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waitimcomingtoo · 3 months

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Come See About Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: Tom realizes he got you all wrong and slowly falls as he learns more about you during the press tour

Masterlist

“Oh shoot. I’m press with Y/n all week.” Tom said as he read an email from his team.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked him.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t really know her that well. She was super reserved on set for the few days I shot with her. I wonder why they paired me with her.”

“Well, you’re the same age, right? The movie team probably just want to start romance rumors for publicity.”

“I don’t think that will happen. I barely got to know her during filming. I doubt anyone will see chemistry between us.” Tom replied. He started pacing around his hotel room and felt uncharacteristically nervous for the day ahead.

“Well for your sake, let’s hope you don’t see chemistry between you either.” Harry snorted.

“How do you mean?” Tom frowned.

“You know how messy relationships in the public eye can be. Just don’t go falling in love with this girl, okay? I do not want to watch you pine after your dark and mysterious costar.” Harry warned him.

“Psh. I won’t fall in love with her. That would never happen.” Tom scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone. He ended up on Instagram and saw that you had recently posted a photo. It was just a simple selfie in your hotel room which was probably just a few doors down from Tom’s. He found himself smiling and gave the photo a like. He may not have gotten to know you on set, but there’s no reason he couldn’t get to know you now.

“But if I did, why would that be bad?” Tom asked as he deep stalked your Instagram.

“The way I see it, there are two outcomes if you choose to pursue her. Option one is you get swept up in the excitement of promoting the movie and start reading into every little interaction between the two of you because that’s what the public is doing. So you convince yourself you’re in love with her and maybe she’ll even convince herself of the same thing. But once the press tour is over and you get to be with each other without any reason or purpose, you realize you never actually liked each other. And that’ll just end up breaking both your hearts. Even worse if only one of you realizes you never actually liked the other. God. That would be a nightmare.” Harry shivered.

“Okay.” Tom said slowly. “That was oddly specific. So what’s the other outcome?”

“You fall in love with her on this press tour and then it ends before you get a chance to tell her. So she flies off to film another movie and you’re stuck kicking yourself for not being honest with her sooner. And I’m stuck watching you whine about it.” Harry said simply.

“Or, hear me out, secret third option.” Tom proposed. “I fall for her and she falls for me and we have a great relationship. And maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn’t. But at least we gave it a shot. That could happen, right?”

“Maybe. But either way, she’s getting on a plane at the end of this press tour. And you can’t fall in love with someone who’s worlds away. Remember that.” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with her.” Tom insisted.

“Promise?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Promise.” Tom said weakly. He looked at your picture one more time before shutting his phone off.

The next morning, Tom got into a black van that was going to take the cast to the building where the interviews were taking place. You got into the car shortly after with a huge smile on your face that Tom had never seen before. You were in a nice dress and full glam already, unintentionally earning yourself Tom’s full attention.

“Good morning.” You said enthusiastically as you sat in the seat beside him. He was slightly taken aback by how friendly you were being since he had only ever seen you being quiet and reserved.

“Oh, hello.” He smiled in surprise. “Good morning to you too, darling. How are you doing?”

“I’m really excited for today.” You admitted. “I haven’t done a big press tour like this before. I know they can be a little boring and repetitive but I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. These tours are pretty crazy. You get to see a lot of amazing places which is really cool. But you also get to answer the same question 100 times a day for a month straight. You’ll learn the highs and the lows pretty soon.”

“I’m ready for it all. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate any tips I can get.” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. You’ll get used to waking up at the crack of dawn and having a bunch of people you’ve never met poke you with makeup and hair stuff.”

“When?” You asked through a yawn. “Because I have a full face of makeup on before my brain is fully awake and it feels so very, very wrong.”

“Not soon enough.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to stay half asleep while the nice ladies apply my concealer.”

“Oh, so this complexion isn’t natural?” You teased and pointed to his face.

“Nope. You’re not the only one in full glam right now, darling.” He humored you, making you laugh.

“Careful. You don’t know if you can’t trust me yet. I might sell that piece of bad boy information to a news site and get you exposed.” You warned. It was Tom’s turn to laugh and he felt amazed that he had never seen this side of your personality before.

“I hope you don’t. I was just about to say that I’m glad I can share your first big press tour with you but now I feel we may have begun an enemies arch.”

“No. We can’t be enemies.” You whined playfully. “Because I was gonna say that I’m glad you’re here too. You always seem so relaxed and funny in interviews. I’m really hoping I don’t come off as nervous as I feel today.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. It’ll feel just like a conversation.” He assured you. He was pleased to know you were a watcher of his interviews and wondered what else he’d uncover about you that day.

“Thank. I really appreciate you helping me with all this.”You said sincerely.

“It’s no trouble. If you have any other questions, just ask. I’ll help wherever I can.” He told you.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and suddenly remembered what Harry had said the night before about not falling in love with you. Tom was just one conversation in and already struggling to keep his promise.

Once the van arrived at the building, you and Tom had makeup touch ups and were then sent into the junket room.

“Wow. I haven’t seen the poster yet.” You gasped and touched the poster with gentle fingertips. Tom watched you admiring it and smiled when he saw how proud you looked.

“You look good up there. I hope to see you on more posters.” He said and nudged you slightly.

“Like in Playboy?” You asked and looked insulted.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No, no, no. I didn’t-“

“I’m just messing with you.” You cut him off and nudged him back. He felt his hearts too racing and cracked a smile.

“You really had me for a second there, darling. I didn’t realize you had such a sense of humor. I guess I never heard you say much on set.”

“Thats because I found it hard to shake my character after filming all day. I guess I’m not used to separating that yet. I loved my character and all but I’m so glad to be done shooting her. She’s so dark and dramatic. It really affected my mood on set.” You told him as you both sat down in your chairs.

“Oh, wow. So you’re not quiet? You were just in character?”

“Quiet? I’ve never been described as quiet.” You laughed. “I was just in my emo phase on set because the material I was shooting was so dark. It bummed me out all day.”

“But you’re not bummed out today?” He asked with a coy smile.

“Fuck no. I’m ready to party.” You whispered to him just as the journalist came in. He burst out laughing at the unexpected expletive and earned himself a look from the journalist.

“Well alright then.” He chuckled.

That was the first of many times you made Tom laugh that day. The more interviews you did together, the more he learned about you and your personality. He paid attention to every anecdote and personal story you shared and was more and more fascinated each time.

When it came time for day two of the press tour, he could not wait to get back in there with you. The interviews were in the hotel that day and Tom got to the junket room first. When you got there, you handed him a hot cup of tea.

“For you.” You smiled and sat beside him. Tom looked at you curiously and you gestured for him to sip it. He took a sip and widened his eyes when he tasted it.

“This is exactly how I take my tea.” He said incredulous.

“I know. I was listening when you ordered at breakfast yesterday.” You said proudly.

“Thank you, darling. I really appreciate that.” He smiled fondly at you before taking another sip.

“Well I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday.” You smiled shyly. “I was really nervous yesterday until we talked in the car. You made my first press day really memorable. So I did the normal courtesy of eavesdropping on you and brought you your favorite tea.”

“That was very kind of you. And you made my day yesterday a lot better than I was expecting so I should be thanking you too.”

“Then I’ll loudly tell someone else my favorite way to drink tea so that you can eavesdrop and surprise me.” You joked as the journalist walked in.

“How are you guys doing today?” The journalist asked to start the interview.

“I’m doing really well now that Y/n brought me tea.” Tom answered and took another sip.

“I’m also doing really well but because Tom didn’t bring me tea.” You said and looked at Tom to see if he found it funny.

“Why would that make you happy?” He laughed.

“Because I hate tea.” You shrugged.

“What? Don’t you know that is the worst thing you can say to an English person? And you just told me you had a favorite tea.”

“That was a joke. I actually hate tea.” You admitted.

“How can anyone hate tea?” Tom asked in exasperation.

“It’s just like hot, flavored water. I don’t understand what’s good about it. I hate soup too.“

“Soup too?” Tom gasped and pretended to clutch his petals.

“I think soup is so nasty. Why would I ever want to eat hot blended food?”

“If you hate soup and you hate tea, then what do you do when you’re sick?”

“I watch Fantastic Mr. Fox under my covers like a normal person.” You answered, making him laugh.

“This is very disturbing information to learn so early in the morning. You’ve surprised me, darling.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You shrugged with a laugh.

The next day, Tom was pleased to see you already waiting in your chair for the interview to start. You were texting on your phone but looked up when he came into the room. Your makeup artists was touching up your lipstick so you couldn’t smile at him and opted for a wink. He found himself blushing at the wink and sat beside you.

“Morning, darling.”

“Good morning. No tea today?” You teased.

“I’ve already had my tea, for your information. I chugged it while I got my makeup done.”

You laughed but he wasn’t actually kidding about getting his makeup done. He was just happy that it made you laugh. Your makeup artists finished up and you checked your makeup in your phone camera.

“You look pretty.” Tom said before he could stop himself. You looked over at him in surprise before smiling.

“Why, thanks. So do you.” You said and shot him another wink. He blushed and looked down at his lap at the compliment.

“God, I’m gonna be thinking about lunch this entire interview.” You whispered to him.

“You didn’t eat at the craft service table?”

“I can’t eat that early in the morning.” You waved your hand. “It makes me nauseous. Now I’m wishing I did though. My kingdom for a cheese stick.”

“I hate cheese.” Tom grimaced.

“What? Even in stick form?” You asked him.

“Even in stick form.” He humored you. “And you can’t judge me because you hate the two most comforting foods on earth.”

“I’m judging you so hard right now.” You mumbled. Tom laughed as an idea came to him.

Before your next interview, Tom made a quick stop at the bakery across the street. You were already in the room waiting to start by the time he got back. He quickly fixed his hair before holding out a little brown paper bag.

“For you.” He said with a bashful smile.

“What is this?” You asked as you took the bag.

“Open it.” He said as he sat beside you. You gave him a curious look before opening the bag.

“Scone?” You gasped and looked up at him.

“Scone!” He smiled proudly.

“You got me a scone? Why?” You wondered and took the stone out of the bag.

“Because it was easier to find than a cheese stick.” He chuckled.

“I love you.” You cupped his chin before taking a bite of the scone. Tom froze and felt his face turn bright red at your words. You realized he had gone quiet and looked over at him.

“Sorry. Was it too soon to say that?” You asked with a mouthful of scone.

“I think so. Aren’t you supposed to wait three months?” He chuckled and touched a cold hand to his burning face.

“Too bad. The introduction of the scone sped up our relationship and now we’re in love.” You shrugged and took another bite. Tom laughed again and looked down at his laugh.

“So, uh, speaking of our relationship. Have you seen the way fans have been shipping us since our last few interviews hit the Internet? How weird is that?” He said and forced a laugh. He didn’t actually find it weird, he just wanted it see how you felt about the possibility of a relationship.

“I was actually deep into the fan edits last night to be perfectly honest with you.” You said through a laugh.

“Were you?” He asked in surprise.

“I was. And I heard that we’ve been secretly dating since May. Did you know that?”

“I did. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He played along.

“That’s okay. I can’t be mad at you since you blessed me with a scone.”

The journalist came in once you had finished your scone and the interview began. Tom was barely paying attention to the questions and only focused on hearing your answers. He loved that he wasn’t getting to learn new things about you that he was too shy to ask.

“Unpopular opinion?” The journalist asked.

“A lot of people think cats are girls and dogs are boys but the real take here is that all seagulls are boys.”

“Woah, what? What makes all seagulls boys?” Tom asked you.

“A girl would never act like that.” You said simply, making Tom laugh.

“My unpopular opinion is that Y/n’s best movie is Look Mom, No Hands.” Tom said, making you burst out laughing.

“I know you did not just bring up my Disney Chanel original movie from when I was 11.”

“Yes I did. Because I watched it last night and I cried when you made the winning goal even after your glasses broke from the soccer ball hitting you in the face.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “The drama.”

“It was! The opposing team totally kicked it into your face on purpose because they knew you were the underdog. But nevertheless, she persisted. You made the winning goal and your team won the championship.”

“Wow. Way to spoil my movie from 15 years ago. And why were you even watching that?”

“Because I needed to know who I was working with everyday. It’s a part of your lore. Now that I know you’ve starred in a DCOM, I know I can trust you.”

“I was not the star. Bridget Mendler was the star. I was just the quirky best friend.” You reminded him, making Tom laugh.

“Well you were the only one I was looking at, okay darling? You were the star for me.” He said as he looked over at you. You smiled at his answer and nodded your head.

“Good answer. Favorite snack?” The journalist asked.

“Oh no. You’re gonna think I’m weird.” You smiled sheepishly.

“What? I could never, darling. What is it?” Tom asked and turned in his chair to face you.

