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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 months ago

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I Didn't Know How To Love You (Ch 1)

Based on the speculation post by @bybobbysbeard (sorry!), I cooked up my own speculations... in a fic (T-rated, approximately 4 chapters, including hurt/comfort and, of course, a helicopter crash).

AO3

Hen and Karen serve macaroni and cheese for dinner that night. It’s a simple dish, but it’s homemade and one of Buck’s favorites; mouth full of cheese bliss, he doesn’t skimp on praise. It is a nice way to end a day's work: a family meal, some fun with the kids who’ve by now retreated to their rooms, a chat with his friends. Finally, Karen clears the table, casually mentioning a cake, and Hen fixes Buck with her gaze. Buck hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately, maybe he should’ve foreseen this conversation. It still comes unexpected.

“How are you, really?” Hen asks.

Maybe the last bite of food is still stuck in his throat, because the urge to swallow is overwhelming. Does she know he forces the corners of his mouth into a smile?

“Oh, you know. I’ve got it, right?”

Why does he phrase his answer as a question? Buck glances towards the kitchen, piercing the door with his gaze as if he could lure Karen out. It’s a setup of sorts, a trap, the Admiral Ackbar voice in his mind goes, but this time, it’s not funny.

Hen adjusts her glasses, though they actually fit perfectly, propping her arms on the table.

“We never really talked about it, guess we all had other things on our minds. But we’re here for you, Buck. You know that, right?”

Buck exhales a kind of sigh, “Well, we’re good, I think. I was a little pissed about the things he said, but actually, we made up again.”

“You… did?” Hen sounds somewhat confused, her gaze wanders back to the kitchen. Still no sign of Karen.

“Yes. A-and he might come back, right? When he's sorted things out with Chris.”

It’s a faint hope. Chris didn’t seem to miss his life in L.A., so why should Eddie?

“Oh,” says Hen, with her voice and eyes oddly soft, “I'm not talking about Eddie.”

Buck furrows his brow, “You’re not?”

Hen takes a deep breath. Perhaps this is one of those conversations that require courage. A topic that has to be addressed at some point, even if it’s unpleasant. Buck has no idea how much.

“We never talked about Tommy. About… the break-up? I think we should’ve, Buck.”

The room is warm, cozy even, but cold creeps from his toes all the way up, draining all color from Buck’s face. Why now? It’s true, they’ve never really talked about Tommy. Everybody was somehow content with him, right? Eddie liked him, Bobby thought he was good for Buck, Hen and Karen scrutinized his motives. Everybody seemed convinced that he wouldn’t hurt Buck. Yet he did, and nobody ever mentioned it. So why now?

He must have said it out loud involuntarily. Hen leans back into her wife's hand, who has finally left the kitchen now and is standing behind her; she always leans on Karen when she’s pondering. Excellent timing, Buck thinks, as if she hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. Because she knows when she has to be there, when she needs to give support. Tommy always knew that, too.

“Because it's on your mind,” Karen remarks, placing the cake she was carefully balancing in her other hand on the table. Only the cake, no plates, no knife to cut it; just a pretext with lemon icing.

“Yeah,” Buck drawls, and somehow his voice could slice the pastry, “has been for four months.” Four months, thirteen days and twelve hours, but he doesn't say that. “In all that time, no one asked me how I was doing.”

“That's not true, Buck.”

“No kidding.” His hand crumples the napkin in front of him. “All I got were a few pats on the back.”

“We thought…”

“You thought it was my fault. That I'd screwed up again because I can't keep anyone. That Tommy was a trip to queer spaces for me, and maybe I’d just get over it.”

He’s talking nonsense now, he knows it, there’s no preventing the heat rising to his cheeks. But he’s still hurt, and now they’ve heard it. Hen and Karen exchange a look, then Hen says, ignoring his last words, “Look, anyone who doesn't realize what a great guy you are doesn't deserve you.”

“Well, you could have told me that. And besides... Tommy wasn't like that. He was great, and he always made me feel like... well, that I'm good too, you know?”

Buck’s voice is cracking now, not because his stress stuttering is setting in, but because of the pain that never really left him in the past months. Buck is no stranger to heartbreak, but he didn’t expect the initial shock to turn into a kind of dull resignation.

Hen leans forward, reaching across the table for his hand. Her voice is full of compassion as she says, “What makes you think you're not?”

“C-cause he dumped me.”

Because that's the only conclusion, isn't it? He’s not been good enough. He’s not been able to live up to expectations, once again.

“I'm sorry,” Hen says gently. “We should have talked to you a long time ago.”

“I warned him,” Karen grimly throws in. “I told him not to hurt you, and now look at you.”

Shooting her wife a glance, Hen shakes her head.

“So, Tommy broke it off,” she says, “and I admit we never asked, and I’m sorry about that. But the why might be more important than you think, because you still haven’t gotten over it.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Hen and Karen exchange another glance before they allow themselves a soft giggle. It takes a lot of the tension lingering in their living room, and some of that inside of Buck.

“That’s one of your cakes,” says Karen, pointing to the middle of the table. “Did you think I was suddenly fond of baking? Our freezer is full, as well as Bobby’s, from what I’ve heard. Maddie said she'd be glad if it was casseroles instead of pies, because then Chim and Jee would eat properly when she has the baby.”

Karen bites her lip, she looks as if she fears she's said too much, but Buck grins at the thought. The thought of Maddie's little family, of Jee soon being a big sister, is one of the things that still gets him out of bed every morning. Then he thinks about Hen's question, and he sighs.

“Why,” he slowly replies, “well. I'm not sure.”

“So how exactly did he break up with you? What did he say?”

Hen is clearly keen to get to the heart of the matter, forcing Buck to think about it again. Not that he hasn't done so constantly over the past four months. Well... actually, he hasn't. He's spent more than one weekend wallowing in self-pity, listening to sad love songs while running his finger over pictures of Tommy on his phone. Whenever he tried to understand what had actually happened, what Tommy had really said and why, guilt and grief would overwhelm him; at some point it was too much, and he started baking. Not just to avoid calling him, but to stop thinking altogether. Buck's mind is constantly doing somersaults, but when it gets stuck, he’ll spiral. He didn’t want that to happen, he needed to function, and he was tired of wondering why he was constantly being abandoned. That’s why he baked. Maybe a bit too excessively.

“You know about Abby, right?” he asks hesitantly.

Hen purses her lips, “Maddie... did mention something. That Abby used to date Tommy.”

“It was a bit more than that. But yes, back then, we found out together that Abby is a kind of common link for us.”

“Sounds like fate, when you think about it,” Karen interjects, and Buck lifts his head and smiles at her.

“That's what I thought, too, after the initial shock.”

“But... did he break up with you because of Abby?” Hen asks, a bit confused.

“Maybe that was a reason, too,” says Buck, although he's not so sure about that. “Anyway, I... well, I asked him if we’d move in together.”

“Oh, Buck,” says Hen warmly, squeezing his hand. It's not “Oh, Buck, you idiot,” quite the opposite. Hen probably understands what that question meant to him back then. And maybe she also understands why Tommy leaving was so devastating afterwards.

Buck stares at the table, thinking about how it would feel to disappear into the wood grain. It wouldn't be the first time that he had such thoughts. Buck loves life, no doubt about that, but the desire to disappear has always been there. Not necessarily to die, but to leave everything behind and start over. He’s done that a few times in his life, but always ended up back where he started. Like a hamster in its wheel, isn’t he?

“What happened then?” Hen interrupts his train of thought, and he casts her a grateful look.

Buck takes a deep breath; he actually didn't tell that part of the story yet, not even to Maddie. It seems so stupid now. Buck has finally had a brief but wonderful glimpse into a fulfilling relationship, something that all of his friends had – well, except for Eddie, but he’s not keen on thinking about Eddie right now. Somehow, it still never occurred Buck to ask them for advice, ask them how they overcame inevitable hurdles. Hen and Karen, Bobby and Athena, Maddie and Howie: they’ve had their issues, their fare share of life throwing spokes between their wheels. Again and again, they patched things up. Would it have made any difference if he’d tried? Confronting Tommy, letting him know that it was worth not giving up what they had? These are idle thoughts.

“He said he was my first, not my last.”

“Huh?” Karen frowns, while Hen looks somewhat lost. “Wait, did he imply that you... because you came out as bi?”

Exasperated, Buck breathes one of his curls out of his forehead and replies, “Did I ever, really? H-he didn't directly say I’d need to try myself out or whatever. I’m not sure.”

Karen raises a hand, “Wait, I don't quite follow. You are bi, right?”

Buck shrugs, “I guess? Does it matter?”

“It should,” Hen replies, frowning. “It’s not everyday that somebody suddenly changes their preferences in their 30s, Buck. That might be a huge deal, especially for you. Many of us always knew that we were... well, somehow different. Others have suppressed it, as probably has Tommy.”

Hen's gaze is a bit wistful, and Buck can almost guess what she's thinking about. She knew Tommy long before him. Buck doesn't know if she was surprised when he finally came out, but she knows the man’s been putting on a probably exhausting façade for years. Perhaps the question is justified – does that also apply to Buck? Did he suppress something he always suspected, or did he just approach the whole matter too naively?

“Maybe it's no wonder Tommy left since I know so little about myself,” he huffs, his fingers restlessly tracing the pattern on the tabletop.

“Nonsense,” Hen replies unusually heatedly, causing her wife to raise a brow at her. She raises her hands defensively, “I mean... why did you want to move in with Tommy, Buck?”

“Why be apart if we can be together,” he prompts, quoting himself from that night because the words are stuck in his mind since then. “I guess I was just feeling too comfortable. Too sure that this time it’s different.”

“But it was different,” Karen interjects, grinning at Hen. Then, suddenly slamming her palm on the table, she adds, “You were a topic at this very table, Buck. Many a night. He seems so happy, Karen, oh, and yeah, you said he was way more self-confident.”

“Buck’s always been self-confident. I believe I said he’s more self-aware.”

“I'm right here,” says Buck dryly. “A-and flattered, too.”

“Just don't get used to it.” Hen grins. “What I was trying to say... you wanted to be with him because you liked him. Because you were a good match. Maybe even too good. I think Tommy broke up with you because he was afraid.”

“What would Tommy have to be afraid of?” Buck protests.

Even now he defends him. Tommy is the coolest guy he’s ever known, courageous and… Don’t think about him now. But how couldn’t he? He told everyone that Tommy’d dumped him, he never said “he left me” or “he broke up with me”. The sudden break-up, after half a year of not even once fighting, not even once being at odds, was like hitting a wall at full speed. He always says dumped because it felt exactly like that: he’d been carelessly discarded. Like rubbish, dirty and stained. But are his feelings Tommy’s fault?

“Buck,” Hen says urgently, reaching for his hand again, seeking his gaze as if he’d once again lost himself in his spiral of thoughts. “Don’t you see it? You have a lot in common. Tommy is afraid of being abandoned. Sometimes it's easier to just leave.”

That hits him like a bucket of ice-cold water. No, like a tsunami wave. Buck knows what it feels like to almost drown. If you actually drown, you don't stand a chance anymore, you just sink down. But when you still feel your lungs filling with water, when you can still wave your arms around, desperately fighting against the tide... that's much worse. Did he ever ask? Really ask? Tommy had only given him a glimpse of his past, but he’d already grasped that much when Josh tried to explain it – times were different, everything was more difficult. It’s one of those things you’ll never fully comprehend if you haven’t experienced it, true, but still. Buck thought that he’d understood.

But had he? They’ve talked many a night, but… maybe it was just Buck talking, when he should have listened. What did he know about Tommy, then? Except that he had a difficult relationship with his father, that he almost married Abby and felt like a coward when he left her. But apart from that? Apart from the little things, trifles like how Tommy liked his coffee, his favorite character in Star Wars, what turned him on. He knew almost nothing about his past, some bits and pieces of his time under Gerrard, how he met Hen and Howie, these kind of stories. For a long time, that had been enough, because when they found each other, they’d both been busy exploring what made them tick. Was it possible that Tommy – decorated hero, the man who knew a guy, Mr. Fake Mouth Static – was actually afraid?

Was it possible that he had felt so much for Buck, and not so little? Convincing himself that Tommy was tired of him had been easy. But what if Tommy had thought that Buck had grown tired of him? Why had they never talked about it? Buck felt anger well up inside of him, and only part of it was reserved for himself this time. He could have called. Instead of bubbling him, Tommy should have just sent that fucking message. Maybe that was kind of cowardly after all, while Buck had always thought he just wasn't worth it. But hadn't he also been cowardly? He had just baked instead of asking. Idiots, both of them, he can somehow read it in Hen’s and Karen’s faces.

“Is that lemon cake?”

Hen and Karen turn around at the same time. Denny has this typical teenage frown on his face, as if to ask why are you eating this without me?

“Why aren't you in bed?”

Karen's stern motherly voice doesn't catch on, Denny rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a toddler. It's only half past nine.”

He's still staring at the cake, and Buck remarks, “Uh, it's actually lemon zest pie. And since I baked it, help yourself.”

“Leave some for Mara,” Hen calls after her son as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“That's my cue,” Buck says, standing up. For a second, he clutches the table hoping Hen and Karen won’t notice, seized by a dizziness that has nothing to do with his blood pressure.

“You sure?”

“I am. You two have given me a lot to think about.”

[Chapter 2]

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #9-1-1 fanfic #BuckTommy #BuckTommy fanfic #tevan #kinley #whump writing #evan buckley #tommy kinard #hen wilson #karen wilson #bobby nash #118 firefam

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steviewashere · 1 year ago

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It would've been so cool if during the scene when Steve hears Dustin "in the walls" of the Wheeler's house, he's the only one who could hear it.

Like he tries to tell the others that Dustin's there or his voice is there. But in reality, it's Steve being lured in by Vecna.

And Dustin's voice goes from normal talking to something panicked. A danger is lurking kind of panicked. And Steve's protective instincts kick in and he can't turn that part of him off. He's just stuck in fight mode for too long. Getting jumpy and putting himself in front of the others. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie think it's weird, but get more and more concerned the more that time passes and Steve is...panicked beyond belief, gasping and hiccuping at every sound, spinning in place, arms up and blocking, eyes wide and searching, silently listening and uncharacteristically serious. He gets to the point where all he can hear around him is the screaming for help from the party members. And the only thing that gets him resolved is a tape playing and somebody holding onto him, urging him to relax.

The moment he thinks it's safe to take his headphones off (because he thinks the screaming and the urgent voices have stopped) Vecna gets him in his hold. And oddly, the only way that gets Steve away from Vecna and back to regular Hawkins, is the genuine urgent pleading of his friends, begging for him to come back to them. To fight Vecna's control and to follow their voices. (Whereas before, the panicked words were coming from everywhere with no sign of stopping, no real instruction as to where the disembodied voices were coming from.)

Also, Steve would definitely offer himself as bait in the Creel house. Imagine he gets Vecna'd and the other person there with him is Robin. And he dies in his best friend's arms. But this time, Robin realizes his death is very real. She knows what holding a limp and bleeding and broken body is like. She knows what it's like being present for the death of Steve Harrington. And all she can think, besides the obvious that her best friend is dead, is that she didn't sign up for this. (But she'd do it all over again if it meant that Steve didn't die in the end.)

Obviously, he wouldn't die. But imagine the angst. Imagine him coming back to himself in the hospital. He comes back different, not wrong, but different. He's no longer playful. Doesn't want to talk. Always staring, unfocused and frightened. Doesn't even care that his key feature, his hair, has been shaved down from how unruly it got during his time in the hospital. He's a shadow of himself. Lingering in what Vecna inflicted onto him. Not placing himself as an outcast, constantly outside of the group. In fact, he's practically too intertwined with everybody. Too much in people's space. Fitting himself between gaps. Needing to be close. Needing to be alert. Barely sleeps. And if he does, it isn't for long, awoken by voices. Has to call everybody, hear their voices soft and natural. Doesn't seek out romantic relationships because he knows he won't be able to explain what happened to him. He's overprotective and awfully afraid. Can't sit in silences because he imagines his friend's screams.

