chewed on his lower lip. “Not very long, I’m afraid. We didn’t have much in common.” he wrinkled his nose.

“Oh,” you said softly. He seemed to want to leave it at that.

“How are Sebastian and Ominis?” Garreth asked tentatively.

You rolled your eyes. “Still a pain in my arse, after all these years. I love them, but I’m not sure how much longer I can live with them.” You sighed.

Garreth snorted. “You’re the one who chose to follow them.”

You hummed quietly, knowing he was right.

“Is it weird?” Garreth asked after a long sip. “Living with Ominis when you and Sebastian are together?” He was looking down at his glass, avoiding eye contact.

You sputtered the firewhiskey, coughing at the thought. “Me? With Sebastian?” You wheezed.

Garreth knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “Well, yeah. Because you’re together, aren’t you?”

You laughed, and then laughed some more. Tears were coming out of your eyes while Garreth gaped at you, eyes wide as saucers.

“How could you think Sebastian and I are together?” You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater, chuckling.

Garreth’s face was red. “I–we–everyone assumed! You two were attached at the hip, and there was a rumor you two…” he trailed off, face as red as a tomato.

“A rumor that we what?” You demanded.

“That you two had slept together in seventh year.” Garreth said sheepishly. “Leander told me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, that was a lie,” you chuffed. “I was only covering for him and someone else. It was easier to let everyone think I was slag than for them to face the criticism.”

Garreth cocked his head. “What? Who?”

You leaned back onto the carpet. “Let’s just say Sebastian and I have very different taste in sexual partners. For example, I prefer men who are actually into me. And two, Sebastian prefers Ominis.”

Garreth stared at you, blinking as he put two and two together. The blank look on his face disappeared, eyes widening in shock as he blushed.

“What…oh… oh .” he stuttered. “Wow. I mean, I guess that makes a ton of sense. Good for them.”

You grinned, laying back on the floor with the glass balanced on your stomach. “Yeah, the two of them are pretty happy together. I think they’ll get married soon. Bit loud, for roommates though. I’ve been looking to find my own place.”

Garreth rolled onto his stomach, leaning his head on his hands as he laid next to you on the ground. “In New York?”

“New York, Paris, Buenos Aires…Madrid, Rome, or Berlin. I could go anywhere in the world,” you declared, stretching out. “I’m a nomad now.”

“Not London?” Garreth asked softly.

You tilted your head to look at the redhead next to you. His eyes were glistening, a perfect pout as he frowned at your list of locations. You fought the urge to brush his fiery hair out of his eyes.

“I’d come back to London,” you echo, “If there was something here for me.”

“Your friends are here,” Garreth reminded you. “Poppy, Imelda, Natty.”

“Poppy is about to have a baby,” you remind him in return. “Imelda is busy with Quidditch, and Natty splits her time between London and Matabeleland. There’s really no one else.”

“What about me?” Garreth’s voice was small. “I’m here.”

You dig your face into the carpet, hiding the blush that crept up your face. “You’re busy with the shop. I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”

Garreth suddenly pulled you close, his large hand traveling up to cradle your chin so you couldn’t hide your face. “You’d never be in my way.” he said firmly.

“I’m sure no woman would want me constantly hanging around you either,” you breathed.

His eyes flitted down to your lips. “I think you can tell from the way we’re sitting, there won’t be any other women,” he whispered. His thumb ran over your lips, pressing against your pout. Garreth rolled you onto your back, hovering over your body as he slotted a knee between your legs.

“You put the blankets on the other loveseat,” you whisper. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

“Because I wanted to be respectful,” Garreth added, brushing his nose against yours. “I’ve been thinking you were with Sallow for years , when I could’ve been doing this.” Garreth’s lips brushed against yours sweetly. “Fuck Leander–I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him.”

You gave a breathy laugh, putting an arm around his neck. “Yes, well, Prewett can fuck off.”

Garreth gulped. “I watched you leave, all those years ago, because I thought you were in love with Sebastian. I thought so long as you were happy, I’d be happy for you.”

“No,” you breathed in sharply. “I was in love with you .”

Garreth wasted no time pressing the weight of his body against yours. You moaned into his mouth, letting him slip his tongue between your lips. He was everything you’d dreamt of and more since you were seventeen–hard muscle under soft warm skin, his freckled forehead pressed against yours. You let your legs fall to the side, his thick body slotting between them perfectly–the most natural fit.

