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[joeydoeeyes]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐬.

part three to touch her & touch me. you don't have to read the previous parts but they will provide more context to the nature of their relationship.

warnings: fem!empress!reader, not at all historically accurate, general acacius makes an appearance, cheating, jealousy, possessiveness, degrading, pussy spanking, slight mentions of murder and blood, smut. MINORS LEAVE !!!

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you and geta have been married for three months.

all of rome celebrated your wedding, not necessarily because they were happy for your union but more because during an occasion like that, the emperors get generous. emperor geta had his guards roam the streets and throw around aureses and hand bottles of wine to citizens who bowed and heavily expressed their gratitude and well wishes to the newly weds.

life as an empress is something you wouldn’t have been able to imagine in your wildest dreams. you had servants, you had guards, you had slaves but the most important of all, you had power.

all the power in the world, you held it in the palm of your hand. you could say one word and end sorry lives, destroy empires, ruin someone for good. or you could be merciful and make things better, build a future, save a life.

you were a god and you felt like one and you had him to thank for that.

geta gave you all the power you wielded, the second your palm hit his face all those weeks ago, he knew he was done for. when he put that golden ring on your bloodied finger, he made a vow to keep you vigorous and invincible.

nobody could touch you, metaphorically and literally.

but as the days went by, you realized that power meant very little to you. it’s another one of those things seem cathartic when it’s out of reach but get tedious once you have them.

geta is barely around, he’s always seems to be away attending to businesses and when he’s home, his mind is anywhere but.

you didn’t realize how dull life as an empress would be. back when you were a servant, you had work to do, things to get done but now you just lounge around in your expensive robes and garments doing nothing and with geta gone, life seems to have become a dreary endlessness.

you longed for the excitement you used to have, the thrill you felt in your belly and between your legs when you heard the news that the emperor has returned home and has requested your company for the night. now he rolls around in bed and snores the night away, on the rare times he sleeps with you and not locked away on his throne.

one time, the emperor has returned home but he wasn’t alone. a new general has come with him, general acacius, you’ve heard his name was.

he was magnificent, from his hair to his eyes to his lips to the way he talks. he was electrifying and you were in a desperate need to be lit up.

geta has introduced the two of you to one another, and he took your hand and placed a soft kiss on top of it before bowing to you, you felt ablaze and you’d do anything to chase that fire, even if it burns you, even if it burns him.

so you took your chances.

that’s why now, a week later, you’re sat around a dining table with the emperor on one end and the general on the other. you can hear their voices as they converse around you but your mind is anywhere but in the room as your brain had decided to take a trip down memory lane, flashing back to last week...

marcus had his arms wrapped around your waist, his head buried in your bare chest. you can feel his opened mouth breathing and his whines against your skin, along with the scratch of his beard. “your majesty..” he whispered as you rocked back and forth on top of him, “i don’t think we should be.. doing this. fuck, you feel so good.” he struggled to get the words out between groans, “the emperor..”

“if the emperor had satisfied me himself, i wouldn’t need to have his general’s cock but he’s failing his martial duties.” you said dauntlessly, “and i.. i have needs too.” bracing your knees on each side of his thighs, you felt his big hands take a hold of your hips and begin to bounce you slowly, letting him slip out of you completely before sliding you down on him, taking him whole. “do wish for me to stop, general? do you wish to disobey me?”

he looked up at you, grinning like a devil. “i’d never disobey you, your majesty.”

geta’s voice calling for you brought you back to the right now, he was asking you something about rome or a fight or gladiators or your new dress or something else, you weren’t listening to the conversation so you don’t know for sure.

god, where did the man you fell go?

“marcus and i fucked.” you said nonchalantly, sipping on your red wine from your golden chalice.

you heard the general choke on his own drink and felt geta’s eyes burning as they peered into your side profile.

“what?”

“i said marcus and i fucked.” you repeated, louder this time, staring at your husband. “last week, he took me right on your side of the bed.”

“your majesty i..” general acacius tried to speak but you interrupted him,

“you what? you don’t be a coward now as if you weren’t bouncing me on your cock and begging to suck my tits.” you told him and this time geta was shooting daggers at him,

“is that true, general acacius? did you fuck my wife?” he asked, his voice is trembling with rage. you’re almost impressed with his self control and have to suppress a smile, knowing the calmer he is now, the worse his rage will be.

“it’s not like tha..”

“i asked him to.” you interrupted again. if geta think it’s the general’s fault, he’ll take his rage out on him and you need him to take it out on you.

“you..”

“i asked him to fuck me because you wouldn’t!” fueling the fire.. “because you’re always away, because you haven’t paid attention to me for weeks now, because you won’t touch me.” you yelled at geta, “it’s all your fault. you made me do it.”

geta stared at you, confounded at your words and more so your arrogance. he couldn’t believe you’d say such things in front of his general but then again, he didn’t think you’d fuck his general. especially not after all he’s done for you.

“marcus, would you be a dear and leave me alone with my wife?” geta asked, his anger is seeping out more and more with each word.

general acacius looks at you, he’s heard about the emperor’s fury and his poor, sweet heart is worried for you. he’s so not your type.

you flash him a smile and discreetly blow him a kiss, dismissing him as well and he exits the dining room quietly then geta dismisses all servants, leaving just you and him in the candle lit room behind a closed a door.

you sip on your drink casually, the way your heart is pounding in your chest is anything but casual.

geta takes a deep breath and exhales before getting out of his chair and making his way over to yours. he stands behind you, his presence is dizzying.

he takes your chalice off your hand and places it on the table before he tugs at your hair and forces your head back so you’d stare up at him. then puts his other hand on your exposed neck, slightly squeezing it.

“what have you i told you before about wanting my attention?”

“you..”

“i said you ask for it.” he says, matter of factly, “i told you, i’m a busy man, i’ve got an entire empire to run so if i’m failing to give you the attention you need, just ask for it and it’s all yours. did i not say that, wife?” he asks, his voice venomous.

“you said it.”

“that’s right, i did. so why, instead of asking for my attention right away, did you have to go and fuck my general like a whore?” his grip on your neck tightens, cutting your airflow more when it’s already hard to breathe with him holding your head back like this.

you smirk at him, “because it’s more fun and it worked, i got your attention now.”

your response infuriates him further, he fell right into your trap. but he can’t deny how it’s also exciting him. he missed your crazy and how mad you make him.

he tugs at your hair more, making you gasp when the back of your head hit the wooden chair. “strip.” he commanded, letting go of your hair and neck.

panting, you begun to undo the laces and buttons of your gown, which seemed endless, then finally let it fall to your feet. you stood bare in front of geta and watched him take in the sight of your body.

he hasn’t seen you like this in a while. your skin, your curves, your edges, he’s missed it so much and didn’t even realize it then thoughts of marcus’ hands on your body infiltrates his brain so he stepped away from you before he did something he’d regret and pulled the table cloth off, throwing it on the ground along with everything that was on it.

dishes broke and glass rattled on the ground, it made you flinch but he didn’t even blink. “lay on the table.” he ordered and you obeyed right away, putting your back on the cold marble.

geta’s eyes never left your body, the visual of you takes his breath away. he nearly understands your frustration with him, how could he leave you unattended, unfucked, untouched for as long as he did? if you were a good girl, he’d let you punish him for it but you chose to take matters into your own hands and punished him in your wicked way and now you’ll have to pay for it.

“tell me doll, have you forgotten who your husband is?” he asks, the tips of his fingers running up your thighs, sending goosebumps into your skin with his serene voice.

“no.” you mutter and feel his ringed palm hit your thigh, “no! no i haven’t forgotten.”

geta raises an eyebrow at you, “no? so you haven’t forgotten that you’re married to an emperor? one that doesn’t like to share his property?” he smacks your thigh again, harder, “spread your legs.”

you do as he orders, spreading your legs for him and watch as he stands between them. the sight of him towering over you makes your heart throb in your chest and between your legs. “i haven’t forgotten, your majesty.”

“you haven’t but i have.” he says, his fingers tracing down to your inner thighs, “i have forgotten that i married a harlot.” inching dangerously close to your core, “i have ignored what my mother said about how you can’t make a whore a wife,” he pulls his hand away and turns his rings around one by one so the crystal side would be inside his palm. “i said you were different and maybe you are, maybe.. .”

with his ringless hand, he holds your leg around his torso then his ringed one comes smacking down against your cunt making you scream out and writhe beneath him, he doesn’t give you time to adjust to the pain before he spanks it again. “maybe i just need to tame you..” your hands want to reach down to grab his but he gives you a look and the fury in his eyes stops you, “need to remind you who you belong to, who owns you.”

he spanks you again, this time the impact hits your clit and your eyes roll back in agony, in pleasure. with the next spank, you have to fight the urge to lift your hips off the table, needing more. “did you enjoy his cock? did he make you feel..” spank, “good..” spank, “like..” spank, “me?”

he’s green with jealousy, his eyes bleeding rage and his hands merciless. “did he?” he yells.

“no! no he didn’t! nobody can me feel like you do..” you manage to say, wincing. “nobody, your majesty.”

he pulls his hand away from your cunt, his fingers are wet and you’re dripping on the table. “who do you belong to?” he asks, removing his clothes one piece of fabric at a time until he’s standing bare in front of you, “i said, who do you belong to?” he delivers one last spank to your cunt before wrapping that same hand around his cock, stroking it while his eyes are locked on your leaking pussy, raw and red and all his.

“you, your majesty. i belong to you and just you.” you tell him, bringing yourself closer to the edge of the table, your eyes fixated and hungry on his shaft, you force them back to his face, “i’m only yours.”

he chuckles deviously, “yeah, i’ll make sure you remember that.” he mutters, slowing thrusting his tip into you then pulling it out before you could even fathom it. “beg.”

fine. if he wants you to beg, you’ll beg. nothing’s wrong about begging if you end up getting what you want at the end of the line.

“please your majesty.. please forgive me. i’m sorry. i’ll never betray your trust again.. please please please..” you give him your sweetest, most innocent eyes you could master while bluntly lying to his face , “i need you.. please.” this time it’s not a lie, you do need him and he can’t pretend like he doesn’t need you too.

he thrusts into you again, bottoming out all at once. you both groan at the feeling, it hurts so good.

his hands grab your thighs, wrapping them around him and you hold him tight between your legs. not risking him pulling away again. “i own you.” he says each word between thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with each one, “i fucking own you. you’re mine.”

you can feel him throbbing inside you, all this rage has him worked up, you doubt he’ll be able to hold off long enough to make you finish or if he even cares right now. you wouldn’t mind it though, this is enough for you, for now.

“you own me, geta. you’re my emperor, my only one oh.. my god.” the last one leaves your lips as a moan but he takes it as another title, making him smirk.

“you’re right doll, i am your god. your only god and you’ll pray to noone but me.” he grabs your face by your cheeks, squeezing them tight between his fingers the way he has so many times before. it almost feels comforting now. you can’t help but smile, as much as you can anyway.

“i missed you, geta. i missed you so much.” you struggle to get the words out but manage to do it. then you see the faintest glint in his eyes, one you’ve seen only a handful of times but enough to know that he’s willing to soften, willing to allow the airtight box in the left side of his chest to have the tiniest cracks and let some light in.

geta pulls and sits you up, letting go of your cheeks when you’re face to face with him. his eyes scan your features, almost tenderly. “i missed you too darling.” he whispers before putting his lips on yours, he’s never called you darling before and now he’s kissing you with passion you’ve never imagined is possible for him like he wants you to know he means it.

the movements of his hips aren’t as rough anymore too, he’s slowing down, taking his time as his tongue explores your mouth, playing with yours. “i.. i’m sorry i have been neglecting you.” he murmurs against your lips and you nearly pull away to check if what you heard is correct.

geta, the emperor, the man, is apologizing to you and it’s not a dream.

“geta..”

“i’m sorry i haven’t been a good husband, i let my responsibilities distract me from you but that’s done now. i won’t let rome to be my mistress anymore.” he says, his hips once again bucking into yours fiercely, you clench around him and feel him moan into your lips. “you’re my priority, my muse. i won’t let you down again, my darling.”

your heart flutters at his words, he’s never been this gentle with you. you almost regret what you did to him but then remember that if you didn’t do it, you wouldn’t have this and you remember why you did it. “i know you won’t, i trust you..” you tell him, your head falling against his chest and your hands gripping his shoulders leaving small crescent shaped holes in his skin. “my god.”

geta wraps his arms around your body, cradling you as he fucks into you harder, faster, he’s close to his release and he can sense that you are too, he takes pride in the fact that he knows your body that well. “don’t hold back doll, cum for me, for your god.” he orders in a desperate whine.

you squeeze around him a couple more times, feeling the knot in your lower tummy tightening more and more until it’s snaps leaving you heaving and blaring through the walls, your voice echoes through the castle. the pain of his earlier punishment has already left you raw and now your climax has washed over you, making it tenfold more intense. you would’ve fell back and laid on the table but his arms keeps you up and still, he keeps thrusting in and out of you at his own pace now that he’s got you your fix.

you close your eyes and let him have it, let him have you however he wants while you bask in the sweet, blissful aftermath. the sound of his voice calling you his darling, his priority, his muse accompanies you in your haze along with the tenderness he’s holding you with.

in that moment, you realize why he’s the one for you, why you truly love him. he can be callous, cruel and ruthless. he can murder without flinching, he can watch death without blinking but when it comes to you, he’s vulnerable. he’s defenseless. he plays tough but he always ends up kneeling at your alter. you might’ve called him your god but you both know, he’s the one worshiping.

you feel him spilling inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed, filling you up. you pray it stays, pray you’ll swell up with his child, his heir and in his head, he does too.

after a few seconds, geta pulls out of you, you wince at the emptiness and he at the sudden chill after being buried in your warmth.

he collapses on the marble table next to you and gesture for you to cuddle to him and you do, nuzzling into his neck while his hand is tracing random patterns on your bare back. your leg thrown over his torso as it still hurts to keep your thighs close together.

you hum with your eyes closed, content and he smiles to nobody, pleased that he pleased you.

minutes pass or maybe it was hours, it’s pointless to measure time when you’ve got everything you wanted.

“this.. punishment thing was fun but as much as i enjoyed playing this game, i need to ask, what’s the next step in your master plan?” you ask, breaking the silence.

geta looks at you and smirks, “well, now that general ludicrous knows that i know of his and ‘your’ betrayal, he believes i’m going to kill him like i would any other man who dare looks at you..” you remember the day he killed that general, the first time you tasted blood and liked it. “but i won’t kill him. i’ll make him wish he was dead.”

you frown at him, “what do you mean?”

“i’ll spare marcus’ life and he’ll owe me forever.” he says, “you see, general acacius has vowed loyalty for both me and my idiotic brother but now that he owes me his life, i doubt he’ll care much for caracalla’s.” he chuckles and you start to piece it together, “and once that poor excuse of a human is out of the picture, we’ll sent marcus to a game. the gladiators will do to him more than my knife ever could.”

you catch yourself smiling at his plan, “they’ll tear him to pieces.”

he puts his hand on your cheek, gently this time, no squeezing. “then it’ll be just you and me. we’ll be invincible. nobody can touch us.” he smiles, a genuine one, a mad one and you mirror it. the fire in his eyes is relentless, it electrifies you as much as it warms you. you’ve never loved him more than right now.

“nobody can touch us.”

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @dianaaxoxo @nay1234ttyy @lindamujer444 @that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast @cherrydoll-xo @ashprince-of-bel-air @pleasantlycrazyworld @screaming-blue-bagel @avobabe87 @honey-eyed-munson @multi-culti-girl @prestinalove @miss-mouse99 @littleredpartydresson @darknesseddiem @madspads @strawbbzombwie @joejoequinnquinn @ali-r3n

[joeydoeeyes]

@joeydoeeyes made a poster for touch her and i could CRY right now !!! 🥹

I LOVE IT I LOVE YOU thank you thank you thank you 🫶🏻

[joeydoeeyes]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

part two to touch her. this is purely smut so you don't have to read the first part but it'll give you some background context to the nature of their relationship and stuff :)

warnings: fem!servant!reader, not at all historically accurate, implied SA but no details (not with geta), sorta dub-con, degrading, possessiveness, knives, cutting, blood, hitting, gore, geta and reader matching each other's freak for 3k words and of course, smut. minors, you are absolutely not welcomed here, LEAVE NOW !!!

this is dedicated to my baby @joejoequinnquinn 🫶🏻

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geta didn’t make you an empress.

but it was exactly as you’ve expected, it’s not like he promised or anything. besides, you know better than to take powerful men for their words. especially the ones uttered in transient desire.

but it was alright. even more than that because now you’ve got him figured out or at least learned more than you used to know and confirmed the things you speculated about.

you were special to him.

you don’t know why and you doubt that he does but for some reason, you are. you’ve become indispensable.

geta has grown more and more attached to you since the day of that meeting with his generals. something about the way you reacted to him mercilessly murdering a man and splattered his blood across your body made his heart flutter in a way it never has before.

he was ruthless, always has been but he never imagined to meet someone as cold blooded as him, especially not a woman.

the audacious grin you had on your face as if your features weren’t covered in a man’s fresh blood as you spoke back to him made as intrigued as it made him furious.

who did you think you are? he thought in a quick rage but most importantly, he loved a challenge, especially one where he has the higher odds of winning and he figured that with you, he’d win either way.

the game was never fair but that didn’t make it any less fun.

geta has been away on a quest and without him, you were left unprotected. yes, the generals would never lay a finger or an eye upon you but that didn’t mean the guards, the gladiators and the other emperors obeyed by the same rule. he was powerful enough to claim you but you weren't his wife. now that he’s gone, it’s a free for all.

once he returned, you had no plans of telling him about what happened during his absence. about the hands that were laid on your body to grab and hold you down. you figured he didn’t need to know or else he’d find out on his own.

he called you in his chamber on the second night of his return as he was in over his head with meetings during his first and you put on his favorite robe on you, a red colored silky garment, the first gift he’s ever given you then made your way to his chamber.

the guards opened the door for you, you recognized one of them. he was new around and he was the one that took advantage of geta’s absence. you snarled at him before stepping in then the door was quickly shut behind you with a loud thud.

“my doll.” geta called, “come to me.” he was sitting by the edge of his bed, sipping on a new thing of booze he acquired from his travels. dressed in nothing.

you took notice of the faint, fresh tan on his usually pastel skin as you approached him, “your majesty.” you bowed for him before getting down on your knees, keeping your head down.

he placed his hand on your cheek, making you look up at him, squeezing your jaw. “what have you done to me?” he asks, the fire in his eyes could bring satan’s hell to shame.

you frowned at him, confused then he continued, “you’ve put a spell on me you filthy whore, haven’t you?” he squeezes your jaw tighter. “you’ve bewitched me, beguiled me, you’re cursed me.”

his thumb and forefinger are digging deeply into your cheek you can practically feel them in-between your teeth before he suddenly withdraws his hand away, leaving you gasping for air.

he chugs down whatever is left in his cup before tossing it across the room, shattering the delicate glass.

“strip.” he commands before you could process his accusations and answer to them and your body obeys him before your mind could get another word in.

“your majesty..”

“not a word!” he yells, his voice echoing in the walls. “i’m sick of you. i’m sick of the way you don’t get out of my head.” he reaches towards his dresser and pulls out his knife, the same one he used to kill that general. it’s sharpened again, the blade is honed and metal gleaming. “you’re gonna pay for it. i’ll make you pay for it.”

your blood turns cold, he’s going to kill you, you gather then he’s quick to grab your arm and pull you up towards him, “get on my cock before i put this in good use.” he twists the knife in his hand as you quickly get on your feet and crawl over on his lap to straddle him.

the blade of his knife is sitting beneath your chin, cold and unwavering in his hand as he adjusts his position. your trembling hands reach down so you can center his hardening member on your slit but not before you stroke him a couple of times, knowing that he usually likes it.

“don’t tease.” the tip of his knife is dangerously close to your neck, tears well up in your eyes as you sink down on his cock.

you could never get used to his size, the thickness and girth of it. no matter how many times you’ve had him, it always feels like a stretch.

“don’t just sit there looking stupid,” his knife-less hand comes down hard on the side of your thigh, spanking you and leaving an immediate sting that makes your tears spill from your eyes. you begin to move in circles above him, slowly bouncing. “yeah.. fuck me.” he whines.

he watches you cry, a smirk plastered on his face. he’s enjoying this. “you’re fucking pathetic.” he groans, removing the knife from against your neck and wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to his body. you can feel the blade digging into the flesh of your back then feel something thick drip down. you’re bleeding.

your heart pounds in your chest as you bounce on his cock, faster and faster. your movements are clumsy and careless as you’ve never had him in this position before, you don’t really know what you’re doing and he’s doing nothing to help you.

“what have you done to me.. i can’t seem to want other women now.” he says between moans, “can’t even look at them.” he takes your nipple in his mouth, running his tongue over it and suckling like his life depends on it. “you’re the only one i’m craving.” his teeth sink into your sensitive bud for a second and you growl in pain, he sneers at your torment before busying himself with sucking at your tits again, marking and remarking you.

your thighs burn with each bounce but you don’t dare stop. don’t want to stop. the sharpness of the blade, the blood, the pain mixed with the fullness of his throbbing cock pounding inside of you, hitting just the right spot with every thrust and his rough lips on your skin is making your brain go haywire.

you’ve never felt this way before, not with geta, not with any other man. your lower stomach feels as if it’s getting tighter and tighter but heading for a release soon and it hurts so good.

your rhythm becomes more erratic as you chase over that release, not even paying any attention to your emperor anymore. you can see his mouth moving but his voice is just white noise and he’s a distorted figment in your blurry vision.

