#but heres good old jonathan as a treat

[mangozic]

archivist be upon ye

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part one) | neil lewis x reader

title comes from the song you already know by bombay bicycle club

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. will you ever find the courage to tell him the truth?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | alcohol consumption, 'kid' as a petname, reader being kind of a femcel, jonathan being kind of mvp??

Neil had asked you to make sure the Thriller section was alphabetized; sometimes you thought he was just giving you tasks to look busy, but then again, you could probably use it since the employees of Gumshoe Video never looked very busy.  You spent most of the day on the couches, watching whatever old bizarre gem Neil put on— sometimes you thought he only had employees other than himself so that he could pay people to sit here and watch this stuff with him.  

But, the point is, you were sorting tapes.  Because everyone needs their VHS thriller movies to be in perfect alphabetical order.

There actually was a customer in the store, for once, so it was better not to be on the couch anyhow.  You hadn’t really noticed him when he came in, but as he wandered around the shelves, he seemed to drift towards you.  

You tried to ignore him when he stopped right beside you— and kneeling to look at the lowest shelf, he towered over you— but when you stood up he got your attention.  

"Need any help, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning in a little too close.  "I'm kind of a movie buff."

He had a frat guy kind of look about him— polo, boat shoes, quaffed blonde hair.  He could be good-looking, you thought, if he didn’t dress like a discount Abercrombie model… and if he didn’t hit on random women at the video store.  "I actually work here," you corrected, barely looking up from your task.  This is why we need uniforms instead of just dressing up to promote specials…

"Oh, really?" he smirked.  "What made you wanna work in a place like this?"

"My best friend owns the place," you explained, "and I'm, you know… kind of a movie buff."

"Right," he said, not seeming convinced.  "You like Kubrick?"

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost choked: Wow, what a deep cut.  But you kept a straight-ish face when you looked at him.  "Yeah, he's pretty good.  Don't care for how he treats his actors, but he was certainly a visionary."

"What are your top five favorite Kubrick movies?"

You knew this guy was a tool, but you were still a bit shocked that he actually had the gall to quiz you.  "Excuse me?" you scoffed incredulously.

"Can you even name five?" he asked, looking horribly proud of himself, and you straightened up as you glared at him.

"You're heterosexual, right?" you asked him, getting a confused nod.  "Can you name five women you've made come?"

Neil watched the guy storm out, Lucien cringed a bit from behind the register— and Jonathan, not seeming as if he had been paying attention at all, kept laying across the couch and tossing a ball up in the air to catch and throw again.

“Okay, that’s gotta be the third this week,” Lucien groaned.  “What are you saying to these guys?”

“Nothing worse than what they’re saying to me,” you assured with a frustrated, sarcastic smile.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” Neil began, “that guy totally deserved it— but maybe, you know… work on your demeanor with customers?”

“Wow,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, “do you think I should smile more, too?”

“Wha— no!” Neil denied.  

“Yes,” Lucien said at the same time, though he changed his answer with an awkward cough and mumble when you both shot him a look.  “No, no— you’re good— you smile too much, even…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Neil promised.  “But I think half the guys that come here are just coming here to see you!  Nobody even rents movies anymore.”  He groaned a little, dropping his shoulders defeatedly.  “Can’t you… tell them you’ll go out with them if they rent something?”

“What?!” you squeaked. “No!”

“Sales would double,” Lucien nodded.

“No,” you said again.  “I’m not letting you pimp me out to sell tapes, Neil.”

“I just mean— maybe you don’t really go out with them,” he suggested.  “Just… allude to the fact that you’re only interested in guys who…”

He trailed off as he searched around the shelves for a bit, smiling when he snagged a copy of The Maltese Falcon.

“— in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” he grinned, “you know— for example.  Then they rent it to impress you and we make a few bucks.”

“I am only interested in guys who like The Maltese Falcon,” you frowned, snatching the tape away and shoving it back on the shelf.  “But that’s not the point.”

“Maybe you have to be more straightforward, you know,” Jonathan butted in as he sat up, “guys are dumb.”

“Yeah!” Neil agreed a little too easily.

“Just say something about how a massive VHS collection turns you on,” Lucien suggested, and you glared at him.

“Jesus!” you protested, but Neil tried to soothe you a bit.

"C'mon, kid, can't you just… flirt a little?  Get our sales up?"

He'd started calling you kid since you two watched Casablanca together— which was especially stupid as you were both twelve at the time.  At first you complained because he shouldn't be calling you kid with you both being kids; then you complained because neither of you were kids; and then you gave up.  You still punched Lucien for trying to call you that once… you only barely let Neil get away with it anyways.

But you let Neil get away with a lot.  It was a side effect of being secretly, but massively, in love with him.

It had been an issue since middle school— that was when the two of you became such good friends.  Technically, you’d known each other since first grade (where you had shared your crayons, a true test of friendship at the time), and you’d sort of had a crush on him as early as elementary school (mainly because he was the only boy you could stand at the time), but it all kicked into high gear in seventh grade.  That was when you became inseparable, when you got in trouble together, when you stayed up all night watching movies, when you went through all of life’s ups and downs together: you even went to prom together, platonically of course.  

As for your feelings, you’d managed to hide them this long and still be his best friend, even when it sometimes felt like letting him stomp all over your heart without even trying.  Honestly, the only thing harder than being in love with Neil was trying not to be in love with Neil: you adored his sense of humor, his generosity, his sensitivity— and he’d been there for you through the things you couldn’t have imagined surviving alone.  That kinda stuff bonds you to somebody… and when that somebody has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, it’s hard not to fall in love.

“Maybe I would flirt if I knew how,” you offered.  “But I’m not exactly, you know, flirty.”

“How hard could it be?” Jonathan interjected.  “Just, you know—”

You stared in quiet disbelief as Jonathan attempted to push his chest together with his arms.  It wasn’t quite working, of course, and the rest of you watched on as he fumbled around trying to force some cleavage.  “You look like an idiot,” you finally informed him after letting him do it for a minute.

“But is he wrong?” Lucien wondered.

“So, what, you guys really think that if I just went up to customers and—” you pushed your breasts together with your arms, accentuating them significantly in your tank top.

“That would work,” all three men asserted in unison before you could even finish.

“I fucking hate you guys,” you grumbled under your breath as you walked to the back, deciding to take your break in Neil’s office until these guys got their act together.

You never stayed gone for long, though— as idiotic as they could be, your friends were certainly charming.  They won you back with a promise to let you pick what tape to put on, and the four of you ended up laying on the couches watching Roman Holiday.  

When the movie was almost over, you rested your head on Neil’s shoulder; you guys did stuff like that, it was normal for you, but it always made your heart skip anyways.

~

This time, you were all hanging out at Jonathan’s primary workplace: the club.  In fact, it was a much larger crowd than just you and the guys— plenty of your local friends and loyal supporters of Gumshoe Video, all sitting around a big table while someone’s mediocre cover band took the stage.

"So, uh, me and Denise broke up," Neil said suddenly, going back in for another swig of beer right after.