“I put mustard on popcorn.” You grimaced.

“What the hell?” Tom’s nose scrunched in disgust.

“See! I knew you’d think I was a little freak.”

“Mustard? On popcorn? Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re thinking it’s worse than it is. Yellow mustard on lightly salted popcorn is really good, okay? Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it for me. Because I cannot imagine it’s good.” Tom shook his head.

“If I can get my hands on some mustard during this press tour, I will be at your door in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a date.”Tom replied, making you smile.

“It better be.” You answered, and he returned the smile.

Tom was fully in it now. Every second that he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. You started spending your evenings together and grabbed dinner every night after your interviews. He was falling fast and getting worse and worse at hiding it. He posted a photo of the two of you that the paparazzi had taken while you were out to dinner and captioned it “I’d wait out in the cold all night just to take pictures of her too”. He tagged you and it wasn’t long before you were in his comments saying “he’s so obsessed with me it’s honestly embarrassing”. He smiled at the comment and wrote back “yes, and?” before going to bed.

The press tour was coming to an end and on the last day, Tom walked into the junket room to find only one chair in the room.

“Oh. No Y/n?” Tom asked his manager.

“Nope. Solo interviews today.” They replied. Tom faked a smile and sat in his chair. He hoped his disappointment wasn’t as obvious as it felt as he gave the interview alone. He did a few more solo interviews throughout the day and eventually got to his last one. It wasn’t long before the door opened up and you walked into the room with Tom’s water bottle.

“Hi. I’m crashing. Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly and walked into the room.

“That’s quite all right. Do you want a chair?” The journalist asked you.

“I’m good.” You smiled politely and sat on Tom’s knee. He immediately blushed and looked up at you.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Tom grinned.

“I finished early so I brought you juice.” You said and handed him the water bottle.

“What? No way.” He smiled in appreciation and opened up the water bottle to see apple juice inside.

“Juice!” You cheered.

“Juice!” He echoed. “Thank you, darling. What a nice surprise.”

“Well I had to get you back for the scone.“ You told him.

“So Tom, I have to ask about your Instagram post from yesterday. You tagged Y/n in an interesting place, Tom. Care to comment on that?” The journalist asked now that you had joined the interview.

“He tagged me there because it’s where you can usually find me.” You chuckled.

“Wait, I’m lost? Where did I tag her?” Tom asked. You and the journalist exchanged a look before you pulled out your phone to show Tom his own post from the night before. He had accidentally tagged you right on his crotch, making him turn red when he saw his mistake. And when he pieced together what you meant by what you had just said, he turned even redder.

“Oh my God. I swear, I’m just Instagram stupid. I didn’t mean to tag her there.” Tom explained.

“Yes he did. He tagged me in my location. Because that’s where I am.” You kept up the joke just to tease him.

“Where?” The journalist laughed.

“On Tom’s dick.” You shrugged. Tom covered his red face with his hands as you and the journalist laughed.

“People know that about me. If they can’t find me, they don’t ask “hey where’s Y/n?” because they already know where I am. It’s my happy place. My sanctuary. My home away from home.” You continued.

“No. No more. My mum watched these.” He playfully scolded you.

“Hey, you started this.” You reminded him.

“And I’m ending it.”

“Actually, I’m the one who has to end it. That’s all the time we have. Thanks guys.” The journalist said. The last interview was done, meaning the press tour was officially over. You stood up and adjusted your skirt before looking at Tom. He smiled softly but felt his disappointment return. The tour was over which meant today was his last day with you. He knew you’d keep in touch, but it would never be like this again, and that’s made him sad.

Instead of wallowing in his sadness, Tom did something about it. He stopped by the corner store before making his way to your hotel room. In his way there, he ran into his brother Harry. Harry took one look at the bag of popcorn in his hands and knew what was happening.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Shut up.” Tom groaned. “I can still fire you.”

“You did the one thing you said you wouldn’t do. Now look at you. One your way to eat the most American combination of foods I have ever seen. You’re a disgrace to your homeland.”

“I couldn’t help it, okay? She made me fall for her. It’s all her fault, really. Now leave me alone. I have a girl to surprise with a disgusting snack.” Tom said and went on his way. He took a deep breath before knocking on your door. You opened your door for him and he held up his bag of supplies.

“Hey, you. What’s this?”You raised an eyebrow.

“Mustard and popcorn. You little freak.” He said with a teasing smile. Your lips curved into a smile as you stared at him.

“Get in here.” You instructed.

He went into your room and shut the door behind him as you poured the bag popcorn into two bowls. He did his best to hide his disgust as you squirt mustard over them both.

“Here. You’re gonna love this.” You said as you handed him his bowl.

“It smells like mustard.” He grimaced.

“Well, that’s 50% of the ingredients.”

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’m eating one.” He said and popped a mustard covered piece of popcorn into his mouth. You watched him as he chewed it and could tell he hated it.

“Well?” You asked.

“I’m gonna throw up.” He answered.

“Spit it out.” You laughed.

“No. You like this so I’m gonna force myself to like it too.” He said a begrudgingly swallowed the popcorn. You laughed at him but your smile slowly faded and you looked a little upset.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda down tonight.” You told him.

“You are? What’s bothering you?”

“I guess I’m just sad the tours over. I don’t like when things end.” You admitted with a sad smile.

“I’m sad it’s over too. They usually exhaust me but I don’t know. I particularly enjoyed this one.” Tom replied sheepishly without meeting your eyes.

“You did?” You asked as you ate your popcorn.

“I did. Mostly because I enjoyed getting to know you.” He admitted and finally looked up at you. You smiled in surprise and scooted closer to him. Tom gulped and looked down at his lap. The tour was officially over so if he didn’t want you to get on a plane without ever knowing how he felt, he was gonna have to speak now.

“You know, before the tour started, my brother made me promise that I wasn’t gonna fall for you.” Tom admitted.

“What?” You laughed softly. “Why would he make you promise that?”

“I don’t know. He said it would only end in two ways.” Tom said and looked into your eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Which were?” You wondered.

“We get caught up in the excitement of the movie so we start a fling and then breakup when the tour ends.”

“Well that didn’t happen. So what was the other option?”

“I fall for you and never tell you. And the tour ends and you get on a plane and I regret it for the rest of my life. But I guess that option didn’t happen either since I told you.” He said as he never dropped your gaze. You stared into his eyes for a moment as you processed what he had just admitted.

“Well, what if there was a secret third option?”

“Secret third option?” Tom asked with intrigue.

“I mean, just because the tour is ending that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of you and me, does it?” You said and leaned in even closer.

“It doesn’t?” He gulped at your close proximity.

“I don’t think so. And look. You bought me food. That makes this is our first date.” You explained as you held up your bowl of popcorn.

“Well I’m happy to hear that but don’t expect a kiss with your mustard breath.” Tom mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” You played along.

“I said you’re so pretty and I have a giant crush on you and want us to be together.” He said quickly.

“Much better.” You smiled and popped some popcorn into your mouth.

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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rendezvouz-fling · 1 year

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Astro observations #5

Moon signs edition!🍂

• Aries moons, are not even the type to hold grudges or be mad for that long. My bestie has this placement and—we rarely get mad at each other but when we used to she’d literally get so sarcastic (she’s a libra rising) after trying to call me out on my BS. But then would literally text me half an hour later and act like it never happened lol.

• Fire moons are the type to explode in the moment but put it behind them and just continue about like it never happened.

• Air moons are the types to ghost their friends lmao.

• Aquarius moons tend to avoid their partner if they start feeling suffocated in a relationship or if they start losing feelings they’ll just start detaching.

• Libra moons are so indecisive!! They’ll literally reason their pro and cons about something but never really make up their minds.

• Gemini moons give me more Gemini rising vibes than Gemini risings do! Lol 😭.

• Also what is it with some Gemini moons’ moms not giving them attention? To the point of not even checking on them to see how they’re doing or to ask how their mental health’s going…

• Sagittarius moons and never admitting they’re wrong>>>

• Fire moons have some of the biggest hearts!!

• Aquarius/Capricorn moons DO have feelings and they DO feel them. They’re just forced to internalize them most of the times in their home environment so that’s why they come across as “cold”.

• Moons at Capricorn degree (10/22) tend to have to raise themselves in a way.

• I love how bold and raw Aries moons are! Definitely ride or die type friends.

• Virgo moons tend to be heavily attached to their mothers even if their mothers aren’t the most emotional.

• Cancer moons are hella sweet and nurturing! My heart goes out to these people.<3

• Taurus moons cook so well?🤠

• Leo moons can have emotionally immature mothers or mothers that don’t know how to be moms. My heart goes out to these people too! I know that apart from that ego there’s a big genuine heart that’s tired of being hurt. 🤎

• Scorpio moons may be well reserved but once you get close with them they are the sweetest, most kindest people with big hearts. 💞

• Once a Sagittarius moon or Aries moon is vulnerable around you, that’s when you know you’ve won them over.

• Might I add with Sag moons it could be more spontaneous, like, you won’t see it coming.

• Pisces moons are literally the sweetest people ever! But the men—if underdeveloped can the most manipulative people ever.

• I see so many Cancer moons act like superficial Aries moons lol. Very fiesty too and funny May I add!

• Virgo moons could literally be having a mental breakdown but won’t tell you even if you ask them. You’ll probably notice it if they’re biting their nails.

• Earth moons are the type who will know important stuff and you won’t even know they know unless you ask them lol.

• Aquarius moons are the ones you go to for advice. ☝🏽

• Aries moons be having the craziest yet funnest ideas ever loll. “When we see that girl we’re gonna go up to her and confront her, oh and I’ll make sure to bring my baseball bat with the spikes.” Said by my Aries moon bestie💀

• Leo moons literally be holding back on their crazy ideas when they like someone! Even in a relationship. Unless you prove to them that you’re down with whatever then you’ll never really hear them suggest some out of pocket ideas.

• Remember that cousin/sibling with the crazy ideas? Yeah they were probably an Aquarius moon lmao.😂

• Gemini/Sag moon culture is giving somebody advice or encouraging them to take impulsive risks but then saying “That’s just what my opinion though/But that’s just me.” 🌚

• If Saturnian moons are venting then Capricorn moons would be the first to cry, hands down.

• I’ve noticed singers with really big status or influence tend to have mostly Water moons and musicians mostly Air moons. E.g. Michael Jackson & Prince were Pisces moons, Beyoncé is a Scorpio moon, Eddie Van Halen & Randy Rhodes were Aquarius moons, etc…

• Fire moons are also the type to start talking to you first after an argument. Sag moons will try to get close to you again by bringing a topic you both enjoy. Aries moons will bring something random up and continue like y’all didn’t just argue moments ago. Leo moons will tell you not to talk to them then they’ll start talking to you a minute later and if you bring it up they’ll get angry again lol. But they’re not the type to stay mad that long. <3

• Virgo moons will either stay mad at you then if you try to talk to them they’ll hit you with what they think you did/said wrong. Then after 5 minutes they’ll be alright again. Or they’re the type to try to offer you something after they’ve made you mad to smooth things out lol.

• Sag moons 🤝 being unapologetically unfiltered

#astro notes #astrology #astro posts #astro community #astro observations #astro placements #moon signs #rendezvous-fling

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 5 months

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Slutmas Day 1

Only You (Matt)

Request: you're secretly fw and both have real feelings for one another but won't act on it. you guys go to a party where this girl keeps tryna get at matt, being super flirtatious and tryna b all touchy feely. matt turns her down but she keeps being persistent and it's making you jealous so you avoid him for the rest of the night. but he finds you and shows you that it's only you? idk idk @lustfulslxt

Warnings: Slight angst, sorta public sex, friends to lovers, fluffy ending, jealous reader, confessing their love for one another, slight mention of beer/alcohol and marijuana

“I don’t want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do baby”

Y/n’s pov

I was over at the triplets house, everyone was getting ready to go to some influencer party but Chris and Nick were taking forever. I was in Matt’s room with him while we waited on his brothers. “You know, you look really hot tonight princess” he said which caused me to roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay Matthew” I replied with attitude. You see, the thing is, Matt and I are friends with benefits but we’ve both developed some feelings for each other. Lately he’s been hanging around this one other girl quite a lot and to be honest it’s starting to piss me off. I’m jealous and I’ll admit it, so I’ve been kind of dismissive towards him lately, not wanting to get my heart broken.

Anyways, back to me and Matt talking. “Don’t be so harsh princess, I’m just complimenting what’s mine” Matt dumbly smirked at me. “Oh shut the fuck up Matthew, I’m not yours and you’re not mine, you’ve made that very clear!” I replied. As I was opening his door he yelled “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” but I had already made my way down to Chris room. “Can you please hurry up, I want to go” “Yeah, yeah, pick out shoes and a shirt for me and I’ll be ready” he mumbled. Finally everyone was ready and we got into the van, we’ll probably take an Uber home just to be safe since Matt was probably going to get wasted.