“are you deaf? i said slow down i don’t want to cum yet.” geta yells as his free hand grabs your hip and forcefully halts your motions, cutting off the string of intensity you were after, the only thing that made the pain worth it and you see nothing but red in that second.

you don’t even feel yourself do it but your hand raises itself and comes down to strike geta across his cheek, hard enough to make his whole face turn to the side and to leave an imprint of each of your five fingers on his skin. your turn to mark him.

in the spur of a mystifying moment, his palm unclenched and dropped the knife he held to your back on top of the mattress and you quickly grabbed it and held it over his neck before he could even turn to look at you.

“i don’t care for what you said,” you snarled at him, pushing the razored edge until it’s sitting right against his jugular vein. “you’re going to lay back and keep your mouth shut until i’m done with you, understood?”

geta stares at you, astounded and incandescent at your confidence, your fury, you sudden dominance and he’s never felt such a rush of blood travel to his cock like right now. he could almost die in that moment and he’d die a happy man.

“yes, your majesty.” geta whimpers as you clench around him. his cheek where your fist impacted him burns and he’d do anything to get you to hit him again but with a knife to his neck and a command to keep quiet, he knows better than to utter another word.

you keep your hand steady as you begin to rock back and forth on his member again, the hairs on the valley of his lips grazing against your cilt with each stroke. if you had to kill him to keep feeling this way, you’d do it in a heart beat but you’ll be merciful and keep him around for now.

“oh my.. geta..” you moan, bouncing on him at your own pace, for the first time not caring about his pleasure or what he might want. this is about you now.

his eyes roll to the back of his head, turns out your pace works better for him too. that and the complete surrender of power have him breathless. his balls tighten when he feels you squeeze your wet walls around him, he writhes beneath you and the tip of the knife accidentally brushes against his neck, missing his jugular vein by less than an inch. it’s a light scratch on his skin but the edge is sharpened enough to make him bleed.

he feels a stinging pain but he doesn’t care and you couldn’t even care even if you tried.

not when a fervent recoil snaps in your lower tummy, making you let out a blaring bawl as a white hot feeling washes over you. you shut your eyes and drop the knife, putting both your hands palm down on his chest, scared that if you’ll fall, the feeling will escape you and you’ll never catch it again.

geta watches you, all feelings of resentments he forced himself to harbor for you disappearing out of his vicious soul, replaced by complete and utter astonishment. you look magnificent, he thought to himself, he was awestruck by you, the way you’re drowned in your pleasure, he doesn’t even exist to you anymore.

he finishes seconds after you, your own rapture was the push he needed to get his release, filling you up with his seed until he’s got nothing left, it leaks out of you mixed with your juices, spilling on his hips and the insides of his thighs.

“doll..” he whispers, sounding more like a question and his voice anchors you down to earth again, your mind slowly slipping out of it’s trance.

you let your body fall against his chest, burying your head in his bloodied neck, staining your face as you breathe him in.

geta remains unmoved as you settle your body with his, getting comfortable. he’s not used to comfort or intimacy. he doesn’t know what to do, not until you tell him.

“touch me.”

his arms move by themselves and wrap around you, his fingers trace the cut he made in your lower back and you wince in his hold, he smirks. old habits.

“nobody’s ever made me feel this way before.” you purr into his neck.

“you feel good?”

“hmm.. i needed this, especially after what happened with your guard two days ago.” you say giggling, still not in your right mind or fully aware of your words.

geta frowns, turning his head to the side to get a look at you but it does nothing to ease his confusion, you’re all fucked out and smooth brained right now. “what happened with my guard two days ago? what exactly do you mean?”

his hand squeezes your waist and you realize how you fucked up. you almost want to lie and make something up but then a thought hits you, if you tell geta what happened with the guard, he’ll kill him.

and do you really want that bastard alive?

the tips of your fingers dance across his chest, “your trusted guard came into my chamber the other day when i was sleeping and he..”

before you could finish your sentence, geta’s up and sat. you whine at the loss of warmth and fullness, your mixed climaxes seep out your pussy and onto your thighs.

“which one?” he asks through gritted teeth. “which one?!”

“i don’t know his name but he just got here, the new one.” he leaves the bed, leaving you by yourself on his crimson stained sheets. “i’m not done telling you what happened!” you chuckle, watching him grab his robe and wear it distractedly.

“i’ve heard enough.” he utters, taking heavy steps towards his door and flings it open.

you hear him invite the guard into the room and nestle on his pillow all placid and calm. happy thoughts infiltrate your brain as you think you’re gonna watch him kill for you again. you can’t help but smile.

the guard is as stiff as a rock when he walks in, you could hear his terrified heart beating from across the room as geta makes him take all of his metal armor off.

“do you know why you’re here?” geta asks, keeping his composure as much as he could.

“i do not, your majesty.”

“did you hear that, doll?” geta says, “he doesn’t know why he’s here.” he mocks and snickers, making you laugh as well. “i’ll let you know why you’re here.”

the guard keeps his head down as geta circles him, “you’re here because those who play with what isn’t theirs, get punished. so tell me, what have you been playing with?”

you sit up from your comfortable laying position, figured you’d want to watch and savor every second of this.

“nothing, your majesty.” the guard says, nervous sweat sliding down his forehead from his hair.

geta sighs, “you see my problem is i think you’re lying.” he puts his hand on the guard’s shoulder, forcing him to stare into his infuriated eyes where violence is born. “i think you’ve been playing with my doll while i was gone.” he turns his back to the guard, walking back to you on the bed where his knife is.

this is it, you think, he’s going to do it now. you bite your lip to control your wide grin.

“and i don’t take kindly to those who play with my doll..” he picks up the knife and cleans up the blade with his robe, “but for you i’ll make an exception. care to know why?”

the guard sighs in relief, thinking he’s off the hook, that he’s the chosen one, the only one geta will finally share you with, “why, your majesty?”

“because if you got to play with my doll..” geta stands next to where you’re sat, his free hand cradling your face and you lean into his palm. “i think it’s only fair if she gets to play with you.”

he smiles at the guard as he places the knife in your hand.

perplexed, you look up at him speechlessly and he motions to the guard with his head, “he’s all yours. have fun with him.” he closes your fingers around the handle and pulls you to your feet.

you struggle to stand for a second, your legs still weak and your thighs burn but it’s the least thing you care about now as you look to the guard whose eyes are nearly popping out of their sockets.

“your majesty.. your majesty please whatever she told you is a lie! she’s a lying whore i didn’t do anything with her! your majesty you have to believe me.” he begs, backing up as you walk towards him, toying with the knife.

geta hums to himself, pouring red wine into a golden chalice and sitting back on the bed, not paying any mind to what the guard is saying. his eyes fixated on you as you leisurely strut, swaying your hips.

“i’m not the one you need to beg to.” geta says casually, “i’m not doing a thing. she’s holding the weapon.” he sips on his drink, “beg her for mercy.”

the guard stares as you, tears streaming down his face in fours. “i’m sorry i’m sorry i made a mistake please forgive me i didn’t mean it i’m sorry i beg you! be merciful on me please my lady ple..”

he didn’t get to finish his plea before the knife punctured his stomach, his mouth hung open and his hand flew to where you stabbed him.

“why aren't you wearing your armor?” you say with a fake pout, pulling the knife out, an act that took a lot more strength than you thought it would, “you asked for this.” then stabbing him right in his dick making him scream and fall to the ground, pulling you down with him.

you force him on his back and pull out the knife again only to hammer it down over and over and over again in various parts of his body. his stomach, his chest, his balls, everywhere except his heart. you don’t want him to die yet, he doesn’t get to go easy. you’ll make it last as long as you can, make sure he feels every last drill to his body. his screams sound like a lullaby to your ears.

geta watches you, grinning like a cheshire cat as the blood splattered across the marble floor and splashes against your skin, red is your color, he thinks, taking the last sip of his wine before getting up and searching his drawers for something.

you continue to stab the guard even after you were sure he’s crossed the line to the land of the dead. your arms hurt but you can’t stop. having rage is one thing and letting it out is another. you could easily see yourself getting addicted to this.

after delivering the final stab, right into the guard’s right eye, you leave the knife there, too exhausted to move it as you try to catch your breath.

geta walks over to you and crouches down by the pool of blood and the mutilated body laying in it then hands you his chalice, filled with more wine and you chug it wordlessly. he watches you, his bottom lip bitten to conceal his smile. “i knew there was something special about you.” he says. “i knew you're a good girl.”

you smirk, leaving the chalice on the floor, “so i can get ahead of myself and think you care for me now?”

he laughs, taking your blood soaked left hand in his and slips a gold ring with a ruby crystal on your ring finger, “and what kind of man would i be if i didn’t care for my empress? my wife?”

you search his face, waiting for the ball to drop, for him to laugh in your face, confess that this is all a cruel joke but it doesn’t happen. his face is sincere. well, as sincere as he could get.

“so? what do you say?��� he thumbs the ring on your finger, awaiting your response.

wasting no time in useless conversation, you wrap your arms around his neck and put your lips on his, kissing him with fervid desire.

he’s never kissed you before, it’s too intimate for him but hell, if he’s marrying you, he soon has to learn that not everything will always go as he pleases.

he can taste the metallic tang of blood on your mouth as his tongue enters it, playing with yours and moving in a sync you’ve never imagined is possible for him.

even sooner you learned, he’s more than okay with things going your way.

and now that he's seen you gut a man, he thinks it's for the better if things go your way. for both your sakes and all of rome's.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @dianaaxoxo @nay1234ttyy @lindamujer444 @rainylouna @that-one-gay-aew-enthusiast @joejoequinnquinn @miss-mouse99 @angellicbeast @happilyeverafterforme @strawbbzombwie @rrravensss @littleredpartydresson @cherrydoll-xo @storiesforallfandoms @ashprince-of-bel-air @pleasantlycrazyworld @avobabe87 @screaming-blue-bagel @cynisarmy @darknesseddiem @ali-r3n

[joeydoeeyes]

and bring you to the old jazz club your dad used to perform at, and bring you pizza

If he doesn’t risk his life to get your medicine, almost die saving your cat, and do magic tricks then he’s👏not👏worth👏it👏

[joeydoeeyes]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫.

warnings: fem!servant!reader, not at all historically accurate bc idgaf i'm just horny, set in the roman times, stabbing, blood, possessiveness kink, free use, sorta dub-con i think, i don't even know anymore okay? just leave your feminism at the door and minors LEAVE !!!!

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you didn’t mind your life as geta’s servant too much.

he wasn’t perfect by any means, hell, he wasn’t even kind but he was better than other emperors, better than his own brother. at least in your eyes.

you were working merely as a maid before he saw you picking out flowers, per your superiors request, on his walk and ended up taking you right there against a tree.

“you belong to me now. understand?” he hissed as he thrust into you one final time, unloading his heavy load inside of you, marking you. “say it.”

you hesitated at first, thinking about your superiors but then it hit you, he’s the emperor, he’s the one who makes the call, makes the rules, he’s the superior.

“i belong to you, your majesty.” you told him as you fixed your clothes. he grabbed a hold of your face,

“you’ll come to my chamber tonight.” squeezing your cheeks a little too hard, making your lips pout out. “i’m not done with you.”

you nodded, hardly and he let go of your face and left you in the garden to collect yourself and your scattered thoughts.

since then, it became a routine for you to go to his chamber every other night. he’d fuck you until you’re bruised and full then send you out before you could get your robe on.

he was rough and mean. he bit, marked and spanked you. but you didn’t mind it. a part of you secretly liked it, not that you’d ever tell him. you don’t talk to him unless he addressed you.

but you liked his touch, as vicious as it was.

you also liked knowing that you were his favorite. as stupid as it makes you sound, it made you feel special knowing he asks for you.

he had other girls, sure. but it was you he calls for when he’s had a horrible day and wants a release. it was you he wants after an argument with his generals goes south. it was you he needs to feel control, to feel balanced, to feel good.

but the thing that made you realize you were his favorite was the way he didn’t share you like the other girls or like his brother does.

geta was possessive. you noticed it in the way he doesn’t share his fine wines, his gold treasures and his ideas until they’re brilliant for torture. he keeps his things to himself.

unlike his brother who has a flow of his servants going through his generals like a river.

geta let the other girls go too, he didn’t care for them. but god help who dares to lay an eye let alone a finger on you.

so you figured, maybe it wasn’t too foolish to think he may care for you.

today he called in while he was at a meeting with his generals, which wasn’t unusual. he often had you there to sit by his side, pour him his liquors and to have you close by if something went wrong and he needed an outlet.

you walked in and you could feel the tension in the room, could cut it with a knife if you had one on you.

geta looked up at you from his throne, “there you are, come here.” he beckoned you, a devious smile drawn on his face as you walked towards him.

he grabbed your hips and pulled you close, to stand between his legs once you were within arms’ reach. “this right here is my doll.” he says, to nobody, to everybody. “one day, she’ll give rome an heir.” his hands roam your body as your hair stands on ends. he often says that but you know it isn’t true, to give birth to an heir you needed to be his wife and there was no way an emperor would marry a servant.

you don’t say a thing though, just allow yourself to indulge in the idea for a second.

“sit down.” he orders, his hands pull you into his lap then he keeps them firmly on your hips, it hurts a bit since he bruised them last night so you bite your lip.

“why’s everyone quiet? we’re not done yet.” he declares, his voice steady and his gaze is fire as he stares around at his generals. all of whom have their eyes turned down, they know better than to look.

see, as possessive as geta was, he loved nothing more than to show off. to remind everyone that they’ll never have what he has, that’s why he wears his finest clothes and golds, why he drinks his richest spirits, why he brought you here, sat you on his lap and begun to pull your silk garments down, exposing your body to the room full of men who’ll never have you and never dare to dream to.

one of his hands was groping your tit, kneading at it with his palm, stroking and squeezing your sensitive nipple, hardening it between his calloused fingers while his other hand was buried between your thighs.

two of his thick, ringed fingers thrusted inside your cunt at once and you silently gasped, holding back a moan at the sudden fullness, coarseness. he kept pumping them in then out of you just when you got used to the stretch.

you knew he wasn’t doing it for your pleasure, he couldn’t care less about pleasing you, he’s doing it just to prove that he could. yet still, even with the graceless feel of his touch, you felt yourself melting on top of him, your back hitting his chest, your body completely left at his disposal, he could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him.

geta’s gaze fell upon you when he felt your eyes on his face, they’re usually ruthless and demented but once he noticed the tenderness you’re looking at him with, like he’s some sort of a savior, you could swear you saw his eyes soften for just about a second before he got that look of pure insanity in them once more. he squeezed your nipple again, hard enough to make you writhe in his lap, bite your lip and draw blood.

“are you entertained, general? do you like what you see?” geta spits out suddenly and your eyes catch one of the generals staring at you, well, at your body with a trace of indisputable lust. you know that look in men’s faces too well.

the general quickly looks down, shaking his head. “i’m sorry your majesty, my eyes.. slipped.”

“your eyes slipped?” geta mocked, “so you’re not thinking about how sweet it would be to get your cock wet in my pretty doll?”

you fight the urge to smile, he never called you pretty before.

“answer me, general.” he yells.

“no your majesty, that’s your servant i would never dare to.” the poor general keeps his gaze down, fixated on his feet. the others don’t dare to lift their heads as well.

“what if i told you it’s alright?” geta smirks, “look up.” he orders and the general obeys, keeping his confused eyes strictly upon geta despite how difficult it is to not let them drift to the naked girl on his lap. “if you want her, you can have her.”

“your majesty..” the general senses a trick and tries to protest but geta interrupts him,

“a pretty face.. a tight cunt,” he pulls his fingers out of you and you whine quietly at the sudden emptiness then he brings them to your lips so you’d suck the messy juices you’ve left on them and you immediately take them in your mouth and start to clean them up, “obedient.” he smirks at you before returning his attention back to the general, “what else could a man want?”

“nothing, your majesty.” the general mutters nervously.

“come here then.” geta says slyly, “you’ve been stealing glances at her tits for weeks so be a man, come here and have your way with her.” he takes his fingers out of your mouth once they’re all clean and circles your nipple with them, wetting it while keeping his eyes on the general. “she’s all yours.”

you hate the way your heart breaks at his words but mostly hate that you were once stupid enough to believe you might’ve been special to him, that you were more than just a whore he’s using to keep him pleased until his empress comes around and he tossed you out like all the other that came before you.

you fight back the tears in your eyes, holding them in and through your blurry vision, you see the general approaching closer, biting his lip. you can see his hesitation, he still doesn’t know if this is a trick or not and honestly neither do you but it doesn’t feel like a trick anymore.

“your majesty..” he protests one more time,

“touch her.” geta commands.

you closed your eyes, as if that could keep his clammy hands away, and waited for the the contact of his hands on your skin, anticipating it anxiously but it never came.

instead, you felt something warm and thick splash across your body and face.

for a second you were scared to open your eyes especially after the wild gasps you heard from all around the room but then you realized there’s no escaping so you counted to three and opened them only to see that you’re covered in blood and so is geta.

your gaze fell to his hand where you saw him clutching a knife, the one you oftentimes saw him sharpening in his chamber then your eyes hit the floor where you saw the general laying in a pool of his own blood, seeping out from a gaping hole in his neck.

he coughed out a few times, dry and rough before soon enough he was laying there with his eyes open, as unmoved as an abandoned seashell.

“we’re done here. you’re all dismissed.” geta announces, the generals leave one by one, the look of horror still fresh on their faces. geta thinks if you look at him, he’ll find the same frightened look on your face but he pays you no mind as he cleans the blade of his knife with your silk fabric.

“you killed him.” you say, for the first time speaking without being spoken to first. “you killed him for me.”

geta snorts, “don’t let it get to your head, i don’t like sharing, that’s all.”

“you’re alright with sharing the other servants, why not me?” you ask, suddenly getting bold.

he looks at you, fury in his eyes but amusement at the same time. “you just said it, doll. they’re servants.” his bloodied hands cup your face, wiping away a droplet of blood before it trickles down your cheek.

“and what am i?” you don’t try to suppress your smile this time, as foolish as that is.

geta stares at your wild grin before bringing his eyes back to yours, you hold his mad gaze, unafraid. you stunned him, impressed him, passed your test. he smirks back.

“the future empress of rome.”

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @dianaaxoxo @nay1234ttyy @lindamujer444 @joejoequinnquinn

[joeydoeeyes]

i just had to announce i dream last night that joe and lupita did a romcom and it was the cutest thing ever. there was one scene in the film where he was telling her he was scared of wildflower fields because he didn't like not seeing what's at the bottom of them, and they're right by a wildflower field, so she started holding his arm as they were walking and he started with just "ooh no i don't like this" and by the end of it was just screaming "in fear" and he wasn't even scared he just wanted to wind her up he was screaming with the goofiest grin on his face 😭😭😭

the rest of it's kinda blurry but that peak stupid boy moment is very vivid in my mind 🥹

oh ??? my ??? god ???

hello screen directors or anybody who makes movies, can you please make this happen like yesterday ???

i love this so much 🥹 i need them in a romcom so bad their chemistry is out of this world !!! & lupita has been saying she wants to do a romcom next 🤭

[joeydoeeyes]

@honey-eyed-munson commented: Idk if you do smut but maybe like Eric coming home from law school and y/n takes care of him and he gets all subby?

warnings: fem!reader, smut; oral (m receiving), sub!eric, praise kink.

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the sound of your apartment’s door shutting startled you from the comfy setting you’ve made for yourself with pillows and your weighted blanket on the couch.

this can’t be good.

“eric?” you call out for him but get no response, “eric baby?”

“in the shower.” he yells for you from the bathroom and by the tone of his voice alone you know something is wrong.

leaving the coziness and warmth you’ve created, you pad across your apartment and knock on the bathroom door, doubtful if he’ll hear you through the rustling of the water.

you stand there for a few seconds then decide to twist the knob and walk in, the mirror’s already fogged up and he’s hidden behind the curtains. you can see by his shadow that he’s just standing there, not really doing a thing just letting the warm water hit his skin.

“is it okay if i join you?” you ask softly and hear a “yes please.” so faint you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

you put your hair in a bun and strip out of your clothes quickly, leaving them on top of the pile of his own before stepping behind the curtain and meeting his face for the first time since he came home.

“hi baby.” you smile at him, getting on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. he tries to return your enthusiasm but fails miserably.

placing your hand on his jaw, “bad day?” you frown and he nods, letting his face melt into your hand, he kisses your palm.

“don’t really wanna talk about it if that’s okay.”

“of course it’s okay baby.” you tell him reassuringly, stroking his cheek with your thumb, “we’ll do whatever you want.”

his arms raise and wrap around you, bringing your naked body closer to his. letting his head fall on top of yours where he kisses your forehead.

your fingers trace shapes mindlessly on his back and shoulder blades, your head on his chest, you can hear his heart beating steadily but heavily.

his body is still tense, his mind is still restless.

trying to think of ways to make him feel better, one thing crosses your mind and you decide to give it a try.

moving your hand from his back, you bring it to his chest and stealthily drag it down his body until it’s resting at the valley between his hips, tracing his happy trail.

goosebumps take over his skin as you leave kisses on his neck, all the way down to his collarbones.

“want me to take care of you a bit baby?” you whisper, your hand inching closer and closer towards his crotch, he bucks his hips forward towards you. that and the whimper that left his lips is enough of an answer for you.

you smirk as you wrap your hand around his thick shaft, feeling it slowly hardening in your fist.

“want me to make it all better? make you feel good?” you begin to stroke him, up and down at an antagonizing pace. your thumb running over his sensitive tip, spreading his precum, “aww baby, you could’ve just said so.” you litter his chest with placid kisses, content with how he seems to melt into you.