The others offered their mild shock and half-hearted condolences, but you knew it was going to happen— he'd told you before he did it.  You tried to tell him that paying off a waiter to spill water on her was a weird way to prove what he already knew, but you couldn't disagree with his conclusion.  She was definitely difficult, and shockingly judgemental for someone who managed to date a video store owner for this long.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he promised, “I don’t think anybody’s too surprised, right?”

There was an awkward hesitation among the group as they wondered if they should lie, or just fess up now that he was obviously accurate.  You broke the silence to suggest someone go get another round of drinks for the table, and even though that was pretty much a one-man job, nearly everyone agreed and quickly shuffled off— leaving just you, Neil, and Lucien.

“I guess tonight’s your chance to meet somebody new, don’t you think?” Lucien suggested.  “Get over Denise, you know.”

“I think I’m already over Denise,” Neil decided.

“And if I told you that girl back there,” Lucien returned, pointing with the hand still holding his drink, “has been looking over here at you for the past ten minutes?”

You glanced where Lucien was pointing as well, seeing a girl in a denim mini skirt and massive hoop earrings settle her eyes on Neil before looking away quickly with a lip-gloss lacquered smile.

“I think I need some help getting over Denise,” Neil agreed suddenly, patting Lucien on the back before he left the table.  

You wanted to pout, but you were used to this— he was good-looking, he got a lot of attention from women in places like this… it usually didn’t work out for him, though.  Certainly not never, probably more often than most guys, but… definitely not every time.

You tried not to look over too much, you didn’t want to get caught spying or, even worse, looking a little jealous— but you noticed that every time you looked over at them, Neil was talking.  That was his problem, see: he never fucking shuts up.  Guys, girls, anybody who will listen— if you admit to not knowing about his favorite fifty-year-old spaghetti western or the most recent pre-Code horror comedy he watched, he’ll gladly blab to you about it for ages.  The first time you glanced at them, you saw her giving him doe eyes, laughing at something he said— and the last time, those eyes had glazed over and her laugh seemed more nervous and confused; you smirked to yourself.  He’s still Neil…

“So, um,” you struck up a conversation with Lucien, “what about you?  Anybody here catching your eye?”

“That’s actually the perfect descriptor of my type,” he replied.  “Anybody.”

You snorted.  “Then you should go, you know, talk to anybody?”

He shrugged and frowned a bit, and it was a simple movement but you understood completely.

The band started to play a new song, something upbeat and energetic, and you smiled.  “Wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that—” Lucien began to protest, but a minute later you were dragging him up by the stage.  Neither of you were actually any good at dancing, mainly you were just kind of jumping and flailing around together, but it was fun and that was the point.

Eventually, more of your friends wandered in to join you; when the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered, the band bowing in gratitude.  You only stole one more look over at Neil and his conversation partner, watching her interrupt his rant with a hand on his shoulder: your throat felt a little dry.  You just hoped what she was saying was more like hey, my friends are leaving, I’ve gotta go and not hey, wanna come over to my place so you can keep explaining German expressionism to me?

Your heart dropped when he reached for her— what if he kissed her now?  What if he wrapped her up under his arm and they walked out together?  What if you had to spend the whole night thinking about him having sex with her?

“Hey, we should ask them if they know any Strokes songs!” Lucien suggested, tugging on your arm to get your attention, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Uh huh, yeah,” you mumbled blankly, and he frowned at you.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to look for what you were seeing; but Neil wasn’t reaching for her, he was lifting his hand to wave goodbye as she left.  You beamed, even though you did feel a little bad when you saw Neil’s shoulders sink— it’s not that you wanted him to be alone forever, you were just relieved that you might have a few more moments to breathe before he got with somebody again.

“Nothing, sorry,” you answered Lucien, giving him your attention again.  “What’d you say?”

“We should ask the band if they—”

And immediately, Lucien lost your focus as you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Neil again— he was already looking at you, seeing you all on the dancefloor.  You waved for him to join you, and he smiled as he made his way towards the stage.  A new song began, even louder than the last, and you could blame that for not hearing Lucien’s question for the second time in a row.

Although he danced with you all for a few moments, Neil draped his arms over your and Lucien’s shoulders, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

“You guys are coming over tonight for a movie, right?” he presumed.  “Jonathan’s working ‘til late so he’s out, but—”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta be up early,” Lucien explained, “my brother and his wife are visiting, remember?  We’re getting brunch and—”

“Whatever, party pooper,” Neil frowned, before suddenly smiling at you.  “Guess it’s just me and you, huh, kid?”

You tried not to sigh too noticeably through your smile.  “Yeah, me and you…” you agreed.

~

As you groggily blinked your eyes open, you found Neil staring at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours, with a big smile.  “Mornin’, kid,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

You yelped and nearly jumped out of your skin while he laughed.  “Jesus Christ, Neil!” you shouted, kicking off the blanket on you— and then you began to process where you were and why.  “God,” you groaned as you held your head in your hands, while Neil kept laughing at you, “did I fall asleep on the couch again?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question— obviously you had, it would be much stranger if you woke up on the video store couch without having fallen asleep there.  “Yeah,” he said, standing up and sighing a bit, “but you didn’t miss that much of the movie.”

“What happened at the end?” you asked, stretching your legs and snatching the blanket off the floor to fold up; Neil must have put it on you after you dozed off.

“No, we can finish it later,” he decided, walking up to the register, and you groaned.

“Seriously?  Not even falling asleep gets me out of finishing The Man Who Laughs?”

He smiled a little as he started prepping the store for open.  “Nope,” he said proudly, popping his lips on the p sound.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” you assured, getting up and trying to ignore the soreness in your back from sleeping on a ratty old sofa all night— you remembered helping Neil carry this thing from where he found it on the side of the road.  Considering you knew where it came from, it was a wonder you ever sat on it, let alone slept on it… but this happened relatively often.  Sometimes it almost felt like you slept easier here or at Neil’s apartment than your own. 

You stood up and stretched your arms, sparing a glance over at him.

“Can I run home and change?” you asked, and he frowned.  

“We open in ten minutes,” he noticed, “you won’t be back in time.”

“Yes, and who will serve the clamoring crowds that await our open outside?” you rolled your eyes, gesturing out the storefront to the abandoned sidewalk.  “You can handle it on your own.”

“Just go to my place,” he shrugged, “it’s closer.  And I think you left some jeans there anyway.”

Right— you’d borrowed a pair of his sweats to get comfy for a movie night, and forgot to take the jeans back when you left.  You yourself had one of Neil’s short-sleeve button-ups at your place, when you’d both changed there for a costume party, but you let him believe it was just lost… it was too late to tell him now that you had it, ‘cause then he might ask why you kept it so long and then he might, somehow, deduce that you had been cuddling it at night from time to time…

“Right, okay,” you nodded, “but I still need a shirt.”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, like it was no big deal at all and didn’t make your heart skip.

For a second you wondered if you should protest— if he was still dating Denise, you probably would’ve said something.  But you decided not to say anything, in case he changed his mind; you nearly bolted out of the store and down the two blocks to his apartment.

Your jeans were on the dresser, draped haphazardly in their same just-peeled-off shape you must have left them in last week.  You grumbled to yourself a little about how he could’ve folded them for you so they wouldn’t be wrinkled… but then again, all his jeans were wrinkled, so he clearly didn’t know any better.