And even when he dates Eddie (because I'm going to make this Steddie, bite me), he is content to just listen to Eddie ramble. On and on. Doesn't allow him to stop. Will ask questions if only to keep the silence at bay. Needs to be close in his sleep. Needs the constant touch and the constant affection. Needs to be reassured. Won't leave Robin's side either. At work or in social functions. She relies on him and he relies on her. They often have late night phone calls that stretch on for hours. Steve in his kitchen, hunched over the phone at his island, repeating over and over that he's alive and reasonably okay. And Robin on the other side, comforting him that everybody is safe and that she's not in danger and nobody is going to need him this late at night. Eddie getting out of bed to Steve slumped and asleep at the counter, phone still tight in his grip. Lugging him to the couch to sleep. Sitting nearby, on the floor or at Steve's feet. One hand on his ankle or his wrist or on his shaved scalp.

Just Steve growing dependent on everybody. Instead of them being dependent on him. And also being tremendously traumatized. And just...abnormal.

Anyway. Maybe I'll write this. If not, here's an idea lol.

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #platonic stobin #Steve gets vecna'd #ramble

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bluemagi · 1 year ago

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Re. Jumping ship and multishipping

I've been thinking a lot about this these past few weeks, since a certain hot pilot swooped in and stole my heart. I've seen people giving other people shit for "giving up" and jumping ship, for multishipping or even just for liking and enjoying a character. And it's just weird to me how people are so obsessed with controlling other people's behaviors. Just the other day I saw a TikTok where the creator was saying that people who "jumped ship" to Bucktommy were just fetishising because they want to see two guys kissing. Which is just... a terrible take on so many levels.

I was a Buddie shipper too. I enjoyed their on-screen relationship, I saw the signs that there might be more than friendship, and I hoped that something might happen. But I have also been in fandoms for at least 20 years by now. I've been through queerbaiting, I have been through shipbaiting, I have been through relationships I previously loved being destroyed by what happens on screen. I know that nothing is promised and that we have to have realistic expectations. Our interpretations of things are usually not what the writers/actors/directors/editors intend, and so we can always hope, but we have to know that we probably won't get what we want.

I think I grew a bit bored with the Buddie ship around season 5. I was watching queer representation in other shows, like Tarlos in Lone Star, and I couldn't see 911 ever go there, especially as time went on and nothing happened, there were no obvious signs. I didn't think they would ever make Buck or Eddie queer. I still enjoyed the show for what it was and would watch when I had the time, but I wasn't obsessing over it anymore. I would watch the show and hope that either one of them would get an interesting love interest (I actually sort of liked Natalia at the end of season 6), and until that happened, I would just enjoy Buddie outside of that, in fan fictions and Tumblr discourse.

So imagine my surprise when they finally did it, when they actually made Bi Buck canon. Since Tommy had been on the show before, we already knew a lot about him, and we could also read into the difference between s2 Tommy and s7 Tommy and see that there had been a lot of development there. So yeah, I was immediately interested. The more I saw, the more interested I became. So while I can still love and appreciate Buddie, it is far more interesting to me to have actual substance with an on-screen relationship, rather than having to try to interpret and read into every interaction to see if it can relate to Buddie.

But, back to jumping ship and multishipping. I've been thinking back through my fandom history, and I realized that this is something I have gone through several times before, in one way or another. I started out with soap operas, and in those, everyone cheats and nobody is ever happy for long, so jumping ship back and forth happens. Suddenly a character is killed, only to come back to life several years later. They completely change personalities, they change faces (new actors), so things change a lot. I suppose that might be why multishipping and jumping ship is not really an issue for me. It just make sense that you can change your mind about something when more content comes out. It's sort of like a relationship. You can be happy and in love for a while, or for a long time, but things change, people grow, and suddenly that relationship is not right for you anymore.

So I was thinking back on my previous experiences with jumping ship and multishipping, and I just scribbled down some thoughts on them. Starting with....

As The World Turns - Nuke vs. LuRe

I think one of the first times I jumped ship, was from Noah/Luke to Luke/Reid in As The World Turns. An American soap that ended in like 2011. Nuke were one of the first gay male couples on American day time TV, and if you have the time, please go read about them on Wikipedia, because their story is absolutely ridiculous and overdramatic, as most soap couples are. And since this was in the 00s / early 10s, they barely shared any kisses or intimacy. At certain points we were counting the days between their on-screen kisses, and I think we went 200 days without an on-screen kiss while they were in a romantic relationship on the show, and the first time they had sex, I think they just kissed and fucking jumped on the bed or something. It was just ridiculous. But it was representation, which there was not a lot of back in those days.

Then, my beloved Reid Oliver came into the picture. He was out and proud, he was confident, successful, unapologetic, he was just very interesting. Luke/Noah was young love, riddled with insecurity and drama. Luke/Reid was more confident, more adult. And also, it was an option! Back in those days, there were barely any queer characters on TV, and now there were three guys in one show. At the point when Reid came on to the show, I was already finding myself growing tired and annoyed with Nuke, and Noah specifically. So when he showed an interest in Luke and they began their relationship, I happily jumped over.

I was then punished by the show's cancellation and that fucking train, but that's beside the point.... Moving on!

Days of Our Lives - Will, Sonny and Paul

Now this was a fun one! I remember watching Days back when I was in elementary school. My friend and I would go home together from school and watch it before doing home work. I was better in English and in reading than her, so I would be reading the subtitles out loud to her so she could keep up with what was happening. I think Days actually helped me to learn English much better. So I remembered all the drama with Sami, Carrie, Lucas and Austin, and with baby Will. And it was a bit shocking to me when suddenly baby Will was an adult (or I guess in his late teens) and was coming out of the closet. This was around the same time as ATWT, I believe, around 2010, so again, there wasn't a lot of representation on TV.

Also, side note, this was before streaming was a thing, and I lived in Norway, so we didn't even have access to everything. I had to buy DVDs to watch stuff like Queer as Folk and The L Word.

Anyways, Will and Sonny became a couple, and with that, the first male same sex couple on the show. It was the only real option, so of course I shipped it. I am again reading the Wikipedia page for this couple, and their story is quite insane. They recast the role of Will at one point, and I didn't love how the character changed after the actor was changed. So when Paul came on the show, I was immediately drawn to him. His back story was interesting and the actor had amazing chemistry with everyone. So I shipped him with both Will and Sonny (and both versions of Will, tbh). And again, you simply must read the Wikipedia article about this. It was just pure insanity.

Supernatural – Dean, Cas, Benny

We cannot talk about shipping without talking about Destiel. It is simply not possible. I'm not even going to explain anything, because we're on Tumblr, everyone knows Destiel. So unsurprisingly, I am a Destiel shipper. I can't remember when I first started shipping them, but it must have been quite early. Probably not in season 4 when Cas first arrived, but probably in season 5.

So Destiel is an example where I haven't jumped ship, but instead, I have multishipped. Cas has unfortunately not really had any real love interest outside of Dean. I honestly can't even think of any, apart from that random woman he married when he had amnesia, which... just no, dude. But Dean however, he has had some options, and I haven't hated them.

Lisa, I loved her back in the early seasons. And when he went to live with her after season 5, I didn't hate it. I knew the chances of Destiel ever happening were slim to none, so I could enjoy Dean and Lisa together on screen while enjoying Dean and Cas in fan fictions.

Later, we met Benny. And I immediately loved him. He was so interesting, he had such an interesting relationship with Dean, and I was so mad when he died. Again, Dean was never shown to be anything but straight, so again, chances of anything happening here was also slim to none. But I could happily enjoy fan fictions and content on them, alongside with Destiel.

Other honorable mentions:

I was considering writing a whole section about Robron from Emmerdale, but I realized that I am still so pissed off about that whole thing, so I don't think I'd be able to articulate anything good from that. So instead I will just use this as an example of an on-screen couple that I absolutely loved, but that I ended up hating and abandoning due to what happened on screen. I jumped that ship straight into the ocean, and swam far far far away.

Klaine! The couple that got me into Tumblr in the first place! I loved Kurt from the first season, and I was so intrigued when Blaine came into the show (I was also a huge AVPM fan, so that just made it all the better). And I really enjoyed them together for the first couple of seasons. But thinking back, I think I fell out of love with them quite early on. Their stories didn't hit the same, it got boring. I was actually more interested in Karofsky by the time I stopped watching the show, which was probably part of the reason why I stopped watching. It was quite the unpopular opinion back then. Maybe still? I have no idea.

Gallavich! I loved Shameless back in the day, and Mickey and Ian were among my favorites. But at a certain point, I got fed up with it all and stopped watching. The on-and-off stuff got boring, important things got swept under the rug, and I didn't like the treatment of Mickey. Anyway, I gave up and stopped watching. It was only years later when the show was ending that I caught up and found out they actually ended up together. Which was amazing, but still left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

Anyways, my point is that there seems to be this opinion now that if you ship a couple, you are stuck with them for life. Jumping ship, or even multishipping, is seen as a betrayal, as something horrible. Shipping Buck and Tommy apparantly means that we hate Eddie, and that we don't care about the beautiful friendship and relationship Buck and Eddie have. But that is simply not the truth. At least not for me, or for most people I have seen discussing this.

At this point in time, I am going to enjoy the beautiful on-screen relationship that is Buck and Tommy, and I am excited to see where it goes. If that relationship ends, and somewhere down the line, Buck and Eddie finally end up together, I will probably be happy (as long as it is done right, like Oliver Stark himself has said).

#911 discourse #multishipping #jumping ship #bucktommy #idk just my two cents

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who-the-fuck-knows-blog · 2 years ago

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i’m gonna make a post and hope people aren’t like. mad at me for it. but izzy did not only love blackbeard, the facade edward put on. izzy on his deathbed confirmed to us that he was aware blackbeard was an illusion. and he was aware that ed was not that man. he was in love with edward. it’s implied izzy knew edward before blackbeard existed. because he helped create the illusion.

izzy did not do great things to edward (putting it lightly, he actively did verbally wound edward and provoke him to throw back up his metaphorical walls) he thought that the best he could get from edward, like any pirate, was to be of use to edward. to help maintain blackbeard because that was the only way he could keep edward’s attention, that he could stay close to edward. he didn’t consider retirement because for people like them, retirement is death. there’s a lot that went into his motivations.

when he realized that with stede, edward was more open and available than ever, he didn’t know how much edward shared with stede, he at first must have assumed ed was luring stede into a false sense of security to kill him, as was his stated plan.

(theres a lot here abt how ed probably didnt open up to izzy as much because of their past, izzy knew a lot of the worst things ed had done, izzy knew that he was essentially ed’s weapon and protection, izzy was a pirate like ed and the ed of pre-stede was somewhere around izzys temperment towards sentimentality —[ignoring for the moment that izzy is the mooost sentimental pirate]— ‘love of a pet makes a man weak’ blackbeard era type stuff. ed didnt open up to izzy in those ways, he did with other things ‘do you see this izzy, he’s amazing, look at all this amazing stuff, can’t believe i was living like this, can you, iz?’ and i’m sure as first mate izzy has had to clean up after ed when he’s in a vulnerable state after drinking or drug use because he doesn’t want anyone else to see ed like that. but that’s besides the point)

con said he played it like izzy was losing his only, closest friend to a group of cooler people. and then in s2 we get confirmation that he needed to accept that this was going to happen and that once he realized stede was good for ed, stede wasn’t a threat to his friendship with ed, or even if he was, that izzy didn’t mind anymore, or would do his best to put it behind him to continue his stated goal of keeping edward content.

now that izzy knows that stede won’t die and make ed miserable, that he can hold his own, izzy is satisfied.

when izzy was dying, he didn’t call for blackbeard, he called for his eddie. the man he’s loved all along. the man he maintained the illusion of blackbeard with solely to stay closer to him.

#idk not getting into how i feel about izzys role in the blackbeard myth #bc while i think he was probably important to edward in smaller ways #ed was clearly the brains behind it #izzy was more the hype guy #ofmd s2 #izzy hands #ed teach #izzy death mentions #i dont rly want to get into an argument about this

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Title: demons are a girl’s best friend

Pairing: Incubus!Eddie Munson x Incubus!Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 1/1

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list | Masterlist

Summary:

Since returning from the Upside Down, something dark exists in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Something that is satisfied by only one thing - sex.

And they've set their sights on you.

Tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), f/m/m threesome, p in v, masturbation, choking, pet names, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral (m/f receiving), mild dub con for incubus magic ya know?, rough sex, dom/sub, demons still believe in aftercare. Let me know if anything is missing!

You can’t sleep. You’ve tossed, you’ve turned, you’ve flipped your pillow over chasing the cool side, but sleep just still won’t come and put you out of your exhausted misery.

It’s been a rough week. As a senior at Hawkins High School, you and the other one hundred-something students in your class are all feeling the impending weight of finals. You’re up later and later every night, hunched over your worn out desk as you write yet another essay, hoping that the words you’re coming up with are still making sense. Your eyes burn as you stare up at the ceiling, the one lone glow in the dark star that’s remained affixed to the paint glowing dimly.

With a groan, you turn over again. All your pent up energy is starting to fizzle beneath your skin, in your blood, and you feel flushed all over. You shift your legs, the friction of your pajamas against your sensitive core making you bite your lip. You slip your hand beneath the waistband, sliding your fingers through the slick that’s built up between your thighs. You whimper at the sensation, giving another swipe, and another.

Your brain starts to wander back to a scene in one of the naughty books you swiped from the thrift store you work at part time. In it, the heroine was rescued by two strapping young knights, whisked away into the forest, where they took care of her needs.

Her every need.

You picture it in your head - four hands gliding over your body, two sets of lips leaving imprints of heat across your skin. A tongue diving between your lips, tangling with yours, while another swirls over the soft skin of your tummy before traveling lower, lower, lower.

Your hand moves faster, your back arching slightly off the bed as your hips chase a rhythm that will bring you the release you desperately crave. In your mind, the scene has shifted and you’re naked, the blunt head of one cock sliding into your channel as another thrust into your mouth.

With a choked off moan, you tip over the edge, your orgasm spreading through your limbs and making them grow heavy. As you lay there in the afterglow, your eyes fluttering shut, your only thought is how desperately you wished that was real.

_____

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson have not always been this way. Something about them, to the very core of their beings, had been changed when they last went to the Upside Down. Something dark existed in them, begging for release, and it was only satisfied by one thing.

Sex.

It didn’t matter who it was with, not really, though so far nothing compared to when they were together, satisfying the urge with the give and take of their own energy, feeding off each other. Occasionally, they’d branch out, bringing home women and men alike for a night of pleasure that kept them satiated for a few days. Hawkins, unfortunately, had a limited number of people to tempt and lure. They’d traveled as far out as Indianapolis a couple times, but financially, it wasn’t the most feasible option.

As it was, tonight, Eddie lounged in bed beside Steve, cigarette dangling between his lips, when he felt that familiar tug in his belly. A side effect of that darkness, Steve and Eddie were more in tune with the carnal desires of the town, the threads of lust that stretched from people’s minds and vibrated enticingly.

Eddie sits up, tilting his head back as he blows out a hazy cloud of smoke. Beside him, he feels Steve tense.

“You feel that, too?” He asks. “Shit, that’s good.”

Steve nods, plucking the cigarette from Eddie’s fingers and bringing it to his lips. Eddie watches with rapt attention, eyes trained to his lips.

“We gotta find that one,” Eddie says. “I don’t think we’ve felt one that strong before.”

“Not even those twins from Marion,” Steve agrees. He purses his lips, blowing the smoke into Eddie’s face with a cheeky grin.

“You’re a tease, Harrington,” Eddie growls, leaning forward and shoving him back into the mattress.

“What are you going to do about it, Munson?”

“I have some ideas.”

_____

It’s Friday afternoon, and you’re in the drama club room, painting one of the set pieces for the next production. You’re alone, having stayed back when the rest of the cast and crew decided to call it a day. You needed to get another coat of paint on this fake tree before the weekend so that you could start putting the leaves on it on Monday.