•••Time Skip•••

We had been at this party for about two hours and I was already pretty high, only having one drink. Matt has been talking to some new bitch, I glared over at him as he smiled at me. He was seemingly unaware of anything being wrong so I decided to just continue avoiding him. “Hey pretty lady, watcha smoking there?” Matt asked me as I look another hit off my pen. I rolled my eyes and walked away from him with a scoff but was quickly pulled into a different direction. “Hey let me fucking go!” I yelled at whoever was dragging me but they turned around and of course it was Matt.

“Matthew! What the fuck!” I yelled at him but he just kept walking. After a minute or two, we made it to an unoccupied bathroom, Matt quickly pushed me inside and locked the door before pushing me up against it. “What’s your deal tonight? You’re acting—“ he started before I cut him off by pushing him off of me. “What’s wrong Matt? That chick you’ve been flirting with all night turn you down?” I rolled my eyes. “Other way around, I turned her down sweetheart. Stop being so fucking jealous!” Matt said between gritted teeth as his hand came up to wrap around my throat.

“Stop fucking every girl you see!” I yelled back but that just seemed to piss Matt off more considering he pushed me up against the wall. “You’re the only girl I’m fucking, you’re the only girl I’m talking to, you’re the only girl that I fucking care about!” he once again yelled before smashing our lips together. The kiss was hot and sloppy, our tongues fighting for dominance as our teeth clashed together. It was so needy, we only pulled away long enough for Matt to say “Jump” and catch me. I was set on the bathroom counter and Matt finally pulled away from me, both of us out of breath.

“Let me prove it to you” Matt said as he started kissing my neck. “Okay” with that he pulled off my panties and shoved them in his pocket before undoing his belt and pants, letting those and his boxers pool around his ankles. “You ready baby?” “Yes please” Matt lined himself up with me before thrusting in and out slowly. “Matt babe, faster please” I whined and he obliged, pounding into me like no tomorrow. “Fuck this pussy was made for ME! You’re mine, you got that Y/n? MINE!” he grunted out as he somehow started going faster.

I was pulling on his hair and loudly moaning, if anybody walked by the door they’d definitely hear me. “I don’t want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do baby!” Matt said pulling back and slowing down a little bit, “Bad timing but please be my girlfriend!” he added. I was shocked to say the least but I agreed, “Yes! Yes I’m yours Matt! All yours!” I whimpered. As soon as I agreed to be his girlfriend, he went back to railing me like no tomorrow.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close!” “Me too baby just hold on” he started to rub my clit and smashed his lips against mine again. His movements were all so fast and overwhelming in the best way possible and it was getting harder to hold my orgasm in. Luckily for me, Matt pulled back from the kiss just enough to mumble, “Cum for me baby, cum so I can fill you up” against my lips. With that, I let go, cumming hard and clenching around his cock.

I threw my head back as I moaned, causing my head to hit the mirror “Careful baby— Oh god fuck! Yeah that’s right- You’re pussy’s so fucking tight for me, shit!” Matt moaned as he came inside of me. Both of our legs were a little bit shaky and our breathing was erratic but even as Matt pulled out, everything in this moment felt right. “Let me clean you up sweetheart” Matt said as he grabbed a washcloth from under the sink, getting it wet before gently wiping me down. “Hey Matt, I think I’m in love you” I spoke quietly as Matt cleaned himself off and put his pants back on.

“I know I’m fucking in love with you. I love you and I have for so long, I just didn’t want you to leave me so I never told you” he admitted to me, standing in between my legs and fixing my hair. “Can I take you out on a date tomorrow Matty?” “No but I’ll take you out on a date” he winked. “By the way you’re not getting your panties back tonight” he smirked as I hopped off the counter. “Maaatttt no, I need them” I protested but he just opened my he bathroom door and grabbed my hand.

“No you don’t, me and you are going home. I’ll tell Nick and Chris to catch an Uber” I just rolled my eyes with a cheesy smile on my face. “You better massage my legs when we get home” I teased as Matt opened the car door for me. “Oh trust me, I’m gonna run you a nice warm bath and take off your makeup and dry your hair and just take care of you for the rest of the night my love” Matt smiled before placing a quick peck to my lips and driving us home.

All work is subject to copyright

©️ Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2023

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taissaturnersgf · 19 days

Text

Taissa’s empathy is so underrated and never talked about. Taissa is known for being cunning, sassy, and eager to win at all costs.

She has rage, she has ambitions, and she has a sharp tongue that she isn’t afraid to use.

But she’s also the one who checked on everyone the days after the plane crash.

The first and only thing she thought about right as they got out of the plane was VAN, where is she? is she okay? As soon as they saw each other, their instinct was to check on their wounds.

She assured Coach Ben (even if the situation can be interpreted in various ways) when he was under major pain and panic.

That same night, it was her that noticed Laura Lee having a hard time, and made sure to see after her.

“You okay Laura Lee?”

She was the one checking in on Mari when she looked so lost and distressed.

She’s the one who helped Akilah with her hair, an action that carries so much symbolism, that shows how the only two black women have each others’ backs.

She’s the one who made sure Lottie was safe inside the cabin, being worried for her.

She’s the one who first noticed Shauna’s pregnancy, and helped her every way she could, even if it could mean trouble. Taissa was there for her when Shauna wasn’t there herself.

She’s the one constantly protecting Shauna, Van, even Jackie while she and Nat argued.

Taissa rushed in between her girlfriend and a WOLF, in a confused yet determined attempt to help her, and ultimately saved Van’s life.

She stood behind with her, and let the others go. She kept carrying her using all her strength, knowing that she might not make it, just because she would never, EVER, let herself leave the love of her life behind.

She can show so much love and care, especially with Van. Much of her loves is hidden behind her determination, but her softer side comes out, even if as a whisper, just to make sure her friends are okay. The masks she made for herself and Van, the lengths she’s gone for the team, the passion and seriousness she puts on all that she does… there isn’t a time where she doesn’t spend her waking moments thinking and planning and taking care of the people she loves.

She’s the one who tried to reason with the girls while Jackie froze to death.

All her actions, her decisions, everything she ever did, she did FOR THE TEAM. Cutting Allie out for Nationals, looking for the lake in the wilderness, exploring and going lengths in search of someone, ANYONE, who could help them.

“If I’m wrong, I’ll die up there.”

And don’t get me started on adult Taissa. Looking after Nat, taking care yet again for Shauna.

I love Taissa’s rage, her seriousness, her refusal to take shit from anybody, her quick insults and sarcasm.

But it would be wrong to exclude this part of her. Because Taissa NOTICES, Taissa CARES.

#yellowjackets #taissa turner #taivan #lesbian #taishauna #jackie taylor #jackieshauna

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

…

But what if?

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn��t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

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#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie x y/n #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson smut

2K notes · View notes

headkiss · 2 years

Text

pretty

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: three times eddie almost asks you out, and the one time he does.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: nothing! smitten eddie and reader with lots of fluff and waiting for them to get together!

a/n: hi hi! sorry for the wait for this one, but i hope you guys like it and pls let me know what u think :D

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Somehow, Eddie was roped into bringing Dustin to the arcade on a random weeknight. Something about Steve working and a new game being installed that he couldn’t miss.

And anyway, he has a hard time saying no to the kid.

So, that led him to having to clean out his van of his staches and anything he deemed unsuitable for the nosy eyes of Dustin Henderson. Eddie never thought he’d care so much about the youngest members of Hellfire, but he saw a lot of himself in them.

After picking up Dustin, who insisted on choosing the music, and driving to the arcade, he parked and followed Dustin inside. Of course, Eddie’s been to the arcade before, but last time he went, Keith was the one working there.

And you—who had a bright smile and was waving to Dustin—were certainly not Keith.

Eddie trailed behind his younger friend as he walked over to the counter to talk to you. Of course, Eddie knew who you were, but you were different from the person he went to school with, you seemed happier, like there was a weight that wasn’t holding you down anymore. He also had no idea you knew Dustin.

“Hurry up!” The curly-haired boy called from where he stood by the counter.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he stopped walking.

He caught up quickly, coming to rest his elbows on the desk you stood behind. You were laughing at something Dustin had said and it was a beautiful sight. Eddie wanted to make you laugh like that himself.

“Finally. Eddie, this is my old babysitter,” Dustin introduced you, even if you already knew each other. “Now she’s here all the time and loves when I come in.”

Eddie whispers your name, testing it on his tongue.

“You how he found out about this new game?” He faces you, and he swears he can feel his heart stutter when you make eye contact.

Your eyes are kind, soft, and surrounded by smudgy eyeliner that brings them out even more. He’s struck by how pretty you are. Not that you weren’t before, he’s just never noticed it until now.

“Guilty,” you shrug with a shy smile. “But hey, you can hang out with me here if you’d rather.”

Dustin was off with a rushed promise of getting the high score, and then it was just you and Eddie. He decided to take you up on your offer of passing the time with you. He’s sure it beats listening to Dustin yell at a video game.

“So, Eddie,” you prop yourself up with an elbow on the counter, chin perched on your hand. “Haven’t seen you since school. How are you?”

“Good, yeah. Finally graduated, so that’s something.”

“That’s great! What about your band?”

He’s surprised you knew about it, but he tries to hide it. “Corroded Coffin, yep. Still going.”

“And Hellfire? Dustin tells me all about it when he’s here.”

He can’t deny the pleasure he feels knowing you know about his hobbies. Even if you’ve probably learned it all through Dustin.

“Couldn’t let it go so I still run it. It’s nerdy but I love it.”

“Nothing wrong with nerdy. I’ve heard lots about it and it sounds really fun.”

You don’t mean to sound creepy or come off that way, knowing about Eddie and wanting to talk about it. You’re interested in knowing, you want to be his friend. He’s kind and funny and has an energy about him that you want to be around. He makes you a little nervous, even if you hide it well.

“It’s, um.. Yeah. It’s great.”

The evening moves along and you and Eddie talk through it all, save the interruptions from customers when you’re actually needed. It was easy and even through the awkward points, you both wanted to be there.

Eddie wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy himself, he was expecting a night that was a favor to Dustin and that’s it. But you were there. You made it better.

“Alright, I’m ready to go,” Dustin strolls up to the counter and sets his hands on his hips, impatient and demanding as always. You smile at him.

“Get the high score?”

“You know it! You better tell me if anyone beats it.”

“Always do, Dusty.”

He gives you that toothy grin that you love. He really is a great kid. He then turns to Eddie and gives him a look that said ‘let’s go.’

“Well, duty calls. It was nice to see you.”

“You too, Eddie. See you.”

“Bye, pretty.”

He’s out the door before you can properly react to his term of endearment. You certainly could get used to hearing it from him, though.

In the van, Dustin eyes Eddie before saying, “so did you ask her out?”

“What?”

Dustin huffs, like it’s obvious. “You were all oh my gosh, swoon, as soon as you saw her. Seriously.”

“I was not,” was he? Eddie had no idea what he was feeling but he knew that you were pretty, and that he wanted to spend time with you again. That was it.

“You were! She was too, so you guys should totally date.”

“Listen here, Henderson. I’m the elder, so I give the advice and make the decisions. It’s not like that, just haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“Sure.”

It’s the weekend after that day at the arcade and your friends have managed to wrangle you into a night out. You weren’t opposed to going it, you just had to be in the right mood. That mood didn’t come until they told you Corroded Coffin would be playing.

Eddie’s band.

You don’t want to admit it, but you’ve been waiting for him to come in again since last time. And every time Dustin walked in, you’d peek behind him to see if Eddie would be following. So far, he never was, so you took this chance to see him again.

It worked, because he was on stage when you walked in. You froze for a moment, taking him in. He was playing his guitar, and there was sweat dripping from his forehead and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter. He was really something.

Your friends tugged you over to the bar, forcing your attention away from Eddie. You took turns placing your orders and grabbing your drinks.

Eventually, you made your way to the dance floor with your small group. You didn’t think you’d have fun, but you were. Letting loose and moving along with the songs Eddie and his band were playing.

You spared a glance over to the stage, and Eddie was already looking at you when you glanced at him. Your eyes locked and he gave you a smirk before looking back at his guitar. He seemed like a whole new person up there, confident and free.

It was a great sight to see. Him in his element.

Each time you looked over at Eddie, he’d be looking, too. Or at least, you were convinced he was. Sometimes he’d smile, or wink, and sometimes he’d just look away as if he’d been caught. It was a push and pull and you were bathing in the slightest attention from him.