And now the fun part: picking a shirt.  You smiled to yourself as you opened the drawer, perusing through t-shirts with old movie posters and semi-witty slogans… cute, sure, but those were pretty similar to what you already wore.  

But the button-downs?  Those were quintessential Neil, and you'd be wasting an opportunity if you didn't put one of those on.

You felt a little giddy as you opened the next drawer down and found them all folded.  The first one you saw had light blue and white stripes, so you snatched it up and slipped it on.

The fit was definitely off, but you let yourself indulge in a fantasy for a moment: waking up here, in Neil's bed… in Neil's arms.  You'd slip on his shirt while you went to find some breakfast, and he'd hum something about how pretty you look in his clothes, and you'd end up tangled in the sheets again not too much later.  

Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the last button, leaving the two at the top undone so you didn't look too formal, and headed back to the store for opening.

Neil stared at you for a second when you walked in— at the shirt, specifically.  You waited for him to say something, but he didn't.  "What, should I not wear this one?" you asked, looking down at it as well, and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine— sorry," he mumbled, "just start sorting out last night's returns, please."

You definitely got a much stronger reaction from Jonathan, as soon as he walked in the door.

(Why was he here when he wasn't even working today?  Who knows— he was just always here somehow.)

“Hey!  You look even more like a lesbian than usual,” Jonathan greeted with a peppy fake-smile as he approached you, and you smirked a bit.

“Don’t blame me, it’s his shirt,” you nodded towards Neil.

“See, I told you you dress like a— wait,” Jonathan stopped mid-insult, looking back at you, then at Neil again, then at you; he pointed his fingers at each of you, crossing them back and forth.  “Did… you two…?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

“Did you guys hook up?!” Jonathan accused, wide-eyed.

You felt your face getting warm, and you stammered out your denial; Neil started waving his hands in disagreement as well, but Jonathan was already on a roll.

“Oh my god!” he yelped.  “The one time I miss movie night here and it gets freaky!  Should’ve known better than to leave you two lovebirds alone—”

“Jonathan, we didn’t—” you choked.

“It’s not— it wasn’t—” Neil butted in.  “She just borrowed my shirt!  ‘Cause she— because—”

“I mean, we’ve kinda all been waiting for this to happen— but I never really thought it would,” Jonathan steamrolled along.  “Well, yeah, I guess I thought it would, I just—”

“Wait wait wait, what?” Neil shook his head, stepping up closer to the two of you.  “What does that mean?”

Finally, he seemed to get Jonathan’s attention, who began to nervously backtrack as both of you stared at him.  “W-well, I just mean—” he started.

“And who’s ‘we all’?” Neil noticed.  “This isn’t just you, thinking this?”

“I… I mean,” Jonathan scoffed, “you know— just, just some people… we thought that maybe… that since you two are so close, that you might—”

“Wow,” Neil chuckled, crossing his arms in disappointment.  “You know, that’s so reductive.  For a bunch of progressive, free-thinking hipsters—” he waved his hands as he said it in a mocking way— “you’re really just, like… like… you know, not!  ‘Cause apparently men and women can’t really be friends?”

“No, come on, not like that,” Jonathan denied, “of course we can—”

“I mean, you’re her friend, you’re both single,” Neil noticed, gesturing between the two of you, “why don’t you two, just, you know… hook up!”

You cringed a little as Jonathan tugged at his collar nervously.  “Well, I—”

“Come on, why not?” Neil went on, smiling at the suggestion even though he was clearly unamused.  “I mean, she’s nice, she’s pretty, she’s got a vagina— why don’t you hit on her?”

“Hey, come on, Neil,” Jonathan sighed, “I’m well aware she’s got a vagina—”

“So what’s the problem?” Neil insisted.  “Clearly you can’t just be friends with someone with a vagina—”

“I would really prefer if we didn’t talk about my vagina anymore,” you mumbled nervously.

“— how come you never hit on her, Jonny?” Neil pressed, backing him into a corner metaphorically— but also somewhat literally, he was leaning in and Jonathan was pressing his back more and more against the shelves.

“You really want me to answer that?” Jonathan replied, almost threatening.  That made you furrow your brow a bit.  It seemed like a rhetorical question, Neil trying to prove a point, but you didn’t expect Jonathan to have a literal answer.

“Yeah, sure,” Neil decided, “enlighten us.”

Neil glanced at you, like you were just as gung-ho about this interrogation, but you were feeling a little sick.  You understood the spirit of Neil’s argument— and technically, you agreed with him— but it still stung to see him so incensed at the suggestion of you two together.  You were trying not to take it personally, it wasn’t like he was disgusted by you or anything… he even said just now that you were pretty, and he’d told you that before, but… it still bothered you a little, for reasons you couldn’t quite describe and that you were sure were illogical.

“I never hit on her,” Jonathan answered, lowering his voice, “because I… I figured it would piss you off.”

That seemed to surprise you both, maybe for different reasons; you bit your lip to suppress a smile.  Did Jonathan really think Neil was that protective over you?  “Why would it piss me off?” Neil wondered, but he sounded a little defensive— defensive in a caught-red-handed sort of way.

“I… I don’t know,” Jonathan shrugged.  “That’s just the vibe I got, okay?  That she’s sorta… off-limits.”

Neil hesitated.  “Well… she’s not,” he decided.  “You’re grown-ups.  Whatever you wanna do is none of my business— as long as you’re not being, you know, creepy or an asshole.”

“Of course,” Jonathan agreed, most of the tension settling as Neil backed up a step.

“Okay, well, ask her out then,” Neil instructed firmly.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Jonathan sputtered.

“Neil, Jesus!” you complained simultaneously, and he seemed to relent, shrugging as he walked back to the register.

“Sorry, sorry,” he dismissed, “just letting you know it’s… fine with me!”

You rolled your eyes a bit and looked back at Jonathan.  “Sorry,” you offered him quietly, “he’s… I don’t know.  He gets weird about that.”

“Oh really?” Jonathan scoffed sarcastically.  “Didn’t notice.”

“The real reason you shouldn’t be hitting on me is because we’re coworkers, by the way,” you reminded him.

“Hey, I only work here part-time,” Jonathan noticed, “so I think that means it’s cool as long as we only go out part-time.”

You snorted, but he seemed to get nervous.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he added quickly, and you nodded with a laugh.

~

"You know, I was thinking— we don't have many events at the store these days,” Neil mumbled around a bite of pretzel, watching you play your turn at Skee Ball.  Normally he would put coins in the machine beside yours and try to beat your score, but the other machine was out of order and you decided to take a relay race approach.  “What if we did, like, I don’t know… maybe a double feature for a couple bucks?”

“Neil, we show movies every night,” you sighed, “and we invite everybody, and ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just some combination of me, you, Jonathan, and Lucien.”

“Yeah, but this time we could do movies that more people like— a little easier to watch,” he suggested, “something that would get new people in the store.”

“New people don’t wanna sit on a musty old couch with strangers,” you reminded him, and he nodded as he chewed and swallowed his next bite.

“You’re right,” he agreed, holding the pretzel out towards you.  “Wanna bite?”

You were trying to get through your skee balls pretty quick, so you just leaned your head over and chomped down on the end of one of the twists while he held it for you.  You hummed in appreciation— it was pretty good, fresher than the last one you guys got here.