You’re so focused on the task that you don’t hear the door open, or the sound of footsteps punctuated by the clink of chains. It’s not until a hand is pressed to your shoulder do you realize you’re not alone.

With a surprise shriek, you turn, wielding your paintbrush like a weapon. Eddie Munson stands in front of you, hands held up in surrender, a smirk on his face.

“Woah, didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart,” he says. The smirk spreads into a grin as you blink at him. You drop the arm wielding the paintbrush and press your free hand to your chest, over your pounding heart.

“Christ, Eddie! Give a girl some warning!”

“I did! I called in to ask if anyone was in here but no one answered!” He laughs, a hand running through his hair. “What are you doing here so late, anyways?”

“Wanted to finish painting so it could dry over the weekend,” you tell him. The conversation stalls at that, the two of you just staring at each other curiously.

Eddie Munson is an enigma. Even before that massive, unexplained earthquake Hawkins had about a month ago, he was always on the periphery of the social classes at Hawkins. When he was initially blamed for Chrissy Cunningham’s murder, but found not guilty, it turned him into a greater social pariah.

Apparently, inciting a massive witch hunt because the whole town believes you’re a homicidal satan worshiper doesn’t exactly help your reputation.

He still hangs out with the younger students in his Dungeons and Dragons Club, a couple of freshmen who worked tirelessly to clear his name with local law enforcement, providing him an alibi that cleared him of all charges. You even see him with Nancy Wheeler on occasion, which is a surprise given her popularity.

You’ve always found Eddie to be a nice guy. Severely misunderstood, a victim of the small town hive mindset. You’ve had a couple classes with him over the last two years, and while his work ethic left a lot to be desired, he wasn’t a bad guy.

And, if you’re being really honest with yourself, you’ve always found him kind of cute, with his wild curly hair and darker sense of style.

It’s when that thought passes through your mind that Eddie tilts his head, eyes darkening.

“You need a ride? I was gonna head out soon, I can drop you off somewhere?” He offers. “I just gotta swing by Family Video and pick my friend up from work first.”

You’re surprised by the offer. You didn’t think you were at offering-rides-level friendly. A ride from Eddie Munson does sound way better than walking around Hawkins near nightfall, though.

“Uh, sure. Thanks, Eddie, that’s sweet of you to offer.”

_____

There is nothing sweet about Eddie’s offer to drive you home.

He’d been searching for that thread of lust all day. Skipped half his classes to do so, slipping into random classrooms as he tapped into that otherworldly perception.

It wasn’t until he went to the drama classroom after school, intending to grab something from the cubby he keeps for Hellfire Club, that he felt that familiar tug.

And there you were, hunched over a plywood and paper maché monstrosity, painting the details of tree bark while being oblivious to your surroundings. Everyone else had already cleared out for the weekend and it was just the two of you in the room, no other distractions.

When you didn’t respond to him calling out, he’d pressed a hand to your shoulder.

And what an enlightening experience that was.

That brief contact was all it took to be flooded with images of you in what he assumes is your bed, hand between your legs as you writhe around on the sheets, chasing the euphoria your body has been building to.

When you turned, his hand breaking contact, he couldn’t help but smirk, excitement and hunger coursing through him in equal measure.

Then he got another surge of lust as you looked at him, pupils dilating in that delicious way he craves.

He can definitely work with this.

He offered you a ride home without another thought. It was a half baked plan on his part, but the longer he got to spend with you, the lower your inhibitions would go.

Add Steve to the equation, and he could speed this process up ten fold.

Eddie glances at you, seated in the front passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Every so often you shift in your seat, your thighs rubbing together, and Eddie has to bite back a groan.

“You gettin’ excited about graduation?” He asks casually. You jump slightly, like you weren’t expecting him to speak, but you recover quickly.

“I guess. Will be nice to see someplace besides Hawkins for a while.”

“I know what you mean. Soon as I finally have that diploma, I’m outta here.”

You giggle, and he knows what you’re about to say before the words even leave your mouth. “Is this the year the great Eddie Munson finally graduates?”

“Hey, now,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest in faux insult, “I’ll have you know that I was just waiting for the right year. ‘86, baby, am I right?”

Another giggle, and Eddie risks another glance at you. Christ, you’re pretty. You’re wearing one of those long skirts with little flowers on it, a black sweater, and a pair of black boots, and the whole outfit just does it for him. His fingers dig into the steering wheel as he fights the urge to dig them into your thigh when you smile at him.

“‘86, baby,” you repeat. He’s grinning as he pulls into a parking space in front of Family Video. He sees Steve’s head lift in his direction and throws him a wave.

“You know Steve, right?” Eddie asks, watching you closely for any reaction.

“Uh, yeah, who doesn’t know Steve Harrington?” You ask with a nervous giggle.

Eddie doesn’t even need his other sense to see what’s plain as day in that response and he mentally fist pumps in excitement. God bless Harrington for being one attractive son of a bitch.

Speak of the devil, Steve picks that moment to pull your door open, startling you. While surprised, Steve recovers quickly and slips right into the role of teen heart throb, leaning against your open door and giving you a smirk.

“Well, hello,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting a beautiful girl this afternoon but I am pleasantly surprised.”

Your cheeks turn pink with a pretty blush and Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s over your head. Eddie licks his lips, eyes going dark as he gives a single nod.

The sound of Eddie saying your name catches your attention, head turning to look at him. “She was hangin’ out late after drama club so I offered her a ride.”

“Always the gentleman, Munson,” Steve quips before shutting your door and climbing through the back of the van. “I’ll let stealing my seat slide this time, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wink that you catch in the rear view mirror.

Eddie pulls the car out of the parking spot, looking at you as he does. “Where to, m’lady?”

You open your mouth to reply when Steve inserts himself between the two of you, leaning his arms on the center console. “I have an idea, why don’t you join us at my house? We can watch a movie, smoke a little, if you’re into that kinda thing.”

“Oh, uh, sure?” You reply, a little uncertain. But when Steve gives you a million dollar smile, Eddie feels a trickle of your lust flow through him.

Thank fuck for Steve, Eddie thinks as he routes the three of you to Harrington’s house.

____

You don’t know what made you agree to hang out with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington. You’ve never exchanged more than a handful of conversations with either of them, but like most girls your age in Hawkins, you’re not immune to Steve Harrington’s charm.

Then there’s Eddie, rougher around the edges than Steve, with his leather and chains. But like you noted earlier, he’s always been kind, despite what the small minds of Hawkins have thrown at him, and you find him cute in a mysterious kind of way.

You sneak a glance into the rear view mirror, your gaze immediately meeting Steve’s. You look away, embarrassed, but the man in question leans forward, lips close to your ear.

“So, how’s Hawkins High been treating you?” He asks, warm breath tickling your face and making you shiver. “You still doing yearbook with Nance?”

The questions are innocent, nothing more than small talk, but his proximity makes your blood heat.

“Yeah, still in yearbook. We’re waiting for the prints to come back,” you tell him. You turn your head to look at him and you see his eyes flick to your lips as you draw in a sharp breath, surprised at how close he is.

He leans back just enough to give you some breathing room. “You were always my favorite photographer. Always made sure to get me good side.”

Eddie scoffs, an arm shooting out to knock Steve’s shoulder, throwing him off balance until he lands back on his ass.

“Do not feed his ego, it’s big enough as it is,” he jokes, dodging Steve’s hand when he reaches forward to smack him. “Don’t assault the driver!”

Their bickering makes you laugh, some of the tension leaving you as you continue to watch them interact. They’re an odd pair, but as you watch them you’re struck by how their juxtaposition is exactly what makes them work.

Eddie pulls up to a familiar two story house in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Hawkins. You’ve been here for a couple famous Harrington parties, but the home seems daunting when there’s not one hundred other people milling around as a buffer.

Engine killed, Steve and Eddie hop out of the van. Eddie jogs around to the passenger door and pulls it open, gesturing for your exit with a wide arm and a slight bow.

The two of you trail after Steve into the house after he unlocks the door. Steve runs upstairs to his room, excusing himself to change out of his work clothes. As he disappears on the landing, Eddie takes you hand in his, tugging you forward.

“Come on, let’s pick out the movie before Steve can complain about me picking a horror movie,” he says.

Steve’s voice chimes in from upstairs, “It’s May! You don’t watch Halloween in May!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but you’re too fixated on the feel of his hand in yours to react to Steve’s joke. You’ve read about feeling sparks before in some of those romance novels, and you think this may be what they’re talking about. Your skin tingles where it connects to his, your smooth palm in his rough one.

You’re so lost to your thoughts that you don’t even notice when he stops walking, causing you to crash right into his chest. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you.

“Woah, tiger. You okay?” He asks.

Your arms are pinned between your bodies, hands pressed to his chest, and when you look up into his eyes, your fingers reflexively curl into the fabric of his t-shirt. Your mouth goes dry as your eyes flick to his face, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you whisper.

You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t understand why Eddie is looking at you like this, like he wants to devour you. Your pulse beats wildly as his eyes meet yours, his brown eyes nearly black.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly.

When you nod, you hear him murmur what sounds like thank god before his lips connect with yours.

It’s not a soft kiss, by any means. His lips press to yours with purpose, with demand, his tongue sliding against yours is when you let out a small whine. His hands frame your face, fingers curling into your hair.

“Couldn’t even pick a movie?” Steve asks. You pull back from Eddie, turning to look at Steve where he’s leaning against the door frame of the den, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“You heard the man,” Eddie says, leaning in to pick up where he left off.

“I…wait…I don’t-,” you stammer, looking between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Eddie releases you, allowing you to step back and give you some much needed breathing room. Your mind is racing, struggling to give you all the reasons why you need to leave, but somehow you keep coming up with reasons to stay.

Steve steps up behind you, a hand trailing lightly from your shoulder and down your arm, making you shiver. “Nothings going on that you haven’t thought about before. Isn’t that right?”

You’re quiet as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, your skin on fire where his lips had been.

“I don’t…I’m not-,” you try to say, but Eddie makes a shushing sound, closing the distance between you once more, pressing you firmly between their bodies. Eddie’s hands join Steve’s, skimming your waist until his fingers toy with the band of your skirt.

“Pretty, isn’t she, Stevie?” Eddie asks. “And such a naughty thing, touching herself while thinking of taking two cocks.”

“H-how did you…,” you start, your words disappearing in a gasp as a hand reaches under your sweater, a palm roughly grasping your breast.

“You called out to us last night. Don’t you remember? As you played with that pretty little pussy?” Steve whispers into your ear, punctuating the statement with a nip of his teeth. “We’re at your service, sweetheart. Just say the word.”

You finally manage to pry your eyes open, heavy lidded though they are. Both of them are staring at you hungrily, eyes black as night. You feel like prey, like a rabbit in the woods that’s about to become dinner.

“Okay,” you whisper, even as your brain screams at you to run.

_____

Steve doesn’t know when he’s felt a greater victory than hearing you give in. That pull of lust, that energy in your very core, just begging to be released, consumed, ravaged.

Eddie is immediately on you, lips dancing with yours in a slick slide that makes Steve’s mouth water. His cock is painfully hard as he watches Eddie’s hands pull your sweater up and over your head, leaving you in your simple black bra.

Eddie drops to his knees, gently lifting one foot to tug your boot off, then the other. Steve busies himself with finding the zipper of your skirt and tugging it down, the fabric dropping away from you as Eddie stands.

“Kneel on the couch, lean your arms on the back cushions,” Eddie commands. Steve watches as you obey, limbs shaky as you do as he says. “Such a good girl.”

The praise makes you whimper, the sound music to Steve’s ears. He watches as Eddie steps up behind you, a hand pressing to your back to make you arch deeper, your ass tilting up gorgeously.

“You ever have someone lick your pussy, baby?” Eddie asks. Steve watches you shake your head, but he knows Eddie well enough to know that won’t suffice. “Words, princess. Use your words. We’ve barely gotten started, you can’t go all cock dumb on us yet.”

“N-no,” you manage to say.

“No, what?” Eddie asks, voice teasing as his hand slides down your back, over your ass, between your thighs.

Confused, you glance over your shoulder. While Eddie’s focus is on his hand between your legs, on the fingers digging into the meat of your inner thigh, Steve meets your gaze.

“Eddie has a particular taste. He likes to be in charge,” Steve explains. Your eyes widen. “You should call him ‘sir’, if you want him to keep going.”

“Oh…no, sir,” you whisper, cheeks flushing a pretty pink in your embarrassment. Eddie groans, the sound going straight to Steve’s dick where it presses painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

“Good girl,” Eddie says, fingers curling into the elastic of your panties and tugging them down your thighs until they sit at your knees.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says as he presses a kiss to your low back. “I’m going to make you cum with my tongue, maybe my fingers, too, if I’m feeling generous. Then, you’re going to show me how well you can take Steve’s cock. Alright?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Oh, she’s a quick learner. I think that deserves a reward.” Eddie uses both hands to spread your cheeks, giving Steve an unobstructed view to your glistening pussy that makes him groan, a palm sliding over his dick to give him a fleeting moment of relief.

Eddie leans forward, licking a broad stripe from your clit to your quivering entrance, making you shout. With that encouragement, he turns you into his own personal feast, fingertips digging into your hips as he works to hold you still as he circles his tongue over your clit, down to your hole, and back again.

Steve strips himself of his sweater before tugging his jeans off. He rounds the couch, coming to stand before you.

Christ, what a picture you make. Your eyes are clenched shut, mouth dropped open as you moan, fingers digging into the couch cushion for purchase. You don’t even notice him standing in front of you until he laces his fingers through your hair, tugging sharply.

Your eyes pop open in surprise and Steve smiles at you. “That feel good, huh? Having your pussy licked by Eddie? He’s got a talented tongue, right?”

You nod, the movement limited by his hold on your hair. Steve glanced past your shoulder, locking eyes with Eddie as he sides two fingers into you, pumping roughly.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, muscles tightening.

“Are you going to cum?” Steve asks, releasing his hold on your hair to hold your chin. “Come on, sweetheart, give Eddie want he wants so I can fuck that tight little cunt.”

Your mouth drops with a shout, eyes rolling back as you obey. Steve groans at the surge of power that slides through him. Eddie stands as your body sags against the couch. He holds his fingers out to Steve, sliding them over his tongue.

“Come on, Stevie, don’t keep her waiting.”

_____

You think you might be dead. Or dreaming. Maybe some combination of the two.

The orgasm that Eddie pulls out of you is like nothing you’ve experienced before. The way it coursed through your whole body, lighting you up from head to toe, all your other fumblings under your covers at midnight paled in comparison.

You’re boneless against the couch cushions until two sets of hands start to maneuver your body on someone’s lap. You blink, staring dazedly down into Steve’s face.

His hands grip your waist, grinding you against his hard length, the sensation near painful on your sensitive clit. Steve’s face is familiar, yet not at all at the same time. Like something shifts beneath the surface of his smile, his eyes darker than you remember them being.

“Hey there,” he says gently. He brings one hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer to plant a surprisingly chaste kiss to your lips. “You good?”

You give a shaky nod, moving your hips over him again, without his guidance. He groans, head tipping back against the couch cushions as his eyes flutter shut. Movement to your right catches your attention, and you turn to see Eddie, now naked, slowly sliding his hand up and down his cock. He leans in closer, using his free hand to grip your chin and tug you to him, lips slamming against yours hungrily.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth to tangle with yours as Steve lifts you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance before urging you down onto him. You gasp into Eddie’s kiss, the stretch overwhelming in the best way possible. Eddie pulls back with a sharp smile.

“That feel good, princess?” He asks, voice gravelly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you thank Steve for giving your greedy pussy his cock?” He turns your head back to Steve.

“T-thank you, Steve.”

“Good girl,” Eddie praises. “Now, I want you to make yourself cum.”

Tentatively, you begin to move your hips. Forward, back, forward, back, adjusting to the sensation, familiarizing yourself with the body beneath yours. Steve groans.

“I think you can do better than that,” Eddie teases. He moves off the couch, positioning himself behind you. His hands rest on top of Steve’s as he grips your hips, urging your movements on. His dick presses to your back and he groans into your ear every time he drags you against it.