“If I had known,” Garreth groaned into your mouth, “I would’ve asked you to stay. I would’ve begged .”

“Gar,” you whimpered as he ground his hips into yours, arousal digging into your thigh.

“I would’ve been on my knees,” Garreth’s voice was gravelly now, pressing sloppy kisses against your neck. “Fuck, I would’ve had my mouth against your cunt, begging you to stay with me. It’s all I’ve dreamt of.”

“No use for regret now,” you manage to gasp. “No time like the present.”

Garreth grinned devilishly down at you as he pulled away. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “Tell me you want this. Tell me, and I’ll give you all the reasons to stay.”

You licked your lips, nodding at him. “I want you.”

Garreth went to work–your sweater was torn off, trousers rucked off your hips as he stripped you of all your clothing. His damn near tore off his own sweater, throwing it absentmindedly as he worked on the buttons of his pants. The room was warm–whether from your passion or the heat of the fire, you weren’t sure–but you stared up at the man, who’d tugged his pants and undergarments down far enough to free his length. You couldn’t help but admire the freckles all over his body, peppering his skin down to his groin. He pumped his deliciously thick cock in his hand, the tip glistening as he prepared himself.

“All this from a foraging trip,” you joked.

Garreth laughed, his whole body rippling. He released his length, dipping down to kiss you again. “I promised I’d make the trip with your while,” he teased, fingers dancing over your core. You shuddered, eyes shutting as he massaged your clit. “I intend to make good on that.”

His teasing words had you unbearably wet, the vulgar sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you filling the room. Garreth laughed again, the sound music to your ears as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your nub. He closed his mouth around it, and you let out a stuttered moan as he sucked.

“So sweet,” Garreth groaned. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about getting you off for years.” Opening one eye, you saw him thrusting his hips against the air, desperate for friction. You nearly stopped him to help his situation, until he curled his fingers inside of you. Thankfully you two were the only ones in the house, with no neighbors nearby–the scream you let out rippled through the air, Garreth’s name rolling off your lips as he guided you through your orgasm.

“Reason one to stay,” Garreth announced, your slick glistening around his mouth as you panted. “I can do that, every morning and every night.”

Nothing could have stopped you from pouncing on him, pushing him back onto the floor. He gave you his signature mischievous grin, hands falling to the side of his head. “Go on,” he said lazily, as you straddled his midsection. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

You scooted backwards, his impossibly hard cock brushing against you as you adjusted your body. His hands slipped to your waist, holding you up as you took him in hand, pressing the tip to your cunt. Garreth looked so beautiful, pupils blown with pleasure as he stared at the two of you, about to join.

“If you hadn’t been listening to your stupid friends, this could’ve been yours years ago,” you breathed.

“I’ll never listen to another soul besides you, ever again.” Garreth rasped. “Only you.”

Garreth’s head tipped back, hitting the ground with a loud thud when you slid onto him. His hands snaked up to your hips, holding you as you took him in, inch by inch. He held onto you so tightly, he could’ve bruised you–not that you would’ve cared. You would’ve claimed those marks as a badge of honor, knowing they were left by him .

“Fuck, you feel amazing.” Garreth sputtered. “So–so good around me, so tight.”

“Tell me to stay,” You whispered, slowly circling your hips as you leaned down to brush your lips against his. “Ask me.”

“Please,” Garreth moaned. “Stay. Stay with me.”

You picked up speed, cantering your hips. It was picturesque–the fire crackling in the background, Garreth spread beneath you, coming undone. You raked your hands down his chest, fingers catching on the red hair that dusted his chest.

“Beg me,” you demanded, planting your feet on the floor as you bounced up and down his cock.

“Come home to me,” Garreth whimpered. “Please, please, please come home. I’ll do anything to have you here with me, always.” He gritted his teeth, pushing his hips upwards. “Gods, I’ll make you come every day, twice a day, for the rest of your life if you just stay.”

“More,” you breathed. You weren’t sure what you were asking for–more of his pleas, or more of his body.

Garreth started pistoning his hips upwards, meeting you with every bounce. You couldn’t help letting out the desperate cry that tumbled out of your mouth when he sprung forward, pushing himself even deeper into you. You were now fully seated in his lap, grinding against one another as you raced to the finish line.