Visits to the arcade used to be your thing, back in high school (aside from watching movies, but that was a given).  Then you slowed down with the trips, feeling a little old and out of place surrounded by kids— but the problem was, this place wasn’t filled with kids anymore.  It hadn’t changed much at all since you were both in high school, and that was exactly the issue: it was old, run-down, a bit grimey… kids weren’t coming to arcades anymore anyways, they were all on the Internet apparently.  So, while you and Neil sort of appreciated having the place to yourself, it also broke your heart knowing your old haunt couldn’t hold itself together forever… you two visited not just to recapture some old childhood joys, but to try to do your part to keep the business afloat.  

You pretended to like being here— because you really did want to support the place, and Neil wanted to keep coming back— but it actually made you pretty fucking sad.  Surrounded by all the neon, the noisy pinball machines, the Dig Dug machine that had a fifty-fifty chance of stealing your quarters, the photobooth (you still had some strips from that thing pinned to your wall, some so old that they’d faded from the sunlight that came in your window each day); it all felt sort of eerie now.  You would’ve never known all those years ago how little this place would change, even though you never expected it to— you would’ve never known how little anything would change.  Neil was still by your side, but still so far away… if you could talk to that fourteen-year-old girl now, you would warn her that no amount of time spent running around this place and playing Street Fighter was going to make Neil love her, or you.

But here you were anyways.  “Woo!” you cheered when your final score came through: 50,765.  “Beat that!”

Neil set the pretzel down on the bar-height table (on a pile of napkins, don’t worry, neither of you trusted those tables that much) and brushed the salt off his hands with a scoff.  “Oh please, I can beat that with my eyes closed,” he assured as you crossed your arms.

As he put his quarters in and stepped up to the game, you smiled wide.  “Alright, if you say so.”

You came up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands, making him jump and then laugh.  “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you honest,” you giggled, holding on tight even when he tried to move his head around so that he could see.  

He did his best, usually struggling to even find where the balls were coming down more than rolling them decently— but after the first three went in the gutter without even scoring, you knew he didn’t stand a chance.  He did score a few times, but when the buzzer went off and he lifted your hands from his eyes, he laughed at the pitiful 1,150 on the board.

“Ohh, that’s too bad,” you winced, “guess you’re just full of it.”

Still holding your hands away from his face, he spun around and twirled under your arms like you were dancing for a moment; it ended with him face-to-face with you, swinging your hands back and forth a bit to force you to twist with him slightly.  “Wanna play Street Fighter next?” he suggested quickly.  “I know I can beat you at that.”

The giddy joy of the moment dropped and shattered; if you thought about it too much, you probably could’ve cried right then.  As pathetic, yet oddly aesthetically pleasing, as it would be to cry in an arcade, you swallowed down the emotion and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, okay,” you agreed.

~

You’d been a little antsy all day— Neil seemed to notice, asking a couple times if you were okay, but you just nodded and shrugged it off.  He had a sense for when you were lying; but that’s the thing, you weren’t lying, really.  You just weren’t sure what to say.  You weren’t sure if you should say anything.  And yet, you felt a little guilty not telling him everything that was going on with you— not just guilty, but plain weird.  Because you usually did tell him everything— except, you know, the thing— but you didn’t know if you should talk about this.  Not that you couldn’t— but should you?

So you were sort of gnawing on your lip most of the day, keeping yourself busy with tallying late fees behind the desk, trying to keep conversation light and meaningless: thankfully, in that regard, Jonathan and Lucien made it pretty easy.

“Okay: fuck, marry, kill,” Jonathan began, “Dracula, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“Dude, I can’t answer that,” Lucien refused.

“Okay, then Neil, what would you do?” Jonathan changed his target.

“Um, well,” Neil pondered, “I think I’d have to kill Dracula— spare the world from that evil, you know— and I guess I’d marry the Mummy—”

“Freud would like to have a word,” Lucien butted in.

“And I’d fuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he concluded, “out of morbid curiosity.”

You snorted, but didn’t look up from your clipboard.  “You come up with one that Lucien will do,” Jonathan challenged Neil.

“Alright, uhh, let’s see…” Neil stalled as he thought, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin dramatically.  “Fuck, marry, kill: Sarah Carter, Ripley, and Trinity from Matrix.”

“Okay, see, that’s a real challenge,” Lucien affirmed.  “If I marry Trinity, do I have to live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland or can she live here?”

“You’d have to live in the Matrix,” Jonathan announced, like it was obvious.

“Hm,” Lucien pondered, “do I know it’s a false reality?  Does she know?”

“She knows, you don’t,” Neil decided.

“Is she gonna tell me?  What if she has another guy on the side in the real world?”

“Okay, you’re overthinking this,” Jonathan groaned.

“And is this the Sarah Carter that’s already had John?  ‘Cause if not, I can’t kill her, or the human revolution stands no chance— but if she has him, I can’t marry her, ‘cause I’m not ready to be a stepfather—”

“You’re useless,” Jonathan informed him flatly.

“Well, it’s easy then,” you offered, still tallying fees on the printed table.  “You fuck Carter, marry Ripley and kill Trinity.”

“Yeah, I guess that works,” Lucien shrugged.

“If you’re so good at this game, you should play,” Jonathan decided.  You looked up from your work for once, finding Lucien looking excited at the idea and Neil looking a little nervous but intrigued.

“I’ve got one for you,” Lucien decided, looking concerningly smug.  “Fuck, marry, kill: the three of us.”

Jonathan let out a giddy ‘ooh’ and Neil raised his eyebrows.  “Oh— I don’t know— that’s too weird,” you shook your head, “it’s different, you’re real—”

“Wait, wait,” Neil interrupted, “now I wanna know.”

You froze for a second, wondering if you should double down on not participating, or if you should tell him the first thing that popped in your head: am I allowed to do all three to you?

Instead, you set the clipboard down and crossed your legs, and the men seemed to straighten up as they prepared for your answer.  “Alright,” you said, looking at them for a lingering moment before sighing.  “I think I’d fuck Jonathan, and then kill myself.”

“Yes,” Jonathan hissed, shaking his fist triumphantly.

“Dude, really?” Lucien snapped at him.  “That didn’t sound like a compliment to me.”

“Don’t care, I stopped listening after ‘fuck Jonathan’,” he replied.  “Alright, Neil, you’re gonna have to make good on that ‘she’s not off-limits’ promise you made to me—”

But Neil wasn’t listening to Jonathan, he was still looking at you.  “Wait— you wouldn’t marry me?” Neil interrupted, putting a hand on the desk and leaning in a bit closer— he looked half-amused and half-offended, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Um…” you started to wonder how to defend yourself from that.  What did he expect you to say?  Yes, I’d marry you, I’ve actually been planning our wedding since junior year.

“Hold on,” Lucien stopped you, “if she fucks you and marries you, that means I’m getting killed!”

“Yeah, so?” Jonathan smirked.

“What, you don’t think I’m marriage material?” Neil laughed… but he didn’t seem like he was really joking, per se.  He didn’t seem serious either, of course, but you decided to take his question seriously since he’d dared to ask it twice.

“Well,” you mumbled, “no.  I don’t.”