“please..” he whines, “please..” unable to get a full sentence out but that’s okay, you know exactly what he needs.

stepping out of where the water is hitting, you kneel before him. the ceramic tiles hurting your knees but you ignore the slight discomfort, for him you’d do anything.

“just relax eric.” you smile up at him, pumping him a few more times before licking at his tip kittenishly, his hands find your hair and you want to tell him off for wetting your blow dried and styled hair but now is not the time, today is not the day.

you keep licking at his slit, up and down tasting and collecting his precum on your tongue until he shivers and pulls your head closer to his groin, “stop teasing.. please.”

he’s had a rough day, fine you’ll let him off easy.

holding the end of his shaft, you wrap your lips around his cock and begin to suck it in and out of your mouth, letting him lightly touch your throat with each suck enough to please him but not enough to make you gag.

“fuck..” he moans, “yeah baby just like that.. please.. need you to..” he hardly gets the words out and you want to chuckle at how charmingly helpless he looks. a mess at your disposal.

you use your other hand to toy with his balls, grabbing and squeezing them gingerly.

eric’s hands grip your hair tighter, holding onto you to keep from falling forward. “do it again.. do it again.”

you smile devilishly but don’t listen to him, knowing it’ll be better if you do it unexpectedly.

“feel good baby?” you ask after you’ve popped him out of your mouth, a string of saliva still connected to your lips, you quickly lick it up. taking an extra long time fluttering your tongue on the veins of thick cock.

he groans, his eyes rolling back and that’s better than any verbal answer he could’ve given you.

“yeah you feel good.” you begin stroking him again, peppering small kisses on the tip making his tummy quiver. “don’t hold back baby, cum for me let me taste you.”

you put your mouth on his cock again, your pace relentless as you thrust him in and out. a few water drops fall into your faces from his hair so you close your eyes as you take him deeper into your throat.

“i’m gonna cum.. i’m gonna.. i..” he utters, his grip on your hair suddenly loosens as you squeeze his tight balls in your hand one last time, letting him paint your throat with his heavy white load.

you struggle to swallow it all at once but eventually let it all slide down your tongue. slowly taking him out of your mouth, you lick him clean then lick your lips, not letting a single drop goes to waste.

getting up to your feet, eric’s body goes limp against yours. his head falling on your shoulder. he’s breathing heavily but the tightness has left his body.

“i love you.. thank you baby thank..” he says and you hush him, wrapping your arms around his tired body and playing with the ends of his hair.

“i love you too, let me take care of you now yeah?” you take your lavender scented soap and his loofa, lather it up and begin to tenderly clean his body.

his eyes remain closed on your shoulder, his needy lips painting tiny kisses all across your neck, his slight stubble tickling you softly.

you try to pull his head away from you to wash his hair but he protests it, shaking his head, wanting to stay close to you.

“alright, we can wash your hair later.” you’re letting him get off way too easy tonight but that’s okay. he deserves it. “the water’s getting cold, let’s get out of here baby.” you whisper to him, turning the facets off and stepping out of the shower with him still attached to you.

you let him wear your bathrobe after a few failed attempts of wrapping a towel around him and suppress a laugh at how smaller it looks on him.

“can we cuddle?” he asks, his voice low and drowsy.

“of course we can baby, just need to dry you up first then we can cuddle all you want..” you tell him, sitting him down on the ottoman in your shared bedroom and ruffling his hair with a soft towel, he groans and you lean in and whisper in his ear, “i’ll even let you suck my tits if you’re a good boy.”

his back immediately straightens, he lets you dry him up with no more noises of complaints. your silly, needy boy.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @dianaaxoxo

[joeydoeeyes]

am I a bitch if I request something with Eric that has an angsty ending 🫣

nope never, we love angst in this house <3

warnings: gn!reader, angst, guilt, mentions of blood, character death.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

it’s been three months since your life took the most unexpected turn, one you wouldn’t have been able to imagine even in your wildest childhood fantasies of dragons and princesses and enchanted castles and witches and knights who run valiantly against all odds with nothing but bravery running in their veins streaming next to their racing blood.

you’ve tried to think of this as another fantasy, a nightmarish, ghastly one but a fantasy nonetheless. a make-believe you’ll be able to break free from once the other players got bored of the game but you quickly realized that real life just doesn’t work like that.

real life doesn’t just stop. you can’t hit pause when you’re tired and need a break, you can’t break character because there’s no character to break just as there’s no princesses or armored knights willing to risk it all for their one true love.

still, you faked your belief as you wrote down stories and made your little drawings to match the tale. there were children here and despite it all, they deserve to have hopeful daydreams even if they’re counterfeit.

everyday during the afternoon, the children huddled around you. taking turns reading and passing the pages you’ve written of fairy tales you’ve heard or imagined. the look on their faces kept you going.

sooner, more people joined in. some of them wrote their own stories which you were grateful for because you were most definitely outnumbered by these children, and some were just there to read which you didn’t mind as well, fairy tales don’t have an age limit. everyone needs a little reverie to get by sometimes.

there was a guy who didn’t write or read, he didn’t draw too. he performed magic tricks with cards and coins and papers and pens. the kids loved him.

you later learned that his name is eric and he came from england to study law, “it was the one thing i was supposed to do and it’s gone now.” he wrote, sadness is engraved in his face you wonder if he’s ever known peace, even before the invasion.

“your career as a magician is going well.” you wrote back and he smiled at you, nodding, agreeing.

eric and you became inseparable. mostly because he followed you around like a shadow or a puppy who decided you’re his person and you didn’t mind it. you liked having him around, he was sweet and kind, he always gave you half of his food and his jacket when you got cold and his presence attracted cats for some reason.

seriously, you’ve never seen so many stray cats gathering around someone’s feet.

if you were to die tomorrow, you’d be glad you got to spend your last days with eric and you hoped he felt the same way.

on a particular night, you were sat in your designated corner of the safe house, wearing eric’s jacket, writing and drawing while he laid his head by your knees, watching your fingers at work, admiring you.

your eyes met a few times and you saw how his cheeks turned pink as well as his ears. he’s adorable, you thought. you wished you’ve met him under different circumstances even though you highly doubt you would’ve noticed him if the world wasn’t ending. guys like eric don’t get to have their moment until it’s too late.

your pen runs dry so you try another then another then another until you’ve tried all of your pens and combined none of them have enough ink for more than a sentence which you use to write to eric, “i’m going to the stationary, i need pens. won’t take long.” each few words are written in a different color.

eric sits up, “i’ll go with you.” he mouths, immediately getting up to his feet and offering you his hands which you take but shake your head at him.

“no.” you mouth, “you stay here.”

eric nods, understanding and you raise your eyebrows at him just to make sure. he nods again.

“i’ll be quick.” you mouth to him, taking a flashlight from the table and heading to the door, opening it extra carefully.

when you try to close the door behind you, it doesn’t move.

your heart drops then you see a hand keeping it open. eric squeezes himself in the small opening and closes the door quietly behind you.

you glare at him and push at his chest which he doesn’t react to. he just shrugs and links your arms together which you let him do because what else is there to do now?

you walk side by side, shining the light ahead, careful of your every step.

once you reach the stationary, eric pushes the door open lightly and you go in, try to switch the lights on but as usual, there’s no electricity so you wander around in darkness, in silence.

picking a pack of black pens and notebooks, you notice eric is doing the same, choosing the ones with cartoon characters on the cover and glittery colorful gel pens.

he removes the pen cap and starts writing, “i like your stories.” you smile at him, watching him writing again, taking longer this time. “growing up i didn’t like to read much, but i do now.”

placing your stack of notebooks and pens on a shelf, you take his and write back. “why didn’t you like to read?”

“didn’t find the point in it. especially fairy tales, i thought why read about something that won’t ever happen?”

you read what he wrote and think about your current mindset, how you agree with what he used to think.

“what changed your mind?”

he takes the notebook from your hands and your fingers brush against each other, leaving a tender sparkle in their wake.

“you.”

your cheeks feel hot, your whole face feels hot. suddenly you’re grateful for the lack of electricity so he wouldn’t see the colors your face is turning into.

“that’s ironic because i don’t believe in them anymore.”

he frowns but before he could write something back, a sound in the distance catches both of your attention. a sound you know too well because you know to avoid it.

you stare at each other and you quickly put all you’ve got into your bag. eric grabs your arm and pulls you toward the door but a creature blocks the way, standing in front of you with its heaving, heavy breathing body.

you curse in your mind at the way your heart is pounding, terrified that it could hear it from the other side of the door.

eric is standing closer to the creature, the only thing separating them is the flimsy glass, you try to pull him back, put more distance between them but he won’t budge, he won’t move.

slowly, he turns his head to the side, catching an emergency exit door in the furthest corner of the store. you follow his line of vision and see it too.

“go” he mouths and you squeeze his arm, silently asking him to move with you but he’s still.

more creatures are standing outside the store now, roaming the streets viciously.

“go!” he mouths more aggressively, you dash your way towards the exit door, you didn’t even notice if he was behind you or not.

not until you grabbed the handle and twisted it open then looked back and saw him still standing by the glass door, a smile on his mouth and tears streaming down his face. “don’t you ever stop believing.” he says and you get to hear his voice for the first time.

for the last time.

your hand smacks against your mouth, muffling your screams as you leave through the exit door, listening to the sounds of glass breaking and eric’s shattering cries.

somehow you’ve made it back to the safe house, you can’t remember how much you’ve walked or ran or what you saw on your way back. you can’t talk, not because it would kill you but because you can’t think, you can’t even cry. your mind can’t process what happened. you can see it, you can hear it but you can’t understand it.

going back to your corner, you see eric’s cards sitting by the stacks of your pages, you can feel his jacket on your shoulders, keeping you warm. you can still feel his presence, he can’t be gone. it couldn’t have happened…

for the next few days, you spent them in more silence than before. another thing you didn’t think was possible yet were proven wrong.

when you were asked about where eric is, you wrote down what happened. people hugged you, held you, gave you looks of sympathy as they wrote to you that it isn’t your fault but how wasn’t it?

if you didn’t go to get your stupid pens he would’ve been here right now, performing his silly magic tricks where he makes a coin disappear then pull it from behind someone’s ear, leaving a smile on everyone's tired faces.

the children also asked you where he went with their wide eyed gazes, they missed their magic man. you told them this was another trick of his, he made himself disappear and they gasped in response, delighted with that answer.

eric’s last words still ring in your head, bouncing off its corners.

“don’t you ever stop believing.”

he believed in your fairy tales, he believed in you.

you desperately want to break down, to say fuck it all and go out screaming but he told you to never stop believing. you’ll never forgive yourself for that night, you know that already but you can’t live with yourself if you let his sacrifice be for nothing so you wrote.

and you wrote and you wrote some more. you wrote until your fingers started bleeding then wrote again once they dried up.

you passed the stories around, all of them about a kind, brown eyed magic man and his adventures.

the magic man who can’t turn away when he’s needed, even if the person needing him doesn’t know how much they need his help.

the magic man who wins all of his fights against monsters, no matter how big or small.

the magic man who saves the day, saves the town, saves the princess and lives to tell the stories.

the magic man who stayed.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch

[joeydoeeyes]

Fucking Eric under a waterfall so that you can still fuck without the worry of making sounds 💕

wet boy eric <3333

warnings: fem!reader, smut so minors, kindly fuck off.

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eric pulled you towards the waterfall slowly, careful of not stepping outside of the lines you’ve previously drawn. the safe zone.

your heart pounded in your chest anxiously, this was new. you had a routine of only coming to the waterfall once a week to have a small whispered conversation, this is not your time of the week. it’s out of the routine you’ve set up to soothe eric.

he helped you into the waterfall and once you were underneath the water, he immediately wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his body, tightly, whispering, “i’m sorry i know this is reckless, i had a bad dream and i needed to hear your voice. i’m sorry baby.”

eric’s a needy boy, he’s always been. his constant need for your love and reassurance has always been there but it’s grown ten folds more glaring after the invasion.

you used to send him messages daily, telling him that you love him, that you’re proud of him, that he’s doing good every day and they’d get him by back when he was in law school, back when life was normal. now he has to settle only hearing your voice in whispers once a week and it’s killing him.

“it’s okay.” you murmur, holding him close, “it’s okay eric, we can do this if we want. we're safe and you’ve been doing so good, i’m proud of you.” your lips graze his neck and your leave tender kisses on it and goosebumps on his skin.

you feel his fists tighten on your waist as he pulls you closer, you can feel all of him through his wet clothes. “i love you so much.” oh you can feel all of him alright.

your hand travel down his chest, his tummy and hips and you place it on his clothed crotch. he melts into your touch and your smirk, “so that is what this is about huh?”

he rests his head on your shoulder, whimpering, “it’s not just that,” he rocks his hips towards your hand, getting harder by each grind and squeeze of your hand. “i mean.. i miss you but that wasn’t my main motive.” he chuckles lowly and you mirror it.

“it’s okay baby.” you unzip his trousers and pull them down then do the same with yours as swiftly as you can when they’re wet, “i miss you too.”

the second you pull his cock out and he feels your soft palm holding him, he lets out a moan that could get him killed.

“shhhh!” you put your lips on his, kissing him messily mostly to stifle the sound as you stroke him, lining the tip against your entrance. “you need to be quiet baby.”

“i know i know, i’m sorry.” he mutters against your lips, one of his hands reaches and pulls your thigh to wrap it against his hips.

he thrusts inside of you slowly, keeping his mouth on yours, swallowing each others’ moans. “fuck you’re so tight… i missed you so much.” he groans, closing his eyes in bliss.

you can feel the way he’s stretching you out with every slight move of his hips, the way he’s hitting it in the right spot every time. you hate that you have to stay quiet when you desperately want to let him know how good he’s making you feel, knowing that alone can make him feel good.

“eric..” you whine into his lips and he hushes you.

“i know.. i know.” he mumbles between kisses, his cock throbbing as you close your walls around him, squeezing him in just the way he likes.

his tongue plays with yours, he’s a little rusty but you can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“i.. i’m close..” he whispers, you feel him twitching inside you so you help him, moving your hips and squeezing in. “but you.. you’re not there yet.” he says, very eric of him to worry about you even when he’s on the verge of an orgasm.

you smile at him, “i don't care. this is about you now. let go for me.” you kiss the corner of his lips, watching his eyes glisten as you give him permission, you nod and he lets go, filling you up recklessly with his load.

you’d worry about him cumming inside of you and the possible consequences of it but it’s impossible to think of anything when he looks like this.

he looks so beautiful, you think. you haven’t seen him this relaxed in so long. he’s constantly worried about ways to provide safety, foods, medicine and sustenances for the two of you. he barely sleeps because he spends his nights watching you, worried that you’ll get a nightmare and subconsciously let out a noise and on the rare occasions he does sleep, he gets his own share of nightmares.

he pulls out of your slowly, gently sets your leg down then he gets down on his knee to clean you up. your fingers find his hair and you run your them through it, scratching his head. he purrs in your hands.

“you’ve done so well baby.”

he zips up your pants, wrapping his arms around your middle and cuddling to you.

“thank you.” he kisses your belly, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” he murmurs, looking up at you with his big, wet eyes.

the eyes that made you fall in love with him.

“i love you eric.”

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch

[joeydoeeyes]

「✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡. ✦」

𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧? 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝-𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲. 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠?

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐞𝐜𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!cheerleader!reader, original characters, slow burn, self-harm scars, cigarette burns, kissing, blackmail, somewhat happy chapter!

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

tuesday morning. april 10th, 1984.

eight weeks to graduation.

the night you spent at eddie’s trailer changed everything.

it didn’t change your past idiotic decisions or the deal you had going with tara but it did change the way you see the eddie and the way you walked about the world.

something in you shifted in his room that night. you’re not entirely sure how or why and for the first time, you don’t want to question it. it’s just one of the things that just happened.

a lot of things seem to just happen with eddie.

he makes you lose control but unlike the times before where it felt as if it’s been stripped from you, with him it feels safe. as if control isn’t something you need because there’s a higher power conducting you, a divinity that protects and guides you. if you were to be driven by adolescence reveries, you’d think it was fate.

but you’re not so you know you’re just infatuated by the limerence of it all.

you shouldn’t have but you allowed yourself a little indulgence. it can’t hurt as long as you keep it locked and you’re brilliant at burying the vaults of unsought sentiments so it’s safe to say, you’re good.

eddie on the other hand was falling like a broken-winged bird. he couldn’t see it coming and he couldn’t see where to go from here. you had clouded all of his judgment and invaded his brain, strikingly. he brawled with his mind over the way he yearned for you. it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. you were just trying to be a friend for christ’s sake! and here he was, envisioning a life with you. could he be any more pathetic and self-absorbed? two things which he didn’t know could exist at once.

but here they were living inside him as you link your arm with his and walk the hallways with a smile on your face and your head held high. for four years eddie had never seen you smile as much as you have since you begun to hang out with him. he so desperately and so selfishly wanted to believe it’s because of him.

little did he know, it is.

you sat together in the cafeteria, tara and your team long forgotten behind you. all of them except chrissy, of course. she went wherever you went like a true shadow. you didn’t ask why and you didn’t mind it.

besides, she seemed happier at eddie’s table than your previous one. she has multiple classes with jeff and they talk nonstop during the lunches. it distracts her so much that she doesn’t even notice the fact that she’s eating her food.

the stares and the glares on the back of your head didn’t go unnoticed. you can feel them watching you with lasers for eyes and poison for tongues. ready to twist a new narrative and create a fresh tale. you didn’t give them the courtesy of staring back. if they want a story, they need to get creative and work for it.

eddie’s just as used to prying eyes as you are, if not more thanks to the past few weeks, so he had no trouble avoiding the starers. although, he had enjoyed how the attention on him has died down for a while and had foolishly thought it’s gone for good. but he was okay with it for the most part because in the middle of the chaos, there was you and that was enough for him.

more than enough for him, it was too much for him, he believed most of the time. what even were the odds? never in his life did he see this coming but here it was.

after school was over, eddie stopped you before you made your way out of the parking lot.

his voice calling out your name startled you, it still sounds new in his voice like it’s never been dragged through the mud.

“hi hey..” he said nervously, sounding out of breath, he must’ve ran to catch up with you. “are you busy today? i mean umm are you free to.. hang out..?” he asked, his own voice sounds distant through his heart beating loudly in his ears.

he feared he was crossing some indiscernible limit line. if he had misread a sign or ignored a wavering flag.

it didn’t help that eddie’s never had any true connection with a girl before. growing up, he was a loner and relationships weren’t exactly his forte. most of the time, he avoided girls all together because he was scared of them. scared that they’d make fun of him or stick gum in his hair, getting a buzzcut when he was 13 after his mom wasn’t able to get it all out was traumatizing, or just straight up pretend he didn’t exist.

he later learned that girls acting like he didn’t exist was an act of kindness.

and that left him pondering, what were you doing then?

“yeah of course.” you beamed, it was genuine. you truly enjoyed his company, it was the one thing you didn’t have to fake. “where are we hanging out?”

“my place if that’s alright?” there’s a hint of insecurity in his tone but he continues, “i learned a couple more songs from the band you like and i.. wanted to show you.”

there’s a rosy blush on his cheeks as he stands with his hands behind his back, swaying on his feet like a shy lovesick teen. it made your heart melt. he learned new songs for you and he wanted to show you what he had been practicing, proudly yet humbly.

you bet tara’s never had a man play a song for her, let alone learn it even though it wasn’t particularly his taste.

“i’d love that. we can go right now.” you said excitedly, linking your arm with his when you caught a glimpse of one of tara’s minions.

eddie didn’t have time to protest as he walked by your side. “i can.. carry your bag, if you’d like.” he murmured and once he realized you didn’t hear him, he spoke up, “let me carry your bag.”

you look at him for a second. his soft eyes in the bright afternoon flare of the sun. you wish you could capture them and save them in a sacre photo frame, safe and unscatched from what’s to come.

you give him your bag and can’t help but giggle at the silly optics of it.

“what?”

“nothing.. i just think my baby pink bag is perfect for your aesthetic.”

he smiles, “yeah? i like it too. it complements my black leather jacket and metal band tee. don’t you think?”

you rode in jeff’s dad’s car again. this time only gareth sat in the trunk, not before complaining that they always make him sit in the trunk and stomping his feet then jeff’s dad bribed him with a bag of salt and vinegar chips, told him he can only have it if he sat in the trunk because food isn’t allowed in the backseat, he winked at you and eddie when he said that because food was definitely allowed in the backseat, and it worked.

once you got to eddie’s trailer, the first thing you noticed what the smell, you remembered the last time you were here on saturday night and smelling a whiff of lemon meringue pie and now you smell a berry pie.

you almost asked him about it but he spoke before you did, “you want some pie?” he pulled a pan of pie from the fridge after tossing your bag on the couch by the blankets and started cutting and plating it before you could answer, “a while ago i said to my uncle that i love pie and now he makes it almost every day.” he handed you a plate and you took it, thanking him. “he took me berry picking on sunday, i was still a little high to be honest but we got some good ones.”

you eat spoonfuls of the pie and nearly moan at how good it is. in all your years, you’ve never had something taste so fresh and so good. “i think this is the best thing i’ve ever tasted in my entire life.” you say truthfully and eddie chuckle, “i’m serious eds! this is amazing, i could eat the whole thing.” you eat more of it, taking tiny bites and chewing for as long as you can, savoring the taste in your buds. you don’t know when’s the next time you’ll have it again. if you’ll have it again.

eddie brought his guitar to the living room, it was a different one than the red one he played with at the hideout, an acoustic guitar, he said.

he played mad world then watch me bleed and started to play change but you stopped him. you couldn’t bear to hear him sing the lyrics of that song to your face. a painful reminder of that night in the hideout when he sung head over heels, inadvertently of it’s meaning to your relationship with him.

he was good. he was too good. you meant it when you had told him he’s a rockstar. he’s that good. he blushed each time you complimented his skills.

his jacket was discarded a while ago but when he played he had the guitar on his lap and your focus on his voice and music but now that both are gone, your attention fell to his arms, the scars to be exact.

he noticed you staring and tried to cross his arms but you stopped him, holding his wrist. “does it hurt?”

he frowns, “uh no.. not anymore.”