Closer to the end of his set, you drifted off to the bar, taking a seat and really watching him play. The whole band was incredible, but you couldn’t get your eyes off of Eddie and you’re pretty sure he knew it. Your friends were still dancing away, some with partners for the night.

When the last song was played, you were determined to be the loudest one cheering.

Eddie was feeling a lot. Ecstatic that you showed up, that you looked at him so much during his set and that you shied away from him every time he’d give you an expression back. It was cute. He was nervous too, though. Nervous to know what you thought about his music and his performance. You just made him nervous in general.

He still wanted to talk to you. To hear you laugh and see you smile up close. God, maybe Dustin was right.

Gareth came up behind Eddie backstage, a hand on his shoulder. “Good one tonight, right? Even saw you making goo goo eyes.”

“Wha- Goo goo eyes?”

“Yes. So will you introduce me?”

“Gareth, she went to school with us. You literally know each other.”

His friend huffs, “okay. Re-introduce, then.”

“Fine.”

Eddie and Gareth make their way through the crowded bar, the Hideout. The former spots you easily, from your black Doc Martens all the way up to your hair. He takes the seat next to you, Gareth on his other side.

“Hi, pretty.”

It takes you a second to recover from the nickname. “Oh! Hi, Eddie. And Gareth. You guys were amazing.”

Eddie’s beaming at the praise. He treasures his music and to hear that you enjoyed it means a lot to him. Like, a lot.

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Eddie was close to you, his arm brushing against yours.

“Me three!” You had almost forgotten Gareth was there.

You strike up a conversation with him, though. Asking about the band and how Gareth likes it. He’s kind, and you think he’d get along with one of your friends so you beckon her over and introduce them. She and Gareth are lost in their own chat, so you get Eddie to yourself once more.

“So, you liked it?”

“Liked it? Eddie, you guys are insanely good. I loved it. You look so alive up there, like it’s where you belong.”

His heart was soaring. The way that you could see how much he loved to perform, that you could tell he loved it from one single set. He was amazed by you.

“Thank you,” he looks down, blushing. “I’m happy you think so. Next time you come see me let me know, I’ll get you to stand sidestage, sound good?”

Holy shit. “Yeah. Perfect, actually.”

You can’t believe you and Eddie hadn’t become friends until now, until Dustin dragged him into the arcade. You wish that you’d been closer to him in school, that you could’ve had years of his company already.

At least you know him now.

“So, how do you like working at the arcade?”

“It’s alright. Loud, and sometimes boring. Dustin and his friends brighten it up. They’re great kids.”

“They are. Shitheads, too.”

You laugh, a small one, but it’s there. Eddie feels accomplished that he’s the one who drew it out of you.

“Yeah they are. You do anything for work other than music?”

And so, the small talk grows from there. He learns about your hobbies and you learn about his life with his uncle and everything. It’s nice, and it’s rare to find someone so easy to talk to for you.

At some point, Gareth and his other band mates pull Eddie away for a second. The friend you’d set up with Gareth is with them, for some reason.

When they’re far enough away, she speaks first. “She likes you, Eddie,” before he can protest she continues, “trust me. I’m her friend, and I can tell.”

“You should ask her out, dude,” Gareth is next to talk.

His sentence is followed by agreements from everyone else.

“No way, guys. We’ve talked like twice. It’s too soon, okay?”

“No it’s not. Come on, man.”

“Maybe.”

He leaves with that, back to find you. He wants to ask you out, he does. He’s just afraid that you’ll say no, that he’ll scare you off. So, he decides he’ll wait. As long as you need him to.

What he doesn’t know is that you’re eagerly waiting for him to make a move.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No problem.”

“So, where were we?”

“Mmm, something about…” You glance at his lips, the next word coming out quiet. “I don’t remember.”

His gaze flicks between your eyes and your mouth, he thinks you’re about to kiss him. Maybe he doesn’t have to wait too long after all.

But, before you can make contact, your friend taps your shoulder, whispers something, and runs off to the washroom.

“Oh gosh,” you look at Eddie, an apology written on your face. “I’m sorry, I have to go. My friend, she’s throwing up and-”

“Shh. It’s fine. Until next time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You stand up, and so does he. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down for a hug. His arms hold your waist tightly, his head tucked against yours. It was really, really nice. You breathe in his scent, he’s doing the same.

It's a bit before you pull away.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“See ya, pretty girl.”

You find it really hard to walk away from him, but your friend needs help and you’re not one to abandon them, so you leave.

The next time you see Eddie he’s yet again in his element; leading a Dungeons and Dragons campaign with Hellfire.

During Dustin’s latest visit to the arcade, he informed you of the week's meeting, and how excited he was for it. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking if you could tag along, if you could watch. He was quick to say yes, eager to get you and Eddie in the same room again, this time with backup.

You were excited to see Eddie doing something he loves once more. You were excited to see him in general, honestly.

His friends also seemed great, and you wanted to meet them all properly. Dustin assured you they’re great, and that you’ll get along just fine. You believed him.

When Eddie found out you were coming, he was nervous. He didn’t know what you’d think and he didn’t want you to think he was weird. He didn’t want you to look at him the way everyone else did. Like he was a freak, someone who didn’t belong. He never cared so much about what people thought. Not until he met you.

On the night of the campaign, he’s jittery. He fiddles with his rings more than usual, twisting them around his fingers, taking them on and off, anything that will keep his hands occupied. He messed with his hair enough that he had to try to tame it before you arrive.

You leave earlier than Dustin told you to, and you’re not sure if it’s because you just want to make sure you aren’t late or if it’s to get some time alone with Eddie before everyone else gets there. You weren’t used to feeling this way about someone, to have the urge to see them and speak with them as much as you could. To feel a pull.

The drive to Eddie’s trailer is spent psyching yourself up, giving yourself a pep talk and some time to figure out what you’ll even say when you get there. You think you want to flirt with him, more obviously than you have been but you’ve never been good at that. Eye contact and shy smiles were sort of all you could muster.

Parked outside of Eddie’s, you flip down your car mirror to make sure you can deem yourself presentable. You run your pinky under your eyes to smudge your eyeliner out and brush away mascara flakes from the day, you apply a new layer of lip gloss, you’re about to check on your hair when a knock on your car window startles you.

It’s Eddie. Fuck, how much of that did he see, you wonder.

The answer is pretty much all of it. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie went outside as soon as saw your car pull up through his window. He stood on the porch for a second, but decided he’d rather say hi and hear your voice. He thinks it’s really sweet that you felt the need to touch up your makeup before seeing him, even though he thinks it’s completely unnecessary. It’s sweet, nonetheless.

Once your car is shut off, he opens your door and holds out a hand for you, “m’lady.”

“Thanks,” you take it and get out of the car. You decide to pull him into a hug, your arms around his neck to pull him in, just like you did at the Hideout. “Hi, Eddie.”

He hugs you right back, chin perched on your shoulder and nose buried in your hair. He squeezes you as he greets you, “hi, pretty.”

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you to look at your face, the color of your eyes and the way your eyeliner brings them out. He thinks the nickname he’s given you is quite perfect, because you really are pretty. Your signature boots on your feet and the rings on your fingers that match his nicely, chunky and silver.

If anyone was made for him, he’s pretty sure it’s you. He has no idea how to tell you that.

“Come on,” he leads you up the few steps to his front door, opening it and beckoning you inside. He stays by the door while you take a look around, shy about the lack of space he has, but it’s home.

“It looks so cozy in here,” and you’re being honest. The blankets thrown about the living room and the pillows on the couch, the soft lighting and the slightly messy kitchen. It looks lived in and you love that.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess. And kinda small,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“It’s great, Eddie. Honest.”

He smiles at you, close-mouthed and small, but a smile. You hate that he feels bad about where he’s living, that he feels the need to apologize for it. You walk back over to him and tug him to the couch, sitting down and waiting for him to do the same.

You keep your hand on his arm for longer than necessary.

“So, what should I expect? I’ve never actually seen anyone play DnD, only heard Dusty talk about it.”

“It gets kinda loud, but it’s ‘cause we’re all sort of invested in it. I just hope we don’t scare you off because of it.”

“You could never, trust me.”

Eddie’s struck by the sincerity in your tone, the way you keep your eyes on his when you say it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so convinced that someone wants to stick around, that he’s ever believed them. But you, you have a way of speaking that makes him trust everything you say, soft and kind and it eases him like a glass of water on a hot Hawkins summer day.

He’s sort of lost in you, his eyes flickering across your face and he notes a stray strand of hair that’s fallen over your forehead. He reaches out and pushes it back, his touch light as ever but your skin burns where his fingers were all the same.

You think you’re about to kiss yet again when heavy-handed knocks on the door snap you both out of it.

From then on, the group builds up until everyone is there, gathered around Eddie’s coffee table on pillows while you sit on the couch and watch.

He was right, the atmosphere is rowdy, sort of chaotic but it’s full of passion and you can see why they enjoy the game so much. It’s exciting, even for you: someone who knows almost nothing about it. You can't help but smile when they seem to be winning, to cheer when they do.

Through it all, though, your focus was mainly on Eddie. He was so animated, so lively in his task to narrate the game that it filled the room, a contagious energy that’s undeniable. Every single person in that room was so invested, so thrilled and it was because of him. You were kinda, sort of, maybe in awe of him and the way he moved. The authority he seemed to hold.

Once the session ended, you pulled him aside. “That was something else, Eddie, really.”

“Like in a good way?”

“Of course! I could watch you for hours, you’re so captivating.”

He’s blushing. He’s not the best at taking compliments and coming from you, he’s even more bashful about them.

“Thank you,” he smiles, this time it’s a full one. Boyish and wide.

“Thank you for letting me come watch. I don’t really wanna leave but…I’m working tomorrow.”

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you were here. I’ll walk you.”

He does, out the door and right to your car. You both pause at your car door. You lean against it, back against your vehicle and Eddie lets his arms rest on the roof of it, caging you between them. It’s a position that keeps you close to each other.

“Thanks again for having me. I had a really good time.”

“You’re sweet. And welcome anytime.”

There’s a stillness in the air, a question lingering of will you or won’t you kiss. Both of you can feel it, neither of you lean in for a while. When Eddie does, he gets nervous at the last second and swerves to kiss your cheek instead. You hide your disappointment.

He then pulls you into the hug that feels so familiar, easy.

“See you, pretty.”

“Bye.”

He lets you go and heads back inside, and you drive away. When he opens the door, everyone’s looking at him.

“What?”

“Fucks sake, Eddie,” Dustin huffs.

“What?” He repeats

“Dude. Really? You didn’t even kiss her?” Jeff is next to talk, as if it’s that easy.

“Did you at least ask her out?” Gareth asks.

“Um,” Eddie’s feeling put on the spot, “no..?”

“Eddie!” They all say it at the same time.

“If you don’t get your shit together and ask her out, I swear.”

Eddie can’t even keep track of who’s saying what, all he knows is that they’re saying ‘it’s so obvious,’ and ‘are you that dumb?’

The one that sticks with him is when Dustin says, “she couldn’t even stop looking at you. Smiling like a fool the entire time. It’s kind of gross.”

Fuck, he likes you so much. The possibility that you like him too is enough to get him to devise a plan. With the help of Hellfire, of course.

Eddie had the plan ready the night of the meeting, but it took him nearly a week to get the courage to actually go through with it. It wasn’t major; he’d show up just before you close at work with some food, talk to you over dinner sort of like a date, seal the deal by asking you out for real. Hopefully kissing you.

You had a long day at the arcade. The people were extra noisy and time went by extra slowly. You couldn’t help but hope that Dustin and his friends would come in. That they’d bring Eddie, too. Every time the door opened you’d check for that familiar head of hair. No luck.

To make it all worse, five minutes before closing you hear the door open once more. You throw your head back and sigh in defeat. Longest day ever.

“Sorry, we’re closing!” You put on your ‘customer service voice,’ cheery and overly kind.

“‘S just me, pretty! Can I come in?”

You perk up right away because that’s Eddie’s voice and you know it. You make your way to the door and the smile that blooms on your face at the sight of him is so wide it’s kind of pathetic. You like him so much.

“Eddie!” You wrap him in a hug.

“Oh,” he’s surprised, you’ve never been so enthusiastic to see anyone, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, “hi.”

You squeeze him tight before pulling away, “sorry. Hi.”

You take a small step back, slightly embarrassed that you pounced on him so quickly, but you’d been wanting to see him all day and here he was. He looked pretty, his hair damp like he showered before coming, his cheeks a little flushed.

“Brought some food. Eat with me?” He holds up the takeout bag held in his hand.

“Yes, please.”

You lock the door and flip the sign to closed, then gesture for him to follow you into the office so you could eat at the desk together. He trails behind you, admires the way you walk and your outfit of the day.