Steve leans forward, one hand digging into Eddie’s wild hair to pull him into a kiss over your shoulder. You gasp, tightening around Steve as you watch them.

When they break apart, panting, Steve smiles at you. “She liked that, Eddie. Her pussy got so tight just now.”

“Yeah?” He smooths your hair away from your neck, peppering you with kisses and bites.

“Eddie, please,” you moan on a particularly rough bite that Steve punctuates with a sharp thrust of his hips.

“Please, what?”

“Wanna touch you.”

He laughs. “You are touchin’ me.”

“N-no,” you stutter. “More.”

His hand moves from your hip to your belly, trailing down until his fingers graze where you and Steve are connected. His calloused fingertips trace circles around your clit, featherlight and not nearly enough. You give a frustrated groan, grinding harder to chase the friction both men are providing you.

“Tell you what,” Eddie says, with a pointed swipe of his fingers directly where you crave them most. “Cum for Steve, and I’ll let you suck my cock. How’s that sound?”

All you can manage is a whine as Steve starts thrusting from below you, making you tip forward until you’re flush to his chest. Eddie keeps his hand wedged between your bodies, pressing to your swollen clit until the dual sensations cause you to tip over the edge with a shout, limbs shaking as you cling to Steve’s shoulders.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve groans as you flutter around him. Both of them slow their movements as you come down from your release, until finally they release you.

Steve lays you on your back, pushing your legs apart and settling between them, sliding his still hard cock through your folds. Eddie positions himself by your hand, a hand fisting his own length as he stares down at you.

“This is what you wanted, right, princess?” He asks.

“Y-yes, sir,” you say, eyes fixed on his hand. He’s gorgeous, lithe frame covered in tattoos and scars that you want to explore.

“Such a good little slut,” he praises, before tipping your chin back so that the crown of your head is on the cushion. “Now, open up.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw open and moaning when he traces your lips with his tip.

“Aw, don’t tease her, Munson,” Steve admonishes, slowly slipping himself back inside your sensitive pussy.

“Can it, Harrington, I’m working here,” Eddie snaps, his words lacking any real heat. Despite his response, Eddie begins to slide his cock past your lips. He takes care not to push too far, pumping his hips in short thrusts that counter Steve’s deep ones.

“Christ, the mouth on you, sweetheart,” Eddie bites out.

“Her pussy’s even better,” Steve taunts as he slips a hand beneath your knee, pushing your leg up to your chest and opening you up to him further. The deeper angle makes you groan around Eddie, eyes shutting as you give yourself over to the sensation.

Eddie’s hand wraps gently around your throat, squeezing the sides tenderly. You can feel Steve lean forward, can hear the slick sound of their tongues meeting even among the noise of their bodies pounding against yours. Steve’s thrusts grow erratic, until he’s pressing deep, his own orgasm running through him like a freight train.

He pulls out and Eddie follows suit, leaving you feeling empty. You frown at them, until Steve pulls you up, urging you to turn around until you’re laying with your back against his chest, facing Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, hand reaching out to trail his fingers through Steve’s release as it slips out of you. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You feel your cheeks heat from blushing and Steve’s chest rumbles beneath you with his laughter. “After all that, you’re going shy on us now?”

Eddie chuckles as he shuffles forward, sliding himself through the slick mess between your legs. Without warning, he slams into you, jerking you against Steve and making you cry out from how sensitive they’ve made you.

He withdraws slowly, slowly, until just the tip of him is barely inside you, and with a wicked smile he sets a punishing rhythm that has you crying out with every thrust. It’s not long before you’re cresting another wave of euphoria, this one almost painful as it crashes over you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, just like that,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he picks up his pace. He leans closer, pressing his lips to yours. He bites at your lips, hard enough to make you yelp, as he thrusts deep, deeper, until he spills into you as well.

Eddie collapses onto you, pressing you uncomfortably into Steve. You weakly smack him on the arm.

“Eddie, off, you’re crushing me,” you whine. You feel him chuckle before he lifts off of you, sitting back on his heels and helping you sit up.

“Come on, let's get you to bed,” Steve says as he stands, sliding an arm around your back and another beneath your knees and lifting you from the couch as if you weigh nothing. “Eds, grab her some water?”

Eddie walks unabashedly towards the kitchen as Steve heads for the stairs. Your head rests on his chest as he carries you up the steps.

Once he’s in his room, he sets you gently on the bed. Eddie walks in, handing the glass to you as Steve disappears through a door to what you assume is a bathroom, if the sound of running water is anything to go by.

You chug the water in greedy gulps as Eddie watches you intently. He’s got his jeans on again, the fly unbuttoned over his boxers. Steve emerges from the bathroom in a pair of sweats, a washcloth in his hand that he uses to slowly clean you up with.

“I’d offer you something to wear, but I kinda like the idea of you naked in my bed,” he says with a wink.

“Are you feeling okay?” Eddie asks as he lays beside you, propped up on his side with his head in his hand.

“I’m way more than okay,” you tell him with a grin. “I’m not really sure where all this came from, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

Eddie smiles, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You feeling tired?”

“Little bit. I swear, Eddie, I’m fine.” You stretch your arms above your head. Shyly, you look between them. “Should I…I can go?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve says without hesitation. He slips into bed beside you. “You’re staying.”

That gets no argument from you. You yawn, the desire to sleep growing stronger with every passing minute.

Eddie wraps an arm around your middle, settling in closely with his face pressed into your chest with a happy sigh. Steve curls up behind you, his arm looping over Eddie’s to touch you both.

“‘Night, guys,” you murmur, before drifting off in the comfort of their embrace.

_____

When your breathing slows and evens out, Eddie lifts his head to look at Steve over your sleeping form.

“Steve,” he whispers. He watches Steve’s head lift from the pillow as well.

“I feel like I’m floating,” Steve whispers back, voice giddy. Eddie nods his agreement.

“I haven’t felt this good since…ever, probably. Even before Vecna.”

“What do you say we keep this one?” Steve asks.

“I’d say you read my mind, Harrington,” Eddie replies.

He looks down at your sleeping form, and for the first time he thinks maybe being a demon isn’t so bad after all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #demon eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x female reader #demon Steve Harrington

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eddies-ashtray · 3 years ago

Text

Jam

Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Eddie has the whole Hellfire gang over after the completion of a very successful campaign. A combination of curiosity and a desire to get inside Eddie’s mind lure you into his bedroom to snoop.

WC: 2.9k

Category: Fluff.

Content: This takes place during Eddie’s first senior year (reader and Eddie are the same age), Gareth and Jeff tease reader about their crush on Eddie, reader snoops in Eddie’s room without his knowledge (but he’s not angry about it), mention of underage drinking, mention of smoking, the term “love boner” is used a grand total of 3 times, love (like) confession, Eddie calls reader “sweetheart”, Eddie thinks reader is prettyyyy, Eddie is nervous around reader.

A/N: Inspired by the Email Surveillance episode of The Office where Jim has a BBQ at his place and Pam finds his room and just kinda looks around and finds an old yearbook picture of young Jim!! Also, I’m pretty sure one of the Corroded Coffin members is unnamed, so I’ve opted to call him Kenneth.

It was nearing midnight now and the general excitement from the success of the campaign had dwindled by this time in the night. But everyone was still laughing and chatting with each other; either sprawled out on Eddie’s living room floor or sitting on the porch outside and drinking.

You were part of the former group, sitting criss-cross on the carpeted floor, listening as Gareth and Jeff argued about some characters from a movie you’d never seen and probably never would as they were spoiling just about the entire plot before you.

Beginning to tune them out, you lean back on your hands on the floor, peer out the open door of the trailer, and listen for Eddie’s voice. You can hear him faintly, sitting out there with the rest of the guys and laughing. You smile softly at the sound.

Gareth nudges your leg with his socked foot then, bringing your attention back to the room.

“What?” You wonder.

He pins you with a pointed look as if to say you know.

“What?” You ask again, drawing out the vowel and tipping your head back, playfully irked that he’s being so cryptic.

When you look back at them, Gareth and Jeff are exchanging a meaningful look.

“Okay, seriously, what?”

“You are so obvious, it’s sad,” Jeff comments finally.

You give them both an incredulous expression, sitting up again.

“Don’t look so shocked! You can’t seriously believe that you hide it well at all,” Gareth pipes up.

“Hide what well?”

“Your massive love boner for Eddie,” Gareth finally clarifies.

You scrunch your face up at his choice of words, “Gross. I do not have a-that for…Eddie,” You whisper his name.

“Then why are you whispering?” Jeff whispers back.

“Because you’re both being dorks…and I have to go to the bathroom, so. Excuse me,” You lie, pushing yourself off the ground and heading towards the back of the trailer where the bathroom is.

They both snicker as you walk away and you flip them the bird as you open the bathroom door.

They knew you were lying. Obviously. But you didn’t think you were that obvious about it. You thought you kept your longing stares to a minimum and tried your best not to laugh too loud at Eddie’s stupid jokes.

But he was just so nice to look at; his long, pretty hair (that was actually softer than you might expect, despite it’s frizziness), his big baby cow eyes (you swore they held entire galaxies of stars, they shined so bright sometimes), the way that if you’re looking at him from the right angle when he’s speaking, the tip of his nose wiggles slightly, and his eye lashes that were so long they kissed his cheeks!

And you actually found him quite funny as well; he was silly with his humour, never taking anything too seriously. You couldn’t help it that you might let out obnoxious snorting laughter when he cracks a joke at the lunch table or that your gaze might linger too long or trail too far on him.

So maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought. But how couldn’t you fall for someone like him? Someone so pretty, and funny, and kind, and sweet.

On top of all of that, Eddie was your very first friend at Hawkins High when you moved here last September. He was the first person to show you any kindness or hospitality, so of course you sort of glommed on to him after that.

You remember the day so vividly because of how nervous you were. Transferring schools in your final year of high school was daunting; starting from scratch so late in the game meant that people already had their established friend groups for years, and you didn’t think you would be able to weasel your way into any of the major cliques. It’s not like you really fit in anywhere at your last school, but at least you had some friends.

On your first day, you were sitting by yourself in the cafeteria, your nose buried in The Fellowship of the Ring, when Eddie had just sidled up to your table and struck up a conversation about the book. Turns out, he was also a big Tolkien fan.

Despite his intimidating appearance, he seemed nervous when he asked, “Would you want to maybe come sit with me and my friends?” His fingers fiddling with the chunky rings on his left hand.

He seemed nice and you didn’t have anyone else to sit with, so you agreed. And you sat with them everyday since, becoming fast friends with the whole gang. But your were closest with Eddie; thick as thieves as they say.

Eddie was actually the one to introduce you to DnD. You’d heard of it before, of course, but you didn’t know anyone who was as passionate about it as Eddie seemed to be (which meant he was willing to spend long hours teaching you how to play).

He surprised you in a lot of ways; it was quite disarming how he came into your life and took up so much space in your brain. You wanted to get inside his sometimes too. Both in the same way that he was nestled into yours and in the way that meant knowing him more deeply.

You’d become close in the last 7 months, but there was still so much you didn’t know about him. Which is part of the reason why coming to his trailer tonight excited you so much. You can really get to know someone just by examining their living space; are they clean or messy? Do they have posters on their walls or framed paintings? Something told you Eddie wasn’t the type for framed paintings.

After splashing some cold water on your face and drying your hands (you hadn’t actually needed the bathroom, it was only a cheap excuse to get out of Gareth and Jeff’s teasing about your aforementioned love boner), you step out of the bathroom to find the living room now empty.

They must have gone outside with the rest of the guys.

Just as you were about to start down the hall to join them in the cool spring air, you stop. There was a door behind you, clearly Eddie’s bedroom.

You knew it would be wrong to snoop, but you were curious. You couldn’t very well get to know him by looking at the dishes in his sink, could you?

So, with that flimsy (at best) justification, you turn around and slowly twist the handle on Eddie’s bedroom door to reveal the dimly lit room, a single lamp switched on on his nightstand, casting an orange glow across the space.

As you suspected, no framed paintings hung on the walls. Instead, they were littered with various posters of metal bands and what appeared to be a home-made Corroded Coffin flag; a white canvas with the letters painted in thick black paint.

The room smelled faintly of cigarettes and weed and something underneath that was much stronger; something inherently Eddie-like.

You step inside the room, tilting the door, but not closing it completely, and reach out to thumb at the corner of the home-made flag.

You wonder when he could have made it. You knew that Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Kenneth had been in the band together since middle school, so maybe little 12 year old Eddie had made it.

His room was a little messy (which you’d sort of expected considering the state of his van most of the time), but not in a disgusting way; there were just things everywhere. Kind of like he’d picked things up, put them down, and then forgot they were there and just never put them away again.

He’s got a bunch of different sized amps scattered around the room, a couple in the corner, lining the walls, and another much smaller one sitting on his dresser. There are stacks of what you can only assume to be fantasy novels, a couple of smaller stacks of magazines. Next to the door, you recognize a few mechanic themed ones that your father also owns and you wonder briefly if Eddie knows how to fix cars. He’s never talked about it before, but maybe he didn’t ever think it was relevant information to share with you.

But you think that anything Eddie-related is relevant to you.

Wandering further into the room, Eddie’s electric guitar catches your eye immediately, mounted on his mirrored wall like it’s his most prized possession (and it most likely is). It’s a gorgeous thing really, very metal. You want to reach out and touch it, but you don’t; knowing how protective he is of it. And you didn’t want to overstep more boundaries than you already had.

Stepping over some clothes scattered across the floor (a couple band tees and a pair of jeans), you take a seat on the side of his bed, scanning his nightstand.

There’s an ashtray, filled almost to the brim with half-smoked cigarettes as if he hadn’t emptied it in a while, a candy wrapper or two, a small bowl filled with jewelry (mostly rings) and a couple other random items, and then your eyes land on a small blue box.

It reads, TROJAN-ENZ LUBRICATED.

It surprises you when a flash of white hot jealousy sears your stomach for a moment (it seemed you didn’t like the thought of him like that with anyone), before fizzling out as something more interesting catches your eye.

Near the bottom of a stack of magazines in the corner of his bedroom is what appears to be a Hawkins Middle School yearbook. Oh, you gotta see this! You’d heard from the boys that Eddie had a buzz cut back then, but you couldn’t picture him with anything but his beautiful mane of hair.

Your heart leaps in your chest as you stand from the bed and kneel in front of the stack, pulling the small yearbook out from the bottom of the pile without disturbing the other magazines.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greets from the doorway.

“Jesus!” You gasp, whipping your head towards him as you drop the yearbook in your lap, your hand coming up to your chest.

“Christ, you scared me!” You say as if he was the one intruding on you.

Eddie clicked his tongue, “You’re snooping?”

Guilt melts into your bones as you respond, ashamed, “Yes…Sorry, I-”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

When you don’t look convinced, he continues, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of his bed across from you.

“Really. I don’t mind. Snoop away. I got nothin’ to hide.”

You’re not surprised he isn’t angry with you. He could be theatric and melodramatic at times, but never truly angry or mean. Eddie was really a big ol’ softie.

You turn around so you’re facing him now, the yearbook now closed in your lap.

Eddie nods to the object.

“What’s that?”

You glance down at it once again, a teasing smile spreading across your face as you respond, “Your middle school yearbook.”

“Oh, great. That’s not embarrassing at allll,” He drawls sarcastically. But he’s smiling like it doesn’t actually bother him.

“Actually, I haven’t flipped through it yet, sooo,” You reassure, but your expression is imploring, hoping he’ll give you his permission to crack it open. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Go ahead.”

“Really?” You ask excitedly as you scooch over to him, placing the yearbook on the bed while you kneel on the floor beside his legs.

“Yeah, of course, go for it.”

You smile excitedly at him and begin flipping through the pages, looking for his face.

As you sit there in front of him, all giddy and adorable, Eddie can’t help but think oh my god, my crush is in my bedroom.

He looks away from you for a moment, half expecting the entire room not to be there when he takes his eyes off of you.