“can i see?”

you watch him ponder your question, considering his options or wondering if he even has any.

he stretches his arms out, palms up and forearms out. he puts the scars on display for you quietly. his eyes fixate on them and you wonder if this is his first time seeing them like this too.

they seem like they’re healing, slowly but surely almost like they’re a physical metaphor for his soul.

“can i touch them?” you ask before you’re able to stop yourself, immediately regretting it but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

“go ahead.”

with a trembling hand, you let your fingers hover above his left forearm before bringing them down and tracing along the lines as delicately as you can. your touch is feather-like on his skin, it gives him goosebumps.

“you don’t have to be so gentle.” he mutters, he’s so close you can feel his words as he breathed them out.

“i want to.” you whispered, lifting your gaze from his arms to look at his face. this is the closest you’ve ever been to him, you can see each of freckles distinctively from here and you fight the urge to dream of kissing them.

“can we play truth or truth again?” you ask, “i have one question really.”

“fire away.”

the tips of your fingers caress his arm again, almost barely. he thinks if he focuses on it too hard, he’ll realize that it’s a dream and wake up.

“do you want to kiss me?”

his eyes meet yours for mere seconds before they fall upon your lips. pink, glossed, perfect. in all of his fantasies, he never dared to dream of kissing you. he knew the illusion would intoxicate him and he’d fall addicted to it in no time but it’s not an illusion now and he’s already fallen.

“i do.” his bottom lip quivers as he watches you get closer, his heart is raging inside of him. his body is barely able to contain him, he wants to break out of it.

“so kiss me.” you purr as your lips touches his, letting him take the initiative. he deserves to feel some sense of control, it’s the least you could do for him.

eddie obeys immediately. his lips engulfing yours ever so tenderly. they’re a bit chapped but there’s softness in the way they move with yours in a perfect sync. he doesn’t try to make further advances, no tongue lapping against your teeth trying to enter your mouth. no wandering hands aiming to grab your exposed and available flesh.

he’s sitting perfectly still, just a racing heart and masterful lips.

you pull away after a few seconds when it starts to feel real, too real, his eyes watch you scrupulously, dreamfully as you bring his arm up to your lips and place light kisses along his scar. his heart nearly exploded right there inside of the place he called home for all his life. he brought his palm to your cheek and you smiled at him as you leaned into it.

“where have you been all my life?”

“i’m here now.”

i’m here for now, is what you wanted to say but even you can’t be cruel enough to take this moment away from him.

he’ll probably hate you for it later but at least not now. you can take one more stretch.

we can have now, you thought as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling him. his hands stayed in the air palms up so you held his wrists and brought them to your waist before putting your own on his shoulders.

eddie blinks rapidly a couple of times, never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d get like this with a cheerleader.

“can you please breathe before you die on me?” you chuckled and he let go of a heavy breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in before anxiously apologizing. “good boy.” you praise and his eyes light up, his grip on your waist tightens. not too much but enough for you to know that he liked it. good to know.

“do you want to kiss me again?” you ask him, your hands traveling down his shoulders and onto his chest, you feel it rising and falling as you fiddle with the guitar pick on his necklace.

he nods eagerly and this time you make the move, connecting your lips with his with your mouth open. it feels good to have control when you want to, as if it’s something that’s always available for you. something you own. something real.

yeah we can have now.

your tongue dances with his expertly. you’ve never kissed anyone who was this compatible with the flow of your movements before.

there’s a leftover aftertaste of the berries from the pie you ate earlier in his mouth and it only sweetens the affair. you’ll never think of berries the same again.

you stayed like that for too long. making out on his couch, your hands made their way underneath his shirt and he whined into your lips as they roamed his chest. his never strayed from their place on your waist. he was too scared and too absorbed to relocate them, still in disbelief of what’s happening.

once your mouths parted ways, both of you were too awestruck to speak. bewildered and giddy with swollen lips and curious tongues.

you got off his lap in a hurry when you realized the time and he remained frozen. he watched you collect your bag and fix your face in the reflection of the kitchen window before you told him that you needed to go, something about your mom going crazy if you aren’t home by a certain time.

he offered to walk you but you quickly shoot him down before he got to the middle of his sentence. you told him you’ll see him tomorrow at school and went to give him one last peck before you left, “goodbye eds.”

and just like that, you were gone and he was left to wonder if he imagined it all.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

thursday afternoon. april 12th, 1984.

eddie invited you to his trailer again today. he said he learned a couple more songs and his uncle made a new pie so naturally, you went.

this time he took you to his room and you noticed that there were band posters next to his mom’s paintings. they’re new, he must’ve put them up in the last few days. he’s slowly making the room his own.

you sat on his bed with a plate of strawberry pie on your lap and watched him play for you. he played a bunch of metal songs you haven’t heard of then played memories fade and you had to put your spoon down. suddenly, your mouth had a sour taste to it.

you busied yourself with the notebook you noticed eddie always had on him, flickering through the pages so you don’t have to look at him while he sings, his celestial voice sounds like an angel’s cry when he voices the lyrics,

“will i ever love again? don’t pretend you can justify the end. memories fade but the scars still linger.. the scars still linger, still linger.”

in an effort to distract yourself with the revolting ache you felt, you came across a drawing in one of eddie’s pages and coarsely interrupted him midsong once it got too torturous listening to him sing about his own prophecy.

“what is this?” you asked, showing him the drawing and he frowned, reaching to take the notebook out of your hands, rather a bit harshly, and closing it.

he hid it underneath a pillow, suddenly insecure. “it’s stupid.” he said, removing his guitar off his lap and placing it on the floor.

“if you drew it then it isn’t.” you urge him softly, “what is it eddie?”

he looks at you, wide eyed before pulling the notebook out and finding that same page you saw. his sketch of a devil’s head with sharp teeth and horns surrounded by flames on every side with smaller doodles in the margins of the page, swords, D20 dices, dragons and otherworldly creatures.

he shows it to you timidly and watches your expressions as you examine it. “i told you it’s stupid.”

“it’s not stupid, stop saying that.” you glare at him and he smiles, it’s adorable when you do that. “i just.. don’t what i’m looking at exactly.” you tell him truthfully.

eddie hides behind his hands, “god this is embarrassing.”

“tell me.”

he says something through his hands but it’s incomprehensible so you ask him to say it again. “i still play dnd.” he says and sighs.

“dnd..” you say and it comes out more like a question because well.. it is.

he removes his hands, looks at you, bewildered. “dungeons and dragons?” you shake your head. “the fantasy game?” you shake your head again. “i told you it’s stupid.” he goes to hide behind his hands again but you stop him,

“no no” holding his wrists, “it’s just i haven’t heard of it before. that’s all.” you smile, trying to make him feel better even though you don’t really understand why he’d feel embarrassed about playing a game. “tell me more about it.”

he straightens his back, sits up and starts explaining, “it’s essentially a board game with extra steps. there’s dices and a book of the rules and stuff but there’s also characters and you can create and design your character however you’d like and your character has certain powers and abilities you need to use to accomplish your mission. there’s also the dungeon master, that’s me. i write campaigns and sometimes a campaign takes weeks to finish and.. you’re okay?” he asks with narrowed eyes and you nod.

“yeah that’s just a lot of information.”

“sorry i geeked out.” he touches the nape of his neck, giggling restlessly.

“no don’t say sorry it’s cute.” you still don’t understand why he’d be embarrassed about playing a make-believe game.

“cute?”

“yeah cute. so fucking cute.”

“i don’t think cute is a word a lot of people would use when describing dnd.”

“why not? it sounds like a cute game.”

“they believe the game is..” he gestures towards the drawing of the horned devil. “satanic.”

“it’s literally just a make believe board game.” you tell him, “it seems like playing a board games and barbies at the same time.”

“that’s exactly what it’s like!” eddie says excitedly, over the moon that someone who isn’t within his dnd circle gets it. “but some people’s brains refuse to understand that.”

“who do you play with?”

“the guys from the band, gareth, jeff and pete.” he contemplates whether he should tell you the next part or if it’ll ruin the mood and ultimately his heart decides to tell you anyway, “my.. uh.. my mom used to play with us sometimes.” he smiles fondly at the memories, “she never understood the game but she loved to participate anyway.” your hand reaches towards his, holding it with both of yours. “and somehow whenever she played, they won. with her first time, she made them win and didn’t even know it until pete was spinning her around the room yelling that she’s the goat.” he chuckled ruefully.

“she made us hot chocolate with marshmellows after the game and the boys made her promise to play with us every time and she did until..” you squeeze his hand, letting him know that he doesn’t need to finish that sentence and he’s glad he doesn’t have to because it always... “we haven’t played since.” ends in tears. “sorry.”

eddie wipes at his eyes with the back of his free hand, “it’s okay.” inching closer, you let your arms fall around him, holding the back of his head and bringing it to your shoulder. “it’s okay baby you’re okay.” he hides his face in your neck, letting out quiet sobs and you let him, it’s the least you could do.

“i’m here.”

for now.

you’re unsure of how much time has passed with you and eddie sitting like this. his head on your shoulder, you played with his hair, it’s a lot softer than you imagined it would be, and his cries died down. you can feel him his breathing becoming serene as your fingers graze his neck.

an idea has been forming and roaming in your head while you held him, you’ve accepted that you can’t redeem yourself after you’ll commit the unforgivable act where there’s no turning back, no matter how much you repent. but maybe you could do more for him than you believed you could.

“hey i think i have an idea on how to make dnd be a happy thing for you again.” you whisper and he cranes his head to look at you, his honeyed eyes swallowed by red. “you should start a club.”

he pulls away from your chest, both of you immediately missed the warmth you’ve created with your intertwined bodies. “a club?”

“yes! at school.” you looked at him, wide eyed and wide smiled.

“a dnd club?” he narrows his eyes skeptically, “at hawkins high?” he says it like it’s the most implausible thing in the world because to him, it is.

“yes!”

“you really think that someone in that conservative school is going to join a club for a game they think is satanic?” he asks dubiously and all you do is shrug.

“you found gareth, jeff and pete at that school. i’m sure there’s more people who are interested, they’re just.. scared.” he still doesn’t seem convinced so you continue, “scared to be different, scared to stand out in an unorthodox way but if you do it, if they see you do it proudly then they’ll know that there’s someone like them. someone they can relate to, someone who’s not afraid of stepping out of the man made comfort zone.” you’re aware that it’s easier to talk the talk than walk the walk, otherwise you would’ve followed your own words and wouldn't sound like a hypocrite trying to sell quick scams.

“you’re different than anyone i’ve ever known, eddie. you’re.. real.” for a second you wonder how differently your life would’ve been if you met him earlier, if he was the one younger you revered instead of tara. “you’re real and that’s rare.”

“let them see you because i promise once they do, they’re going to love you.” you let your hand touch his cheek and he places his above it.

“do you see me?” his eyes linger as they stare into yours, a deep sense of longing. you can't help but think he wants to use a four letter word instead of the three letter one he used. thank god he didn't.

“i see you.”

“and i see you.” he kisses the palm of your hand, “so this club.. how does it work exactly?”

“first we need to file a request to principal higgins and once he approves it..”

“how do you know he’ll approve it?” he interrupts.

“baby did you forget how your girl is?” fuck, you really shouldn’t have said that. the tara voice in your head disagrees and says that it’s good for the deal and you hate yourself more for it.

eddie’s heart skips beats like a child skipping down their street on the last day of school. his girl. “never.”

“once principal higgins approves our request, there’s two major things to do,” you hold out two fingers, “we’ll need to find a place on school grounds to hold the club meetings, i have that covered already, and we’ll need a name for the club.”

“a name is easy, we’ll just call it the corroded coffin club.” he shrugs then his face falls when he sees the look on yours, “what?”

“nothing i just.. i don’t think that’s a club name.” you tell him honestly, “i mean i love it for the band but i feel like a club needs a different name.. something that symbolizes what the club is about more.”

“and since everyone at school thinks the game is satanic, i think we can lean into that angle a little bit.” you watch him pout out his lips, he’s thinking and you think it’s the cutest thing. “give them what they want and see if they’d still want it.” you smirk, “something like..” you steal another glance at his drawing, the horned devil surrounded by flames, and the most perfect name calls out for you. “hellfire.”

“hellfire..” eddie repeats the name, testing it on his tongue. “the hellfire club.”

“it’s just a suggestion, we’ll figure something out.”

“no no, the hellfire club.” he says it again, this time it tastes even better in his mouth, like it’s meant to be settled. “it’s perfect.”

“everybody already thinks the game is about devil worshiping and licking satan’s balls, we’ll play into their game.” his face all lit up, “the hellfire club. it’s genius.” he pulls you into his lap, leaving kisses all over your grinning face. “you’re a genius.”

“just happy to be of service, master.” you call him the name he mentioned earlier and notice his eyes darken, the exact opposite of what had happened two days ago when you called him a good boy.

“jesus..” he breathes out and reaches to grab his pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

you stay seated on his lap as the two of you share a cigarette, filling up the room with silence and smoke until eddie breaks it,

“light it out on my arm.” he says casually.

“what?”

“the cigarette. i want you to light it out on my arm.” he lays his arm between the two of you. the scars laying there unremorseful and immortal.

you stare at him in an openmouthed puzzlement, “you’re asking me to burn you..”

“this is not my life.” he says mystified, “things like this don’t happen to people like me. girls like you don’t just show up and make everything better. all of this feels like a dream..” he chortled, his eyes meeting yours with interminable tenderness, reminding you of how fragile he is, how easily broken. “if this is a dream then i don’t want it to end and if it’s not then i want to know it’s real. i want to wear you on my skin forever.”

you hate that you understand him. you wish you didn’t so maybe then you’d tell him that he’s crazy and you’d never do it. you wish you were like the girl he thinks you are, the one who comes in and fixes it all, the girl who makes it better.

little does his flimsy heart know that the girl who makes it better wouldn’t be toying with him or at least at this point she’d confess. that the girl who makes it better doesn’t feel rotten every time he holds her because she knows she’s not worth his touch. that the girl who makes it better wouldn’t be okay with this.

you take one last drag of the cigarette before briskly putting the burning end on his delicate skin, right next to his scar, you hold it tightly and twist it so it seeps deep. praying that with the prickling ache, he’ll finally understand that the girl who makes it better isn’t you.

eddie’s face crumples as you let the cigarette run out but he holds the pain in. biting his tongue, every muscle in his body contracts with immense discomfort and he just welcomes it, joyously.

“thank you.” he whines, his head falling on your shoulder. you wrap your arms around him, holding his body close. taking each second for what it’s worth. scared that he’ll fall apart if you let go. scared that you might too.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

monday morning. april 16th, 1984.

seven weeks to graduation.

on friday you went to see the principle and politely proposed the idea of starting a dnd club in school, run by none other than eddie and when he outright shut it down and told you to let it go, you decided to let the pleasantries go instead and told him that if he won’t approve of hellfire then a little birdie might drop an anonymous letter addressed to his wife in his mailbox, containing damning evidence of his infidelity.

he tried to call your bluff. challenged you and said “you wouldn’t dare do that to your mother” which you simply responded to with a sweet “watch me.”

truthfully, you’ve got nothing to lose and neither does your mom. it’s not like learning of your mom’s adultery would break your dad’s heart, it stopped beating years ago. maybe that was merciful, to die unbroken.

you and higgins sat in dreadful silence for five minutes before he gave in and signed the papers you needed to get the club approved. you cheerfully thanked him then casually took printer ink out of his office drawer, telling him that you need it for the posters.

he might’ve called you a bitch as you left and you decided to let him think he had the last word, figured he needed a small win. at least until you need to blackmail him again.

you and eddie met up several times over the weekend, making and designing prints and after what seemed like a thousand attempts, eddie decided to go back to his original drawing of the horned devil and you bought tens of basic white shirts with black sleeves, made sure that the sleeves are long for eddie’s sake, and ironed the design onto them. it’s not the best quality but it works.

for now.

monday morning you made eddie’s friends sign the sign up poster to make it seem like people are interested in the club. you signed your name too and chrissy signed hers even though neither of you knew much about the game and didn’t really intent on playing. you did for the optics. if the cheerleaders are in, others might consider joining too.

you checked on the poster between every class and no new names were there until after lunch.

you nearly screamed in eddie’s face with excitement before registering that you’ve never heard the name of the person whose name is sitting under chrissy’s.

“robin buckley.. who’s robin buckley?”

“i know robin.” eddie said, “she has classes with jeff. i think she shares some with chrissy too. i didn’t know she’s into dnd though.” he frowns.

you link your arm with his, “see! that’s why the club is so important. you’ll learn things about people, things you might've never been able to guess.”

“yeah i think you’re right.”

later that day, you had cheer practice and tara didn’t show until the time was up and all of the girls left, leaving you alone to clean up the dance room. she barged in with her minions, the door shutting behind her.

“what the fuck is this?” tara yelled, shoving the signup poster against your chest.

“the hellfire club. eddie’s starting it. wanna join?” you said nonchalantly, catching the poster.

“are you fucked up?” she crosses her arms, “you do realize the whole point of what we’re doing is to bury that murderer alive. make him wish he was dead and now you’ve gone and started a club for him?” she says in disbelief, “what next? you’ll sign him up for prom king?”

“who knows? maybe i will.” you tell her with a smile. you wouldn’t do it though knowing that tara and her followers would carrie him.

“what is wrong with you? this wasn’t our deal!”

“our deal was for me to make eddie fall in love with me without me falling too. i’m doing my part and i’m doing it brilliantly. what happens in the midst of it all is none of your business as far as the deal goes.”

“you’re right but..” she steps closer to you, you can smell her sweet vanilla perfume from here. “you do understand that you’ll have to break the news to him one day, right? tell him how it’s been fake all along.” smacking her gum between her teeth. “or maybe i could do it for you if you’re too soft.” she smirks.

“i can handle my own. thanks for the offer.” you fake smile at her, “now excuse me, i’ve got a club to manage.” you pull prints of the posters from your bag and smack them against her crossed arms the same way she did to you, “oh and by the way, can you spread these flyers around? you’d be doing eddie and i a huge favor. thanks doll!” you give her a kiss on the cheek then make your way out heading to the woods.

you know you’ll find eddie there and you need to have moments of silence with him.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

wednesday noon. april 18th, 1984.

you spent the last two days cleaning up and organizing the only room that was available for the club with eddie. the guys wanted to help but eddie wanted to make it a surprise for them so he told them no. he didn’t want your help either, said that you’ve done plenty already but you wouldn’t take it and stayed with him.

he stole a table from detention, one that nobody used because it had a broken leg, and fixed it up then found chairs in a dump site near the trailer park. they were brand new, some some rich people probably got bored of them and tossed them out. one of the chairs looked like a thorne and you knew there’s no better chair for him, the master.

you brought old christmas lights from home, the ones your mom wanted you to throw in the trash but you never did because the last time you used them your dad was with you for christmas, and put them all across the room.

everything was almost all ready.

you kept checking if anybody else had signed up but aside from robin buckley, nobody did. you had to keep a brave face in front of eddie so he wouldn’t begin to think this was a bad idea but deep down, you were scared that it’ll turn out to be one.

you arrived to class earlier than anyone else to revise for a test and two minutes later, you heard the door creak open and timid footsteps approaching your desk.

“hey.”

“hi emily.”

“i saw the flyers.. about a dnd club?” she asks with wonder in your eyes, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt nervously.

“the hellfire club. what about it?”

“i was just wondering… who’s in it.”

“so far we have.. eddie, jeff, gareth, pete, chrissy and oh! some girl called robin buckley.” you hate that you can count the playing members on one hand, “and me but i don’t play, i just sit and watch and deal with the technical stuff like talking to the principal and the grown ups.” you scrunch up your nose and she nods,

“so you’ll be there? when they play?”

“yeah. why are you asking?”

“it’s just…” she looks around the room, her eyes needing to focus on anything but you. they fall to the ground, to her anxiously-tapping feet. “actually forget it.”

you squint at her. so this is how it’s gonna be huh?

“you know, i might get bored being the only girl in the club who’s not really playing so if you’d like to.. come around then that would really nice of you to do.. for me.” you add and decide to withheld the information that chrissy won’t be playing either. if this is what it takes then so be it.

“yeah i think i might come then, for you of course.” she smiles at you. you don’t think you’ve seen her look so delighted about something since making the cut to the cheer team two years ago.

“of course yeah.” you confirm, “well, we’ll have the first meeting on friday after practice. i’ll see you there?”

“yeah i’ll see you there.” she nods before looking at your textbook and notes, “actually there’s something else too, can you help me with chapter five?”

“sure come sit.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

friday afternoon. april 20th, 1984.

today is the day the hellfire club will officially open and eddie’s been prancing all morning.

he barely slept last night, stayed up adding the final touches to his campaign, organizing his book, ironing the shirts and polishing the figurines. even though most of the club are the same people he usually plays with, the notion of having a club thrilled him. it was new and real.

“i can’t believe this is actually happening.” he waited for you by the stairs closest to the dance room and quickly wrapped his arms around you, spinning you place once he got a hold on you. “i have a club. at hawkins high. a dnd club.” he said loudly, for once not caring about what people might think of him or that they might look.

they did look and you flipped them off behind his back, glaring them away.