The two of you sit down, and Eddie unpacks the bag, smiling proudly when you tell him he got your order perfectly. He’ll remember to thank Dustin for that later. You eat together and it’s nice, it’s peaceful.

He asks about your day, you tell him and do the same. You could easily get used to this. Eddie with you for dinner, the conversation and the way he’s able to make you laugh without really trying. Everything stays light while you have your meal.

At one point, Eddie leans forward and wipes something away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. Neither of you say anything about it.

Once the table’s cleared, Eddie prepares himself to tell you how he feels, to ask you out. He’s nervous, of course he is, but he feels comfortable around you and if the dinner you just had was in any way similar to what a date would feel like, he needs to ask.

“So,” he starts. “I actually came here to talk to you about something.”

You look at him, showing him he’s got your attention fully and wait for him to continue. You’re really, really hoping he’ll say what you think he’s going to.

“I.. um.” He fumbles with his words, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “I wanted to know if you’ll go out with me? Like a real date?”

“Really? Me?”

You want to say yes, you want to scream it, but you need to be sure that he means it. If his actions tell you anything, he certainly does.

“Are you kidding?” He pulls your chair closer to his, reaches for your hand and holds it. “Yes, you. I like you. An insane amount and I have since that kid dragged me in here. I’m glad he did because we got to talk and I was like, wow, you know? And-”

“Eddie?” You cut him off.

“Yeah?”

“I like you an insane amount, too. Will you kiss me?”

“Holy shit.” He whispers, then, his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you like he’s been starving for it. You know you have. It’s sort of messy, but it’s slow and careful at the same time. He holds your neck softly, just enough to angle your head the way he wants, and you love every second of it.

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way before in his life. No, he knows he hasn’t. Kissing you is addicting to him, and now that he’s done it once he doesn’t know if he can hold himself back. Though, by the way you’re pulling him closer by his shirt, he doesn’t believe he’ll need to with you.

You pull away only when you need the air, your forehead against Eddie’s and hands still holding his shirt. A satisfied smile spreads across your face.

“Does that mean you’ll let me take you out, pretty?” He asks.

“Obviously.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson request #eddie munson reader insert #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things

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snowfll · 4 months

Note

Not too sure if I've sent this to you already but that scene where Treech slid up to LG and said 'stay right there' USHDBFKDKD can I pls get a Treech x mentor!reader, enemies to lovers kinda plot with that scene cuz ahhh 😩 if I've sent this to u already pls ignore this haha, loved loved loved all ur Treech fics btw 😭

Thin Line; Treech

pairing - Treech x Mentor!reader summary - When it came to you and Treech, there was a thin line between love and hate, too bad you never got to see what it really was. words - 1.69 k warning - angst kind of? note - I'm sorry this took me so long to get out, but finals are finally over! I hope you like it, I didn't really know what you fully wanted so I added a couple of things!

Having been one of the top twenty-four seniors in the academy, you had the luxury—if thats even what you could call it—of mentoring the district 7 male.

Treech, or, as you liked to call him, lumberjack boy, didn’t exactly see eye to eye with you. Since the moment he met you, he has despised you—you were Capitol, after all.

“Welcome to the Capitol." You smiled at him as he got off the train he arrived on. You thought it would be a good idea to tag along with Coriolanus as he went to greet his tribute.

Treech looked at you with pure hatred; he could tell you were Capitol from your appearance alone. "Who are you?" His voice filled with disgust as he eyed your bright red academy uniform.

“I’m your mentor. I’m here to help you through the games.” You tried your best to get on his good side, smiling at him as you spoke softly. However, it didn’t seem to work; he just kept a blank stare.

“I don’t need help, especially not yours.” With that, he proceeded to be dragged away from one of the peacekeepers watching over you.

His district partner, Lamina, sent you an empathetic look. She had watched the whole interaction and couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. You were just trying to be nice. You sent her a soft smile back before she got whisked away as well.

Even as you were pushed to the floor of the moving van, he didn’t care. He stood there, staring at you as the female tribute from District 4 threatened your life. You were scared; tears were on the verge of spilling from your eyes. Maybe it was a bad idea to follow Coriolanus into the van filled with tributes.

“Treech, go help her.” You heard Lamina whisper as she nudged him closer to where you landed. Treech had a soft spot for Lamina; he hated how she was brought into the games—especially with how kindhearted she was.

It was only when Lamina nudged him once more and he realized he needed you alive that he picked you up off the ground and stepped in front of you in a protective manner.

From that moment on, every tribute backed away, and he made it very clear that they were not to mess with you. They kept their distance from the two of you, especially when you were to visit him in the zoo.

On one night before the games, you had a hard time sleeping. Too many things were taking up your mind—most of them involving Treech—so you made your way to his enclosure.

“Lumberjack boy, get over here." You called out for him. You knew the nickname irritated him, and oh, how you love to irritate the poor boy.

“You know I hate that nickname, sweetheart.” He started to call you that once word got around to the tributes about your reputation in the Capitol.

“Stop calling me sweetheart, and maybe I’ll think about it." You smirked at him, knowing you weren’t going to stop. You found pleasure in pissing him off.

He rolled his eyes at you before sitting down in front of you, the bars still separating the two of you. “So, sweetheart, what are you here for? Ain’t it past your bedtime?”

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about you and the games. Treech, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but we are in this together. I’m going to get you out of that arena alive.” He could hear the sincerity in your voice, and his once stern expression softened.

He remained silent for a while, his gaze focused on the night sky. It's hard to see stars in the Capitol; the light pollution from the bright city makes them faint and hard to see. Eventually, he spoke, his tone now matching the soft expression on his face. “I don’t trust you Capitol folks, but Lamina thinks you're different. Prove her right.”

He stood up, making his way back to Lamina. Your eyes followed his movement until he sat down on the rock next to the sleeping girl.

When it came to the rebel bombing in the arena, you expected Treech to run. He made it apparent how miserable he was here—you couldn’t blame him. Yet, as soon as the impact of the first bomb sent you falling to the ground, he was right by your side.

“Treech, run while you can.” You yelled over all the chaos as he tried to cover you from the falling rubble.

He shook his head, refusing to leave your side. The ruins from the arena now fell at a much faster rate. “I’m not leaving. Not without you.”

The last thing you remembered from that day was Treech screaming your name as he was dragged out of the arena. “What are you doing? Let me go—help her.”

The pain in his voice as he saw you lying there unconscious was unmistakable, and he fought against the Capitol forces trying to separate you from him. As Treech was pulled away, his eyes never left your motionless form.

If you asked him, he would never admit it, but in that moment, he knew you were more than just his mentor in the games.

He hated it—he hated whatever he felt for you. Contact between the Capitol and Districts was severely frowned upon, much less a relationship between the two. The two of you were labeled as a Capitol sweetheart and her tribute. That was all you were supposed to be.

His hatred for his feelings was the reason he acted so irritated around you. He couldn’t stand the fact that every time you were near him, his heartbeat would speed up. You were intoxicating to be around, and he knew you wouldn’t be around forever.

In the games, you were scared, but you grew to love his company, even if you were separated by the bars of his enclosure. You couldn’t stand to watch as he fought for his life in that arena—but it was your vocation as a mentor. Throughout the games, you made sure he was protected. He had Coral, Mizzen, and Tanner by his side, but could you really trust them to keep him safe? After all, Coral almost killed you once; who says she won’t do it to Treech?

As you watched the pack—the name given to Treech and his allies—your eyes were specifically on Treech. The four of them had finally found Lucy Gray and surrounded her. Treech knew better than to attack her—you briefly mentioned a deal with Coriolanus about your tributes not attacking each other. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t aid Coral’s attempt. Once she saw the group, she tried to make a run for it.

“Stay right there.” You watched as Treech called out to Lucy Gray. He slid up to her as he pointed his axe in her direction, still keeping his distance. As they grew even closer, she utilized her best weapon—her words.

Lucy Gray, quick-witted and sharp-tongued, seized the opportunity to exploit the tension within the pack. As Treech stood there, refusing to go after Lucy Gray like you asked of him, his eyes locked with hers.

“Well, well, look who’s following his Capitol Sweetheart’s every command,” Lucy Gray jeered, her voice cutting through the tension. "She's your puppet master lumberjack boy?”

Treech clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at the insult thrown at you. He couldn’t care less about what she said about him, but he drew the line when it came to you. Somehow, Lucy Gray aimed her verbal insults directly at his sore spots.

“Did she promise to keep you in the Capitol? Give you a life of luxury." Lucy Gray’s words were designed to provoke. Treech wished it didn’t get to him, but it did.

Still, he restrained himself from physically attacking her. “Don’t talk about her like that; she’s different—she cares.” He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Lucy Gray.

“She’s Capitol; how much different can she get? If you die, she’s going to forget all about you; even if you win, it’s not going to happen.”

Treech shook his head at her words. The sad part about all of this is that he knew it was true. You were never going to be able to be together. The two of you couldn’t even tell if you liked each other in that way.

From the second you met, there was hatred on both ends. But as you got to know each other over the few days you had together, it turned into something else—love, perhaps?

There is a thin line between love and hate. You were both from different sides of society. How could you be sure it was love? The same line blurred in the complex dance of emotions that intertwined your relationship with Treech.

Once the games grew closer to the end, you had hope for Treech. He could make it out alive—you could tell him how you feel. There were only a handful of tributes left. He was once again assisting Coral and Mizzen in getting Lucy Gray.

Even so, as the arena fell silent, you watched as Treech fell to his knees, ripping off his jacket at the same time. You sat in your seat, confused. What had happened? He was fine the second prior.

The air hung heavy with a mix of sorrow and disbelief. For you, the mentor who had grown connected with her tribute, Treech’s death was devastating. The connection that had evolved from animosity to an unspoken understanding came to an abrupt and tragic end.

As the games concluded, you were left with the bittersweet echoes of a relationship that never fully unfolded. The thin line between love and hate had blurred, leaving behind a complex tapestry of emotions that now resonated with an unfulfilled promise.

You just wish you could’ve seen how the two of you would’ve played out. Maybe you could’ve lived happily in District 7 or even in the Capitol. If only you still had that thin line. If only you had him.

#tbosas #treech #treech x reader #treech tbosas #i love treech #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #angst #enemies to lovers #district 7 #lumberjack boy

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ladykailitha · 10 months

Text

Love is Loving the Person For Who They Are

Heeyyyy...so after my rant, I pulled out this quick little one one-shot based on those feelings I had earlier. It’s not quite idea @xenon-demon had in their tags as that would be a full fic’s worth and I have so many WIPs running right now, so I don’t have time to do the full idea justice, but I hope this conveys my thoughts well enough.

***

Eddie walked into a disaster. He wasn’t even sure what was going if he was honest.

Steve’s clothes were strewn all over his room, with him sitting dejected on his bed in a black t-shirt, black acid washed jeans, and his white Nike’s.

Running around the room was Dustin, Nancy, and Robin all arguing on the top of their lungs what Steve should wear.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie greeted them a lilt of confusion coloring his tone. “Wha’cha doing?”

The screaming match stopped and everyone turned to look at him in shock.

“Shit!” Nancy said. “Is it already that late?” She glanced at her watch. “Shit.”

“This is why you should have called us sooner,” Dustin said, rounding on Steve. “We would have been able to find you something acceptable before it was too late.”

“But I didn’t–” Steve protested.

“So we’re agreed,” Robin said interrupting, “the black slacks and jacket no shirt?”

But that only started the fight all over again.

Eddie tilted his head. “What’s wrong with what he’s currently wearing?”

Steve’s jaw dropped as everyone else turned to Eddie with such lightning speed that he was sure that they were going to get whiplash.

“It’s just normal,” Dustin said, smugly. “It’s not metal.”

“We don’t want him standing out,” Robin said. “He could get hurt.”

“Only,” Nancy said, glaring at Steve like it was all his fault, “he doesn’t have anything close to what you would wear.”

“Black jeans and band t-shirt?” Eddie asked confused. “I mean, yeah, he doesn’t have a Metallica or Dio shirt, but his shirt is what anyone else would wear to their first metal concert.”

“What?” Robin said, dumbly.

“No it isn’t,” Dustin said with a sneer. “When I went to my first concert I had all the right clothes and shit.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Who took you to a metal concert?”

Dustin shrugged. “That is not what is important here. I had a master teach me the ways before I went.”

Eddie tucked his chin to his chest. “Okay...I’m still not seeing how black jeans and t-shirt aren’t metal, though.”

Steve had been staring up at Eddie this whole time like he had hung the moon. He finally spoke. “I based my outfit off what Eddie wears all the time.”

Eddie beamed at him. “And you look amazing, Stevie. Now, I would have liked to have seen you in that tight navy blue polo personally. But needs must, I suppose.”

“His what?” Nancy asked, her eyes wide.