But then you spot the photo and you’re giggling and he’s drawn back to your pretty face immediately, lit up with glee at the sight of his buzzed head.

You point at the photo and look up at him then.

“Oh my god! You don’t even look like you,” You comment, bewildered, bringing the yearbook closer to your face to further inspect the photo.

It was just a standard school photo; a black and white headshot with a plain background. But he was all cheesy grin and buzzed hair, so you were delighted by the sight of him. You wish you’d known him back then.

“You were actually pretty adorable,” You note, face obscured by the yearbook shoved to your nose.

Then you place it back on the bed and you’re smiling up at him from your spot on the floor and he wants to tell you how pretty he thinks you are.

Eddie smiles back down at you and you feel your heart flutter in your chest, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“I, uh, I really like you, ya know?” He says, his dark eyes almost black in the dim of the room, but they still shine as they stare into yours.

“Oh?” Your heart races and you can hear it in your ears as your face melts into a soft expression.

Eddie looks down at his lap, thumbing at his skull ring repeatedly.

“Yeah. And I, um,” He coughs lightly, “I was wondering, actually, if you maybe wanted to like go out on a date or something. And you can say no! I just think you’re really pretty and just so-”.

You cover his fidgeting hands with yours, “I’d love to.”

And now you’re both smiling at each other like lovesick fools (which you’re not ashamed to admit you are) and Eddie begins to lean down towards you and you feel your heart slamming against your ribcage, attempting to burst through your skin just so it can be closer to him. And you can feel his breath ghosting your face and-

There’s a knock on the open door.

Your attention is reluctantly drawn away from each other and towards the intruder. In the short moments before the interruption, it didn’t feel possible that anyone else existed besides the two of you. But apparently they did.

“Are your clothes on?” Gareth asks, his left hand shielding his eyes.

You sputter, stomach still in knots from your almost-kiss with Eddie.

“No, we’re completely naked,” Eddie deadpans.

You feel your face warm and prickle with heat as Eddie winks at you.

Gareth peeks through his fingers at the two of you and then removes his hand from his face completely when he sees Eddie’s claim is untrue.

He raises his hands in defence, “Hey, just making sure. Don’t wanna walk in on anything…unsavoury.”

“You’re unsavoury,” You bite back.

“Okay, okay, children,” Eddie defuses, a hand on your shoulder. “What do you want, Gareth?”

“Was gonna ask if you guys wanted to roll up with us.”

Eddie looks down at you, shrugging his shoulders, “You wanna?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go,” You agree, the moment gone.

Eddie takes your hand and helps you up from his floor.

“Sick,” Gareth says, starting out of the room as Eddie turns to you.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “I promise we’ll talk about our date later, okay?” as he brushes his thumb across your cheek tenderly and walks out of the room, clapping Gareth on the back as he walks ahead of him.

You don’t know how he can do that; be so nervous one second and then so confident and slick the next. But like you said, Eddie is full of surprises.

Gareth turns to you as you finally exit Eddie’s bedroom.

“You get that love boner checked out?”

Once you’re next to him in the short hallway, you shove him slightly and he stumbles a bit, but recovers quickly.

“Shut up,” You command halfheartedly.

Then once he’s back in step with you, “…We’re going on a date.”

“Fuck yeah,” Gareth says, shoving you back lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” You agree, still giddy from your conversation with Eddie and the almost-kiss.

The rest of the night is spent smoking and laughing with the guys. Kenneth stays sober to drive them all home, and at some point very late in the night, it’s just you and Eddie.

You talk about your date, just as he promised you would, and he tells you he’s going to pick you up from your place on Friday evening. He’s going to take you to a drive-in movie, and then for milkshakes afterwards. He recognizes the cliché, but he knows you’ll love it, and when your eyes light up at the mention of movies and milkshakes, he knows he’s made the right choice.

And then, he says, at the end of the night he’s going to drop you back at your place, walk you to the door like a proper gentlemen (because Wayne has taught him that it’s important to be chivalrous), and that’s when he’s going to kiss you for the first time. Because he wants it to be romantic and soft and sweet. Just like you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things x reader

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littlemelaninfics · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I saw that your request was open, but I don't know if you take requests for something kinky- but I got something in mind 🤭. You don't have to write it and you can change it. Beware, I am a kinky woman.

It's the month of Halloween, everyone's dressed up to go to costume parties and trick-or-treating with their kids. You can pick what the reader is dressed up as, but Eddie Munson? Daddy Eddie? I'm sorry but I can only see him in one of those sexy ghost-face cosplays from TikTok. (this can be set at a later time than Scream or Scream can be canon in Stranger Things!)

They are going to a costume party that's being hosted by a friend and while at the party- the reader may or may not have accidentally attracted a few guys with her costume. But she doesn't realize that and thinks they just wanna hang out, innocent Reader. Eddie notices (because she's mostly talking with them) and gets jealous, a bit possessive too. However, he doesn't confront them, he lures her away or waits till she goes off alone and then shows her who she belongs to. (He also scares her too, he may be a sexy ghost-face, but still ghost-face) . Reader may be innocent but she's a freak in the sheets. Creampie, rough sex, mental size kink (👀), squirting, overstimulation, a bit of degrading... I'm reaching for this one- tummy bulge🫣.

WARNINGS: Creampie, rough sex, size kink, squirting, overstimulation, degradation, tummy bulge, deepthroat

The kids had been at their friend’s house for a few hours now and left you and Eddie to have your own Halloween fun. Being the "parents" of the group, it was nice to finally have a night with people your own age.

You had just put on your wings and looked at yourself once more in the mirror before shifting the girls in your tight dress. You smile contently and flick off the light to leave the bathroom. Once you rounded the corner, your waist is enclasped in two huge arms and you’re pulled off the ground. You let out a slight shriek before playfully fighting Eddie off. You let him chase you around your house to feed his fantasy a little bit when it was time to go.

The party has been in full swing for an hour or so when you two walked through the door. You were immediately pulled by Gareth's cousin, Liza to take shots in the kitchen. Both of you followed when you clipped someone with your wings, immediately turning to apologize.

“Don’t even worry about it. You can bump into me anytime,” some guy said flirtatiously. You thought nothing of it other than him being understanding and polite. Eddie instinctively pulled you closer to his side and turned to back around to face Liza. Even in heels you only came up to his shoulder, so it’s safe to say his body easily shielded yours from the multiple pairs of eyes on you. The three of you downed the shots and you were ready to dance. You pulled him to the dance floor and started to move to the rhythm. He was dancing with you, but even through the mask you could tell he was preoccupied.

You followed his gaze which led back to the guy from the kitchen. You shook your head and brushed it off, grinding on Eddie’s front. He gripped you tighter and started matching your movements. The song changed and you started to feel a little woozy. Liza came up to Eddie, asking him to help her carry in more heavy bags of ice. He grabbed your hand but you stopped,

"I have to use the bathroom!" You shouted over the music. He lifted his mask up and asked if you could wait for him to be done. You started to rub your thighs together and shook your head. He nodded and walked you to the bathroom line,

"Meet me outside when you're done," he said before going to help. It was finally your turn and the shots fully hit when you sat down. You exited the bathroom and was met by the nice guy from the kitchen.

It was no secret that you're a little drunk and he could definitely tell. He told you his name was Joe and offered to take you to get some water. You followed him back to the crowded kitchen and watched him grab a bottle from the cooler. He opened it and gave it to you, telling you to just sip it. You didn't notice that he was watching your lips suckle on the rim. He licked his when a thin stream missed your mouth and flowed down your chin. You giggled, excusing yourself.

You were talking with the man in front of you for what felt like only a few minutes before you turn and realize the one you came with is no where to be seen. You excuse yourself from the conversation and glide your eyes over the crowd one last time, but with no luck. Your phone suddenly vibrates and you answer the call,

‘If you want me, come find me.’

It was simple and then he hung up leaving a slight furrow in your brow to form and you began your search. You were seeing more clearly than you were 15 minutes ago. You rounded a corner that led to a dark stairwell. You didn't like and or watch horror movies but even you knew not to ascend down the staircase to Hell. You turned around to leave but suddenly your phone vibrated. The caller ID said Unknown Caller and you never answer those, but for some reason you did.

"Hello?"

All you heard was heavy breathing on the other line,

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" Just more breathing came through. You hung up the phone and started to walk away when you heard a bang come from the bottom room. It wasn't until you heard your name being whispered that you started to walk down. You called out to Eddie but received no response.

You let go of the door to walk further down the stairs, leaving to heavily shut almost flush against your back.

"Eddie?" You called his phone to see if you could hear the ring but you couldn't. It was dead silent and pitch black. You heart started to race, but you trusted him. You reach the bottom of the stairs, being met with an open, dark abyss. You mentally slap yourself for not looking for a light switch at the top of the stairs. You continue to walk hesitantly down the very last step and into the dark room. You try to force your eyes to get used to the dark and at least make out shapes, but the alcohol was not aiding in a positive way. You scan the room, still not seeing him.

You walk further into the makeshift game room and call out to him once more. You hit a few pieces of furniture before hearing something roll on the surface in front of you. Reaching out, you graze your hand across what you now realize is a table and found the noisy object. You attempt to click it on, but the flashlight only flickers before going back out.

"Eddie?!"

After still receiving no response, you tell him you’re leaving. You turn on your heels but are met with a 6’0 brute force of a man blocking you, causing the light to flash on your boyfriend towering over you wearing the ghostface mask. An inch of a scream is let out before his palm is over your mouth and he’s backing you in to the furthest wall. You hit it with a slight thud, eyes going as wide as saucers. The flashlight is ripped out of your hand and thrown on the couch. The way the light hit the ceiling made his stature even more intimidating; adding shadow and contrast to his muscles and mask.

He immediately split your legs with one of his own, rubbing his thighs against your clit. His other hand gripping your hip tightly. You started to moan in his hand not even realizing how horny you actually were. You started to grind down on his thigh, matching his movements. You were so close when he pulled away and roughly slammed you face first into the wall. He lifted your dress above your hips and you heard him growl when he got near your now sopping heat that was not covered with panties. He ran his fingers up and down your slit before circling your clit a couple times. Eddie then slid two fingers over your hole before pushing past your throbbing lips.

You clenched around his fingers, pumping in and out. He lifted his mask for half a second to bite your left ass cheek. He lowered it once more and stood up behind you. Removing his fingers, you let out a moan.

“Please, Eddie. I need to cum.”

He ignored you and pulled your hips out farther, basically placing you on your toes. He landed a large smack to your ass for using the wrong name. You heard the buckle of his belt being undone when your eyes rolled at what you knew was coming. He took both your wrists in his hand and tied the belt around them. He unzipped his pants and slung out his throbbing cock. Giving you no time to adjust, he shoved his length in your creaming cunt and started fucking you like no tomorrow.

He held one hand on your restraint and the other on your shoulder to make sure to get the deepest angle he possibly could,

“Who is he?”

“Who is who?” You said in mid moan. He just darkly chuckled and continued his welcomed assault. He kept relentlessly thrusting before stopping once more, earning a frustrated growl from you.

“What’s his name?”

“Who, Baby? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just please fuck me.”

He had enough.

Eddie twisted you around so your back was flush to the wall. His hand gripped your throat before coming in real close. You jetted out your tongue and licked the mouth of his mask while letting out a seductive moan. It was his turn to growl again but this time he just squeezed harder. He only released after he gave you your instructions.

“Since you don’t want to tell me who that is, you don’t get to talk,” he said as he shoved his length down your tight throat. You began bobbing your head, trying to keep the pace his hand was guiding you but it was getting difficult. He forced your head all the way down on his cock, holding it there. You felt the familiar burn in your lungs when your head is suddenly pulled off,

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know,” you said trying to catch your breath. It wasn’t long before your nose was touching his hips once again.

“Tell me his name and you can breathe.” You have your warning taps on his thigh and he released you. Immediately coughing, you spit out the answer,

“Joe! His name is Joe.” He gave you a slight tap to your cheek for taking so long to give such a simple answer. You were breathing heavily when your yanked up to your feet. Eddie guided you to the couch and vent you over the arm. He vigorously rubbed the head of his cock between your folds, hitting you clit sweetly.

“Ohhhh fuck!!” you yelled out, “Daddy can I please cum?”

“Do it.” You started to moan louder when you felt yourself gushing on his cock. He wasted no time diving back into your sweet honey. He hit it from the back for a few minutes, giving you two more orgasms.

You were about to call out for him when you’re flipped around and your back is on the cushion while your legs are in his arms. He would love to have them hooked around his shoulders, but his little girl couldn’t reach that high so he made do. He let out a gritty moan when he I started himself at this angle. It was the deepest you’ve ever taken him.

The flashlight was still illuminating the room he started plunging in and out. He placed his hand on the lower part of your stomach and you immediately started to move back,

“Don’t you fucking run from me. You know what to say if you want me to stop.” He could feel his cock poking and prodding your insides that he had to capture it the second he got his camera back.

“Look at that. Only a whore’s cunt can stretch like this. Are you a whore?”

“Only for you. Fuck!”

“What? Tell me. Fuck what?” He teased as he went harder and faster.

“I can’t cum again! Daddy, please!”

“But you’re going to,” he ripped away from you and did the same rubbing motion as before. You squirted to the sky once more, but this time his mask got soaked before he lifted it and drank in what you had left. This man basically motorboated your cunt to get every last drop. He plunged back in and coated your walls with his cum.

He pulled out and put in two fingers to scoop some out and run it across your tongue,

“Good girl.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x black!reader #scream #scream smut #ghostface #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface x black!reader

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anxiousstark · 3 years ago

Text

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing | Eddie Munson

A/N: I apologise if this is written well enough to make anyone weep. Please contact my lawyer, and I will be held accountable for any harm I may have caused to your mental health.

Based on the song by Aerosmith, which has shattered many hearts and will continue to do so in a very beautiful way. Listen to it while reading if possible.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of blood and death. (I’m so sorry). First time I write for Eddie.

Word Count: 21K.

If you guys see my works in other websites, let me know, please. I only have Tumblr.

BIG MASTERLIST

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Eddie sat in an old wooden chair, elbows resting on his knees and hands cupping his face as he observed you, half-naked, lying on his bed. The sheet, in his opinion, covered too much of your flesh. He wished to be a gifted painter, yearning to capture how the sun caressed your skin and how your hair was scattered across his pillow.

You looked ravishing, but was there ever a time when Eddie didn't think you were drop-dead gorgeous? Obviously not. He was certain that when you accepted his invitation to a date, he had been the luckiest guy alive. He could have the worst luck in the world and yet feel like the most fortunate man if it meant you were his and he was yours.

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

His gaze ceased to travel all over your body when your mouth twitched, causing him to chuckle. Such a slight movement encouraged him to return to bed with you and softly wake you up, fingers caressing your bare arms as his lips brushed across your brow.

While you're far away and dreaming

Nonetheless, he remained in the chair for a few more minutes, unable to tear his gaze away from you, ensuring that any emotion on your face was one of contentment and calm, guaranteeing that you were having a pleasant dream and that nothing was bothering you.

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

You grumbled and shifted slightly, your face smashed against his pillow. Your left hand vanished beneath your cheek while your right wandered across the sheets, looking for the guy you'd become used to waking up with, and when you were greeted with air, a scowl formed between your brows. Eddie saw it and swiftly climbed into bed, lying on his back with his head turned towards you. He took your hand and placed it on his naked chest, which made you sigh in pleasure, soothing you and erasing the frown as you felt the warmth of his skin and the presence of the person you loved the most in this world.

I could stay lost in this moment forever

As his eyes strayed, his fingers delicately touched the length of the arm that rested on his chest. Eddie Munson could give a thorough description of you. He knew how long your eyelashes were, your skin tone, etc. Yet, he never missed the chance to admire everything he had already memorised as good as the back of his hand.

Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Eddie would stay in his tiny and filthy trailer his whole life if it wasn't for the desire to provide you with life beyond it. Laying with you on his old mattress, luring you into the sweetest dream conceivable and appreciating your beauty.