“and we’ll be late to the first ever official meeting of your dnd club if you keep this up.” you play-smacked his arms and he put you down laughing,

“hell with that. i can’t be late, i’m the master.” he said in his DM voice, a voice you’ve only learned about a few days ago, and you bit your lip, it was hot but now is not the time.

“come on master, we need to organize the table and snacks and stuff. we can’t have people showing up and the lights are still off.” you tell as the two of you walk the hallways, hand in hand, into the little room towards the very end where the club is.

“are your friends coming?” eddie asks, he’s been worried they might change their mind all week.

“i think so.. emily went to the bathroom but she told me she’ll come before she left. she been super excited, keeps asking questions about the campaign and says words i don’t understand. i told her i have no idea who vecna is or what the demogorgon has been up to.” eddie chuckles and you continue, “i don’t know about chrissy though, she didn’t come to practice and she’s been weird all day. i asked her if she can confirm with this robin girl since they’re in class together and she basically blew me off.” you sighed.

eddie shrugged by your side, “it’s okay. she’s only a sophomore. got so much ahead of her, i understand if she doesn’t wanna tarnish her name with the devil’s game. can you tell her that when you see her?” he asks genuinely, he’s grown pretty fond of chrissy. she’s brave and sweet, she’s like a little you. you hated that he can see it too.

you nodded and walked in silence until you’ve reached the club’s room.

standing by the closed door, you smiled at eddie, holding onto his arm, the one you’ve left a mark on. “you’re ready?”

“no.” he snorts and puts his free hand on the door’s knob, “here we go.” he whispers and lightly twists it, opening the door into the total darkness.

except it’s not total darkness.

your eyes fall upon two silhouettes, two figure outlines, two people standing by the table. one’s got their hands in the other’s hair and one’s grabbing the other’s waist. they’re holding onto each other like they might vanish if they let go. their lips locked together in sacred synced movements.

they’re safe in the darkness. the outside world doesn’t exist for them.

eddie flips the light switch on and the room is suddenly lit up by your twinkling, old christmas lights, that’s when the world comes crashing down on them.

four hearts simultaneously dash to the ground. you swear you could hear the second they fell onto the hardwood floor.

you and eddie were the first to break the unendurable but understandable silence, you spoke at the same time, addressing the aghast, ghostly-pale looking faces standing in front of you.

“chrissy?”

“robin?”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @isthlsfate @sillysteveharharhar @eddiesxangel @mmunson86 @angellicbeast @joejoequinnquinn @ali-r3n @mvnsonlover @b-irock @gnrquinn @strictlyminecraft @lushxboba @elamity

[joeydoeeyes]

「✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡. ✦」

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨? 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰? 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!cheerleader!reader, original characters, slow burn, eddie being bullied, reader's mom giving her body dysmorphia, backstory insights for eddie & reader. smoking weed, long chapter.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i know that a certain thing from this chapter didn't come out until 1985 but we're gonna pretend otherwise, for the plot.

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thursday morning. april 5th, 1984.

nine weeks to graduation.

you stood in that shitty, barely lit bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror, waiting for her to look back at you, to tell you what to do, to yell at you, to guide you to do something, to say something but she didn't move. as long as you stood still, she just stood, staring back at you lifelessly, she looked so much like you. no wonder she did, you thought. she is you or at least who you used to be before you went through what no sixteen year old should go through and was forever changed since then.

“what do you want chrissy?” you break the silence, finally speaking to the girl in the mirror.

she turns her eyes down, fidgets with her fingers, “nothing.. um actually i wanted your help with something.”

“what is it?” she seems scared. you turn to face her instead of her mirrored reflection, your hands reaching to hold her shaky ones, your voice softens as so does your heart. she’s so familiar. “chrissy.. you know you can tell me anything, right?”

whatever she wanted to say was interrupted once the bathroom door was flung open. sounds of laughter came in before the sight of them, tara and her minions.

“oh there you are. i've been looking for you everywhere, little bird” tara says, directed at chrissy. “so what’s your answer?”

you frown, as far as you know, tara and chrissy had never interacted before so what’s there for chrissy to answer?

“what’s going on?” you ask, feeling chrissy nervously playing with your fingers. she was probably aiming for her own but got them mixed up.

“oh she didn’t tell you? miss cunningham here got asked out by the hottest guy in school.” tara smirks, clearly getting off of chrissy’s discomfort. “well, second hottest, after miles.”

“except miles isn’t really in school anymore, he got expelled.” chrissy whispers and it immediately puts a smile on your face. such a sheepish girl with a mouth that runs itself.

luckily, tara didn’t hear her otherwise chrissy would have a big ‘X’ to mark her as the next target.

“i have no idea who you’re talking about.” you say truthfully because your definition of hot is very different than tara’s so she could really be talking about anyone.

“jason duh.” tara raises her eyebrow once she sees the deadpan look on your face, still unaware of who she means. “jason carver? he joined the basketball team a few weeks ago?” you don’t keep up with the basketball team so still nothing. “jason carver, nash carver’s little brother who he had to bring to kevin’s senior year spring break party two years ago?” your memory from that night is mostly hazy, blurry as it exists in the furthest, deepest, darkest, loneliest corner of your mind. it’s buried there twenty feet deep. it peaks its ugly head out sometimes, trying to resurface but you shove it back into its vault and cage it.

“the fourteen year old?”

tara rolls her eyes, “clearly he’s not fourteen anymore.” she turns her gaze to chrissy, “so what is it?”

you feel the sophomore girl’s hand squeezing yours anxiously. her eyes won’t meet anybody’s as she looks around the room waiting for a miracle to make her disappear.

you know trepidation when you see it in the mirror.

“it’s a no.” you speak for chrissy and hear her breathe out, relieved.

“i don’t think the question was directed to you.”

“chrissy’s on my team, under my supervision. if i say no, she says no.” you say firmly. “we’ve got one final competition. i want everyone focused on practice and training. boys are nothing but a distraction. we can’t afford to be distracted now.”

tara’s eyes burn as they peer into you and you stare her down back, reflecting the same fire.

“i guess that goes for everyone except you and your freak of a boytoy.”

“you don’t have to worry about eddie and i, we’re doing just fine.” your fist tightens around chrissy’s hand, she feels it too but doesn’t say a thing. “i’ll see you in practice, don’t be late again yeah?” you catch a glimpse of tara’s fake smile as you make your way out of that dungeon of a bathroom, dragging chrissy along, close behind you. you almost forgot she was there until you heard her voice whisper softly,

“thank you.”

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chrissy followed you around like a shadow all day and you let her. you liked having her around. it’s like you’ve time traveled, stole your younger self in bag and brought her here with you. as if you can keep her safe, as if you can undo the tragedies.

as you walk the school’s hallway hand in hand, your eyes land on another tragedy. one you can’t undo.

eddie is standing at his locker, the bruise on his cheek is getting lighter by the day. nobody has picked on him since miles got expelled earlier this week. that’s good. you’ve got a map box of where everybody’s worst skeleton lays and you’ll brazenly trace each person to their secret if it’s needed. you can only run too far before you run back into yourself.

you’ve been hanging out with eddie more, exclusively in the woods.

it wasn’t intentional, at least not all of it. some of your run ins into him were completely coincidental like when you’ve been sitting in a roomful of people doubting your every move as if you haven’t proven time and time again that you’re capable, that you know what you’re doing and you just needed space or when it gets too loud in your head, the voices that sound too much like tara or your mother or the frightened girl in the mirror who begs in vicious screams and you just needed silence.

somethings you just can’t plan. they just happen.

just as you didn’t plan to tell eddie about how you used to play baseball with your dad all the time as a kid but after he passed away, your mother made you stop because it wasn’t ‘feminine’ “these sports are too aggressive for a lady to play, i’m going to sign you up for the cheerleading team. that’s a far better option, maybe if you hung out with more girls, you’ll learn how to be.. normal.”

you didn’t plan to tell eddie that you were normal, you were just miserable or that being in a cheerleading team did nothing but encourage you to become even more miserable since it was so easy listening to other girls’ insecurities and going home to stare at the mirror and see nothing but yourself through their eyes.

you didn’t plan to tell eddie that you tried your hand at writing poetry when you were fourteen but gave up on it a week later because you realized that you were a sad teenage girl writing about her sad teenage melancholy and it was such a sad teenage cliché.

you didn’t plan to tell eddie that your favorite color is yellow because your favorite flower is a sunflower or that it’s your favorite because every sunday after church, you take the long way home and pass by a house lined by sunflowers or that the house used to be yours before you and your mom couldn’t afford to live there anymore. he left then you left but the sunflowers stayed, remained unchanged and true to what they represent.

you didn’t plan to tell eddie that your mom handmakes you granola bars and that they taste like shit or that your uniform is always itchy in an unreachable spot or that sometimes you pee standing up just to pretend you’re a boy before you have to grab the bleach and scrub the pee that missed the toilet bowl or that you still don’t know how to whistle.

you didn’t plan to laugh and open up with eddie. you didn’t plan to enjoy it as much as you did but most crucially, you didn’t plan for how easy it is.

how simple everything is.

how it just happens with him.

you grab chrissy’s hand, intertwine your fingers as you make your way towards eddie’s locker, you can feel her pulse picking up pace underneath your fingertips and wonder if yours is pounding in the same way and if she can feel it.

“hey.”

your voice startles him and he nearly drops his book to the ground before he quickly catches it between his hip and the locker then says your name.

each time he says it, it feels less and less foreign on his lips. his tongue is getting used to the taste of your letters. sweet, sweet and sweet with an aftertaste of the sharpest scratch of an acidic labyrinthine. it sets fire on his throat and he’s been chasing warmth so he lets it happen.

“this is my friend chrissy and we were wondering if it’s cool if we come watch you play this weekend.”

“what?”

“what?”

they both say at the same time. both of their faces stuck in a half frown, half awkward ‘what the fuck is going on’ smile.

you turn to chrissy first, “i already told you. eddie’s in a band and they play shows at the hideout on the weekends. you said you’re free so we figured it would be fun if we go.” you squeeze her hand and she begins nodding as if she gets it.

“yeah.. that’s right, i remember now.” she says timidly, her eyes moving between you and eddie before they settle on him, “we’d love to come and see the band. i love live music and.. the hideout..?” it sounds more like a question when she says it and it makes perfect sense because chrissy’s never been to the hideout or listened to live music just as you’ve never told her that eddie’s in a band or that they play shows on the weekend.

she turns her gaze downward, her shoes have suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. she couldn’t even handle saying one lie to eddie’s face without feeling as if she might implode on the spot.

so innocent. so absurd. so much so it makes you feel disgusting because you’ve brought her into this sick game and tarnished her with your sick ways. you were supposed to protect her. be the anti-tara. what’s wrong with you?

“you’ve been to the hideout before?” eddie asks, crashing the pity party you’re throwing for yourself in your head.

“a few times but i hope we can make it more.” you tell him, scrunching your nose at him. please say yes please say yes.

“our crowd of three drunks will be thrilled to know that our fanbase is expanding.” he says with a smile on his face and it draws one on yours. it’s genuine.

he actually makes you smile, there’s no planning it and it just happens.

“and since it’s your first show and you’re the first ladies to watch us perform, we’ll do a special feature and play any two songs of your request.” he adds and chrissy nearly jumps out of her trainers just as your heart nearly jumps out of its cage.

“really?”

“ ‘course. just bring them tomorrow so we can practice.”

“i already know what song i want.” chrissy says fervently. “i want to break free.”

“queen. nice choice.” eddie compliments her and she mumbles a ‘thank you’ before he turns his attention back to you, “what about you? do you know your song?”

you do know your song but you don’t know if it’s your song or his.

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saturday night. april 7th, 1984.

nothing could ruin your day today.

not your neighbor’s loud construction work starting at five forty eight and waking you up from your rare dreamless sleep. not the horrid mood your mom has been in all morning because the neighbor’s hammering gave her a headache. not the way she took it all out on you. not the water shifting between ice cold and scorching hot while you were taking a shower. not finding out that your mom took the liberty of loosening the waistline of the skirt you intended to wear tonight because she thought ‘you’ve been looking bigger lately’ and that she ‘was doing you a favor’ and you ‘should thank her’.

especially not when you lied through your teeth and told your mom you were staying over at tara’s house tonight because she needed your help with studying for an english literature test. you didn’t feel a half an ounce of guilt as the words slipped out your mouth and she filled her eyes with crocodile tears, saying you can go but she won’t be able to sleep since she’ll be all alone.

you told her to try some chamomile tea and left.

just one more stretch. nothing could ruin your day today.

first you made your way over to chrissy’s house. your place was closer to the hideout but since you dragged her into this, it’s only fair you walk with her.

she was wearing a pink pants with a white polo shirt, her hair neatly put half up half down with a pink ribbon bow. her lips glossed and her eyes gleaming the way pristine adolescence does.

she looks so beautiful.

“you look so beautiful.” she says to you, a wide smile on her lips as the two of you walk side by side, arms intertwined. “i have to admit i was a little scared about going tonight but now i’m excited.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. we’ll have fun and you’ll watch your boyfriend perform for you.” she teases and you roll your eyes at her. boyfriend.

“he’s not my boyfriend and you know that he’ll never be.” she was right there at the table when tara made you the deal and you accepted it.

she shrugs regardless, “i know but can i say something maybe a little out of place?” she continues after you give her a nod, “if you and eddie end up falling in love, i think tara and her deal can both be smithereens.” she says and you almost chuckle if it weren’t for the look on her face, “sometimes love finds you in the most unusual way and it doesn’t just stumble upon people so when it finds you, you can’t just let it go just because it’s easier that way or because it isn’t familiar to you.”

you expected a lot of things for tonight. played the whole evening over and over again in your mind each time with the smallest changes of details just so you’d be prepared for everything but nothing could’ve prepared you for this because as you’ve learned this past week sometimes, things just happen.

“chrissy..”

“i’m sorry!” she interrupts, “i shouldn’t have said any of that. i don’t know why i did, it’s not my place, it’s your life and your choices. i shouldn’t have said anything. i’m sorry, can we forget it please?” she’s nearly panicking.

“forget what?” you say casually to calm her down, a small smile on her lips and she matches it with a fake one.

truth is, no, you can’t forget it just as you can’t help the way your heart breaks for her and her sweet, sincere soul which seems to be carrying a burden heavier than you could’ve ever imagined.

you’d offer to take some load off her hands but your own are full and tied behind your back so you just offer her the silence of understanding as you walk together through the darkening sky.

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the hideout wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. it’s actually nice in a weird way. there’s only ten round little tables with two long stools around each one and a small bar on the right corner where the young bartender is sluggishly serving drinks, whiskey, bourbon, vodka and beer. they don’t do cocktails or any fancy drinks around here. all of the men are working class people, blue collars who just want to get drunk after a long work day. they don’t care what’s in their cup as long as it takes their minds off their underpaid labor and responsibilities awaiting at home.

there’s a small stage at the very back, a black tapestry hung on the wall with the words 'CORRODED COFFIN' written across it in white spray paint. the same two words are written on the drum, two black guitars are sitting on each side of it and one red guitar is in the middle, right next to the mic stand. something tells you it’s his.

“we’re not gonna get drinks?” chrissy asks, the two of you are sitting in the table closest to the stage. when you walked in, a server asked if you’re eddie’s guests and guided you towards this specific table where it had a ‘reserved’ sign.

eddie’s going all the way to make your visit to the hideout a pleasant one.

“you’re sixteen. this is the only thing you’ll be drinking tonight.” you push her glass of water closer towards her and she sighs.

“but you can get a drink! i’ll just have a sip of it.” she says with wide eyes and a wider smile, “just a little sip.” she puts her thumb and index finger close together and you chuckle.

“nope sorry. no underage drinking or sipping tonight.” you take a gulp of your own water, “besides, one sip of what they serve here will probably send you into cardiac arrest and i plan on returning you home without going to a hospital first yeah?”

before she could say anything back, the same lazy bartender stands in the middle of the stage and taps the mic three times, “ladies and gentlemen, i present to you..” he turns back to read the name from the tapestry then says it whiningly, “corroded coffin.”

nobody paid attention when he spoke and nobody paid attention when he got off the stage and went back behind the bar.

nobody paid attention when the group of four guys walked in and got settled with their instruments.

nobody paid attention to the eyeliner and dark sparkly eyeshadow he had on and nobody paid attention to the way his black painted nails grabbed the mic after slithering his guitar over his long messy hair and onto his frame. nobody paid attention to the way his skilled fingers were striking and flickering the chords, playing some metal song you’ve never heard before like he was the one who made it, making it magic and making it his own.

nobody paid attention to the way his lips moved and curled as he sang the lyrics or the way he bit and licked them every now and then. nobody paid attention to how his voice sounded raspier than usual, deeper at some parts then higher at the next. how he jumped the octaves like an expert, how he screamed and how he whined, how he sang like it’s his life’s purpose, like he’s making art by being the art.

nobody paid attention when his eyes met yours and a smile was spread on his lips. nobody paid attention when he skipped the words because for a second he forgot to sing, forgot that a world beyond the two of you existed.

nobody paid attention to how his heart was beating in his chest, it made the loud bangs of the drums sound faint like it’s just some distant echos of his heart.

nobody paid attention to the moment he knew he was done for.

nobody but you.

only you knew.

“the next two songs are gonna be a little different than our usual taste but..” he turns towards your and chrissy’s table, keeping his eyes locked on yours, “we’ve got two special guests in the house tonight so we made some exceptions.” he winks playfully and start playing queen’s i want to break free.

they play the song and for the first time since they got on stage, your attention diverts from the vocalist and lead guitarist of the band.

instead you hear a small voice by your side, murmuring the lyrics like a tiny echo, inaudible to those who won’t truly listen.

“i’ve fallen in love for the first time and this time i know it’s for real.. god knows i’ve fallen in love.” chrissy is muttering the words, her eyes focused on stage in a tunnel vision. “oh i want to be free.” she sighs. she looks beautiful in the dim lights of the hideout, she has the kind of gloom you can’t help but get lost in inside.

for a second you catch yourself wondering, how can so much sadness inhibit such a beautiful thing? but then find the answer as she sings, “god knows, got to make it on my own.” sadness clings to nothing like youth. the honeyed sticky youth and it spreads and it rots and it makes it its home then there’s nothing like getting comfortable in your own sadness, in your own home.

“i want to break free!”

chrissy’s loud, enthusiastic applause breaks you out of your trance, she’s jumping up and down and going “woooah!!”. it brings too many eyes to your table including the ones of the band members as they’re confused by their first ever standing ovation but you don’t mind. you let her have her moment before you hear eddie’s voice through the microphone.

“wow thank you. that was our first big O, we’ll always remember that. thank you.” eddie jokes as he adjusts the chords on his guitar, “now this next song i was uncertain about at first. it wasn’t like anything i’ve played or even considered listening to before but then i heard it and i let myself get familiar with it, i found that sometimes you’ll find a wonderful thing right outside your comfort zone.” his eyes remained on you as he spoke, sparkling, the brokenness inside of them slowly healing. “i hope you don’t mind that i did metalify it a little bit.”

he might’ve blushed as he turned away but it could’ve been just a flush of the adrenaline rush in his veins. it most likely is. has to be.

“i wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather..” he starts playing the song you requested with a slight metal twist, “but traditions i can trace against the child in your face won’t escape my attention.” his gaze won’t part from your face. he’s not shying away from letting everybody know that he’s singing for you.

not that anybody here actually cared.

they don’t know who you are, you’re free here.

“i’m lost in admiration, could i need you this much? oh you’re wasting my time” your chest feels tight. “baby you’re wasting my time.” it’s all just a game he doesn’t even know he’s a part of. “yeah, you’re just wasting, wasting, wasting.” you are wasting.

wasting his time, wasting away.

“something happens and i’m head over heels, i never find out til i’m head over heels.” he doesn’t even know how true to him the words he’s singing are.

“don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart, don’t throw it away. hey!” he plays a little guitar solo and you’re surprised but amused at how nicely it fits into the song, how he thought of it then created it, just for you. you, the one he’s singing for, the one he’s unknowingly begging to not break his heart, the one he doesn’t know will do just that.

the more the song goes on, the harder it gets for you to breathe.

this is sick, i’m just like tara, i’m even worse. these thoughts invaded your brain along with the urge to run up on stage, grab eddie’s head and scream into his face, this is all just a cruel joke! it’s all just a game! they’re laughing at you! i’m laughing at you!

but if you’re supposed to be laughing at him then why does your heart ache? why does it burn when you see his childlike grin? the twinkling light in his eyes? the way life is making a swift return to his breakable, vulnerable, delicate soul?

why do you even notice?

it’s because i’m better than tara, the voice in your head tells you, smiling devilishly, because i’m good and i care about people.

but if i cared about people then i wouldn’t even be here, you tell the voice in your mind. i wouldn’t even have spoken to him. i would leave him alone. i would let him go.

then the voice asks the question that’s been roaming around in your conscious far too loud and for far too long, what’s stopping you?

the song is close to its end but eddie plays another guitar solo, a long one this time. he truly is talented. he could make it big if he gets out of here. he’d be a rockstar.