Eddie pursed his lips and began rooting around in the stacks of clothes. After a few moments he abruptly stood up. “Tada!”

Nancy and Robin looked at each other in shock.

“But that’s shirt he was wearing when Max gave us her letters,” Dustin said in confusion.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, he looks hot in it.”

Steve blushed. “We should probably get going.”

Eddie nodded. “Come on, then.”

As the reached the bottom of the stairs the two men heard Robin exclaim, “Hey, did Eddie take the polo with him?!”

Steve looked over at Eddie, who sure enough still had the shirt.

“Oh,” he said, quietly. “If you forgot to put it back before we left you can just leave it on the side table by the front door. I’ll put it back when I get home.”

Eddie just smiled fondly as he sailed out the front door and to his van. He held the door open for Steve and Steve slid in. Eddie tossed him the shirt.

“I’ll leave up to you, darlin’,” he said, climbing into the driver’s side of the van, “which shirt you want to wear, but just know this: you don’t have to change your style for anyone. Least of all me. Because what our friends fail to realize is that I fell in love with the polo wearing prep Stevie. That’s the one I thought was taking out tonight.”

Steve rubbed the polo shirt between his two thumbs. “You mean that?”

Eddie leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sure do, sweetheart. But I’ll get if you want to wear the t-shirt to the concert. But just so we’re clear on this, don’t think you have to change to fit me. Any part of me. If you start liking the same music I do, great! Just another thing we have in common. Just like when I said I enjoyed going to that baseball game with you.”

Steve blinked. “I thought you were bored.”

Eddie laughed. “I’m pretty sure that seventh inning stretch is for all the fans and not just newbies like me.”

Steve smiled for the first time since Eddie came to pick him up. “Fair enough, but you had fun?”

Eddie nodded, pulling out of the driveway. “Sure did. I can’t watch it on that terrible black and white TV that Uncle Wayne has, but going out and being with the other fans? That was fun.”

Steve’s smile grew bigger. “Just wait until you go to hockey match.”

Eddie’s face lit up with a feral grin. “I like the way you think, babe.”

Steve shucked off his t-shirt and pulled on the polo. Eddie glanced over at him, a fond smile on his face.

***

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #steve is perfect the way he is #ladykailtiha writes

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

La Petite Mort - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir

Summary: R deals with RJ, Lorraine gets jealous

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language, tiniest little bit of blood and physical violence

A/N: Turns out jet lag is cool because you can wake up at 4AM and start writing again. The headcanons from yesterday helped me break through the writers block, thank you guys!! Let me know what you guys want to see next!

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part VI

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.

The words rattle around in your skull, bouncing haphazardly in the blank space. For a brief, blissful moment, nothing else exists but you and Lorraine. She’s there, right in front of you, in your arms. Her big doe eyes pleading with you, don’t go.

Like many perfect things, your flawless moment is brief and shattered by reality. The hum in your ears begins to fade as voices are raised around you. Your tunnel vision widens, expanding the scope past Lorraine’s freckled nose. Everything seems to be happening in a vacuum, sluggish and unreal. You feel like you’re just an observer of the universe, not meant to interact with its characters.

You look at RJ over the top of Lorraine’s head, his expression furious. You grant him that; you’d be angry if you were him too. The van door behind him is open, the film crew all watching with bated breath, wide smiles on Maxine and Bobby-Lynne’s faces. Maxine shoots you an enthusiastic double thumbs up, making you huff out a laugh despite the situation.

Lorraine wraps her fingers into the hem of your shirt, pulling herself tightly to you, completely disregarding everyone else. You know you’re not going to leave with her wrapped around you, and she does too. RJ shakes his head, his mouth open in silent shock. He throws his hands up, his expression pained.

“What are you doing, Raine?” He asks, pacing, “What is going on right now?”

You don’t speak, only observe. Lorraine squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself against your chest. She’s not ready to deal with him, but she needs to be. You rub her back, trying to comfort her. RJ continues to pace.

“You owe me an explanation, Lorraine! You owe me!”

You disagree with his approach; his tone is far too harsh. But you do agree with what he says. She does owe him an explanation. You crane your neck to see her face against your shirt, dip your head down to whisper to her.

“He’s not wrong. It’s the decent thing to do.”

She nods, her cheek rubbing against your sternum. The interaction sends RJ from confused irritation to absolute outrage.

“Two years, Lorraine! Two years and this is what I get in return? You’re running behind my back, sneaking around and with her?”

That gets her attention; yours already snapped onto him. His face is red, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands shaking. If ever this man can be dangerous, you know it’s right now. There is very little more unstable than an embarrassed man. You eye him warily, unsure of his next move.

Lorraine turns to him, her gaze lowered to his feet, her back only inches from you. She wrings her fingers, and you can’t see it, but you know her lip is being chewed to high hell.

“I…I don’t know how…to explain-“ she starts, “it just happened, and then you came back, and I had a lot to figure out- “

“A lot to figure out?!” He shouts over her, advancing on her but stopping a few feet short, “How is there anything to figure out? You’re supposed to be a sweet girl Lorraine. That’s what I loved about you. But you’re not a sweet girl, are you? You’re just…you’re just a whore!”

His words make you tremble with anger. You understand his plight, can have empathy for the man. But you would not stand for him insulting her. You take a step forward, silently setting a boundary. His lip curls at you, his eyes wild.

“I’m not…I’m not a whore,” Lorraine says, her voice soft and shaking, “I love her.”

RJ looks like he’s had the wind knocked right out of him. His breath comes out in a whoosh as her words snap into the morning air. The audience in the van is dead quiet, jaws dropped open.

“I-I love you, Rainey. I do. It’s you and me.” He says, reaching out to her, his tone changing completely.

She steps back and leans into you shaking her head, “What’s my favorite flavor of ice cream, RJ?”

Everyone is shaken, Lorraine is standing up to him. Your chest swells with pride, watching her go from cowering to straightening her spine. Her frantic eyes more sure now, watching him. You brush your fingers against her wrist, reassuring her that you’re there.

RJ shakes his head, “What-what kind of question is that?”

Lorraine tilts her head, “An easy one, I think, for someone who’s in love with me.”

Her expression is pained; she takes no pleasure in this. When RJ answers her with “Chocolate chip,” she closes her eyes and nods.

“It’s strawberry,” you say from behind her and snap your jaw shut. You hadn’t meant to interject, but it was an unconscious reaction.

You take note of the fact that RJ’s entire body goes rigid. His fists curl at his sides, his jaw flexing. You know he’s going to do something stupid in his desperation. He takes a step toward Lorraine, and you feel yourself winding up, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action.

Wayne climbs out of the van and circles around, his hands out in front of him. He wants to diffuse the situation, but you can see in the way RJ’s lip twitches that it hasn’t worked. The moment is a ticking bomb, every second passing by filled with nervous tension. Your heartbeat is slow, steady. Your eyes trained on RJ, tracking his every movement.

Lorraine steps toward him, her brows furrowed, her worry for him growing. He calms slightly, the muscle in his jaw relaxing and his fists unclenching. His eyes grow wide, his mouth downturned. He looks like a child, you think. It almost makes you feel bad for him. Almost.

“It’s time for you to go, RJ. I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Lorraine says softly, reaching her hand out to comfort him.

His fingers wrap around her bicep, and the wild look in his eyes is back. He pulls her into his body, her hands pressing against his chest. She struggles back, but his arms around her keep her pinned there. The whole thing lasts less than a second.

Before RJ can even speak to justify himself, your knuckles are connecting with his cheekbone. A satisfying crunch pops around the bones in your hand, his glasses fly off his face. Lorraine stumbles backward, free of his grasp, as he crumbles to the ground. His shoulder hits the dirt, and his hands fly up to his face, crying out and inspecting the damage. His nose is bleeding, and a red and purple bruise is already forming above his cheek.

“Woah, now!” Wayne cries out as you step over RJ.

He takes a step toward you but is halted by your look. The girls in the van twitter like birds at the commotion, but neither of them protests. Jackson sits quietly, waiting to see the outcome. You’re not sure where Lorraine is, somewhere behind you.

You grab the collar of RJ’s shirt and pull him up to your face. With your free hand, you dust his shoulders off, and you give him an apologetic half-smile. You’re not sorry for punching him. You’re not sorry for what you’ve done with Lorraine. But you are sorry that someone has to be hurt in this situation.

“You don’t love her, man.” You say, your voice low, your faces inches from each other.

RJ deflates, his weight hanging in your hand, “I…I…” he sighs, squinting at you, “I wanted to.”

You see Maxine move out of the van and approach you from the side, RJ’s collar still secure in your grip. She squats down and hands over his glasses, which you take and wipe on your shirt. You let go of him, but you remain in his space, Maxine hovering just outside of it. You place the glasses back on his face.

“She deserves to be loved, not just wanted,” you say, searching his face for a reaction.

Maxine whistles, low and long, “Now there’s some cowboy wisdom. I see why she loves you, handsome. You’re a regular Casanova, ain’t ya?”

RJ turns to look at Maxine, still shell-shocked. You stand and reach your hand down for him to grasp. He hesitates but takes the offer, and you pull him to his feet. His nose gushes with blood, making you wince.

“You’re gonna want somethin for that,” you say, gesturing at the blood geyser on his face.

Bobby-Lynne sidles up to him, a tampon in her hands. She fusses over him, shoving the cotton up his nose while he whines. She pulls him back toward the van, he follows with unsure backward steps, shaking his head. His eyes lock on to something over your shoulder, and you know it must be Lorraine. You turn to watch her, surprised to find the stubborn set in her jaw, her arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes cold.

You had only seen that look on her face twice in your lifetime. Once when Mr. Day had to put down a sick cow, Lorraine absolutely insisted she be there. Her father had denied her, and the next day she was in the barn, arms crossed and refusing to leave the cow’s side. The second time you were teenagers, and you were slowly drifting apart. Your parent's divorce sent you down a path of alcohol, drugs, and sex at a young age. Lorraine climbed into your bedroom window one night and would not leave until you explained to her why you were pushing her away. She never left your side, and you never pushed her away again.

And now, as she watches her boyfriend… ex-boyfriend get pulled into the van, she wears that same look. You turn back to the van, watch as the crew piles in. Maxine rolls down her window and winks at you.

As Wayne puts it in gear and begins to roll away, she leans out and yells, “You treat her right, church mouse! Or I’ll come back for her!” She blows a kiss and laughs as the car kicks up dust and rolls down the driveway.

You put your hands on your hips and laugh, shaking your head. When you turn back to Lorraine, her eyes are narrowed at you.

“What?” You yelp, your smile washing away from your face.

“That’s not funny,” she growls.

You smirk, “I mean, it’s a little funny, Rai-“

Your words are swallowed whole, Lorraine’s lips crashing into yours, her teeth knocking against yours in her haste. She pulls you back and leans against the trailer with her hands wrapped in the front of your shirt. She's possessive, her mouth hot against your lips, her hands pulling at you. You fall into her, let her expend her pent-up anxiety with soft sighs through her nose.

When she calms, you push back, creating enough space to look down at her. There is worry in her eyes, set in the lines between her brows.

“You’re not leavin',” she whispers, her hands still tight on your shirt.

You wrap your fingers around hers, “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

The relief that washes over her is intense, her grip loosening and her shoulders dropping. She leans her head back against the metal wall of the trailer and exhales, her hands shaking. You feel your tension wash away; all you want to do is comfort her in that moment.

You kiss her cheek, lean back and smile softly, “Go back a bag.”

She frowns again, “A bag?”

You nod, “I’m already packed up. Let’s get away for a bit. Somewhere we can talk and sort this out.”

She blinks slowly at you, mulling it over, then nods. You step back, and she releases her hold on your shirt, her eyes searching your face.

“If you leave while I’m in the house, so help me-“

You laugh, “I’m not gonna leave you here, Rainey. I’ll get Pearl and load her up. Go pack a bag.”

——

The drive to Big Bend National Park is probably further than necessary, but 8 hours in the truck with Lorraine seems like the sensible thing to do. Your heart sings at the sight of her in your passenger seat, your bags in the truck bed, horses in the trailer. It feels like living out a dream.

You glance over at her, absorbing as much of the vision as you can. Her feet up on the dashboard, wind whipping in her hair, the radio softly playing your favorite Queen song. You turn your eyes back to the road, tapping at the steering wheel, watching the desert and tumbleweeds roll by.

Around hour four, Lorraine gets restless. She fiddles with the radio, hand surfs the wind out her window, runs her hand up your thigh.

“Let’s stop in Sonora, I’m tired of bein in the truck. And the horses need to get out.”

You glance over at her, apprehensive, “They don’t need to get out, and you know it. We’re halfway there; we can set up camp by midnight.”

She shakes her head, “It’s late, I want to sleep in a bed.”