What a shame he would never get to experience this again.

Don't want to close my eyes

Please, no, no, no.

He choked on his blood. Dustin yelled, assuring him that he would be okay, but the tears that spilt from both of their eyes appeared to indicate that they knew they were only attempting to console each other because Eddie had no chance of surviving this.

I don't want to fall asleep

He wanted to learn more about Steve. He thought they could become good friends. Plus, he wanted to play more D&D and spend more time with the kids, especially with Dustin. He liked everyone and believed he didn't spend enough time with them, but he couldn't do anything about it.

'Cause I'd miss you baby

His eyesight became much more blurred as he cried. "Oh fuck no," he sobbed, clutching Dustin's jacket. "No way, no way. I'm going to miss it." You had bought this lovely red gown, but you hadn't let him see it because you wanted to surprise him on your graduation day, yet Eddie was convinced you'd look stunning. And fuck, he had been dreaming about graduating with you. "I won't be there to see her graduate." He thought of you first, like he usually did.

And I don't want to miss a thing

"You will be there, Eddie." No, he'd miss it. He would not graduate. He would not see you grinning and waving your diploma at him. He would not be able to wave at his principal and wear his Hellfire shirt to fuck around.

'Cause even when I dream of you

"She," he choked even harder. "Dustin, she'll look stunning. I know it." His gaze was drawn to the black sky. Those bats. Those motherfuckers. "I really..." he added, pausing. Speaking was becoming very difficult. Breathing was getting even more complicated. "I was hoping to graduate with her." His pal nodded, knowing that was his most desired dream. Eddie had taken classes after school to improve his grades and graduate. It was going to be his year. His year with you.

The sweetest dream will never do

"Steve!" The younger boy wailed as he saw his companion becoming weaker and weaker.

"I wanted to be a b-better guy." He chuckled. "Give her the entire world."

"You are going to give it to her." He muttered, his gaze averted. "PLEASE, STEVE!"

"I had planned to m-marry her. I've never t-t-thought about marriage, but I'd marry her in a h-heartbeat." He smiled, revealing his bloodied teeth. "You were s-supposed to be the best man."

Dustin Henderson had never sobbed so hard in his life as he did that day.

I'd still miss you baby

Your heart rate increased as you heard Dustin's cries.

After all the battling you had done next to Steve and Robin, you felt lightheaded. Your face was undoubtedly covered with grime and sweat. "What is happening there?" Even if you couldn't see Dustin and Eddie's shapes from a distance, you could still make out the colours by squinting your eyes. But you were unable to see your boyfriend.

Steve gasped, "Oh fuck."

"What?" You took a quick glimpse at him, cocking your head slightly so you could look into his face. "What, Steve." In an effort to get his attention, you grabbed hold of his shirt. "What is happening?"

He looked down, catching your gaze. "I think Eddie is hurt." That was enough. Those words prompted you to sprint as fast as you could, ignoring the stabbing pain in your right leg.

"Please let him be okay." Were the words you mumbled as you limped to them. Words that swiftly became tears as you caught Eddie laying on Dustin's knees, who continued to cry, this time gazing at you and wailing harder. "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You're okay." You knelt on his opposite side, and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you.

"Hi, sweetheart." Your heart skipped a beat due to your favourite pet name. But it also skipped a beat because of how pale he was and the blood staining his shirt and lips.

And I don't want to miss a thing

"Hi," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. Your left hand had gone behind his head, your fingertips stroking his scalp while your right hand was unsure where to rest. It eventually grabbed one of his hands and placed it on his chest, fingers intertwined. "It's okay. We are going to take you out of here, and we will-.”

Eddie cut you off. "I'm g-g-oing to miss it." He chuckled, but his demeanour and tone were sorrowful. His hand tried hard to grip yours. "I'll be missing our g-graduation." As he scrutinised your face, he coughed, tears welling in his eyes.

Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating

"No, you will not." You sobbed. "You will be there. I'll make sure you get out of here," You spoke fast so as not to be stopped by remarks you didn't want to hear. "And then we'll graduate together, look terrific, and do everything we said we'd do. Everything we have in store for the future. A future together."

As his other hand clasped your arm, his eyes began to close. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Stop talking, Eddie." You wept and shook your head. "Don't do it. Don't say something like that."

And I'm wondering what you're dreaming

"Listen," His hand moved up, grasping the back of your neck and forcing you to come in closer. "I'm r-really proud of you." No. That annoyed you. You both despised and yearned to hear those words. Eddie Munson always told you how proud he was of you because he knew you needed it and because he was honestly proud of everything you accomplished and pleased to call you his girl. "And you're going to look s-s-stunning in your red dress. I wish I could s-see it with all my heart." You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off by turning his head to look at Dustin. "D-Dustin."

Wondering if it's me you're seeing

The youngster was still sobbing. Tears streamed down his cheeks, turning his face bright crimson. "Yes?" The single word was a gasp.

"I trust y-you to lo-look after her, okay?" His remark made you both weep even harder, your body nuzzling closer to Eddie's. "I have f-faith in you t-t-two to look after each other and t-the others." Dustin simply nodded. "I think y-you would be an e-excellent Master as well." That statement was too much for the kid, who began begging him to remain silent and not leave them. "Th-thank you for helping m-me and trusting me. Y-y-you hear me?"

"Eddie..." You cried out.

Then I kiss your eyes

His gaze returned to you for one last time. "Y/N, k-kiss me." You shook your head, not because you didn't want to kiss him, but because you were afraid that it would be the last time. "P-please, please, please. I love you s-so much. Please kiss me."

And thank God we're together

You leaned closer to his face as his hand travelled from the back of your neck to your cheek, thumb wiping away some of your tears. Then you mashed your lips against his, feeling him open his mouth for a few seconds so his tongue could brush yours. His hand slid to the back of your head again, pulling you closer to him as your lips stayed connected.

And I just want to stay with you in this moment forever

It happened slowly yet instantaneously for you. His hand weakened and fell limp to the ground. Your lips were still linked, and as you lost his touch, you opened your eyes to see his closed. "No way, no, no." You pecked his lips a few times, looking for a response, hands on his cheeks. "Please, Eddie. I don't know what to do without you. Eddie, please. Please do not leave me." You yelled. "Please, Eddie, I love you. Please."

Forever and ever

"Y/N," Dustin shouted your name, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No," you said, shaking your head. Your gaze remained fixed on Eddie Munson, the love of your life. "No!"

I don't want to close my eyes

Someone's hands grabbed you. "We have to go Y/N," Steve. Steve's voice was heard. "We have to get out of here!" Because you didn't appear to be listening, other hands grabbed you and pulled you away from him.

"Do not fuck with me." You moved, fiercely shaking their hands away from your body. "I'm not going to leave him here."

"Y/N!"

"No!" You spun around to face them. Your head and heart were pounding. "I'm going to take him back even if it kills me." Everyone gazed at you, aware yet unable to comprehend your anguish. They had not lost the person they loved the most.

"All right, all right," Steve started to grab Eddie, but you stopped him.

"I carry him. You help."

I don't want to fall asleep

Everyone was afraid to say anything else. You had lost the love of your life, and you had all these plans together. Graduating, earning some more money, and buying a house away from Hawkins. One with enough space to welcome everyone since you'd be miserable without your friends, especially Eddie.

You had mentioned adopting a dog. You had discussed having children in the future, and even if you two had never considered marriage, you would have married Eddie in a heartbeat.

'Cause I'd miss you baby

Steve stared at the back of your head, unable to look at the body you were so eager to carry on your back.

If only you'd known Eddie had bought a ring. One to give to you on your graduation day. One pledging to marry you as soon as you had a stable income.

A ring Steve kept since Eddie was worried you'd discover it as you spent all day in his trailer.

And I don't want to miss a thing

Hope you enjoyed <3

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bluesfortheredj · 3 years ago

Text

A new beginning. Pt 1.

You’d caught Eddie’s eye as soon as you’d joined Hawkins High School four months ago, but his hopes of anything more than friendship were quickly dashed by the realisation that Billy Hargrove was not only just another new student, but your boyfriend too.

Luckily for him though, you were put into his class for chemistry, and all of a sudden Eddie had a new found love for the subject with his grades now on a miraculous upward curve thanks to you. When he wasn’t totally distracted by the way the sunlight illuminated your hair like a halo, or the fact that your eyes appeared to get brighter when you spoke to one another, he actually managed to work pretty hard.

“Right! Partner up,” Miss Collins announces from the front of classroom.

Before Eddie can even move a muscle you’ve bolted across the classroom and have landed in the empty seat next to him, your body bumping into his from the force of the landing.

“Looks like I didn’t have much of a choice in the whole partner thing...” he grins, completely over the moon at your enthusiasm.

“Hell no. You’re stuck with me, Munson,” you reply, straightening up and tucking yourself in to the desk.

“I think I can live with that,” he nods.

“Good! Now what are you doing at lunch?” you enquire, fiddling with the corners of your exercise book.

“Uh… I… Nothing, why?” he stutters nervously.

“Can I hang with you? Billy isn’t here today and I’m not the biggest fan of the people he goes around with in this school… Don’t worry if not, it’s fine really,” you add, not wanting him to feel pressured into helping you out.

“Of course you can!” he breaks out into a smile and you lean into his side and drop your head onto his shoulder as a silent thank you.

“You’re the best,” you whisper.

“Ahh… I’m not,” he scoffs dismissively with a wave of his hand.

You sit up away from him, causing him to turn to you to see what’s wrong, and your brow furrows seriously as he meets your gaze, “I mean it, Eddie. You are the best, don’t ever doubt that, please. I hate it when you put yourself down, you’re so much better than that, you’re better than everyone else in this damn school, that’s for sure.”

He eyes you with slight worry, but you tear your gaze away from his so he can’t see just how much you meant those words. He is better than everyone else in the school; including Billy.

“Anyway… page 93, Munson,” you say, tapping his unopened textbook and raising your eyebrows as him, “concentrate!”

How could he concentrate? It was difficult enough just being in this close proximity to you, let alone now after those heartfelt words you’d juts shared with him, whether intentionally or not. He knew Billy was certainly not someone to get on the wrong side of, but he was willing to risk anything and everything when it came to you, and if you needed him then he’d always be there for you no matter what.

Eddie looks down at his textbook but in reality he’s just staring at your hand out of the corner of his eye, watching your delicate fingers tap lightly on the desk as you seemingly skim the page you were on. Something inside him can’t resist the lure of being near you and touching your skin, so he boldly drops the hand nearest to you from the edge of his book to the desk, mere millimetres from your little finger, and admires how the many rings he wore complemented your two thin silver bands perfectly. Eddie’s heart leaps as he watches your fingers move ever so slightly towards his, and he sits in a stunned silence as you continue your tapping on the back of his hand. The two of you sit there comfortably as you each pretend to read the books in front of you, but in reality enjoying the closeness of one another and the contentment that came with it.

“Eddie!” you gasp, wrapping your fingers around his hand and squeezing, “look at the formula at the bottom of the page!”

He hesitates, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand holding his, but eventually tears his eyes away to look at what you’ve pointed out.

“Green flames? No way!” he chuckles, relishing the feeling of your soft fingertips gently cradling his hand.

You let go of his hand, retreating back to your textbook, and it takes all his might not to follow you to continue the contact. It would be mad if he did, and definitely give away his true feelings for you, so he swallows his need and slams his book shut with a little too much force, making you jump.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” you smile.

The rest of the lesson is hell for Eddie as he tries desperately not to hold your hand in any capacity while you work closely together over the bunsen burner, using different elements to create the coloured flames as described in your book. You dance around each other, the two of you seemingly both aware of the effect the earlier connection had on you, and when the bell finally rings for lunch you happily loop your arm around one of Eddie’s as you both head towards the cafeteria.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me crashing the Hellfire meet?” you check as you walk towards the expectant faces of Eddie’s friends.

“You are our special guest for this afternoon,” he grins, extending his arm out to the chair nearest his and bowing as you let him go to take a seat, “m’lady.”

“Thank you,” you mumble timidly as the others look at you.

You spend a blissful ten minutes at the table watching Eddie in his element as him and the guys discuss Hellfire, and you’re so wrapped up in him that you barely hear your name being called by Billy from across the hall until a strong hand lands on your shoulder, causing you to jump out of your skin.

“Jeez!” you gasp, “Billy you scared the life out of me!”

Eddie looks up at him with a smile, but is only greeted with a look of complete disdain, and you’re soon being helped up out of your chair by your boyfriend, “you don’t belong over here with the freaks,” Billy states, “come on.”

“Billy,” you frown, “don’t be horrible. I’m sorry Eddie, I…” you’re guided away before you can finish your sentence, and he can only look on with a downhearted smile as you disappear into the crowd.

“I thought you weren’t coming in today,” you point out as Billy slings his arm around your shoulders and lead you outside.

“I had a change of heart… and lucky I did it seems,” he scoffs, turning to look at you, “what was that about, huh?”

“What was what about?”

“I called your name like three times and you ignored me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I just couldn’t hear you!”

“Over the sound of the head freak talking about cult shit?”

You narrow your eyes at him as you stop in your tracks and fold your arms across your chest, “don’t call Eddie a freak! And it’s not a cult, it’s a game club.”

“Aww, is that his name? Eddie? Poor little Eddie,” he teases, being the ass everyone knew him to be, “are they playing their little game now?”

“Sometimes I really don’t know what I ever saw in you to be attractive,” you state.

Eddie listens from his hiding spot and his eyes widen as he hears you say those words to Billy, hoping that it didn’t turn out to be the wrong decision.

“Definitely my body,” he smirks cockily, “then my incredible sense of humour, and certainly my mouth,” he explains, ending up with his lips right next to your ear, “specifically my tongue,” he finishes before kissing your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders to hug him against you, and he returns the embrace; it was moments like this that you remembered why you were with him, but unfortunately they were becoming few and far between these days, and you knew something had to give sooner or later.

“Billy, do me a favour,” you sigh as the two of you lean away from one another, “go easy on Eddie please.”

“Are you two fucking?”

“So I can’t be nice to someone unless I’m fucking them? Don’t be such a dick.”

“Fine, whatever,” he huffs as the bell rings, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but that shithole,” he shrugs, pointing to the school.

You shake your head as you watch him walk away, then turn back to the school just in time to see the back of Eddie’s jacket through the doorway, and you run inside after him, “Eddie! Wait!”

He turns to see you jogging up to him and when you stop almost chest to chest, the scent of your perfume fills his nostrils making him dizzy, “wanna skip class?” he asks boldly.

“With you? Yeah,” you pant.

Eddie takes your hand and the two of you escape the dingy building and head into the woods opposite where you’re lead to a neat little picnic table in the middle of an opening that seemed to be a secret hidden gem of the school.

“Take a seat,” Eddie encourages, continuing to hold your hand as you step over the bench and settle in.

He finally lets go once you’ve sat down then climbs over the opposite bench and smiles as he tucks himself in under the table. It was a warm day and he shrugs his jacket off to drape over the space next to him, revealing his Hellfire t-shirt in all it’s glory, and you can’t help but smile as he rests his chin on his hands and looks at you with that sweet face of his that you’d grown to adore.

“Stop it,” you chuckle, having to avoid eye contact.

“Stop what?”

“That!” you laugh, pointing in his direction as he tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, “oh for fuck’s sake.”

Eddie laughs at your reaction and you lower your head so he can’t see your flustered expression, but as soon as you look up at timidly him through your eyelashes, he hits himself in the chest with both fists and falls backwards off of the bench onto the leaves below.

“My heart!” he exclaims dramatically, “oh my poor heart.”

You laugh out loud at his performance, and suddenly he clambers to his feet and holds his arms out to the sides, “the sweet, sweet sound that has brought me back to life!” he announces.