Then he seemed a bit more serious, adjusting his posture a bit.  “Why not?”

“I mean… you’re my best friend,” you reminded him, “but… you’re not reliable.”

He nodded, pursing his lips together.

“You’re not ready for marriage,” you continued.  “I mean, I think you’re just as sure of that as I am.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And honestly?  You’re a great friend and all, but… if you were my husband, I don’t think I could really… you know, trust you…”

The silence seemed a little heavy— all the men were sort of frozen for a second, you wondered if you should wave your arm around to make sure time hadn’t stopped.  But they did move, Neil first in fact, as he stopped leaning on the counter and nodded a little.

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t fuck Dracula,” Jonathan said to Neil in an attempt to cut the tension, “considering your massive man-crush on Bela Lugosi.”

“Hey, that reminds me, tonight’s movie is Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla,” Neil announced, apparently shaking off whatever odd energy he’d picked up just before, “you in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan nodded, “should I bring drinks?”

“Uhh, yeah, why not?” Neil agreed. 

“Is a six-pack enough?”

"Uh, maybe…” Neil considered, turning over his shoulder to look at you.  “Kid, how many beers are you gonna want?”

You swallowed nervously.  “Um, I… well, I’m not coming.  I’ve got a date, actually.”

Of course it was just assumed that you would be there; you felt a little guilty admitting you wouldn’t, to the point that you almost considered just skipping said date and staying to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hey, great!” Jonathan said proudly, throwing his arms out wide.

“A date, huh?” Neil noticed, looking happily surprised.  “Sorry, I— I didn’t know— you didn’t say anything—”

“No, it’s cool,” you shook your head, “it’s kind of a last minute thing… you know how they’re showing Rope at the Palace tonight?  I met this, um, this guy the other day and we got to talking, and I asked him if he’d wanna come with me.”

“Rope, wow, that’s a great first date movie,” Neil nodded approvingly, “that sounds perfect.”

“Yeah— he hasn’t seen it, actually,” you admitted, smiling nervously, “so I guess how much he likes it will kinda be a good judge of if he’s worth going out again, right?”

Jonathan nodded approvingly, but Neil seemed skeptical.  "Well, the showing isn't until nine— you can at least hang out until the movie starts, right?"

"I've gotta get home and get changed!" you explained 

"You can't wear that to a date?" Julien wondered.

"No!" you scoffed, looking down at your ripped jeans and Dracula t-shirt.  "Besides, I have this whole plan of what I'm gonna wear— remember when we did Bonnie and Clyde for Halloween?"

Neil was Bonnie and you were Clyde, in fact; he looked shockingly good in that blood-red lipstick, you tried to convince him to wear it again but he insisted it was a one-night-only situation.  

"I figure if I wear my Clyde suit, I'll look kinda like James Stewart!"

"You're doing drag on a first date?" Lucien pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, lighten up, I'm just dressing up for the movie— I'll still, you know, try to look pretty," you assured.  "What, I don't look good in a suit?  'Cause I got a lot of compliments on Halloween—"

"No, hey, go for it," Jonathan decided, "it's festive!"

"I think it's cool," Neil agreed.  "Have fun, alright?  And if he creeps you out or something, call the store number and I'll come get you."

"I'm not really worried about—"

"You know? Just call the store when you get home," Neil decided, "so I'll know you didn't get murdered."

"Dude, chill," you groaned.  "We're going to the movies, not, I don't know… hiking off-trail in the middle of the night."

You never agreed to call, but you did him one better: you ended up coming back to the video store afterwards, a bit over two hours later.  Of course, the guys were still on the couch— apparently the movie was over but they were watching anime (undoubtedly something Jonathan had brought as a palate cleanser after the movie).

They all looked over at you when you came in the front door and the little bell rang; they seemed excited to see you, and presumably to interrogate you about the date.  You sighed, knowing you couldn't have expected anything else, but you'd come here hoping they'd let you watch something with them so you could stop thinking about the date.

“How’d it go, hot stuff?” Jonathan purred, and you rolled your eyes as Lucien wolf-whistled.

“Oh yeah, it was awesome, best first date ever— I’m at his place having sex with him right now,” you frowned as you tossed your purse down onto the couch, and Lucien chuckled while Neil looked a little defeated.  

“Not that great, huh?” Neil noticed.

“Was he a creep?” Jonathan assumed.

“Did he think the movie was bad?” Lucien pressed.

“No, no, he was great,” you sighed, “he loved the movie.  We talked about it for a bit afterwards and he seemed to really understand it.”

“Okay!  That’s good, right?” Jonathan said optimistically.

“Yeah— so good that I asked him when we could do this again,” you recalled, “and he said that he didn’t wanna lead me on and he wasn’t interested in seeing me.”

“What?!” Jonathan yelped, while Neil winced a little.

“He said I was really cool and funny and easy to talk to,” you explained, “but that he didn’t feel any chemistry.”

“Chemistry?” Lucien repeated, confused.

“He means he’s not attracted to me,” you clarified.

“What?” Jonathan scoffed again.  “Why not?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, but you did know.  “I think I’m just, like, friend material.  I’m just ‘one of the guys’, you know?  Not somebody you actually wanna be with.”

“But isn’t that what every guy wants?  To date somebody who’s just ‘one of the guys’?” Lucien noticed, and then paused when everyone gave him an inquisitive look. “That sounded way less gay in my head.  You get what I mean, right?”

“As much as I would love to never let you live that down,” Jonathan smirked, “you’re not wrong— like, a chick who can hang.  That’s the best.”

“Well, here I am!  Hanging!” you snapped.  “Where’s my harem of suitors just desperate to date one of the guys?!”

“I mean, you are wearing a suit…” Neil noticed, getting a little defensive when you groaned and dropped your head back.  “No, no, you look cool!  I mean, you look really great.  I’m not sure what he wasn’t seeing.”

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend!" Jonathan suggested.  "And he was gonna cheat but he chickened out."

"Maybe he's intimidated by strong women," Lucien added, sounding more like he was quoting a Cosmo than actually thinking that.

"Respectfully, guys aren't that complicated," you assured.  "If he wanted me, he would.  He doesn't.  It's not that deep."

Neil looked away when you said that.

"Well, come take a seat on the losers couch," Jonathan offered, but Neil sitting next to him frowned.

"You think I'm a loser?" Neil protested.

"No, I was talking about that couch," Jonathan said as he pointed to the other one which Lucien was on.

"I'm not even offended," Lucien decided, patting the spot next to him.  "I'd rather be a loser with you than a winner with anybody else."

You smiled and plopped down next to him, pulling your legs up on the old sofa and finding the best angle to see the TV from.  "Okay, catch me up," you requested, bracing for the barrage of borderline nonsensical exposition about whatever obscure anime Jonathan was forcing on the group this time.

~

Since the store closed at eight on Tuesdays, you and Neil decided to go out for a late dinner after locking up— the nearest place you usually walked to was a little hole-in-the-wall dishing out Thai fusion, and even though there were open tables inside, you took your paper boxes outside to eat together on a bench.

You each sat up on it with your legs crossed, facing each other, while he poked at his fried rice with his fork and you stirred your noodles with the chopsticks.