“you’re just wasting my time so go on baby break my heart.” he sings into the mic with a pleading voice, his eyes catching yours one last time before the stage lights turn off, leaving you in the dark with his final words, his own request for you.

after the show, eddie tries to walk up to your table but his bandmates stop him, telling him they’ve got only ten minutes to pack up before jeff’s dad gets here so he does a ‘hold on’ gesture to you and joins them with a roll of his eyes.

you and chrissy stay seated and waiting, she sips on her water and notices your bag but refrains from asking what it’s for, probably after remembering that this is all a game and you’re chasing after something.

ten minutes later, on the dot, jeff’s dad walks in, a bright smile on his face, he congratulates the guys for the expansion of their crowd in both size and gender, jeffs tells him to stop in embarrassment but you and chrissy laugh. as the guys are loading their musical equipment into the back of his mini van, he asks if you and chrissy have a way home and when you tell him you were planning to walk back, he insists to let him drive you, saying that it’s dangerous to walk alone during this time of night, “and i’m not being sexist when i say that.” then he procceds to tell you that’s he never lets jeff do it and that he always drops the guys at their houses after a gig.

you end up allowing him to give you and chrissy a ride but before you get into his mini van, you ask eddie if it’s cool if you go to his trailer and you swear you could hear his brain malfunction as soon as the words left your mouth, he nods and utters a ‘yeah sure’ before he and gareth squeeze themselves in the trunk next to their eqipments and instruments. you sit in the back with chrissy and jeff, pete in the passenger seat.

chrissy gets dropped off first then gareth then pete and after what feels like forever in that mini van, you finally make it to where eddie lives.

the trailer park.

“um.. i’m sorry about that.” he mumbles.

“huh?”

“the car situation. it’s just that my ride isn’t ready for the road yet and none of the guys have a license.” he says, “even if they did, i don’t think jeff’s dad would let him drive that late.” he jokes.

“you have a motorbike, right?” you remember seeing it parked in the school’s parking lot before, recalling the glimpses you took of eddie putting on his helmet and taking off like a man on a mission after the school bell rings for the last time of the day.

“i had a motorbike.” he sighs, kicking a rock with his foot as the both of you walk towards his trailer. “my mom’s meds became less accessible so their prices got higher and it was either the motorbike or the guitar so the bike went bye-bye.” you nod understandingly, “then my mom also went bye-bye.” he laughs and his eyes go wide when he sees the look on your face but then you join in his laughter and he relaxes.

“anyway, i found a van in a dump site a while ago and i’ve been fixing it. i figured it’s better than a bike or car, we can fit our equipment there and it’ll be good for travelling and such.” he points towards the van or more like what’s supposed to be the van. “it’s a.. work in progress.”

right now it’s just a base with no tires or windows and it’s probably missing most of its internal parts as well. “i can see that.”

you reach his trailer and he unlocks the door, bowing for you, “my lady.” your heart skips a beat as you step inside, mumbling a ‘thank you’

he follows you in and turns on the light, a tangerine hue takes over the place.

“my mom didn’t like white fluorescent lights, said it’s too harsh on the eyes so we only got lamps.” you nod as you listen and scan the room, it’s a lot tidier than you thought it would be. no dishes in the sink, not too much dust on the windowsills and it smells nice, it smells like… lemon meringue pie?

“did you know orangey-yellowy lights are supposedly better for you? for mental health and stuff. apparently it mimics the affect the sun has on your brain.” eddie’s nervous habit of spitting random ‘facts’ he heard or read somewhere, most likely unreliable, shows itself. you noticed he does that a lot when he’s agitated, either that or he overshares.

he perfers the former but he can’t control which one comes in what situation. sometimes his mouth does whatever it wants and he only has to face the consequences.

“i’ve seen these curtains before..” you squint your eyes at the purple drapes in front of you, your mind taking a small trip down memory lane until it lands on the right visual memory. “mr. kingsley’s class! from freshmen year!” you turn towards eddie whose eyes are widened in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

“i have no idea what you’re taking about.”

“you stole mr. kingsley’s curtains. that was you.” you still remember the ‘investigation’ they held for these curtains. chief hopper practically lived at the school for a whole week interrogating every single student, per principle higgins demanding request, about the mysterious disappearance of the curtains. hopper’s method of investigation was sitting with every student for two to three minutes and staring them down while tossing a stress ball between his hands. a week later, he declared that the curtains simply ran away because they hated chemistry.

eyes still open wide, “no it wasn’t. you must be seeing things.” eddie shrugged.

“yeah i must be.” you chuckled, sitting down on the couch where a crochet blanket and three pillows are stationed, the blanket also looks oddly familiar, and he relaxed. you fit right in, he thought but would never dare to say it outloud.

“so.. what does the rockstar usually do after putting on a sick show like that?” you ask and even in the dim light of the trailer, you can see eddie’s cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink.

“not much actually. most nights i either.. get high and eat or get high and sleep.” he says, a hint of insecurity in his voice as if he say something he shouldn’t. confessed the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person.

but you’re not the wrong person, are you?

“let’s do that then.”

eddie’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets like a loney tunes character. you? want to get high? with him? in his trailer? after being at his show? is this even his life anymore? is it a dream? all the lines seem to have gotten blurry. what’s real anymore?

“you’re so cute when you’re shocked , you look like a baby deer.” your voice brings him back to earth and he melts at your words. you don’t even know where they came from but something about this place makes you feel ready to spill your guts, your thoughts, your heart’s contents.

“let’s.. let’s get high.” eddie finally manages to control his tongue and get the words out. he asks you to follow him into his room, that’s where he keeps the goods, and you do, stalling behind him.

there’s photos in the hallway of eddie, his mom, his uncle, his friends all in special frames, ones are glittery and sparkly, some are basic whites and one is garfield themed and it’s holding a photograph of a pretty woman carrying a little baby boy in one arm and an orange cat in the other, smiling from ear to ear. she has the same smile and the same crinkle at the outer corners of her eyes as the baby she’s holding, the same as eddie.

his room is.. nothing like him, to say the least.

the walls are painted pink, the bedding has yellow and purple flowers, there’s a bunny shaped lamp on the nightstand and hand painted artworks of women all over the walls. a woman giving birth, a woman’s thighs stained with red as she lays naked on the floor, a woman with no mouth on her face, a woman with bleeding eyes, a woman stretching her skin with her deformed hands to cover her baby, a woman laying in her grave with her eyes closed and a smile on her face, she looks content.

“my mom was an artist.” eddie says when he catches you staring at the drawings, suddenly feeling protective of his mother’s art, feeling the need to defend it the same way he had felt about you the day gareth spoke of you.

“it’s incredible.” you say at the same time, unable to tear your eyes from the pieces in front of you. the way she captured the emotions in every detail evokes a strange feeling of belonging within you, a feeling of being seen. “eddie these are incredible.” you tell him again.l “she was really talented.” you smile at him and he softens, mumbling a ‘thank you’ before he sits on his bed, previously his mother’s.

“make yourself comfortable.” he says, reaching over to the bottom drawer of the the cinnamon colored nightstand and pulling out his stash of prerolls and a lighter.

he hands you a joint, another one in his mouth as he lights up yours. you ask him where he gets it from then take a puff and he says he used to work with some guy called reefer rick, he’d supply him with all sorts of stuff and eddie does the deals but he stopped doing it a long time ago, now he just buys weed for himself, “i’m not addicted or anything. i smoke a healthy amount. in some places they consider it therapeutic, medicinal even.” he says as he exhales the smoke.

minutes pass with you and eddie sat on his bed, your backs against the wall, smoking until your scleras turned wine red and your sight got blurry with the film of mist covering your eyes. or maybe it could’ve been hours. it’s hard to measure time spent in silence because it depends on how you’re spending it. who you’re spending it with.

with you mother, time in silence feel like decades. those minutes are so rare so you try to relinquish in them for as long as possible. they don’t come often unless they’re a red herring, signaling that a storm is coming or after when the storm has passed, leaving a field of destructions behind but that’s okay because it passed and now it’s quiet.

with tara, time in silence stands still. it doesn’t move forward or backwards. whenever you’re with her, you’re sixteen years old again, stuck in an endless, torturous, frozen frame of who you used to be and who you’ll never become.

with eddie, time in silence doesn’t exist. hours turn to seconds, seconds to lifetimes, lifetimes to a single glance. it defies all the laws of the universe, at least the one you know of.

“let’s play a game.” you blurt out, shocked by your own voice as you haven’t said a word in what feels like too long. “truth or truth.”

eddie turns his head towards you, frowning. “truth or truth?”

“it’s like truth or dare except there’s no dare.”

“yeah i gathered th..”

you interrupt him, “i’ll go first. truth.”

“okay..” he blinks a couple of times, each blink lasting longer than necessary as he thinks of a question. it’s okay though, made you appreciate the color on his eyelids more. “did you really enjoy the show?” he finally asks.

“i did. you’re a rockstar.” you give him a genuine smile and he doesn’t return it, instead he puts the joint in his mouth and takes a long drag.

“the rest of the town doesn’t seem to think so”

“the rest of the town are idiots!” you yell, unintentionally but it makes eddie smile. “your turn.”

“truth. the second one.” he clarifies.

“why do you live with your uncle? i mean i get it now but before your mom..” you don’t get to finish that sentence before he answers and you’re glad about it.

“we didn’t always live here. we had a house once actually, my mom worked three jobs to afford it but my dad’s a grade A asshole. he used to gamble and he was really bad at it so he lost all the money and sold the house” he says with a stoic face, “without telling her.”

your eyes go wide, “no way.”

“yes way.” he says, “i was in 3rd grade. i remember i was wearing a garfield tshirt, it was new, she bought it for me over the weekend after getting her paycheck. she had just picked me up from school and we were supposed to go home but the locks were changed once we got there and they wouldn’t let us in.” he recalls, his eyebrows sunken in, retelling the story makes him feel like he’s right there again. back in his garfield tshirt, back in 3rd grade, standing back on the pavement and playing with a stray cat while his mom is pacing down the road waiting for their ride, still in her work uniform.

“my mom didn’t really have many friends cause she was busy working and raising me so she had no one to call except uncle wayne.” he says, his lips tugged up at the corners in an almost-smile as he remembers his mom telling him they’re going away from home for a while, how he nearly cried because his tiny heart couldn’t handle leaving the stray cat behind, “he picked up on the first ring.” how he actually cried when his uncle picked the cat up and said there’s always room for one more. “i think it’s your turn.”

there’s a lot you need to absorb about eddie’s story, a lot to unpack, a lot of questions but you swallow them for now. “truth. the first one.”

“do you like yourself?” eddie asks as if it’s the most simple thing to answer. he asked it so nonchalantly like it’s a mindless yes/no question.

“not really.” you answer just as casually.

“why?”

“uh uh it’s your turn.”

“truth. also the first one.”

“what happened after you lost the house?” you should let it go really but curiosity always seem to get the best of you.

“we came here.” he exhales, “we came here, to uncle wayne. he showed me around the trailer park, i didn’t really understand what was going on, i was just happy to play in the swings and the slides. i remember i was spinning in the merry go round with some kids and i saw my mom crying on wayne’s shoulder. she was holding him like he was her life boat and he held her like she will break if he lets her go. they stayed like that until he caught me staring.” his young memories are blurry. they exist in his mind like puzzle pieces, scattered and cluttered, some are lost forever and some he held onto like a prize. wayne’s gaze on him that day is among them. it was the first time eddie saw home in someone other than his mom.

“he said we could stay with him for as long as we need to. he gave up his room for us. my mom and i slept on the bed and he got demoted to the pull over couch and when i got older, i got demoted to the floor. after she passed he wouldn’t take the room back.” that explains the blankets and stack of pillows in the living room. “says it’s mine now.” eddie looks around the room, the faint lights reflected in his dark eyes.

“he sounds like really sweet.”

“he’s the best.” eddie smiles, “your turn.”

“truth.”

“why don’t you like yourself?” a follow up question, it’s only fair.

“because why should i?” you chuckle but he looks nothing short of muddled so you continue, “i don’t think liking myself is a necessity. i keep myself alive and i think that’s plenty.” your words surprise you, you’ve thought about this in fragments but never managed to articulate it quite like this. “i don’t like myself but i do more for me everyday than some people who like themselves do in a lifetime.”

eddie nods slowly, your answer makes sense. it makes too much sense that he almost can’t comprehend it in his current state of mind.

“truth or truth?”

“truth.”

“where’s your dad now?”

“in a ditch, i hope.” he jokes and you choke on your smoke, laughing. “no i don’t know. i haven’t seen him in years.”

“do you not like yourself because you’re always hiding who you truly are?” he asks hastily and you take a second to think. his eyes tenderly waiting for your response.

“no. i hide who i am because i like myself enough to do that.” you finally say, “being nuanced is perilous. it’s like you’re willingly wearing scarlet red and throwing yourself in front of… a cow.”

“a cow?” he squints, genuinely questioning it.

“no no! a cow’s husband. the one with the horns.” you put your two pointer fingers up by your head and eddie’s questioning gaze doesn’t falter.

“a bull?”

“yes! a bull.” you snap your fingers then finish, “it’s best to keep everybody at arm’s length because if they get closer, then they’ll see right through me and i won’t exist anymore. at least not in the same way.” sighing, you give him no time to grasp response, two can play this game. “do you think your uncle and mom were secretly in love?”

“oh it wasn’t a secret at all. they were in love, they just never acted on their feelings like true idiots.”

“do you feel guilty about that? like it’s your fault?” you asked precipitously and regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth but he seems unmoved.

“i just wonder how differently her life would’ve been if she didn’t have me. maybe she would’ve been with wayne, maybe she would’ve been a singer like she always wanted, maybe she would’ve been happier if sh.. wait..” he looks at you with suspicion in his eyes, “you asked me two questions!”

“no i didn’t!” you say defensively.

“yes you did!” he doubles down, “you asked if they were in love then asked if i feel guilty. that’s two questions.” he holds up two fingers close to your face they blend into one blurry finger and you can’t help but grab his wrist and laugh.

“okay fine! i asked two questions but you answered them!”

he laughs, pulling his hand back. “i get to ask you two questions now.”

“it’s only fair i guess.” you shrug as if fairness has ever existed in eddie’s life.

“do you believe people can change?”

“no.” you answer too quickly, “i think change is a choice. you can’t change unless you have a firm grip on who you are and who you want to be and i think choice is an illusion people made up to make themselves feel better about the lack of power they actually wield.”

he looks at you as if you’ve spoken in a foreign language so you rephrase it, “humans are simple, insubstantial creatures. they can’t change as much as pigs can’t fly.”

“flying pigs.. that’d be metal.”

eddie got too engulfed in the idea of flying pigs that he forgot to ask you a second question. instead he went on a fifteen minutes rant about his plan of inventing a pig-crow hybrid but it sounded too brutal so he declared that making hybrids is a form of animal abuse as his closing statement. you zoned out after he used the words “feathery” and “testicales” in the same sentence.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

sunday morning. april 8th, 1984.

in the following morning, it was nearly impossible to recall most of what had happened last night. you woke up in the same position, sat on eddie’s bed with your back against the wall only this time his head was resting on your shoulder and he had drooled all over his chin and your shirt.

still in a half sleep haze, you grabbed him and laid him in bed, his head on a pillow. his neck is going to hurt like hell when he wakes up, you thought as you pulled yourself up and out into the hallway.

you gave yourself the liberty of staring at the photographs one more time. a specific one of eddie in his garfield tshirt caught your attention, he’s standing outside the trailer, smiling from ear to ear even though he’s missing his two front teeth. the photo’s faded but his light is still the same as you saw it last night, shining resplendently. sunlight through the cracks.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered to the photo and selfishly wished that this version of him will find it in his heart to forgive you, knowing you’ll never deserve it.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @sillysteveharharhar @eddiesxangel @mmunson86 @angellicbeast @joejoequinnquinn @ali-r3n @mvnsonlover @b-irock @gnrquinn @strictlyminecraft @isthlsfate @lushxboba @elamity

[joeydoeeyes]

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[joeydoeeyes]

「✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡. ✦」

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦?

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!cheerleader!reader, original characters, slow burn, reader mentally relates her younger self to chrissy, mentions of eddie's past and his mother's death. mentions of god, self harm, cutting, blood and bandages. eddie being bullied. smoking. both reader and eddie are anxious overthinking messes. misunderstanding, angst.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

eddie was invisible. for all his years of school, he was a nobody. noone knew his name, not even the teachers. he blended in with the crowd, inconspicuous in the background. wayne always told him to stay out of trouble, that they can’t afford it, that his mom is too sick and too weak to spend her final years watching her only son get beat up and mistreated, “she’s seen enough, son. your old man has put her through enough hell for ten lifetimes. be good for her.” and eddie listened.

he did have his fair share of petty fights when he was in middle school but nothing was ever too big that it brought him unwanted attention.

high school was different. his mom’s condition has taken a steep turn for the worse, the doctors said she had a year at best but eddie’s mom was a fighter, a determined woman. she wanted to watch her son graduate, be the first of his bloodline to do so. she wanted to see him accomplish what she was never able to do. she wanted to watch him achieve things that were beyond belief for the small minded people of hawkins. she raised her son on dreams and she fought until her last breath to make sure he’ll continue to believe long after she’s gone.

he stayed good for her. he stayed out of trouble completely. his attendance record was good enough that it didn’t alert the principle and his grade were good enough to ensure his graduation. he kept his circle small and most days, he barely talked. he kept to himself and he was good.

it was after his mother died when things started to go wrong.

suddenly, everybody was looking at him. where ever he walked, he could feel people’s eyes peering into his face, his body. people were dissecting him like a lab animal with their stares. the look of utter disgust and horror behind their eyes, he saw it every time in the rare times he’d look up and he had nothing to say back. what even is there to say?

a lot actually but he knew it would be futile to try to talk back, to argue, to defend himself against their words. they’ve already made up their minds about him, there’s nothing he could say or do for them to change it back.

he didn’t kill his mother. of course, he didn’t kill his mother. she was sick and has been for a long time. the cops showing up to his trailer on the same day she died was purely coincidental. hopper came that day to tell wayne that he caught eddie smoking weed in the woods, again. he never arrests him because he knows what eddie’s life was like at home so he let some things slide but still, he told wayne everything because he knew that someone needed to look out for eddie. he tried to be that someone for him but eddie rejected it. he doesn’t open up to people that easily. it takes time, it takes trust. besides, that day hopper came at noon, eddie’s mom died three minutes before midnight. his whole world turned upside down at eleven fifty seven.

eddie slept for three whole days. he didn’t even go to her funeral. he couldn’t have even if he tried. wayne knew that so he didn’t force him to. the munsons weren’t infamous for their abundance of friendships so the funeral consisted of wayne, hopper, joyce and her two sons.

it was nothing fancy. eddie’s mom wanted to be buried in a ground where flowers can grow and bloom. “i want the earth to make use of me” she once said. eddie always refused to listen when she spoke of such things, ignoring the topic and pretending it isn’t real will make it go away, right?

still, one time when he was smoking in the woods, he found the perfect spot. underneath an old oak tree, there were wildflowers growing everywhere. covering every square inch of land. you couldn’t even see your feet when you stood there. just hundreds and hundreds of colorful little flowers, vibrant with life. he knew that spot was made for her and it was.

wayne carved her initials on the oak tree after the three men lowered her body, AM for adeline munson, her tall headstone. she fit right in. the ground embraced her kindly. he took comfort in knowing that. eddie didn’t.

on day four, wayne couldn’t take it anymore. he barged into his nephew’s room and crawled into his bed.

“she’s gone son. she’s gone. we can’t change that but she’s at peace now. she’d want the same for you boy. you and i both know that, she always wants the best for you. she wants you to be well, to be happy and god help me i’ll make sure of that even if it’s the last thing i do.” he held eddie tightly. he could feel the young boy crying in his arms, his body tensing up. he tried to fold into himself but wayne stopped him. he’s been alone for too long already. “stop it eddie. i won’t let you shut me out, not this time.” wayne reached his hand towards eddie’s but waited for him to take the initiative, he wanted eddie to feel like he still has some sort of control over his life after it's been vigorously withdrawn from his bare hands. “i’m staying right here.” wayne whispered.

eddie didn’t say anything and he didn’t have to. it took a while but after a few minutes of soft cries and shaky breathes, eddie reached for his uncle’s hand. tugging it close to his chest with both of his, he’s holding onto it for dear life, he could feel the blood pumping in wayne’s veins. his heartbeat grounds him. there’s still life outside of his bed and maybe there can be life in him again, maybe this isn’t the end, maybe there’s more to live for, maybe there’s more to see and more to feel, or maybe not. but still, there’s a possibility. on the thinnest streak of light, there’s a beacon of hope calling out for him in the voice of his mother.

over the weekend, eddie decided he’s going back to school. his mother wanted him to graduate and he wanted to make her proud so on monday, he went and god he wished he didn’t.

the silence when he walked into the cafeteria was deafening. it felt like he was walking towards the electric chair and the entire city was waiting to watch his excection, eagerly.

by the time he reached his usual table, the stares turned into whispers and gossip then it became pointed fingers as it got louder before it eventually became violent shoves against the brick walls and lockers on his way to class.

he didn’t make it to class that day.

eddie wasn’t proud of it and he knew if his mother ever found out of what he’s done to his body, she’d be heartbroken. but after she was gone, he was desperate to feel something, anything and the cold sharp blade was right there calling out his name, waiting to give him a temporary fix for it all so he took it and dragged it across his pale skin until red was all he saw but it was a false high, all for nothing. it didn’t make him feel better. all that it made him feel was that he let his mom down then he was hit with immediate regret and shame.

the cut was big but it wasn’t deep and once he managed to stop the bleeding, he swore that he’d never do it again then he thought that in a mssed up way, maybe this did help him until he was at school and he had to go to the nurse because the cut wound of his started spontaneously bleeding again. well, it wasn’t that spontaneous if you keep in mind that eddie was jittery as it is. he has a habit of constantly pulling on his skin and now that he had a scab, a big one, he couldn’t ignore it. his fingers were aching to touch it and pull at it. it hurt so badly but he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop and then he couldn’t stop the bleeding.

eddie sat and stared at the wall in front of him blankly as she wrapped it up then she had to get more bandages, she told him to keep a tight grab on his arm until she comes back in a second and he just nodded, holding onto it as he waited.

then you walked in and seconds turned to decades

he knew who you are. of course he knew who you are, everybody does.

he knew who you are and he couldn’t wait until you left the room.

the way you standing there just staring at him as he’s bleeding made him feel like a wounded animal, a hunt prey. he wished the ground would split open and swallow him or that you’d shoot daggers out of your eyes and kill him. put him out of his misery for once and for all.

every second he spent with you was emotional torture. he was holding a ticking bomb, any wrong move he makes, it could go off and he’s be pieces on the floor, a mess at your feet.

he watches you steal pills and stays silent, hoping the storm would pass in survival.