“I’ll worship you,” Garreth growled, peppering kisses on your face. “No need to run anymore. You’ll have a home–I’ll be home for you.” Despite his hand that had slithered up to your neck, pressing light pressure against your pulse, Garreth’s words were wholesome, sweet. He meant them, you realized. It wasn’t just the sex, or years of pent up feelings coming out into the room. The realization that Garreth Weasley loved you, had loved you for all these years apart, made you feel as if you were about to snap–and without warning, you did.

Garreth let out a guttural groan as you wailed atop him, cunt clamping down on him as you finished. You pulled his face onto yours, kissing him as you rocked yourself back and forth on him, riding out your climax. From his breathing, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Come in me,” you whispered. “Make me stay.”

Garreth choked as he let it out, his release filling you to the brim. You clung your sweaty bodies to one another, gasping for air. He gave you another sweet smile, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

“Do you mean it?” he asked quietly.

“Mean what?”

“That you’ll stay this time.” His big green eyes stared down at you hopefully, peeking through his red lashes.

You bit your lip, pressing your nose against his. You thought of the last day at Hogwarts, how Garreth had held your hand, wishing you well on your trip. How if Garreth knew the truth, he probably would’ve asked you to stay. And now, after all these years, the road you hadn’t taken and had always regretted was now an option.

“I’ll stay,” you assured him.

Garreth gave you the goofiest, most hopeful grin you’d ever seen before pressing his lips against yours. You were still joined, and you could feel him stiffening again inside you as you wriggled your hips. You would’ve picked back up on your lovemaking, if it weren’t for the smell of singed wool filling the room.

“Damn,” Garreth cursed, gently pushing you off of him. He crawled over to the fireplace, patting down on his sweater, which had a black burn mark in it. “Must have kicked it into the fireplace while we were…” he trailed off, giving you a sheepish look.

You laughed, pulling blankets from the loveseat. “I’ll knit you a new one,” you assured him. “It’ll be your Christmas present.”

Garreth rolled back over to you; he looked silly, six feet tall and rolling on the floor like a boy. “You knit now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I had to pick up some hobbies,” you snorted. “Keeps me calm, considering my roommates are sex fiends.”

Garreth laughed, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Tell Sebastian and Ominis you’re moving out.” he said firmly. “I’ll tell Lucan to beat it, and we’ll have a home all to our own. You can knit tea cozies and make sweaters for the cat.”

You leaned up, nosing his chin. “And sweaters for the family.” you whispered.

Garreth gave you a lazy, proud grin. “Especially for the family.”

You cuddled him in front of the fire, stroking his chest hair as you spoke freely about the future. You would have to write to the boys in the morning, you realized. Perhaps they could send your clothes in trunks so you wouldn’t have to go back. Ominis had been begging you to clean your room anyways, and Sebastian could finally walk around nude without you screaming at him.

You could spend Christmas with the Weasleys. You could meet Garreth’s many siblings, as he’d promised long ago. You’d knit him a sweater with your own hands, claiming him as yours. And perhaps, one day, you’d be knitting sweaters for your children, who’d run around the very fireplace you were currently laying in front of.

“What are you thinking about?” Garreth asked, stroking your hair.

“How nice it is to be home.”

The children ran around Shell Cottage, shrieking with laughter as they chased one another. The Weasley wives sat in the living room, in front of the fire as they sorted through piles of yarn.

“Who started this bloody tradition anyways?” Hermione whined. “I’m rubbish at knitting.”

“It was Arthur’s great-aunt,” Molly Weasley laughed. “She and Great-Uncle Garreth lived here when they first got married, and they started the tradition of new sweaters, every Christmas. Everyone in the Weasley family has followed it ever since. You know, she's actually got a very interesting story...thought she was a squib, didn't go to Hogwarts until she was fifteen...ended up becoming a world traveler before she settled down with Great-Uncle Garreth...” Molly trailed off, but no one else was listening over the sound of Celestina Warbeck over the radio.

Her daughter and daughter-in-laws sat on the floor, learning how to make sweaters for their babies. Fleur had taken quite well to it, all of her children wearing knit sweaters in Beauxbatons blue, and it was now Hermione’s turn to learn, her daughter laying in a woven basket on the floor next to them, cooing softly.

“Thanks a lot,” Hermione grumbled, looking up at the photograph on the mantle. The young couple smiled for the camera, with Garreth Weasley proudly wearing the first Weasley Christmas sweater recorded in family history.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x oc #writing-intheundercroft #hint of sebinis

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