“The Palace is still doing their Hitchcock screenings on Sundays,” you recalled, “I think the next one is Rear Window.  We could make Lucien man the store and go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he smiled.  “But we gotta sneak in the candy, that place is getting so overpriced…”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed.  “When I went on my date there I had Sour Patch Kids in my bag, but I was kinda craving Reese’s by the time the movie started.

"That guy sounded like an ass, by the way," Neil announced with a frown.

"Oh, no, it's fine," you dismissed.  "He was really nice, even when he blew me off, and I… I guess I wasn’t really expecting it to go anywhere, anyways.”

“Really?” Neil scoffed.  “Then why’d you ask him out?”

Just in case.  “I… I guess I’m trying to put myself out there more?”

“Huh?  You’re trying to put out more?” Neil joked.

You rolled your eyes and unfolded your legs to kick him playfully.  “You know what I mean,” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted, “and I support it.  It’s sort of insane that you’re still single.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” you rolled your eyes before shoving a thick swirl of spicy-sweet noodles in your mouth.

“No!  I mean, like, I can’t believe you’re single,” he clarified, and you smiled somewhat awkwardly while chewing your mouthful.  “You’re smart and fun and cool and pretty—”

Thanks to the food in your mouth, you didn’t have to worry about coming up with a way to respond to that, so you just shrugged.

“Seriously!” he insisted.  “I mean, guys hit on you at the store— I wish somebody who actually deserved your attention would walk in that place.”

The guy I want is already there every day.  Swallowing, you finally got a chance to talk to him again.  “Thanks,” you sighed, “it’s fine, though.  I mean, I’ve been single this long— I think I’ll survive.”

“Keep waiting for the right one, okay?” he encouraged, and your heart swelled.

“I will,” you promised, sounding more wistful than you meant to.

After a brief lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat and continued.  “Hey, um, while we’re on the topic of Sunday, about the whole fuck-marry-kill thing—”

“I’m sorry,” you offered right away, “I shouldn’t have answered that.  I wasn’t being serious, obviously.”

“No, I wanted to apologize,” he returned, “I shouldn’t have pressed you on your answer.  It was funny.  And it wasn’t like you could say you were gonna kill one of us.”

You snorted.  “Yeah, that one was probably the worst of the three.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you about what you would’ve done to me,” he shook his head, “I was making it weird.  So, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.  “Did you really expect me to say I would marry you?”

“No,” he admitted, “I thought you’d say you’d fuck me, marry Lucien and kill Jonathan.”

“What?” you scoffed, though you were still smiling.  “Why?”

“Well, Lucien would definitely make the best husband of the three of us,” he explained, “and Jonathan was the only one who wouldn’t have gotten butthurt about you saying you’d kill him.  He probably would’ve just asked you to give him a nice send-off, y’know…”

You nodded in agreement, wondering if he was going to address the obviously missing third piece of all this… he sure was staring down into his empty fried rice container with intense focus…

“And, you know, as for me,” he began sort of thinly, “I, um… I guess I just figured, you know, you’re the most comfortable with me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “obviously, but maybe that would make it worse?  Like, at least with Jonathan, I know that if we ever did hook up or something, it probably wouldn’t mess up our friendship.  ‘Cause we’re friendly and all, but it’s not so serious.  But with you…”

“Uh huh, well, that’s why it’s good it’s just a game,” Neil finished for you, chucking his trash in the nearest can.  “Don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.  Least of all you and I being married.  Talk about a disaster.”

You choked on your throat.  “Yeah.  No kidding…”

“Well, anyways,” he sighed, standing up from the bench and stretching for a moment, “wanna come over and see if the game’s still on?”

“Oh, um, I’m just gonna go back to my place,” you decided, throwing away the last couple bites of your food on account of your suddenly-lost appetite.  “Kinda thinking I should get my sleep schedule in order.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, “I respect that.  Have a good night, then, kid.”

“Yeah, you too,” you breathed, waving as he turned and walked off into the night, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.  

You looked down at your lap, taking a deep breath and shutting your eyes for a second.  Did he have to be so sweet just to cut you down like that?  Could he have even known how it would hurt you to say that?

It’s not even like he was wrong, but you were dying to ask him why he was so sure that you and him together would be so bad.  What was wrong with you that he still couldn’t see you that way?

Not interested in this repetitive thought cycle anymore, and being very familiar with where it leads, you got up and started to walk down the street.  You didn’t turn to go to your apartment, though; you kept going until you heard live music— scratchy, whiny guitars and throbbing bass drums— seeping out of the club.  You just needed to be somewhere familiar that wasn’t the video store or home; and, this place conveniently also had liquor.

You slipped inside— hit by a wave of sound as you entered— and took a seat at the bar, half-listening to the band that was playing, pretending to be focused at all on what was going on in the outside world rather than just spiraling into your own thoughts inside your head.

“Hey,” Jonathan nodded at you from the other side of the bar, and you nodded back.  He instantly started looking for Neil— of course he would— and you deflated a bit.  “You here alone?” he noticed.

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“Wow,” he smirked, “it’s like when Peter Pan’s shadow escaped.”

You should’ve probably been offended by that, but it wasn’t worth denying— and you were more interested in getting liquored up than justifying that you did, in fact, have a life outside of Neil.

And, actually, Peter Pan was a pretty good way to describe Neil, too.  Fear of commitment, leader of freaks and outcasts, daydreamer… all he needed was some green tights.  “What are you drinking tonight?” Jonathan finally asked.

“What pairs well with feeling completely unattractive and unlovable?” you sighed.

“Well, that would be my drink of choice: whiskey,” he smiled, setting a bottle down in front of you.  “I’ll do a shot with you.”

He poured you both a shot, and you timed it to shoot it back together; he, obviously, took it better with you, and you cringed from the acidic flavor.  "Jesus, people really drink this on purpose?" you grumbled.

"Yeah, give it a few minutes," he assured, "it's gonna numb all those stupid emotions."

"I don't have a few minutes," you sighed, "do you have anything more fast-acting?"

"Yeah— a second shot," he joked, but you nodded in agreement.  "Okay, shit, you're not messing around tonight."

"Nope," you agreed, watching him pour just one shot this time.  "You're not doing it with me?"

"I need to pace myself, I'm here 'til two," he explained.

He slid it to you and you contemplated it for a moment, before forcing yourself to get it down as quickly as possible to avoid the burn.  You still grimaced, but recovered quickly.

"Is it working yet?" he wondered.

"I guess," you answered half-heartedly.

“Well, you could always gush to the bartender about all your problems?” he offered, but you just shrugged it off.  “Come on, you wouldn’t be the first tonight.  And since I know you, I might actually be able to help.”

“I don’t think you can help with this one,” you assured.  “This problem has been going on longer than you’ve ever been around.”

“Oh?” he pressed.  “Let me guess… boy troubles?”

“Isn’t it always?” you scoffed, irritated that he saw through you that quickly— apparently your reputation of being horrible with men preceded you.

“But this is just one boy,” he presumed.  “One boy who… conspicuously isn’t here tonight…”

“Is it that obvious?” you wondered with a whine, dropping your head in your hand.

“Well, if you weren’t having any issues with him, you’d be with him,” Jonathan guessed— and it wasn’t bad logic.