You chew your lip, torn between wanting to give her what she wants and pushing on until you get where you’re going.

“Hotels round here ain’t exactly welcoming to two women in one room Raine.”

She shrugs, “We’ll get two rooms then.”

You sigh, rub your eyes. The setting sun is making you sleepy, and it has been a long day. You relent with no further pushing from Lorraine. You pull off the highway exit into the small town, and find the closest motel.

The parking lot is nearly empty, a broken down Honda on cinder blocks rests near the front office, and a handful of trucks are parked outside sporadically spaced. You pull in sideways, taking up several empty parking stalls.

“Stay here, I’ll get our rooms,” you grumble, and Lorraine nods sleepily.

The reception desk is vacant when you stroll inside, the dark wood walls and pictures of buffalo making the space feel long abandoned. The only sign of life is the quiet tinkling of a radio playing an old country song. You slap the bell on the counter and wait for a response. A few minutes go by, and none comes, so you hit it again.

You can hear shuffling from a back room, a smoky cough, and then a short old woman titters up to the desk, her hair and makeup bearing a striking resemblance to Dolly Parton. She clears her throat and stares at you, not speaking.

You blink at her, waiting for her to speak, but she continues to stare.

“Howdy,” you say, unsure, “You got two rooms available?”

She narrows her eyes at you, and speaks in a growling smoker's voice, “You dealin drugs?”

You jerk back, surprised, “Uh, no, ma’am. My friend and I are on a trip to Big Bend.”

She cranes her neck to see out the window, eyeing your trailer, “No cartel business at my hotel.”

You put your hands up, “No, ma’am I’m not involved in that. Just a ranch hand, takin a break is all.”

Her expression softens as she accepts your answer. She slides two keys over to you and takes your money.

“Check out is 9 AM. No smoking in the room.”

You eye the burning cigarette in an ashtray behind her and raise your eyebrow at her. Not wanting to push your luck, you nod and sweep the keys off the counter. You tip your hat and back out the door.

Lorraine is asleep in the passenger seat when you round the truck. You open the door and rouse her gently, unlock her bedroom door, and guide her to bed. With her safely tucked in, you leave the keys on her bedside table and head back out to lock the horse trailer.

When you finally settle into your bed, the exhaustion of the day presses into you. The water stains on the ceiling and the faint smell of cigarette smoke don’t deter you from crashing into a deep sleep.

——

Maxine’s laughter fills your mind, her high-pitched voice wrapping around your throat and suffocating you. RJ begins to laugh and then cries somewhere in the distance. The Days pass through your line of sight, waltzing over the dirt, kicking up dust in their wake. CB snorts and stomps next to you. Everything moves in a choppy, jumpy way. People appear and dissolve in your vision, and then Lorraine snaps into view. Everything else fades away, and suddenly you’re sitting on the hay bales in the barn, she’s in your lap, and she’s kissing your neck. Your heart races, and a jolt of electricity shoots through you. You’re not surprised to find yourself in your underwear and then suddenly naked.

It occurs to you that you’re dreaming, but the thought is fleeting. Lorraine slides down your body and settles herself between your legs, her hands on your knees. Your chest heaving, your eyes wide, you run your fingers through her thick hair. When her mouth finds your center, you gasp.

You shoot up in your bed, the water stain above your head swimming into view. Your sleep-heavy brain takes a minute to register the hands on your hips and the lips pressing into your leg. The chain on your door is locked; nothing makes sense. You feel a tongue press between your legs, and you gasp again, throwing the blankets back.

You blink hard, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them, disbelief flooding you. Lorraine fucking Day, snuck into your room, slid under your blankets, stripped you down, and woke you up with her mouth doing unholy things to your body. You push her hair away from her face, sighing at the feeling of her tongue on you.

Your voice is breathy, low, “Baby, what-“

She sucks your clit between her lips and pushes her hand against your stomach. You drop back into the pillow, deciding to just let the moment be what it is. You’ll gather your senses later. Right now, you’re enjoying what she’s doing to you. Briefly, you wonder how she’s so good at this. You let the thought slip through your mind like sugar in a sieve.

Her hand slides up your ribs, her thumb caressing your skin as she squeezes your side. Quiet, indulgent moans leave your throat as she runs her tongue through you, building you up. She hums into you, and it sends you into overdrive. Your hips tilt up gently, seeking more contact with her mouth. She continues, consistent and steady, sucking and licking until you’re rocked by your orgasm. Your body shudders under her, your legs squeezing her head. You fall limp around her, and she presses a last kiss to the inside of your knee.

She crawls up your body, and you can see now she’s bare, naked as the day she came. She sits on your hips, hot against your skin, and leans down to kiss you languidly. Your hands run over her cheeks and back into her hair, anchoring you to her while you come down. She leans back, smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat.

“Wha-what was that?” You ask, shivering under her.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, her skin illuminated by the strips of silver moonlight creeping in through the blinds, “A reminder.”

You frown, your hands reaching out to hold her hips, “A reminder of what?”

She leans over you, her voice gravelly, “Not to make jokes about running off with Maxine.”

You would laugh if this possessive side of her didn’t turn you on so much. The glint in her eyes makes you feel like you’re made of pure gold, something to be hoarded and guarded aggressively. It’s foreign on her, and it’s delicious. So delicious, you’re practically drooling at the thought of her taste.

You pull her down into a kiss, running your tongue over her lips, your hands abandoning their post in her hair and making their way to her thighs. You want her in every way possible, all at once. You want to consume her, absorb her into yourself, and carry her around with you everywhere.

You settle for slipping two fingers inside of her wet heat, your tongue in her mouth, her chest pressing into yours. It’s the closest you can get to becoming one with her, entangled as far as you can go. She sits up, holding her weight in her legs, and grinds into your fingers, one hand on your chest, the other on her own leg. She doesn’t give you room to move, instead taking what she wants from you, rolling her hips and biting her lip.

You reach up with your free hand and pull her lip from her teeth, running your thumb over it. You don’t think your pupils could expand more than they do when takes your thumb in her mouth, rolls her tongue, and sucks on it, all while riding your other hand. It’s enough to send you into another orgasm.

She releases your thumb with a pop and watches as you shiver under her. Her mouth slightly open, she begins to pant. Your hand goes straight to her nipple, you roll it between your fingers, and that’s what it takes for her. She moans your name out and drops over you, holding herself up with shaking arms. You lift your head and lick at her throat, your eyes rolling back at the vibration when she groans. She tightens around you, gripping your fingers until she cums around them and collapses.

When you pull your hand away, your fingers sticky on her ribs, she’s back to herself. She curls around you, leaves soft kisses on your collarbone and under your jaw. She shivers, presses her face into your neck, and sighs.

“I have half a mind to make you jealous more often if that’s the treatment I’m gonna get,” your voice breaks the silence, a soft chuckle escaping from your chest.

She pinches your side and sits up on her elbow.

“Ouch!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from her.

“That’s not funny,” she says, looking down at you, her hair falling over her shoulder.

You shrug, grinning, “I mean, it’s a little funny.”

She tilts her head, “You make me jealous on purpose, and I’ll just hold out on you next time.”

You gasp, “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

You know, without a doubt she is serious. Not wanting to push your luck, you pull her down and kiss her softly, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. She pulls back to lay her head under your chin, her breathing even and slow across your skin. Suddenly you’re grateful for dingy motels and Lorraine’s knack for breaking and entering.

#lpm #lorraine day x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader

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hangmanbrainrot · 1 year

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more than this

a/n: HI. Me again! After talking with @rosiahills22, I simply HAD to give this idea a whirl. I hope y’all enjoy! Reader’s callsign is Van Gogh (to be explained) and I don’t use Y/N. :) special thanks to @bradshawsbitch for the encouragement. :’)

warnings: so much mutual pining, dash of angst toward the end. Generally, all my posts are 18+ because I don’t want minors interacting with my page! Probably naval inaccuracies.

word count: 3975

summary: You and Jake have been best friends for years now… Why mess with a good thing?

pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader — callsign: Van Gogh

“Vee, you aren’t seriously wearing that to Family Day.”

You glanced down at your striped sleep pants and faded Navy t-shirt, then whirled around to look up at the oh so familiar source of the question. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, in the flesh. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and black leather-banded watch on his wrist. His signature toothpick was missing from its usual post between his lips.

“You clean up nice,” you retorted, ignoring his initial remark. “And I thought we agreed, no call signs today.”

You ‘tsk’ed at him and turned back toward your laundry basket, then bending to pick it up and hold it at your hip.

“You have one of the coolest callsigns, besides mine, of course. What’s wrong with Van Gogh?”

“I got it because I dropped my books and everyone saw all the doodles in the margins of my notes. And it doesn’t even make sense, because Van Gogh was a painter. At least yours has a cool story, I mean—”

He said your name, low and sweet, to cut you off. The two of you weren’t about to rehash that story again.

“Better.” This earned you a smile. “I told you, I’m not going this year. I’m just gonna hang out here, take advantage of the empty lounge, and chill.”

“And I told you, my mother demanded to see you. In fact, I’d dare say she’s more excited to see you than she is to see me.”

“Can you blame Mrs. Seresin for having taste?” you replied easily, the teasing lilt to your voice unmistakable as you flashed Jake a megawatt smile.

“I’m absolutely telling on you, when I see her. ‘Mrs. Seresin’ instead of Sandy, as requested.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you shot back, mock horror covering your features.

“Can, could, and would. Get dressed, Vee. Families will be here before you know it!”

The way that Jake departed after speaking let you know it wasn’t up for debate.

———————————————————————————————————

You heard Jamie and Courtney before you saw them, their familiar, slightly shrill voices carrying over the crowd of people all waiting for their own aviator to make an appearance. Jake’s older and younger sisters had always treated you like the additional sibling they’d never had, but on a day like today, it made your heart ache. You knew, of course, not everyone was lucky enough to find a kind family to adopt them the way the Seresins had adopted you. Even Robert Seresin himself — gruff as he was, he had a you-sized soft spot, much like his son. Though good luck getting either of the Seresin men to admit it.

You smiled as you spun on your heel, ready to retreat. Content to revel in the knowledge that you were loved, but too heavy-hearted to witness it today. You’d beat Jake here, somehow, so maybe you could slip out without his notice, either. Come up with some feeble story about suddenly coming down with a migraine, and nurse your ache alone, with your mounds of freshly laundered clothing, once you were sure he and his family had departed for the day.

But instead of proceeding forward, you collided with navy cotton and ginger and leather and… Jake. Had he always smelled this good?

“Hi, I was just,” you pushed out, before being interrupted. Why were you so nervous, all of a sudden? It was just Jake.

“Trying to ditch me. Darlin’, my feelings are hurt.” The tips of your ears burned red with embarrassment, even as your stomach did backflips over the way his accent thickened on the word ‘darlin’.’

“Sorry, Jake.” You didn’t even have the wherewithal to hide the giggle leaking into your words. But you were smart enough to play it off. “I was just going to get a jacket.”

“Vee, it’s July.”

“Yes, I do have a calendar and I can read!” Your eye roll was practically involuntary. “I just get cold sometimes in the AC.”

A lopsided grin slid onto his features while he aimed a pointer finger at himself. “Human furnace. Let’s go!”

Before you could protest, he was slinging an arm around your shoulders and all but crushing you into his side. “I think this outfit is much more appropriate for a trip off base.” It sounded like he was testing the compliment. And, truthfully, you liked this particular combination of white cap-sleeve blouse and jeans quite a bit yourself, too. But it was nice of him to notice. Then again, you couldn’t recall a time when Jake hadn’t noticed you, not since the beginning of your friendship. He was just always so checked in with you. Always so present. If you squinted, you could call it attentiveness.

“Jacob Michael Seresin, it is rude to keep your mother waiting! And where is — there she is, there’s my girl.”

Before either of you could inhale, a head of blond hair identical to Jake’s came bounding toward you, Sandra Seresin bundling you up in her arms like she hadn’t seen you in years, rather than the months it had been since the last time she had seen you via FaceTime.

You hugged Sandy a little tighter, as if you were afraid you would disappear if you let go. If it weren't for this woman and her family, holding onto you — in more ways than one — you often feared no one would remember you at all. No one to be on the receiving end of a phone call or a folded flag, if you didn't make it home one day. You would just… cease to exist. Quietly. Perhaps that was fitting, considering that was exactly how you lived your life.