He was fun, caring, sensitive; everything that Billy wasn’t, and you found yourself wishing that you could walk up to him, slide your arms around his torso and bring him into a loving hug. Before your brain can catch up, your body has already stood and hopped over the bench to make your way around to him, and the next thing you know you’re being enveloped into his arms, his fingers tightening on your t-shirt as his arms grip you like a vice, keeping you safe and comforting you. The whistling through the trees suddenly stops, time appearing to stand still as the two of you stay there in a cuddle that you both desperately needed, and you can feel his heart beat against your chest as your hands grab onto his top, never wanting to let go. This was it, it was an end and a beginning all at once; this was the moment you fell in love with Eddie Munson.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #billy hargrove x reader

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finniestoncrane · 3 years ago

Note

Would you be willing to do something kinda sweet and fluffy to balance out the CNC Dano!Riddler fics? I like em, I just wanna snuggle him and his stupid round head.

for you, my love, anything u-u 💜💚 i was like "what's cute??? PUPPIES!" and that's where this went so...i hope you like fics about eddie being a little dummy ;-;

more puppy content here

also pls i'm so grateful to the requests so far and i'm so happy to get more

Eddie grabbed at the collar of his suit jacket. It hadn't been raining that morning, but it had been a stupid decision not to wear an overcoat in Gotham of all places. And now, he was tired, weary after a day of pretending to be a mild-mannered forensic accountant, desperate to get to the secure solitude of his apartment, and he was soaked through to the bone.

Trying to shelter his face from the wind that rushed down the narrow passage of the alley he decided to take as a shortcut, Edward urged his legs to walk faster, luring himself with the promise of an all night session with his pressure note books, maybe even jump onto the stream and let loose.

With his eyes squinting through the rain that dappled and fogged his glasses, he trudged on, unaware of where he was stepping until his foot hit something soft and a sharp noise echoed against the apartment buildings on either side of him. He was just in time to see something small and brown scutter into some trash cans to his right.

Just a rat, probably.

But he was already following the whimpering, trying to find the source. Reaching a hand in behind some soggy carboard boxes, he felt around, tentatively, and snatched his arm back, shaking it in the wind and looking down at the tiny little marks on his finger. Three little puncture wounds that were already started to bleed.

He pushed the box to the side and behind it there was a small shape, shivering, on it's tiptoes in an attempt to look bigger, scarier, to ward off Edward. He grabbed it, roughly, but the scruff of it's next and it squirmed as he held it, dangling, over the puddles forming on the street. It obviously sensed the futility of it's tiny barks, as it went very quiet, resigned to whatever cruel fate it had imagined was about to befall it.

As he held it there, fate hanging in the balance, it's life, literally, in his hands, Eddie listened for any noises. Footsteps, further whines. But the rain, letting up finally, was the only thing he could hear apart from some distant sirens and the shouting from the bars down the road.

You're all alone then, huh? Me too.

Eddie placed the puppy inside of his jacket, trying to keep it sheltered from the last few drops of rain that were falling from the gloomy skies. Once home, he realised there was very little in the way of food for him, let alone his new friend. So they sat on the floor by his desk and shared half a jar of peanut butter.

He took a towel from the floor of the bathroom and dried him off as best as he could, and at contentedly rolling a crumpled ball of note paper along the floor, giggling at how the puppy would stomp after it before bringing it back to Edward, tail in the air, waiting for him to roll it again.

"It's nice to bond with someone, especially a fellow orphan. We've got a lot in common. I hope...I hope you like it here."

Edward was careful to be very calm when showing the puppy around the apartment, getting him used to the sights and sounds, the bed, the rats in their cages (who he introduced the puppy to formally), and to the mask. He was sure he'd read somewhere in a book that masks or disguises could confuse animals, but the puppy seemed to be ok, nibbling on the tip of the nose and trying to pull it off.

"Later, later! We have stuff to do."

With a pillow on his lap, and the puppy on the pillow, Eddie started up his laptop and began one of his streams. In a quieter than usual voice he started up, his same introduction of thanks and gratitude for all of their help that week.

"And this is our newest comrade!"

He held up the puppy, notifications going wild in the chat as he looked on with parental pride.

"I'm naming him Doku, like sudoku! And if anyone has anything to say about that, I'll add you to my ever-growing list of problems to eradicate. Say hi to Doku everyone!"

#hey yo unless you're dano riddler #dont feed your dogs human peanut butter #is no good for them #finnie writes #riddler x reader #dano riddler #dano!riddler #riddler fanfic #riddler fanfiction #the riddler fanfic #the riddler fanfiction #riddler 2022 #edward nashton x reader #the batman 2022 #riddler imagine #the riddler imagine #sweetums0kitty

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beyourownanchor6 · 3 years ago

Text

mornings with you

was just daydreaming about buddie and this came to mind <3 (i wrote this before the chaos of today 😅 so here, have some soft domestic buddie)

Eddie wakes to the sound of the shower shutting off, rolling into the warmth his boyfriend left behind.

He must fall asleep again, because when he comes to, the fresh scent of Buck’s cedar and vanilla shampoo drifts through the room, and he can hear the distinct click of Buck putting his watch into place.

Opening his eyes, Eddie is greeted with the sight of Buck, dressed in only his boxers and Eddie’s maroon Henley, looking himself over in the mirror.

Buck catches his eyes in the mirror, raising his brows playfully.

“Like what you see?”

“Always.”

Not moving from his spot, still spread in the middle of their bed, Eddie pats the empty space next to him.

Buck raises a brow toward him, Eddie catching it in the reflection of the mirror.

“Isn’t it usually me who’s trying to lure you back into bed?”

Eddie simply shrugs, though doesn’t deny it; he can be clingy too, ok?

“C‘mere.”

That’s all it takes, one simple word, and Buck is stepping back toward him, crawling onto the bed and right into Eddie’s waiting arms.

Eddie nestles right into him, Buck letting out a content sigh, mumbling into him.

“Babe, I’m gonna be late.”

Bucks’ words only make Eddie cling to him tighter; it was always hard to let the other go, knowing they weren’t working the same shift.

Pressing a kiss to Bucks temple, right over his birthmark, Buck smiles down to him, capturing Eddie’s lips for a soft kiss of his own.

Reluctantly, Eddie lets him go, Buck beaming down to Eddie for a few seconds more before untangling himself. Eddie watches as Buck makes for their bedroom door, smiling to himself.

“Hey baby?”

Buck turns to him with that giddy smile, a red flush spreading across his cheeks; what Eddie wouldn’t give to see that look every second of every day.

“Yea?”

“You uh, planning on wearing pants to work, or are you giving everyone a free show?”

Bucks’ eyes fall to his bare legs, his hand instantly clamping over his face.

“Shit!”

Eddie watches as Buck scrambles to their dresser for a pair of jeans, quickly shrugging them on, sliding a belt through before he comes over to place one final kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

Just as Buck reaches the door, he stops, titling his head back Eddie’s way.

“Hey Eds?”

“Yea?”

That smile from moments ago coats Bucks’ face again, Eddie smiling softly in turn.

“I love you.”

“I love you too baby. Don’t have too much fun at work without me.”

“Never. No one has my back like you do.”

tags: @buddiextarlos @swiftiediaz @confetti-cupcake @mansikkaomenabanaani @chimneymisteraprilhan @loveyourownsmiilee @prettyboyandthekid @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @lvpinspadfoot @corgiqueen14 @justsmilestuffhappens @honestlydarkprincess @love-buddie @bifirefighters @perfectlynervousbeard

#buddie #buddie drabble #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911 fox #domestic fluff #established relationship #this is just soft #and fluffy #they’re in love your honor #kel(s) writing

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infinite-orangepeel · 3 years ago

Text

a whumpy af steve harrington excerpt from ch. 2 of my soft dom eddie fic

aka this boy has a lot of unresolved trauma & eddie munson is going to help him heal

(the rest of the chapter that contains the actual smut will be linked below, i’m scared of tumblr shadow banning me again for posting the full thing in here)

READ THE TW BEFORE YOU PROCEED PLEASE !! THIS ONE IS HEAVY !! : angst to the max, panic attacks, self-injurious behaviors, blood, suicidal ideation, vomiting/nausea (as symptom of panic attacks), head trauma/partial memory loss, disordered eating habits, ptsd, heavy themes, smut, lots of emotions & general sadness for stevie

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

Steve wakes up in clothes that don’t belong to him, struggling to the surface from the dark recesses of yet another nightmare. His linen sheets are drenched in a cold sweat that makes it seem like he was running away from a real physical threat instead of a discarnate mental one. He doesn’t remember the exact contents of the dream.

Only distantly aware that it must have been somehow related to The Upside Down, because his heart is racing, his blood feels thin beneath the layer of blue veins, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck are standing straight up–like that of a cartoon cat spooked by its owner. The need to throw up his knotted guts, to purge the diseased thoughts in his brain, arises before he can even release a proper yawn or check the clock on his bedside table.

He has no idea what time it is, no memory of crawling into bed, no recollection of how he ended up in a faded Judas Priest band tee and navy briefs.

Or, at least he doesn’t, until he’s shaking from the drying sweat on his chest and can’t handle the itchy overstimulation of the tag sewn along the back of the shirt. It scratches ruthlessly against his skin and that’s going to send him into a whole other level of crisis if he doesn’t get it off his body right this instant.

Crossing his arms over his front and pulling at the hem, he frees himself from the prison of thick cotton and inhales as deeply as his shallow lungs will allow him to. Oxygen is apparently in limited supply today–not a total surprise post-nightmare, but still frustrating to confront depletion on a constant basis. Everything about his existence feels watered down, barren, and sapped of purpose–it’s been that way for a while. Never can the glass be half-full, there’s always a leak somewhere or a chip in the side–draining the liquid no matter how many times Steve bends over backwards to patch up the problem.

It’s unfixable.

He’s unfixable.

At that thought, acid burns in the basin of his esophagus and Steve recognizes that it’s only a matter of moments before the ugliness living inside him paints a putrid surrealist scene across his duvet and becomes tangible. Maybe it will be olive or yellow or translucent; that part’s invariably up to chance. Luck of the draw. Anyone’s game.

The act itself is the constant. Eyes flutter open–mechanized by his fucked up circadian rhythm–and then one, two, three pitiful almost breaths are taken as he reenters reality.

On most mornings, Steve’s throat is still swollen and scratchy from his nightly routine. As a boy, he was never scared of the dark–ran past the tree-line in his backyard until the moon was his sole source of light, unbothered by what may lurk in the shadows. As a man, he dreads the fall of the sun, mourns its disappearance like a devoted follower would grieve a lost prophet.

Night is black. Night is void. Night is terror. Night is fear. Night is shame.

The creatures that disturb and haunt his withered soul draw their strength beneath the cover of dusk. The darker it gets the more powerful they become. Naturally, Steve vomits from the torture they inflict. His body attempts to defend from the attack by luring the invaders out from the fortresses they have built between his organs.

It’s no use. Their poison lingers and eats him alive no matter how many times he kneels in front of the porcelain bowl and unearths the truth–that he is useless, loveless, worthless, and so, so very alone.

Through the hangover of fear and loathing–and a generous helping of unresolved blunt trauma to the head–Steve forgets about Eddie’s visit from the night prior. He forgets the whispered confessions and breathless kisses shared on the couch downstairs. He forgets moaning into each other’s wanton mouths and Eddie’s strong hands coaxing him out of his head.

He forgets and forgets and forgets and then–suddenly, dizzily, all at once–Steve remembers.

It’s an out of body experience–automatic by nature of careful practice–pressing his nose to the borrowed t-shirt and breathing in the distinct, musky scent of cigarette smoke and caution thrown to the wind. It’s the sweet, filtered fragrance of risk and flame and ringed fingers gripping his hips. Rolling them down with control onto firm, grounding hardness and delectably licking each whine out from behind Steve’s teeth. Waves of passion and pleasure and belonging and Eddie’s broad chest providing a safe place to land when all was said and done.

Steve remembers and he wants.

There’s a blip in time–like the thin pause of a lucid dream–in which the corners of Steve’s smart mouth twitch up in memory. Beaming golden light from cheek to blushing cheek; like the bliss of the setting sun warming the remains of the day with one final pink hued glow. A last hurrah, a gentle kiss, a bid farewell as childhood horror ensues in the form of shadowless creatures.

Feelings of euphoria and desire are torched by the sudden realization that Eddie is gone. The left side of the bed appears untouched–pillows fluffed, sheets tucked in and—

Oh, there it is again. Hello, old friend.

Acidic vulnerability merges with confusion and tears sting his aching flesh. Every nerve is ablaze with pain and hurt and the abandonment that Eddie promised wouldn’t happen. He’d sworn it up and down, palm practically pressed to the exoskeleton of a Bible with the way he’d taken Steve’s heart in his hands.

I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?

Never, Stevie. Never leaving you again.

He’s out of his mind with the hyperfixated belief that this is to be his permanent script–the character written out of the story the moment act two begins.

Why give lines to the actor who can never seem to speak them correctly? Why write them for the anxious wreck of a man who stumbles on every word and can’t follow a single stage cue without fucking up miserably?

Morning arrives as a stab in the back. A knife that goes from spine to heart, severing connection.

Eddie left. Eddie promised to stay and promised to care and promised to protect and still, he left.

Eddie showed up on his doorstep with the offers of comfort and presence and certainty and still, he left.

Eddie left.

Like Tommy.

Like Nancy.

Like Robin.

Like the kids.

Like Mom.

Like Dad.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to peer behind the curtain and see what everyone else always has–that Steve Harrington’s a fucking mess and cleaning him up is pointless work, because he’ll just ruin the effort and puke all over himself again the second the job is finished.

Thankless and tireless, just like what he’s doing right now. Except, he’s the maid in this version of the tale.

Capillaries break from the force of the raw hurt, as Steve retches into his own lap and coats Eddie’s forlorn t-shirt with the ideation of his betrayal. Vitriol burns and burns and he’s sick to the core.

It’s gross. God, Steve knows it’s gross.

It’s rare that he doesn’t covertly and politely participate in his worst habit these days. Sneaking off to the bathroom when he’s in a public setting and the anxiety strikes. Pulling over on the side of the road to hurl into the bushes when he gets triggered driving by the bones of Starcourt. Rationing the few shreds of dignity he still holds claim to by using the toilet or trash-bin when he’s home alone.

This particular scenario has only happened once before and it was much more excusable back then, because he’d been partially drunk and thus, able to blame the foul mistake on the alcohol. Though, he knew it had far more to do with Nancy calling him “bullshit” earlier in the evening than it did with the cheap beer rolling around in his stomach. Trust issues and self-hatred won out in the end, covering his mattress in vile colors that dripped from the edges of his own mouth.

Why should Nancy have ever wanted to give her love to someone so incapable of normalcy? Someone so incapable of loving himself?

Steve really should get up at this point–to clean, to shower, to toss the filth into the laundry. Washing away his sins is just part of the process. He knows this, he’s accustomed to it. He’s built a new life around it–walls of thick, dirty concrete and bulletproof cinder blocks.

But, as much as he knows he should get on with the day and toughen up—like the man his father raised him to be—Steve can’t. He simply can’t. His body is weak, his heart is empty, and there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide from the cruel voices in his head and the poison in his veins.

It follows him, it always follows him. Knows all his tricks.

Steve’s heaving non-breaths and chewing on the guilt he has for merely existing and there’s not enough space between his stupid blood and his stupid skin. He needs to rip open the flesh and crawl out of the body and bury it under the floorboards.

Maybe then he’d be able to greet the pretty sun and her rays without crying, instead of choking himself on the idea that he’ll never be capable of creating such warmth with his own form.

Blinded by an ocean of salty tears, he crashes into the shore of his mattress. Curling into himself on his side and pinching the insides of his thighs as hard as he can. His nails are long enough to tear into the skin and he relishes this fact.

He wants it to hurt, he wants to punish himself for all the things he can’t be– functional, stable, happy.

White hot pain sears his skin, which should be reason enough to stop, but it only serves to egg Steve on. Just another fucked up thing about him. Pain shouldn’t be enticing, but it is to his defiled brain.

Sharp edges pushing deeper and tearing at the seams–only slightly satisfied when drops of red finally trickle down and mix with the rest of the mess. Stains that will take so much bleach and soap and exertion–energy he doesn’t have anymore.