“But, like, does everyone know?” you wondered.  “Does everyone but him know that I’m in love with him?  Oh god, Jonathan, you don’t think he knows, do you?”

“Wait— love?” he repeated, and you swallowed thickly as you realized the whiskey had already gotten you to say too much.  “You… you’re…”

“Okay, so I guess not everyone knows,” you mumbled.

“No, yeah, I think you managed to keep that under wraps,” he assured with a nod, eyes getting wider.  “Sheesh.  No, I had no clue.  Now it’s even weirder that you guys aren’t together.”

“Well, he doesn’t love me,” you explained flatly.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, god no— I mean, he tells me he loves me,” you corrected, “but he doesn’t mean— we just say that, you know, like at the end of phone calls or when one of us is sad.  It’s not, like… we never meant it that way.”

“Right, okay,” Jonathan nodded as he wiped a glass— the way bartenders do when they’re listening to people— but he didn’t seem to understand entirely.  “So, you’re not his type?”

“I don’t think I know what his type is,” you scoffed.  “I haven’t really noticed a pattern, have you?”

“You’d have to have a few more data points to really draw any connection between them,” Jonathan laughed.

“Yeah, fair,” you smiled, “he’s only had… I don’t know, maybe four girlfriends since I’ve known him?  One in high school, for a month— then Eva, they weren’t even really serious, just dating for a while.  And then, uh—”

“Tanisha,” he remembered.

“Right!  I liked her,” you hummed.

“What happened to her again?” he wondered.

“Got back with her ex,” you recalled.

“Wow, that blows,” Jonathan sighed.  

“She told me before she told him,” you admitted.  “She wanted me to tell him for her, actually, but I… I couldn’t do that to him.  But I came over right after, you know, and we ate ice cream from the tub and watched movies ‘til we fell asleep.”

Jonathan made a sort of face, one you couldn’t quite interpret, and you tilted your head as he seemed to mumble to himself.  

“What?” you wondered.

“Nothing, it’s just… he’s kind of an idiot,” Jonathan decided.  “I don’t think he gets how lucky he is.”

You wrinkled your brows together, laughing a bit.  “What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not saying he’s, like, legally obligated to fall in love with you just because you guys get along so well,” he clarified, “even if that’s what Neil accused me of thinking— I really do think it’s fine for men and women to just be friends.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying… like, how do you have someone who cares about you that much, and you end up dating fucking Denise for almost a year?!”

“Well, nobody knows how he ended up with Denise,” you coughed.  “That was a fucking disaster.”

“I mean, not to be crass, but, uh,” he stumbled a little over his words, “I’m surprised that you coming over after that breakup didn’t turn into a rebound, at least.”

“After eating that much ice cream?” you laughed.  “That would’ve been awful.”

“But really, though,” he insisted.  “I have a hard time believing the thought didn’t even cross his mind…”

“I can’t really be sure that it didn’t,” you admitted, “I’m just saying, nothing happened.”

“I guess he’s just known you too long to go for it with you,” Jonathan shrugged.

“It’s not just that— you know Neil, he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie,” you rolled your eyes, “or at least he thinks he is.  He wants adventure, I guess— and he always talks about us doing spontaneous stuff but it never happens— and I’m just too familiar.  Too comfortable.”

“Yeah, he does kinda have something against stability,” Jonathan agreed, “do you think it’s a divorced parents thing?”

“I don’t know, I stopped analyzing that a long time ago,” you groaned, “and I told myself I would stop trying to be what I thought he wanted, but I think I keep doing it.”

“Well, I know you know him better than anybody,” Jonathan countered, “but I know guys, and that guy… there’s no way he thinks of you as just a friend.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because he was fucking lying when he said it wouldn’t piss him off if we hooked up,” he insisted.

“You really won’t let that go, will you?” you grinned.

“Did you see his face?  He couldn’t get the image out of his head!” Jonathan assured confidently.  “And then that whole ‘fuck marry kill’ thing— he started getting nervous, I think.”

“Nervous about what?”

“That something could really happen with us!”

“You really think he would care?” you frowned.

“I swear to— to Ash Williams,” he decided, “that if I walked into that fucking video store, and told him that you and I did whiskey shots and you came back to my place and we did the horizontal tango, he would beat me to death with the register.”

“You swear on Ash Williams?” you repeated with a smirk, knowing that meant more than swearing on any deity would mean.

“Him and his chainsaw hand,” Jonathan assured, putting a hand over his heart to add to the bit, and you giggled.

“Well, I don’t think Neil can pick up the register,” you decided.

“In that case, you let me know the next time you wanna get back at him for something,” he offered with a wink, and you smiled at him sympathetically.

“I know you’re trying to be nice,” you sighed, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, come on,” he frowned, “I know you’ve got this I’m insecure I’m a weirdo nobody notices me thing, but you can’t actually think it would be some kind of charity work for me to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mean that,” you sighed, “I know I could get laid if I wanted to—”

“But you don’t wanna get laid,” he finished for you, “you wanna be loved.”

You sighed again, even harder.  “Yeah,” you nodded.

“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know I love you, but—”

“But not like that,” you took your turn finishing his sentence.

His only reply was raising the bottle of whiskey with a sideways smile, a silent offer to pour another shot— for both of you this time.

“Yes, please,” you hummed, watching him fill the miniature glasses with a sigh.

part 2

[ragingbookdragon]

He’s in the middle of the checkout line when the phone in his pocket buzzes. He ignores it at first, but a glance towards the fifteen year old employee lazily scanning the items of the first of five in line, him being the sixth, tells him it won’t be any time soon before he’s there. He checks his phone, eyes widening when he sees, “SOS” written across the screen. And from Price’s wife no doubt. Three jars of pickles shatter on the floor along with a bag of chips and a pack of ground beef, and he sprints for the exit, car keys already in his hand as he prays nothing is wrong with her.

It’s about twenty minutes before he gets to Price’s flat and pulls into the driveway, already scanning for any signs of struggle or attack. There are none visible so far and he grabs the glock he has in the glove compartment for emergencies before he gets out and runs for the door, banging on it. Footsteps sound behind it followed by a baby’s cry and the door pulls open to reveal Price’s dearest wife, disheveled in dirty clothes and tangled hair (he’s like eighty-seven percent sure there’s baby vomit in it), with swelling tears in her own eyes as she holds a screaming eighteen-month-old.

She takes one look at him before breaking down much like her son, blubbering loudly, “I can’t get JJ to stop crying, Simon.” Tears are streaming down her face as she cries, “I’ve tried everything to get him to stop. I’ve tried feeding, burping, napping, changing his diaper, everything. He just won’t stop.” She reaches out with her free hand to him. “Simon, please, I can’t stop him from crying. Help me.”

SOS, indeed, he thinks and immediately puts the safety on his gun, putting it on the side table as he steps inside, takes the baby, and closes the door behind him. JJ stops crying as soon as Simon starts hushing him and muttering, “Giving your mum trouble, ay? What are we gonna do about you, Banshee?”