“i’m sorry about your mom.”

sorry? you? why?

he didn’t get the time to question your surprising kindness before you spoke again, “you should put pressure on that.” he frowns at you before doing as you said.

fuck i didn’t say thanks, he thinks but just as he looks up, you’re gone.

the storm passed and the bomb didn’t explode on him…? but why?

someone like you wouldn’t just speak to him unless they had something bad to say. why didn’t you say anything?

“sorry i made you wait, it took me forever to find this.” the nurse says, showing eddie the bandages and he just mutters that it’s okay.

he couldn’t bring himself to go to any of his classes that day so once he got wrapped up, he went home and promised wayne he’ll try again next week. wayne wasn’t shocked nor disappointed, eddie needed more time and he was going to get it for him even if that meant blackmailing the principal about his infidelity. if that’s what he had to do to earn his nephew a week off, he’d gladly do it.

but the week passed way faster than eddie has anticipated. he still wasn’t prepared but he wanted to graduate this year so badly so sooner or later, he had to face it.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

monday morning, march 26th, 1984.

ten weeks to graduation.

the start of this week wasn’t too bad. the fuss about him has majorly died down. he didn’t look at anyone so he assumed nobody looked at him. it was easier that way, to keep his head low and avoid people.

just ten more weeks, he thought to himself as he exited the classroom, crumbling up the paper where he wrote the things he needed to know and shoving it in his pocket. ten more weeks. one more stretch.

nothing could go wrong in ten more weeks.

he went to the cafeteria and this time he was actually hungry so he grabbed a tray and got himself an apple juice and a burger, if you can call two pieces of stale buns pressed against one another with questionably colored meat in the middle a burger. well, eddie can.

he felt good for a second. actually felt good. he came to school today, he attended all of his classes so far and he was about to eat real food, as real as his standards go anyway. he was doing good.

it was until your friends cornered him then he started to feel foolish. of course this would happen, how dare he have a decent day.

“you have guts you know.” tara says, stepping closest to eddie. “shamelessly showing up to school, coming in here, thinking you can act and eat like you’re one of us.” she grabs his burger then she tosses it to the floor, stepping on it. “we know what you are.” she steps closer to him and you just watch. “murderer.” she whispers, flipping the tray against his chest, he flinched and dropped it. the sound of the fall echoed in the room.

everyone was looking at him again. pointing, accusing, laughing. their eyes feel like fire on his skin but none of them hurt like yours. still, you who couldn’t move your eyes away from him just as you couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

you just stood and watched it happen.

why would i do anything? it’s none of my business, you thought. you’re just a part of the crowd just like everyone else in this room. the way things are now isn’t necessarily right but this is how it’s always been. there’s nothing anyone could do to change it and why would you be the one who wants to?

he picked the tray up, leaving it on a random table before he mumbled “sorry’s” as he hesitantly pushed his way out of the crowd. he walked away.

tara laughs, looking over at the girls, looking for validation and they all fake it back. all of them except you and chrissy. instead she was looking at you, waiting for your move. she expects you to do something, be the better person, the stand-up person, the anti-tara and knowing that she holds this high expectation of you only makes you want to be worse.

you hated it when people had faith in you because you know you’ll end up disappointing them somehow. you could do your best and it still wouldn’t be enough. you’d still let them down. that’s why you never let people in. you’d crack under the pressure of pleasing them and they’d get hurt trying to put your pieces back together. it’s a loss for everyone involved. you’re an edge and everything you’ve ever touched is blood stained.

but there’s something in her that makes you want to believe though, believe in you. there’s something in her you’ve seen before, when you looked in the mirror in what feels like a lifetime ago. the naivety of youthful hope.

you look at her and all you see is that mirror in your childhood bedroom. the reflection looking back at you, all doe-eyed and patient. her eyes are pleading, do something! show me there’s more to life than they say! save me from the void of who i could become!

before you knew it, you were passing the group of girls and walking out of the cafeteria.

oh fuck you chrissy. fuck you for believing i could be more than i am. fuck you.

“where the fuck did she go?” tara asked after she saw you leave and the girls shook their heads before they went to their table and went on with their lunch. all of them except chrissy, she couldn’t stop thinking of you. did she do something wrong? did you leave because of her? she hoped not.

you felt stupid for leaving. what the fuck are you supposed to do? find eddie and comfort him? apologize? why would you do that? it’s not your fault or your place to do either. besides, where would you even find him? you don’t know a thing about him, how would you know where to search?

still, you wandered the halls until it felt like you couldn’t breathe inside their walls anymore and that’s when it hit. you knew where to find him.

well, not really.

but maybe.

leaving school ground, you went into the forest behind the school. you’ve been there before, never gone too deep inside of it but you’ve been there.

if he’s there, he better have not gone too far because today is not the day you’re going to explore the woods of hawkins. you’ll just search for him within the first few miles and if you don’t see him, it’s a sign to let it go.

you wished you wouldn’t find him but you heard soft sniffles and the sound of chains clanking together. fuck me. is god even real?

you walk towards the sound, dreading every step until he’s within your field of vision. sitting on the ground, hugging his knees. all you can see is the side of his head, his hair covering his face. he looks like a lost child. he looks pathetic. how would you even go about this?

it’s time to turn around. you still have time to leave. he’s not staring he’ll never even know you’re there. run run run!

“can i sit here?” you stupid fucking bitch.

eddie lifts his head, looking up at you with a frown on his face and his eyes are red, watery. “what do you want from me?” he asks, “this is a game to you isn’t it? you’ve got a bet with your friends, they send you one after one, see who can make me break first or something?” he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and directs his attention back to the ground beneath him. “you can go, run off and tell them you did it. you won.”

ouch.

“nobody sent me here.” you tell him honestly, “i’m not my friends.” he doesn’t look at you. “i’m not tara.” here it is, that’s exactly what you tell yourself before you go to bed. “not all of us are mean you know?” what you should’ve said is, all of us are mean but some are worse than the others. “it’s one thing to speculate but it’s another to believe it.”

“i just don’t understand what you’d want from me.” he mutters.

“why do i have to want something? can’t i just sit here in silence with you then we both go our own way?” you ask. just seconds ago you wanted to leave but now, you feel like you just can’t.

“sure yeah.” he says, he sounds tired. he definitely is.

you sit down, trying to ignore how the dirt feels against your thighs. stupid short cheer skirts. the person who invented them must’ve been a pervert.

“is it okay if i smoke?” eddie asks and you tell him it’s fine then watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“can i have one?” you ask before you could stop yourself. he looks at you for a second before giving you a cigarette and his lighter after he lit his own. “thanks”

you sit in silence. only the smoke and the light breaths of both your exhales filling up the air. it’s quiet like you told him it would be.

you can feel his eyes on your face every now and then but you don’t look back at him. there’s no reason to.

“thanks by the way” he breaks the silence and you turn around, accidentally smoking out in his face.

“shit sorry” you wave your hand in front of his face, “sorry about that.” he smiles at you before telling you it’s okay. you blow smoke in his face and he fucking smiles at you. what’s wrong with him? actually, you don’t want to know. well.. maybe you do but right now you want to know something else. “what were you saying?”

“the other day in the nurse's office.” eddie thought of that day every day since it happened. it’s pathetic for him to admit it but it kind of kept him going.

“don’t mention it. i was just returning the favor”

“the favor? what favor?”

he doesn’t remember? “freshmen year? mr. kingsley's class?” the frown remains on his face. he doesn’t remember. fuck this is gonna make you look pathetic. “you dropped your cheat paper on my desk?” you’ve already digged your hole, might as well get comfortable in it.

noway. “you still remember that?” eddie smiles. he really needs to stop smiling at you but he just can’t.

of course you remember. he was the first person in this school who ever did something for you before knowing you’re a cheerleader and the only one who didn’t want something back. “i don’t like not giving people their credit, this one’s been due for a long time.” you say, giving him back a tight lipped smile. “why did you help me that day?” you shouldn’t have asked that. for years you’ve thought of that small interaction as decent thing and you don’t want to find out now that he had some sort of intention behind it.

“i thought the deal was we’d sit in silence.” eddie says. thank fuck he didn’t answer your question. maybe there is a god afterall.

“you started speaking, i was just talking back.” you raise your hands up in defense and he nods, ‘fair enough’ he mumbles.

a few minutes of silence pass. it’s calm. it’s comfortable. it makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

so you break it. “can i tell you a secret?” eddie looks at you with the frown that seems to be on his face constantly. he just doesn’t understand it, understand you. “i’m not a good person.” you say nonchalantly and breathe out. you have to admit, it felt good saying it out loud like that. it feels good not having to act or hide.

the perplexed look doesn’t leave eddie’s features, he should think of why you’d tell him something like that but he doesn’t. instead he just thinks why do you think that of yourself?

he knows you. of course he knows you. he’d heard of you and he’d seen you. you always seemed like a decent person. sure there was a certain rumor that followed you everywhere but eddie knew better than to believe in high school gossip. he believed in what he sees and what he saw was that you’re way more kind than your teammates, you actually took the time to volunteer in school community services, you never pushed or shoved anyone and as far as he knows, nobody had a bad thing to say about you. aside from your best friend.

but he can’t say that. it’s not his place. “do you always tell secrets like that to strangers?” he says instead.

you don’t have to think of an answer, you already have it. “strangers are the best people to tell secrets to.” it’s true. it has to be. why else would people feel more comfortable confessing their sins to a stranger in a dark room than to their own family? “they don’t know you, they can’t use the secret against you and you don’t know them so if they did, you just deny deny deny.” you explain further before looking at eddie, waiting for a reaction.

he nods in understanding. you can’t tell if he agrees or not but he wants you to know that he gets why you think that. “can i tell you a secret too?” he says and you nod at him, silently telling him to go on and he does. “i’m terrified of cheerleaders.” eddie confesses. it’s true he is. he’s been terrified of cheerleaders since he auditioned for the talent show back in middle school.

he was on stage, just playing with his band like any little kids do when they have that young belief that they’re the chosen ones. they spent months of practice in gareth’s garage so they’d be good and they were so good. they might’ve stood a chance if it weren’t for the way the cheerleaders threw slushies at him and his band, yelling out that they sucked, that the music they were playing was evil. the band had to be escorted of the stage in order to stop the chaos and they were told that they can’t continue in the competition before they were asked to never audition again or else they’ll be expelled and with the fact that the captain of the cheerleading team at the time was the principal's daughter, they knew better than to mess around.

eddie hoped you won’t ask him to reason his fear. he’s already feeling ashamed of his little confession especially since he’s admitting it to the new captain of the cheer team. jesus what has gotten into him.

he waits for you to say something. to laugh at him. to mock him. to pity him? just anything.

“me too.” you break your silence, looking at him with eyes free of judgment and question. you don’t need to know why. if he wanted to tell you, he would’ve.

“you are a cheerleader.” he says with frowned brows as you run your hands down your legs, grabbing onto your ankles. he watches your hands before mentally slapping himself and bringing his eyes back to your face.

“if you can’t beat them, be them.” you shrug it off, “anyway, i can’t wait to share this information with the rest of the team so we can terrorize you later.” you joke, leaning your shoulder against his and he laughs. really laughs and god it sounds comforting.

“i’ll just deny deny deny.” he says and you smile at him before looking down at your hands, going back to your original deal of sitting together in silence but it doesn’t last long. “can i tell you another secret?”

“go on” he encourages you.

“i think i like this type of silence.” you say before you could stop yourself. for some reason, your mind doesn’t force you to hold back how you really feel and it feels good.

the silence in your head, it’s new and it’s good.

eddie stares at the side of your face, you’re even more beautiful upclose, he thinks as he lets your words sink in. they seem genuine. for the first time, it doesn’t feel like he’s being mocked or pitied. “i think i like this type of silence too.” he says, lowering his gaze and focusing it on his boots. it feels good. the silence with you.

neither of you speak or look at each other again. you just sit there quietly for what feels like years passing in a second.

“i think i should go, i have class in five minutes.” you tell him before getting up and streching your legs.

he watches the way your muscles flex and relax then forces his eyes off. “yeah yeah..” he stands to his feet. “i have to go too or else mrs. o'donnell will hand me my ass.”

of course. of course he has mrs. o'donnell class next.

“that’s my class.”

you’ve got the same class.

eddie hesitates for a second. should he offer to walk you to class? is that too forward? is it even his place to offer it? what if you don’t want to be seen with him? you probably want to keep… whatever this is a secret, right? yeah he should just keep his mouth shut.

you watch him think, it’s cute how you can see the wheels turning in his brain, you think. you wait for him to make up his mind, secretly and anxiously wishing he’ll offer to walk you to class just so you’d spend more time with him or just so you’d know that he wants to spend more time with you but after enough time had passed, his silence spoke for him. he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“i’ll see you around.” you mumble, walking past him until you can’t feel his presence anymore. the air around you feels tight again. it’s probably your conscience finally waking up to the mess you’ve made. what were you thinking? well.. you weren’t thinking and that’s the problem. you can’t afford not to think. you can’t afford to lose caution again.

eddie stayed in the forest after you left, giving you enough time to get to class without him being hot on your heels. he spared you the embarrassment of being seen with him. he could only assume that you’d get in trouble with your teammates if they saw you walking into a classroom at the same time as him. he can’t even blame you for running, he’d run from himself too if he could.

you got into class just as the lesson started and sat next to emily. usually, you’re the one comforting her when her nerves get the best of her but this time, you felt her hand on your thigh and turned to face her.

“are you okay?” she whispered, “you’re bouncing your leg like crazy.” you are..? you didn’t even notice. you’ve got to get your shit together.

“sorry, i’m fine. just nervous in case there’s a pop quiz.” you give her a bullshit reason but it’s good enough for her to believe.

“don’t worry you’ll do great. you’re the smartest person i know.” she rubs her thumb on your knee before removing her hand and turning her attention back to the lesson being taught.

you give her a tight lipped smile and try your best to focus on the chalkboard but you catch yourself looking at the door between every four words that leaves mrs. o'donnell mouth.

“sorry i’m late.” eddie’s voice silences the room, everybody’s eyes fall onto him but he can only feel yours.

he doesn’t look at you.

he just walks past you to his usual seat at the very last row, his heart pounding in his chest, begging and pleading to steal one last glance at you but he knows better than to let it.

he’s been made into a lot of things he’s not but one thing he’ll never be is a fool. he knows who he is and he knows who you are and he knows better than to wish for the impossible.

so he knows better than to dare to want you.

you sneak a glance at him over your shoulder and see that his eyes are locked on the chalkboard.

you waited for him like an idiot and now he’s acting like you don’t even exist.

stupid girl. a foolish part of you really thought he was different. you want to hate him for not being what you imagined but you know it’s not his fault. he is who he is and you are who you are and you should’ve known better than to expect something from anyone.

and you know better now than to want to know him.

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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @isthlsfate @sillysteveharharhar @eddiesxangel @mmunson86 @angellicbeast @joejoequinnquinn @ali-r3n @mvnsonlover @b-irock @gnrquinn @strictlyminecraft @lushxboba

[joeydoeeyes]

Idk if your requests are open rn but i have a binge eating disorder / i eat when im stressed or depressed and was wondering if you could write a fic of eddie supporting the reader through that

You dont have to write the ED part but maybe eddie just being supportive and proud of me because (excluding multiple relapses) ive been trying to make meal plans and eat healthy n learn about balanced diets (no one taught me how to eat healthy growing up so im doing this blind)

But I lost 28 lbs (2 stone)! Im also planning on going to the gym more and getting a routine to gain muscle so maybe eddie gets all blushy because im getting stronk 💪💪😏

my requests aren't open but i'm a people pleaser who can't seem to say no so here we go, i hope you like bb 🤍 ps: i'm super proud of you!! you're doing amazing and i wish you well on your recovery journey 🫂

warnings: fem!reader, reader struggles with food but no details, eating, fluff, eddie being the greatest bf with the dirtiest mind

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browsing through the aisles of the supermarket with eddie pushing the shopping cart while store music is playing faintly in the distance has became one of your favourite activities for your tuesday date night.

it’s more of a date day really.

“should we try this granola? it’s a berry mix.”

“oh yeah. the last one tasted like ashes.” eddie snorts then tosses it in the cart.

ever since you started meal planning, eddie’s made it a weekly tradition for the two of you to go grocery shopping. you told him that it’s fine, you can do it by yourself and his response was slapping a hand to his heart “you want to go grocery shopping..” dramatic gasp that could win him an oscar, “without me?” then he fell to the ground as if he died from your cruel betrayal.

your trips to the supermarket weren’t just for shopping. it was a whole event.

he makes the two of you smoothies from whatever fruit or veggies you had leftover in the fridge from your last shopping trip and he gets all dressed up in his fanciest grey tracksuit pants and band tshirt.

after you’ve gathered everything you needed from the list, and some other stuff you definitely didn’t need but eddie insisted otherwise like the energy drinks that supposedly taste like guava fruit, he doesn’t even know what guava is, and a whole coconut which he outrightly refused to tell you what he’s gonna use it for or if he even knows how to crack it open. we need a coconut, that was his simple explanation when he put it in the shopping cart.

you then went to a small ice cream place that the two of you found a few weeks ago while walking back from your hike. you’ve been loyal customers since, frequenting it every week, you’ve even met the manger, a sweet lady in her late 50’s, eddie asked her if having her own ice cream shop was a cream come true then told her she’s his ice queen before he asked her to sign an empty ice cream cup. it still sits on your counter.

sitting at your usual table by the window, you order the same ice cream as you always does which perplexes eddie who’s going through the entire menu one visit at a time. he thinks it’s insane that you have a favourite ice cream when you haven’t tried everything. "what if your favourite ice cream is the one you haven’t even tried yet? what if you’ll never try it because you always get the same thing?" he says every time as if he doesn’t know that you’ll eat from his so you are trying new things.

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“i almost popped a boner when we were in the bread section.” he says nonchalantly through his mouthful of ice cream.

“eddie!” you glare at him and look around making sure nobody heard and sigh of relief when you see everyone is busy in their own conversations and desserts.

“what? a man can’t make a cone-fession anymore?” he smirks, making you roll your eyes. “i’m serious though, when i saw you bend over and lift these two rice bags at the same time..” he whistles, “your ass looked so good i nearly creamed my pants and seeing you hold that baguette was my last straw.”

you scowl at his again and he mockingly gives you the same look back as if saying what?!, “i’m just saying.. you’re getting really strong and it’s hot.” he says genuinely, “your muscles baby.. offf”

despite his silliness, you can’t help the smile on your face, you’ve been working really hard to get your body to the shape and strength it has today and a lot of the times you feel like your efforts are so miminal they’ve gone unnoticed but he noticed. he always notices, “eat your ice cream before it melts.”

“i’m proud of you.” he says, one of his hands reaching towards yours and engulfing it, “truly proud of you sweetheart. you’ve been doing really good and you’ve come so far.”

“i’ve relapsed multiple times.” you say in a hushed tone, the mean voices in your head trying to downplay your progress but eddie won’t let that happen.

“and you’ve bounced back every time!” he uttered in protest. “that’s determination baby, that’s strength.” his thumb moves back and forth on your knuckles soothingly. “you’re choosing to get better every time despite the relapses and that’s what matters.”

he brings your hand to his lips and places a tender kiss on it, “choosing is the hardest part and each time you relapsed, you chose to recover again and i’m proud of you more every time you make that choice.” his smile is sincere and it makes your heart flutter.

hearing him acknowledge, appreciate and encourage you like that keeps you going. he’s been with you through every step of this journey and you know he’ll stay with you. “you’re making me get all soft.”

he chuckles, amused. “see! the puns just make themselves.”

you laugh, “i love you teddy, thank you for sticking with me through this.”

“of course i’ll stick with you, we’re mint to be together.” he smiles devilishly and feeds you a spoonful of his ice cream. “i love you waffle lot sweetheart.” he watches you eat it and his heart beats with pure admiration for you. “hey you’ve got a little something..” he points at his lips then pushes your hand away when you try to wipe your own, “no no let me.” he gets up to get his lips on yours, kissing you ever so gently, letting his tongue brush over your upper then your lower lip before he pulls away.

“there wasn’t anything, was there?”

“nope just wanted to kiss you.”

softie.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @etherealxwitch @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @isthlsfate

[joeydoeeyes]

「✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡. ✦」

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥. 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧-𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤'𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧?

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𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: before you start reading, i'd just like to point out that even though this is an eddie x reader fic, it's mostly a story about girlhood and the effects and pressures of society, family, unresolved and suppressed traumas on teenage girls. there will be times you read this series and notice that the reader's actions contradict her thoughts or vice versa, sometimes her thoughts contradict her other thoughts and i'd just like to ask you to be open to understanding why she is the way she is and i hope you'll come to love her like i do. also, if you'd like to think of reader as an oc, you're free to do that! i have considered making her an oc but ultimately decided against it as this way felt better and more authentic for me to write it.

𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: a special thank you to my babies ames @elamity and leila @lushxboba who helped me tremendously when i started writing this series last year and K @joejoequinnquinn who i'm constantly bothering with my nonstop yapping. i wouldn't have done it without you, your support and trust in me made it happen. thank you <3 and to the girls who try their best but never seem to get it right, this is for you.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!cheerleader!reader, original characters, slow burn, reader mentally relates her younger self to chrissy, mentions of religion, god, food, ed's, murder, blood and bandages.

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monday morning. march 19th, 1984.

eleven weeks to graduation.

the ends of your hair feel itchy on the back of your neck. the hairtie holding your ponytail up is too tight, pulling too hard at your scalp and making the headache you had since math class even worse. you had your shoelaces tied around your ankles to keep them from coming undone during cheer practice and they felt fine at first but now it feels like they’re cutting your blood circulation off. the cafeteria was hot. way too hot and way too crowded. so many people breathing the same air, inhaling in the air someone else exhaled out. whoever invented school cafeterias is clearly someone who has never been to high school because if they did, they’d know better than putting over a hundred of teenagers in one room and a closed one at it. hormonal teenagers going through puberty, sweaty, hungry, loud for all the wrong reasons and seldomly the right ones.

your packed lunch food sitting on the table in front of you made matters worse. a sugar-free oatmeal protein bar, one piece of gluten free bread and half an apple, peeled and a bottle of lukewarm water. in your mother’s defense, the water bottle had ice in it when she packed it, it’s not her fault that it the ice melted.

you were hungry but the sight of your food made your nausea worse. all you were seeing with your blurry vision was that it was all brown, dry and lifeless. it looks like my shit when i take laxatives, you thought then immediately felt the guilt creep in in the sound of your mother’s voice, telling you that food is a blessing you must earn and you shouldn’t compare it to a flithy thing like that or god will punish you. another thing to add to your weekly repenting list. great.

for a second you look around, part of you hoping that looking beyond your hands’ reach will make the space seem bigger, more airy. selfishly hoping that your eyes might spot someone who seems more pathetic than you are so you’d think maybe you don’t have it so bad after all. maybe you’d spot someone being broken up with, someone who spilled pomegranate juice on their new white tshirt, someone with a huge zit on their most prominent feature, someone who got tripped, someone sitting alone, someone who had a makeover just because they’re desperate to fit in with the cool kids yet they still don’t so now they’re just the idiot wearing clothes they don’t like holding back tears as they realize just because they changed that doesn’t mean the world did too, it’s still cruel, harsh and unfair. by the world you mean teenage girls because what’s the difference anyway?

your eyes fall back down to your hands, you’ve seen it all. people are people and people never change. they’re pathetic, embarrassing and have an uncontrollable tendency to do weird things. it’s just a part of their DNA. our bodies weren’t made strong enough to contain us and our mortal urge to be flawed, you thought. fuck, gotta repent for questioning god’s creation too. at the rate you’re going, you’ll spend all of sunday afternoon locked away in a confession room asking a faceless being for forgiveness. can the day end before you collect more sins?

it’s okay. just one more stretch and you'll make it.

“where’d you go off too?” tara’s voice interrupts your thoughts as does her snappy fingers in front of your face.

“nowhere, i’m here.” you push her hand off and she rolls her eyes before eyeing your lunch with a gaze of disgust and hunger. exactly how you look at your own food most days.

“are you gonna eat that?” she asks and you nod no, mumbling ‘i’m not hungry’ as you push your tray further away from you.

you hear her sigh, if you were naive you’d think it was disappointment but you’re a teenage girl so you understand teenage girls. jealousy.

“i wish i had your discipline or your mom.” she says to you, “my mom is always nagging me about food and how i need to eat more. she always calls for me for dinner no more how many times i tell her i’m trying out a new diet.” you hear the other girls around the table click their tongues with their frowned sympathatic brows. nothing is sadder than first world problems.

you loved tara, you truly did. she’s relentless and bold. she’s the type of girl to never back down. when she wants something, she doesn’t ask for it, she doesn’t demand it, she takes it. there used to be a time in your life when you looked up to her, aspired to become half the girl she is. you wanted to be her just as much as you wanted to be her friend. until you did. that’s when you realized that tara is a hoax. tara is the posion you willingly you stir into your cup of honey tea. tara is a self-centered bitch who feeds off the feeling of superiority and pity. two things you never thought could mix together like that but weirdly in her, they did.

then you loved her even more.

well.. at least you loved how much you despised her, it made you feel better. maybe i am a terrible person but at least i’m not tara. that’s the thought that helped you sleep at night when your demons come out to play in the backyard of your mind.

shit.. maybe you’re a self-centred bitch who feeds off the feeling of superiority too.

“she’s insufferable.” you say flatly. it’s sarcasm in your head but you’ve mastered the art of keeping a motionless face at all times so they’ll never know. besides, having a cold face is a part of your.. charm. it keeps you mysterious, it keeps you safe. when people can’t tell what you’re feeling, it’s a guessing game. they’ll either want to know more or they’ll back away. nobody ever wanted to know more. that’s good.

the table keeps chattering, you can hear their voices but distantly. every few minutes you mindlessly comment on what they said without knowing what the topic is. as long as your response is superficial and sophisticated enough, you can be a part of any conversation.

if there’s one thing the people in hawkins loved to do, it’s to talk.

that’s why the sudden silence stunned you.

raising your head, you do a quick scan of everybody’s face, mid-gasp, trying to keep their composure and their jaw from hitting the filthy ground.

you don’t bother turning around to see what they’re looking at. words travel fast around here, you’ll know sooner or later.

“what the hell is everybody looking at?” tara before twisting her body to look behind her.

sooner, most likely.

“would you look at that..” she smirks, she’s never been one to hide how she feels. “the munson boy is back.”

“back? where has he been?” you ask, wondering what’s the big deal and why everyone looks like they’ve seen a ghost.

“didn’t you hear?” one of your cheerleading teammates says and she takes your deadpan silences as a ‘no’. “his mom died last week and he hasn’t shown up since.”

oh..

“it’s probably because he killed her and the cops had him locked up.” tara says, giggling, bringing unnecessary attention towards your table then she glares at the starers as if it wasn't what she wanted.

“if that’s the case then why did they let him go?” emily, another teammate of yours asks as she’s biting her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers, “i don’t feel safe with him being here.” you know emily means well, she’s just… scared of.. everything. all the time.

“it’s okay babe, we’ll talk to principle higgins, tell him eddie’s been harassing us and he’ll deal with it. he’s been waiting for a reason to expel that weirdo.” tara attempts to comfort emily, purposely saying the last word loudly when eddie walks by so he’d hear it.

“wait guys, what if the munson boy didn’t kill his mother, what if she killed herself?” another teammate of yours say, who the fuck is that? no seriously who is she? you’ve never seen her before. she’s not even in uniform. is she even on the team?

“i wouldn’t blame her. if that was my son, i’d kill myself too.” tara says laughing and everyone laughs along with her. they didn’t even find it funny.

“enough.” you speak and the silence takes over the table. no more fake giggles or chatter. all eyes fall onto you, waiting for your next word. the girls may want social approval from tara but they need to be on your good side even more. you’re cheer captain and in this messed up school, you’ve got more power than the principle himself. “his mother just died. be respectful.” you say calmly but still, your words are an order to them and they follow it silently.

you feel tara’s eyes peering into the side of your face but you ignore it and grab emily’s hands so she wouldn’t eat her fingers off. you keep holding her hands for the rest of your lunch break, rubbing your thumbs across them then you end up walking her to class before leaving for your own. of course not before she gives you a bone crushing hug.

there’s a reason why the girls respect you and it’s not solely because you’re in a position of authority over them. you care about them and they know it. they can feel it too, on the rare occasions you allow them to. like when emily is scared that her classmate might turn out to be a psycho murderer.

it can’t be true though right? there’s noway he could kill someone, let alone his own mother. you don’t know him, you’ve never spoke to him not even once. the only time you and eddie munson have crossed paths was during freshmen year, you had to skip class for cheer practice the day before and didn’t know you had a test on the following day. you assume eddie saw how you were struggling to write anything because on his way to hand in his exam sheet, he dropped his cheat paper on your desk. he didn’t look back and you didn’t even get to say thanks. then you never crossed paths again.

you remind yourself that you don’t really know eddie or what he’s capable of. maybe he did do it or maybe he didn’t. all you knew was that it’s none of your business and you needed to get a pain killer before heading to miss o’donnell's class otherwise you’ll paint the school walls with your brain and mrs. o’donnnell will put the rest of your body in detention.

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the nurse’s door was ajar so you let yourself in, “nurse..?” you called for her, stepping in further into her office until you saw someone sitting on the her little blue bed.

eddie.

his leather jacket was discarded next to him, did he seriously wear a leather jacket in this weather? maybe he is insane. you realize that you’ve never seen him without his jacket, you’ve never seen his arms so naturally your eyes fall towards them but instead of seeing his skin, you see white bandages wrapped around his arm. from his wrist and up to the middle of his forearm. there’s a red spot underneath the whites of the bandage, getting larger and larger each second, he’s bleeding and he knows you’re staring.

you lift your eyes of his arm and meet his gaze instead. he’s looking at you, probably waiting for you to say something. ask him what's wrong perhaps.

“where’s the nurse?” you finally speak.

“she went to get me a..” he stops himself from sharing, clearing his throat. “she said she’ll be right back.” he says instead.

you give him a nod then turn around and face the cabinets of medicine, trying to get them to open, hoping you’ll find one unlocked and by the fourth one, you do.

maybe god does love me after all, you think, digging through the pills until you found what you’re looking for.

you pop four painkillers into your palm as quick as you can before putting everything back in place.

eddie’s watches you steal the pills, he could easily tell the nurse and get you in trouble but who is he to talk? lord knows he’s had his fair share of stealing school supplies. wayne doesn’t need to know that the spinning chairs in their trailer kitchen used to be sitting in bio lab or that the purple curtains in their living room used to hang in mr.kingsley’s freshmen chemistry's class. so as far as eddie’s concerned, he didn’t see shit.

“i’m sorry about your mom.” you turn around and meet his eyes again before you glance at his bandage. the red spot has gotten bigger in the time you’ve looked away. he’s really bleeding out but it’s none of your business.

it’s none of your business.

it’s none of your business!

fuck.

“you should put pressure on that.” you speak against your best judgment and he just looks at you, blankly.

why would you speak to him? he frowns before looking down at his covered wound, seeing how much he’s bleeding. he grabs his arm and squeezes it, applying pressure like you said then when he looks up again, you’re gone.

he didn’t even get to say thanks.

you dry swallow two pills on your way to class, keeping the other two wrapped in a tissue in your pocket ‘for later’ and ‘just incase’ before you spot a younger girl from your team roaming the hallway.

“what are you doing here? why aren’t you in class?” god you sound like a teacher. but your girls have to have a perfect attendance record and maintain good grades otherwise they’ll get kicked off the team by the coach. he’s especially tough on the newer girls, the young ones and you cared about them too much to be okay with letting them go.

especially this one.

“free period.” she said, “i was heading to the library to finish up my homework.” her smile is wide and pretty. her potential is even prettier. she’s only a sophmore but you already know that once you graduate, she’ll take your place as head bitch in charge except she’s not a bitch. she’s sweet. too sweet even. she reminds you of yourself when you were her age, hopeful, twinkly eyed and sixteen. it makes you feel sick.

“it’s really cool how you stood up for the munson boy back there.” she says nervously, clearly unaware of whether it’s okay to bring this up or not. “i don’t know why tara said you’re a bitch, i think you’re nice.” she gasps, realizing she shouldn’t have said that but her mouth moved faster than her brain and it slipped.

of course tara would say that.

you laugh, it’s fake but you laugh to let her know she’s not in trouble.

“did tara mention why i’m a bitch?”

“she said you slept with her boyfriend and made them break up then you didn’t even date him..” she fiddles with her fingers, repeating the story tara has everyone convinced is true.

you nod, not even bothering to tell her the tale of what really happened because what’s the point? people want a scandalous story, a twisted narrative. nobody gives a fuck about the truth. why bother begging them to understand when you could just play the role you’ve been given? you play it well anyway.

“go do your homework.” you say, not addressing either of the tara accusations.

she gives you a tight lipped smile and goes on her way before you stop her once more, “hey! and eat your lunch.”

chrissy opens her mouth to say something but no words come out. she wonders how could you possibly know, she thinks she hides it so well.

and she does hide it well and you wish you didn’t but you know.

knowing is a curse and you always know.

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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @sillysteveharharhar @eddiesxangel @mmunson86 @angellicbeast @joejoequinnquinn @ali-r3n @mvnsonlover @b-irock @gnrquinn

[joeydoeeyes]

can you write one for Eddie where reader is usually all sunshine and rainbows, but her facade begins to crack and he realizes just how bad her depression is so he comfort her and just helps her do the little things like basic hygiene?

i was supposed to write for my eddie series today but i couldn't let this go and it reminded me of much i love writing requests <3 i hope you like this bb 🫂

warnings: fem!reader, reader struggles with depressed but no details, hurt/comfort, eddie being the bf we all deserve

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when eddie first met you, he was at the lowest point of his life. trapped inside the four dark walls of his mind with seemingly no way out and eventually he stopped looking for an escape. he accepted his fate and got comfortable in his somber solitude. too exhausted to keep on searching for the door’s knob that could get him out.

it wasn’t until you came in that he noticed there were cracks in the walls. he only saw them because your light broke through in a cervice and beamed inside, illuminating the familiar gloom in which he existed.

it was harsh at first. too much light had put him at such unease since he had grown used to the darkness but you were gentle and you were patient. you didn’t barge in, demanding for him to come out and let you burn his eyes with shine. you waited for him to tear the walls he built down by himself, one by one, brick by brick until the both of you were standing on the same side. having your moment underneath the warm sun, except his sunshine was different than yours.

his sunshine was a person.

that’s why he called you ray.

also because he felt like 'sunny' was too on the nose, even for him.

for eight months into your relationship, you’ve seen each other almost everyday. no how hectic and different your schedules get, you always made time for each other. at least for a five minute phone call at the end of the night.

two days in a row, you haven’t picked up the phone and eddie was going crazy but he didn’t want to pressure you, didn’t want to be overbearing. he wanted to give you space, be a cool boyfriend, not too 'overly clingy' as his friends once called him. he tried to be patient. truly did, but by the third day he couldn’t take your radio silence anymore so he showed up to your place.

loud knocks at the door woke you up from your half-sleep, half-closing-my-eyes-to-make-the-world-go-away state that you’ve been in for the last three days.

removing the blanket off your body felt like a chore and the bones of your spine cracked one by one as you sat up on the couch. your bed long abandoned in your room, it became too uncomfortable to sleep in with all the crumbs in it.

sighing, you brought yourself up to your feet and made your way to the door, not even bothering to ask who’s behind it before opening it.

if it’s a serial killer.. well, at least they were nice enough to knock before murdering you.

you wished it was a serial killer when you saw who’s behind the door.

“hi eds.” you fake a smile, trying to make it look as genuine as possible, hoping the dread of him seeing you like this is hidden behind your teeth.

“what’s wrong? where have you been?” he asks, his eyes scanning you up and down, taking in the state of you.

“nothing i’m fine, i’m sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i’ve been..” fake cough, “sick.” his hands fly to your face, touching your cheeks and forehead to check your temperature and it feels normal. “i’m better now!” you lie again but he doesn’t buy it.

frowning, “let me in.” he says.

you look besides you at the disarray of your apartment hidden behind the door, shame creeps into you at how you’ve let the place get like this. “the place is a mess and i don’t want you to get sick t..” you don’t get to finish your sentence behind he waltz in, “eddie!”

“jesus christ..” he utters as he takes in the state of the living room. the stacks of pillows and blankets on the couch, the empty packets of snacks on the floor, all of the mugs and cups from your kitchen lined up on the coffee table with dried god knows what liquid inside them but nothing catches his attention like your curtains.

they’re shut.

you never shut your curtains.

he vividly remembers you telling him that you love having your curtains and windows open, that you love the breeze that comes in and the natural light.

“i told you, it’s a mess.” you say sheepishly, crossing your arms over your chest after you shut the door.

eddie’s eyes fall upon you in your pajama pants and the tshirt you stole from his closet a few weeks ago, “baby..” his voice is soft, he tries to mirror the way you used to be with him when he was the one with the shut curtains. he knows what it’s like to be in your state but this is his first time being in your shoes, “how long has this been going on?”

giving up on keeping the façade up in front of him, you sit down on the couch where you were laying minutes ago. “always.” your eyes don’t meet his, instead you focus on playing with your fingernails, “i’m usually good at keeping things at bay, shoving it down and pretending all is good and happy and life is all rainbows and sparkles but i’ve been kind of all over the place lately.” you gesture to the mess in the living room with your head.

eddie takes careful steps towards you, sitting on his knees by your legs, his hands find yours and he holds them tenderly rubbing his thumb on your knuckles. “why didn’t you talk to me?”

“i didn’t want to disappoint you.” you say, your voice low. “i know you think of me as your light and i was scared that if you saw me like this, you’d retrogress and you’ve been doing so good eds, i couldn’t burden you with this.” his heart shatters at your words. always selfless, always giving. even at your worst, you thought of him first. “it’s stupid anyway, i’ll get my shit together. i always do, i just need some time.”

“was i a burden to you?” eddie asks and your eyes finally meet his, widened and in disbelief.

“what? no eddie never.” you tell him truthfully.

“then what makes you think you’d be a burden to me?”

you frown, you see his point but still. “i just thought.. you have so much on your plate already.”

“and so did you when you came into my life.”

“it’s different!”

“how is it different?” he says with no judgment in his voice. he just wants to know where your mind is at.

biting your lip, you answer, “i wanted to be there for you. i wanted to help in anyway you’d let me. i wanted to do that then.”

“and i want to do it now.” he says delicately. “i want to be here for you.” he brings your hands to his lips and plants soft kisses on each one of them. “i want you to let me be here with you.”

“baby.. i love you.” his honeyed eyes peer into yours with undeniable sincerity and you mumble, ‘i love you too.’ before he continues, “i’m not gonna force you to get better this second or hold you and scream ‘life is good just take a look around!’ in your face. i’m not gonna make you a therapy appointment first thing in the morning and i’m not gonna force pills down your throat like some kind of a crazy maniac doctor.” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood and his heart flutters when he sees a glimpse of a smile on your face.

“but i’m not gonna let you go through this by yourself.” he shake his head, “so don’t waste your energy trying to get rid of me because i’m one stubborn hell of a bitch and it’s not gonna happen.” you pull your hand from his grasp to wipe a tear, you don’t even know why you’re crying but these days you don’t seem to know a lot of things. “come here.” he pulls you down into his lap and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and secure in his embrace.

you let yourself sob on his shoulder for a few seconds, “i stink.”

“you smell better than i do after a day at the autoshop.” he jokes and you laugh through your cries, wetting his shirt, both the one he’s wearing and the one you’re wearing. “i want you to ask me for help. i want to help you however you’d let me. i want to be here.” he says, kissing your shoulder, “you’re not a burden. you’re my baby, you’re my sunlight.”

“even now?” your voice is tired, almost as tired as your soul.

“especially now.” he says, no hesitation in his tone. “will you let me be here for you, ray?” you nod, resting your head against his chest. his heartbeats calm your precarious mind, putting an end to the constant flow of vitriolic thoughts. “i love you.”

you stayed like that for what feels like hours. eddie holding and running a soothing hand up and down your body while you breathed him in, taking in his presence and his words.

“eds?” you whisper his nickname and he immediately grants you his undivided attention.

“umm?”

“do you mind helping me shower?”

a smile is drawn on his face, this is progress, he thinks as he says, “not at all. come on.”

he helps you up and walks with you to the bathroom then he pulls his shirt and jeans off his body, staying in just his boxers before helping you strip your own clothes off.

you feel comfortable standing naked in front of him, he makes you feel safe enough to be vulnerable.

he turns the tap on and makes sure the water is more warm than cold before instructing you to stand underneath it.

the water feels good on your skin, you missed having it engulfing you like this.

he sees you reaching for the soap and your washcloth, “hey hey, let me.” taking them off your hands, he makes a foam and start washing your body for you. all the way from your shoulders and underneath your arms and boobs, down your back before he squats down to wash your legs, you blush as he carefully cleans between your thighs, his eyes squinted and his tongue is peeking out in concentration. he looks adorable.

“all done. now turn around for me please.” he says as he gets the shampoo and pours some into his hand before gently shampooing your hair, detangling it and rubbing your scalp with his fingers.

“feels good?”

you moan as a response and he giggles, “close your eyes, lean back.” you do as he asks, “yeah just like that.” he keeps massaging your head for much longer than necessary but you don’t mind it, it feels nice to be taken care of like that.

finally, he washes your face and once the water starts to get chilly, he pulls you out of the shower and into your bathrobe, “i love you eds.” you tell him, standing at the sink in front of the mirror while he puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

he smiles, “open up.” you open and let him brush your teeth for you, “i love you too, now spit.”

“this is the first time you tell me to spit.” you joke as you’re foaming at the mouth, literally.

he laughs and slaps your butt on his way out of the bathroom, “come on ray, let’s get you dressed and get some real food, i’m starving.”

you take a second to stare at yourself in the mirror. you’re starting to recognize yourself a little more. still not to the point where you can comfortably say this is who i am and i like who i am but...

“umm ray, i think there's a decapitated cockroach in one of the cups…” eddie yells from your living room, you can hear him picking up the trash and tidying up the space. “nevermind! it’s just boba!”

... you know that one day, guided by the cracks of sunlight beaming from your silly boy, you’ll get there and he’ll be right there with you.

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @joeydoeeyes @ho-for-joequinn-fics @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99

[joeydoeeyes]

you took my breath away so now i can't suck in my stomach around you anymore <3