You were your parents' only child, and they were gone. Well, your father was, anyway. Your mother never recovered after his sudden death, and had taken to self-medicating to ease the pain of his loss. Which, sure, you got, once you were old enough, but you were still small and new to the world, when the light that was your father went out. No one is ready to lose a parent they're close to, but certainly not when they're five. And it felt like you'd lost her, too, by the time you were 10. Moved out by the time you were 16. So, she wasn't gone, but there was no relationship to be had. You knew, of course, that if something did happen to you, they'd find her. But who would she be mourning? You had lived a whole life she knew nothing about; you had become an entirely new person. Someone she knew nothing about, but that the Seresins knew like the backs of their hands. Courtney was filling your hands with your favorite candy on the walk to the parking lot, and Jamie's kids were telling you about how they were doing in school.

Maybe someone, maybe a few someones would remember you. And fondly, you hoped.

At the height of the day, the sun was relentless, but as you walked beside Jake in the parking lot, you couldn't help noticing it made his hair the perfect shade of blond, and rendered his eyes the color of sea-glass.

"You know they just missed you," he chirped, misreading your expression and mistaking your melancholy for annoyance.

"No, no," you said softly. "It's nice to be missed. I just.."

"Today is hard," he finished your sentence matter-of-factly, and without any sort of air of pity. You heard, in its place, respect. He had no idea how you felt, but he'd always left space in your friendship for you to feel it. And, in true Jake fashion, he'd tried to fix it, by introducing you to his family, all those years ago, now. You'd only known each other a few months, then. But he didn't want you to be alone. And, the truth was, you hadn't been. Not since the moment you met him. All you ever felt when you were with Jake was ease. Comfort.

Your hand found Jake’s without thinking, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, Jake. And I will not hesitate to kick your ass if you tell anyone how soft I got.”

You glanced over at Jake just in time to watch an unreadable emotion cloud his expression. Before you had time to think it over, he was squeezing your hand. “I’ll always keep all your secrets, Vee. Including that you prefer green Jolly Ranchers, even though blue are clearly superior.”

—————

The Seresins took you and Jake to a small diner off base, and it was today that you learned it was Jake’s favorite. You all sat in a booth toward the back, bunched up together in the cushioned semi-circle bench. Jake’s warm thigh brushed against yours, and you’d be lying if you didn’t notice the jolt that went through you, every time those thick cords of muscle pressed against you when he laughed, or when he reached forward to grasp one of the menus wedged between the matching salt and pepper shakers on the table.

With an arm lazily draped on the booth behind you, fingers loosely grazing your shoulder every so soften, Jake opened a menu for you to share.

“Well, what do you think, darlin’?”

“How did I not know this was your favorite place?” You asked, ignoring the question he was obviously asking you.

But he indulged you. “This was the first year I actually convinced you to come with us.”

“Convinced? I felt slightly bullied, Seresin.” You grinned, in spite of yourself.

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a little time with you, darlin’.” He sounded almost coy. You glanced up at him, at the same time he looked over at you, and found that ‘butterflies’ were an understatement for what that look was currently doing to your insides. It felt like a cross between adoration and desire, but what was even wilder was that Jake’s expression seemed to mirror your own — which was absurd because it was Jake. Jake, who always made sure you never got left behind; Jake, who sometimes pulled his punches with you when he was ragging on you over the comms. Yeah, that Jake, your Jake was looking at you like… that?

But then you heard Jake’s dad clear his throat from across the table and you and Jake glanced up like you’d been caught doing something far less innocuous. Your mind worked overtime trying to decipher what just happened here but the moment flickered and burnt out before you, and the conversation moved on like a film unpaused.

Despite the fact that his entire family was here, it felt like Jake couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you for a moment, not that you were complaining. And it was something his mother noticed, too.

“So, between the two of you, who do you think is the better pilot?” Courtney teased, a mischievous glint visible in the hazel of her irises.

But then Jake said your name at the same time you said his, causing you both to turn to each other in surprise, mouths agape.

“Stop being modest,” he accused, almost immediately. Part of you wanted to make special note of this moment, record it somehow. So that the next time Jake decided to have a pissing contest with some other pilot, you could chime in and remind him it didn’t matter, since he thought you were the best anyway. You went to shove at his chest, but your hand — and your heart — stuttered with you made contact. He was so solid. Just firm muscle and warm skin. When your gaze dared drift upward, he was blushing. Your comment, voicing the observation, would die on your lips, as your server returned to the table with a tray full of milkshakes. Leave it to Jamie to secure dessert when you weren’t looking.

—————

When the meal had run its course and everyone was preparing for the trip back to base, you couldn’t help but hang back a little bit, just to take it all in. Jake was indulging Courtney in one of those rare, long bear hugs, while Jamie and his mother ran off to the bathroom, and his dad made small talk with another patron seated at the diner’s counter. In spite of your resistance, this family had yanked you, kicking and screaming, into their lives. Whether you’d found them or they’d found you didn’t matter, what mattered was the moment unfolding before you. You wished you could wrap it around you and let it warm you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure when Jake had released Courtney to return to your side, or when the rest of his family had filtered out the diner’s front doors, so you jumped when you heard his voice from beside you.

“You okay, sugar?” He was close enough that you could smell the tang of his cologne — softer than before, but still present — and feel the body heat rolling off of him in waves. You practically ached with the desire to move, to be touching him in some way, and the ferocious way this feeling roared to life within you startled you. Instead of giving in to that yearning to touch, you spun around and put some distance between you, eyes trained on him. You were desperate to find out what had changed, but when you gazed into Jake’s eyes. You just saw him, you just felt him. Nothing else had changed. But maybe nothing had needed to. High stakes situations meant you were constantly filtering out your emotions: keep, alter, discard; keep, alter, discard. You rifled through feelings often before you took a breath. It felt silly to question whether or not you’d simply overlooked or ignored your feelings for your best friend all along, but what else could be true? It wasn’t the way you felt about him that was new; no, it was the sudden impulse to do something about it that felt like an unscratchable itch.

You took a nearly imperceptible step closer, and Jake mirrored your actions. He said your name softly, cautiously.

But then, from behind: “Hey, is everybody else outside?”

Jamie’s voice was like cold water to the face. Still, you nodded, regaining the distance between yourself and Jake. You blinked a few times, as if you were hitting some sort of invisible reset button in your mind.

Keep, alter, discard.

You were silent, the entire ride back to base. You went through the motions of ‘see-you-next-time’’s and ‘take-care’’s, and stood in the parking lot until Robert’s truck was completely out of view.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled, without looking up at Jake, then spinning on your heels to head back inside. There was still enough of the day that you could get your laundry done if you headed straight in and got to work, you just had to —

Jake’s hand on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Your skin was tingling where his fingers were wrapped around you. Jaw set, you clenched, mouth forming a straight line. You were back on base now; you were back to being naval aviators. There wasn’t any room for these silly little schoolgirl feelings Jake inspired in you. You didn’t get to twirl your hair and bat your eyelashes and fall head over heels for your best friend. Instead, you got to linger somewhere painfully between ‘duty bound’ and ‘already in over your head.’

“What is it, Jake?” You hadn’t yet turned to face him, and that was an offense he didn’t take lightly to; though instead of waiting for you to rectify the situation, he does so himself. It was so very like him.

“Look at me, please.” The raw edge to his voice startled you into compliance.

You turned and regretted it immediately.

“What did I do?” His eyes were so soft, so entirely unguarded. A fear you didn’t recognize was plain on his face. “How can I fix it?”

“It’s nothing, Jake.”

But he was not convinced by your sighed syllables. “That’s bullshit.” Even the way he spoke was gentle, like he was afraid you’d evaporate from the sheer force of his words if he spoke too loudly.

“Something changed, after lunch, something… Something happened,” he continued. “Did Jamie say something to you? Court?”

A short burst of laughter punched out of you, but it sounded colder than you imagined, and Jake stepped back like you’d slapped him. Fear was replaced by irritation. You recognized that particular crease in his brow, but you resolved that this was good. Maybe he needed to hate you a little, so you could get over whatever was most definitely not happening here.

“What?” You laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced than before. “Did you expect me to go all weak-kneed because you saved me, Jake? Showed me what a real family was like? Would you like me to grovel with gratitude now, or can I save that for later?”

And you regretted the words the moment you said them, instantly spiraling. It was vicious and careless, but a low enough blow that it would end things — it would fix things, once and for all. But then that feeling from earlier returned, that burning at the back of your throat and the sting in your eyes. You understood now that what you were feeling was loss; you were preparing for the loss of your best friend. Prematurely, perhaps, but if you knew Jake at all, you knew it wasn’t that premature. He let the others think he was a jerk and a blowhard but, to you, he admitted to the real softness of his heart. The purity of it. It was you he sat beside, shaking with worry after Phoenix and Bob went down after a bird strike. You, he called when his niece got a case of the flu so bad she was hospitalized and he couldn’t see her. You, he pleaded with for help when he’d mouthed off too much in class and was pretty sure everyone hated him now. You knew everything he did was so startlingly fucking earnest. To question how genuine he was, to question his integrity, was the kind of wound that could only be delivered intimately. And you had done it so very well. A real stab and twist.

You mumbled an apology, just desperate to escape Jake and that angry, but somehow still pleading look in his eyes. It was when your back was turned that Jake finally spoke.

“God, I have to be so fucking stupid.”

“Jake, don’t,” you said, stilled but not turning back around. Your pride wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“No, I must be. I must be a complete fucking idiot to have misread all the signs that you… That we want the same thing.”

You didn’t dare speak at first; you couldn’t. And then, when you did, the ragged nature of your breathing startled even you. “And what is it that you think we both want?”

“More than this, Vee!” He sounded exasperated, and you didn’t need to face him to know that Jake had run a frustrated hand through his hair. “More than tiptoeing around each other and how we feel about each other, and trying to pretend like, like…”

“Trying to pretend like what?” The words ripped out of you like a sob and you couldn’t will yourself to be still anymore. Your body angled toward his like you were fucking magnetized.

“Trying to pretend like I am not in love with you.”

The words landed like lead around you, and you had to bite back a sob. When that wasn’t enough to muffle the sound, you slapped a palm to your mouth.

He had done it. He had taken that big thing, wrestled it into submission, and then laid it bare in front of you. But, more than that, he’d laid himself bare in front of you. He was more naked now than he’d ever been in any locker room. This was Jake at his most honest.

And you could feel yourself teetering so dangerously on the edge of giving in. Your breaths heaved in and out of you with great effort.

What if you ruined this? What if he left you? What if, what if, what if…

God, but what if you didn’t? What if, for once, something just fucking worked out, and someone just stayed? If there was anyone in your life who was capable of staying, wouldn’t it be Jake? Who else could it be?

Your resolve was so thin, so fragile; when you finally spoke, it was: “Jake, I’m scared.”

He took a step toward you. He could’ve closed the gap between your bodies in a singular stride, but he was giving you an out. One last chance to walk away. You remained anchored to your spot on the pavement. When he took the final step toward you, he had a palm raised to frame your face — he was shaking, but he rested his forehead against yours, too. And that was Jake, in a nutshell. Scared, but pushing forward. It was one of the things you admired, one of the things you loved most about him.

“Don’t be scared, Vee.” The plea was soft, softer than a prayer. “Don’t be scared. Whatever there is to figure out, we’ll figure it out together. We can make this work.”

“And if we can’t?”

“We’ll figure that out together, too.”

Even as your every survival instinct was telling you not to, even as all you wanted to do was run, you leaned in. The kiss was a little clumsy — he hadn’t been ready, you were too nervous. But then your hand found purchase against his chest, and one of his at your hip. And then you were practically tugging each other closer; your lips fitting together more seamlessly. How had you held out this long? How had you deprived yourself of this?

Jake retracted, eyes wild and bright when he looked at you. As his lips sloped into a grin, you knew something was coming.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if you heard me, but…”

“Oh, you mean your little love confession?” you reveled in the flush that crept up his neck and the laugh that fled your now kiss-swollen lips as a result.

Though realization seemed to darken his expression, and his eyes left yours. The loss was one you felt immediately.

“What?”

Jake must have felt the tension begin to seep into your body, because his thumb began to press slow, soothing circles against your hip.

“Vee, I know you don’t need me to save you. You have never needed to be saved by anyone.” His brow furrowed a moment, and the hand still cradling your face dropped to meet the other at your hips. “But if you want to be… If you want someone else to help you carry all that weight on your shoulders. Well, that would be okay, too, alright?”

You weren’t certain, but when Jake met your gaze once again, you were almost positive there were tears welling in his eyes. The sight of his vulnerability rendered you speechless, so you nodded mutely, then managed a small ‘okay.’ It was instinctive for you to rest your forehead against Jake’s chest and allow his arms to envelope you in his embrace. More so than ever before.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing there when you finally spoke up again. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Instead, he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his arms around you. And maybe, just maybe, you thought… this wouldn’t be so bad. Whether it was 20 minutes or 20 years, you wanted as much of Jake as he was willing and able to give.

Keep, alter, discard? You were definitely keeping this feeling.

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