It’s a new low, but he tepidly thinks that maybe he’ll sleep like this tonight–maybe he’ll stay in this rotten bed of expiration all day long. Maybe he’ll lose track of time and melt into the springs and let them slice him limb from limb.

There has to be peace at the end of the tunnel? Right? Follow the light and bleed your last and then you’re free? Isn’t that how it works? Isn’t it?

Blood pools between his legs–gory and without miracle–in a slow, steady stream. His mouth is dry, the bed smells like death, and no one is coming to save him.

He’ll die here–in this house, in this room, in this bed–and no one will be there to kiss him goodbye. No one will jot down his last words for future reference in his eulogy.

Not a bang, but a whimper–that’s how Steve will go out. A tree falling in the forest and no one around to confirm or deny if it made a sound. Blood will color him and his bed the darkest red and that will be how he leaves this Earth.

He just needs to push a little deeper. Maybe a kitchen knife or the edge of one of the nails in his bat. That might work. He’ll go grab one or the other or both once his own hands reach their limit.

Will they even wonder? Will they even care?

No one is coming to save him. No one is coming to save��

Except, well, except apparently, Eddie Fucking Munson.

“Morning!” He sings into the festering room, as if he’s blind to the crime scene and thinks this is the set of some early bird talk show, “I got us coffee and bagels–toasted of course. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to get some caffeine in you too, after last night. Uh–don’t know what you like, so I got two of my favorites. Not to brag, but I’ve been told I have impeccable taste in the–”

Eddie trails off and gasps sharply as he approaches the bed. Steve can’t look up at him, can’t begin to process what’s happening–he’s trapped by his ceaseless pain. His eyes stay shut, refusing to let Eddie in for fear of what he’ll find.

A monster, a beast, an unsightly creature with nothing to live for.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and places a hand on Steve’s trembling shoulder–shuffling around to place the coffee and bagels on the desk, “Are you– Steve –are you okay? What can I do? How can I help you? I want to help. Let me help. Please.”

Steve can’t talk, he can’t find the words to explain what he needs. His tongue feels like a ten ton brick in his mouth–it’s impossible to unhinge his tensing jaw and his teeth feel like overgrown fangs. He doesn’t want to disappoint Eddie. He wants to be good for him, wants to behave, wants to earn his praise and kindness, but he’s as good for nothing as a walkman without batteries.

A bicycle without wheels.

A car without an engine.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

Instead, he groans and rolls towards Eddie–bloody thighs cloaked beneath the sheets. A hideous surprise that would make just about anyone pass out or join him in puking on sight. It’s a lethal picture of a grisly love affair–Steve and the bed he plans to turn into a grave. Forever intertwined.

Honestly, he’s shocked Eddie hasn’t run straight out the door with the bagels and coffee in tow. How could anyone want to share a meal with him in this state?

“Stevie,” Eddie cards a hand through his greasy hair–so gentle and soft, using careful fingers, “If this is like last night–if it's bad again and you can’t talk–can you try another way for me, when you’re ready? We’ll make it simple, something you can do without using any words. You can tap my hand once if you want me to get closer, twice if you’re not sure yet, three times if you don’t want that at all and you’d prefer I leave.”

Hesitation prevents an immediate choice; but only because the slate of options is something that usually intimidates him. Fearful in all instances–mundane and complex–that he’ll choose wrong. But, Eddie’s hand is so warm and kind and safe–cradling him and keeping him present.

And he left, yes that’s true, but it seems he left for good reason. Not for lack of care, but because of it. To nourish Steve and himself. To give instead of take. Maybe it’s okay to trust Eddie. To tourniquet the quiet bleeding and reach for the reprieve of a bandaid in the form of another.

“I swear I’ll shut the fuck up soon, but Stevie-”

Steve loves that nickname. His heart swoons and skips beats at the sound of it in Eddie’s gravelly rasp. Loves the way Eddie brings his name to life like the last line of a love letter or the beginning of a delicate melody.

“Stevie, I’m–I just need you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m here and I don’t want you to be scared. I don’t know if you’re scared actually–but you sure look it–I just, I just really want to make it better. Can I do that for you, sweetheart?” Eddie coos low in his ear and the shackles loosen from Steve’s wrists–allowing him to pry his violent hands away from where they bite into his thighs.

He blinks his swollen lids open, knows this next part is gonna hurt, but Eddie’s so beautiful that the panic dissipates–numbs. The man stands beside his bed–bathed in divine light, like a God of some old world–and pets Steve’s hair in sweet repetition. Coiled electricity lives beneath his skin, bringing color to his pale cheeks and caging angelic concern behind his doe eyes.

Painfully present in the moment with Steve, painfully there to share in his pain and shield him from all that he can.

Decidedly, Steve reaches up to tap Eddie’s hand with one definitive motion. Singular and communicating what can’t be spoken aloud.

Eddie’s face lights up–like Joyce Byers’ living room four years ago–bright and verging on chaotic. Hard to contain in such a limited space.

“Yes! Okay, that’s a yes, right? You want me closer–like to hold you?” Eddie confirms and Steve nods, appreciating how thorough he is–how much he wants to maintain a safe boundary at all times.

“P-please,” Steve mutters and taps Eddie’s hand to reiterate his point, even though it’s somewhat unnecessary now.

He likes the ease of it, the simplicity. Taps seem far less likely to be misinterpreted than words–which Steve tends to jumble by using improper tone or speaking too fast. It’s a more foolproof system than the English language and there’s a large appeal in that. It makes his brain feel fuzzy and coddled, as if there are big earmuffs surrounding the pink matter and nothing bad can get inside. Impermeable.

“Okay. I can do that, absolutely. Just wanna take the covers off and throw them in the laundry real quick,” Eddie says calmly, like the vomit really isn’t all that unappealing, “I’ll be right back.”

He starts peeling back the duvet to clean and Steve whimpers without meaning to. Fresh tears spill down his face and dampen his exposed chest hair. There’s no way this is the same guy that won the superlative for “biggest heartthrob” his senior year. Something must have been chemically or genetically altered since then. Crying, bleeding, covered in his own puke, prepared to die before Eddie provided a welcome distraction—no way.

Eddie notices the sobbing, because of course he does. Pausing in the midst of his cleaning mission, he balls up the duvet and kneels onto the carpet to level himself with Steve. Letting them view each other eye to eye.

“Hey, hey, honey,” Eddie says with compassion, “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Do you want me to put the covers back on? I should have asked you first, before ripping them off the bed. Shit I’m such an idiot.”

Steve sniffles pathetically and snot joins the growing mix of bodily fluids coating his sticky skin. Eddie uses the sleeve of his leather jacket to dab at his nose and cheeks, gentle pressure that brings him strength.

How he’s not disgusted, Steve isn’t sure, but he knows for certain—in this moment—that Eddie Munson is a good man.

A good friend, a good—well, Steve’s not exactly sure what to call him after the way they kissed last night on the couch. Hot and heavy and full of need.

Friends don’t kiss and friends definitely don’t kiss like that.

“Not the covers,” Steve cries and chokes out a breath, “Don’t want you to leave, Eddie.”

A crease forms between the man’s dark brows, hidden in part by his tiered fringe. Steve recalls how it felt to take those tendrils in his hands and pull in desperation. To cling onto the soft curls as pleasure coursed through his body. Eddie’s lap so solid and safe.

“I’ll be right back. I promise. Just don’t want you to lay in this anymore. It’s not good for you and you deserve a nice, clean place to rest. I’ll bring you fresh sheets and then I’ll cuddle you for as long as you like. No rush,” Eddie reassures him, but doesn’t move away from the bed—clearly waiting for a response.

Probably lingering to see how much Steve will break at the suggestion of their temporary separation.

How weak he is, how fragile.

“No,” Steve says firmly and tears punctuate his small demand.

“No, what?” Eddie prompts lightly and sits on the edge of the unkempt bed to further their conversation–somehow he still hasn’t noticed the blood, “No I can’t do your laundry or no I can’t cuddle you?”

“Laundry,” Steve winces as he readjusts his position, the blood is drying thickly between his legs, “Don’t want you to do the laundry, because—because I don’t think you’ll come back.”

There’s no point in scaring him away by explaining that Steve’s little meltdown had quite a bit to do with Eddie’s well intentioned coffee run this morning. That he’d believed Eddie had left him—full stop–without hope of return. That it was a terminal decision that hammered in the final nail in Steve’s coffin.

“Oh,” understanding develops in slow motion over Eddie’s concerned face, “Like my deadbeat dad going to the grocery store for milk? You’re scared that it’s just an excuse, that I don’t actually mean it? Like I’ll say I’m just going to do some laundry, but I’ll run out the door instead without telling you? Is that it?”

Steve laughs a little at the ridiculousness and truth in Eddie’s analogy. He’d known Eddie hadn’t grown up with an overtly present father figure until Wayne, but he hadn’t realized just how similar their childhoods were in that sense until now. Steve’s dad may have been on endless business trips—which was code for having a multitude of affairs—but the absence held a dagger to his heart at the same angle. Aimed at the same vein.

“It’s stupid,” Steve hears himself say in a voice that sounds much closer to the one he typically associates with his public persona, “I’m being immature and you’re just trying to do something nice for me. You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess in the first place. I’m more than capable of doing it.”

No I’m not and I was planning on laying in it for the rest of the time to punish myself, he thinks, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s not stupid, Steve,” Eddie scoots closer to lean against the headboard and gently places Steve’s head in his lap, “You’ve been through a lot in your life, especially these past few years with all the monster shit. Reacting to that—dealing with your trauma—however that may look to other people shouldn’t matter. You’re doing your best to fucking survive and that’s a success in itself. You should be proud of yourself for continuing to push through every day. I’m proud of you, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me and if you don’t want me to leave your room yet, if you’re not ready, then I’ll stay. All you have to do is ask.”

It hurts too much to say it out loud, so Steve taps Eddie’s denim clad leg once and Eddie pulls him closer. Rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s back, like he’s weaving a fairytale to lull him to sleep.

“You can rest, now,” Eddie murmurs and Steve wonders how they got here—to this place of reversed roles, “Let go. Whatever that looks like, I don’t care, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

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sassenashsworld · 2 years ago

Text

The Game – Nick Valentine

Nora went back and forth between the well and her house, borrowed several pots and now that the bath is fully filled, she lets out a long sigh of contentment.

She can take a bath.

She hasn’t had her little clean water therapy for a week. She’s trying to maintain a fair level of hygiene, but running water is not really...common in the Commonwealth.

She often thought of Vault 111. She knows she could easily bring in bathrooms worthy of the name, real showers worth mentioning. But she’s been unable to set foot on the hill since she buried Nate.

This is too painful.

She focuses in the moment on her bath mounted in her old bathroom, with water warmer than cold, without endanger to turn her into a ghoul and which contains no mirelurk.

As she finally enters the water, sinking to her chin with a sigh of well-being, she hears the door of the house open and the voice of her favorite synthetic singing a joyful melody.

“Let me tell you ‘bout the birds and bees, and the flowers and the trees, the moon up above, and a thing called love.”

Nora can hardly refrain from laughing when she hears it. This is the first time she has heard him sing, but when she allows herself this freedom, she often caught him humming. He must be in an incredible mood to sing a tune too… Nora frowns when she catch the meaning of the words.

“Let me tell you about the stars in the sky, a girl and a guy, and the way they could kiss on a night like this”

When the bathroom door opens on an old synth smiling with all his heart, the young woman does not know how to react. The surprise is so much that she misses slipping into the bottom of the bath trying to straighten herself at the same time she becomes aware of the fact she is in her bath so totally naked.

“Nick? What are you—

He enters directly into the bathroom while continuing to hum, a smile always well engraved on the lips.

“Hello beautiful child, are you living with your parents?”

“What the fuck, Nick?”

He places on the rim of the bath a bread of soap of hubflower and some perfumed oils.

“Can’t you see I’m in the bath?”

“Yup.”

“You drank nano-techno beer again?

"Nope."

“I’m NAKED Nick, get out of here before I crack your skull!”

She makes a gesture to grab her gun on the ledge, but he gives her a little pat on the hand.

“We calm down the aggression, I’m here to give you a good massage and then—

“No! Get out! Now!”

He smiles at her again, as one would smile at a particularly slow child, and suddenly, a declic seems to be made in Nora’s mind. Quick as lightning, she leaps out of the bath grabbing her gun this time without any hesitation and before Nick had time to react, she is in his back, grasping him by the neck, the 10mm deep in his throat.

“Why did the Institute send you, who informed you I had a coat like Nick’s in my office?”

“Nora, it’s me.”

“Nick would never be stupid enough to do that.”

“It’s me, Nora.”

“Prove it!”

She does not loosen her grip for an instant despite the synth raises its hands in the air in a gesture to show he has no bellicose intention. The slightest thing is to say he no longer smiles, rather the opposite. Well, he may have put too much faith on a relationship of mutual trust that led them to share on the ground scenes of intimacy that could lure the most brilliant of men.

“I… I thought you’d appreciate it—

“Prove to me” she growls between her teeth “you are Nick, and you have five seconds.”

He tries to think as quickly as he can, but it seems that nothing comes to mind to calm the game at this precise moment. The Deliverer’s silencer sinks a little deeper into its circuits.

“This scene reminds me too much of the one we live at Thicket Excavation…”

“I don’t remember, find something else.”

“You’re my best friend? We tracked down Eddie Winter together.”

“The whole Commonwealth know that, and the birds of the Institute have had to bring everything back.”

“You were in love with Porter!”

“Too easy, all the Minutemen present that day can attest that.”

She pulls the slide to engage the ball. Nick panics even more.

“You… you have nightmares! In your nightmares… you hear my voice laughing at you!”

“It’s a start, but again it’s information that could have escaped.”

“The New Year’s Eve! You fell asleep at the bar, I held you in my arms and as I wanted you to sleep all night, I kept you with me. We slept on your couch in your house. The next morning, I was sleeping when you woke up. I had a dream. I dreamt about Jenny. When you wanted to tell me you were leaving, I kissed you. I thought you were Jenny. We never talked about it again. You never wrote it in your journal. The only way I know is if I’m the person who kissed you.”

The weapon finally seems to want to leave its position and Nora steps back. When Nick slowly turns to her, she has already put on a bathrobe, but she now crosses her arms, staring at him with anger.

“What the hell is this?”

He sighed, breathing a good blow to calm his circuits that were starting to overheat. Now the panic is leaving him, he is frankly annoyed.

"Shit, I just wanted to give you a little thalassotherapy session."

“You keep that kind of shit for Ellie. You don’t walk into a lady’s bathroom uninvited.”

“Noted, duly noted! Sorry, I may have taken too much liberty. Don’t think I’ll make that mistake again.”

“And to think you’re the one who always blames me for making us look like a couple.”

“It won’t happen again, trust me!”

He takes his leave and Nora hesitates for a while. She ends up getting out of the bathroom, getting a chair in the kitchen, and bringing it back with her. Once the door is closed behind her, she locks the chair under the handle to prevent future invasion. So, finally, she can go back and relax in her bath. No-obstat that Nick entered her intimacy as an idiot, she now considers the hubflower soap he left on the rim of the bath. A thin smile appears on her lips. It will not be said she will not enjoy it.

For his part, Nick goes straight to the bar where he only finds Deacon and Hancock in big conversation at this time of the day.

“I lost” he launches without introduction.

“I know” Deacon says, trying not to laugh.

Hancock, for his part, is downright hilarious.

“So, Nick, we thought we had a ticket with the lady?”

“Never speak to me again about this stupid bet. If one of you dares to refer to it, he will never see this old synth again.”

“So bad?” Hancock, who is starting to hiccup, asks.

“You don’t care about our friendship?”

Deacon takes care of reporting his failure to the other participants in the evening. Nick and Nora are back on the road, an investigation to be conducted in Boston. It can be said, however, that Deacon’s version of events will provoke laughter for a long time whenever MacCready, Preston, Danse or Sturges remember it.

#nora #nick valentine #fallout 4 #the game 05 #nora is silver

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