JJ’s cries subside as he coos at the masked man and she starts crying harder. “How’d you do that?” she bawls. “Oh God, I’m a horrible mum. I can’t stop him from crying ever. Only Jonathan can. He never cries when Jonathan is here. Only when I’m with him.” she’s almost inconsolable, rubbing harshly at her eyes as she blubbers, “He hates me. My babe hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Simon sighs and gently takes her in his free arm, putting his chin on her head to calm her more; he rubs her back. “It’s okay, mum” he murmurs. “Newborns aren’t easy. Gotta take it in stride.” He looks at her. “Why didn’t you call Price?”

“Because he’s so busy,” she cries into his black sweatshirt. “He’s so good with him when he’s home and I know when he goes into work, he’s busy and I don’t wanna disturb him.”

“He’s JJ’s dad. Besides, don’t lump the old man in with other men. He’s a good one.” Simon pulls back, free hand wiping her tears. “I’ve gotta treat you like Soap, don’t I?” she only looks at him as his fingers brush her under eyes. “Go eat and shower. I’ll take care of JJ for you.”

She quietly nods, lips pulled in a upside down “U” before she leaves, disappearing into the kitchen. He starts bouncing JJ lightly, talking to him. “Bub, you gotta stop being a banshee to your mum. You’re gonna drive her crazy. And if you drive her crazy, your dad is gonna go crazy and then I’m gonna go crazy.” JJ just laughs and tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt before seeing if they’re edible.

Simon walks to the kitchen and watches as she stands in front of the refrigerator and shoves food into her mouth. He almost laughs, almost, as the memory of a drunk Soap shoving roast beef out of the pack and into his mouth comes to mind. Still though, he watches as she eats until she’s no longer hungry, then bypasses him and goes to her bedroom. The shower starts after a while. It’s almost two hours before she comes out and peeks her head from the doorway.

Simon is there with JJ, playing with a stuffed action figure Gaz had gotten him when he was born, making up stories about himself taking out enemies. JJ is enjoying it, giggling along and she smiles sadly before closing the door.

***

Price gets home around seven-thirty and when he sees Ghost’s car in his drive, he’s confused and a little concerned as he walks through the front door. Setting his things down, he walks around the corner into the den and Simon is there on his couch watching some show about ancient warriors and weapons, JJ drooling onto his sweatshirt.

“Simon?” he calls, and the man lifts the remote in a greeting. “Where’s—”

“Bed. Asleep,” he interrupts. “Been asleep since two.”

Price walks into the bedroom and sees her curled up on his side of the bed, clutching his pillow; he smiles at the sight and closes the door, walking back into the den. “How long have you been here, Simon?”

“Since eleven-forty-five.” He rubs JJ’s back. “Little guy’s been driving her crazy. Crying on her.”

“Shite,” Price curses. “She kept saying everything was fine.”

“Oh no, she’s lying. Thinks she’s a bad mum ‘cause he cries so much with her.” He looks over. “I think he just likes us soldiers, yeah?”

The old man sits beside down on the floor and gently runs a hand through the brown hair on his son’s head. “Yeah, never cries when I take him in.”

“You want me to take him for a few days so she can rest?” Simon offers. “Me and the Banshee will have a good time.”

“I don’t think she’d mind that. Well, she might. She’s awfully protective of the lad.”

“Of course. It’s her babe.” Simon inhales and exhales. “Give me a blanket, yeah? May as well stay the night.” Price nods and rises, handing him a blanket before reaching for JJ and Simon swats at him. “Hands off my godson.”

“He’s my kid,” Price argues and Simon glares at him.

“And I’m holding him. Try tomorrow if you can pry him from me.”

Price rolls his eyes but raises his hands in defeat, content to kiss JJ’s head and, “I love you, son,” before he squeezes Simon’s arm and disappears into the bedroom to cuddle his wife and sleep peacefully.

[artiststarme]

Don't Call Me Stupid

Can I make you cry four times in one day @pyrohonk? I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Now with a Part 2!

~*~*~*~

Steve was used to being the dumb one. He was the kid in class that would ask stupid questions that the other kids and sometimes even the teacher would laugh at. He never quite understood what teachers were saying in class or what the words written on the board were supposed to mean with their squiggly letters that jumped around. Eventually he learned not to raise his hand at all. Better to be confused than embarrassed, right?

Nancy, when they were dating, would always call him an idiot. He brushed it off at the time but looking back, it made him wonder. If he was a little bit smarter, a little more astute, would things have gone differently? Would Nancy have sought comfort in him instead of running off to Jonathan? Would he have noticed Barb’s disappearance from his yard that started all of this in the first place? He had to wonder but even that wouldn’t change anything. 

His stupidity was also a highlight point for his parents to focus on. He once was the popular jock, an airhead but one that was popular and good at sports. Now, he was just a deadbeat that barely graduated high school and certainly couldn’t get into college. He was a loser working at a dead-end job that was going nowhere in life. Ah, what pride he brought to his parents now. He could only grieve the life he used to lead every time he saw his parents staring at him in disdain. At least he had the Party… right?

It was a well known fact throughout the Party that Steve was a little slow. His brain worked at a different pace than the rest of them, a concept woefully apparent to everyone. His brain was focused on the music underlying the Russian code and the Black Widows underneath the floorboards. He was the last to connect the dots and truly only helped the Party by taking hits to the head. They only kept him around to take the hits after all. 

Even Robin, his best friend in the world, his platonic soulmate with a capital P, called him a dingus on a near hourly basis. Sure, it was affectionate now but it started as a derogatory term to poke fun at his intelligence, or lack thereof. He was a fool in her eyes, affectionate or not. Even still, he was just the dumbass that slept around with half of Hawkins, a sassy soundboard for her to bounce lesbian crushes off of. 

He was used to being called stupid but it still hurt every time. 

So in the first fight he and Eddie have as a couple, it really hits a sore spot when Eddie hisses, “what are you, stupid?”

All of the fight drained out of Steve in an instant leaving a broken, empty shell in its place. His anger melted away to reveal the hurt hidden underneath. “You should go.”

“What? No, we’re talking this through,” Eddie shook his head, giving him a look of confusion. 

“I probably won’t understand anyways since I’m so stupid. So you should go, save your breath. Whatever you think is probably right anyways.” With that, Steve walks up the stairs to his bedroom and locks the door behind him. He pulls his old Walkman over his ears and lets the sad tones of Queen’s All Dead, All Dead wash over him. 

He was sick of being treated like trash by everyone he talked to. Everyone that was supposed to love him; his parents, Nancy, Robin, Eddie, the kids. They all thought he was a dumbass. He’d tried so hard to be better, to be smarter, to be more useful to everyone else. But in his quest, he lost everything that he once was. He lost his charisma, he lost his old friends, and his hobbies to become this loser who still no one liked. 

So, he ignored his boyfriend’s knocks on his door, turned up his tunes, and planned his move away from Hawkins. If he wasn’t appreciated here, maybe he would be anywhere else.

Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @anzelsilver @jestyzesty @gregre369

[louloulemons-posts]

Oil At The Coffee Shop I

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Moving to the small town of Hawkins you hoped your journey would be a smooth one, what we hope for doesn’t always happen.

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : introduction, not much eddie x reader interaction, very rambley, bestie steve, sweetheart uncle wayne, grumpy eddie.

Fic Masterlist

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Moving away was scary, but you couldn’t stay put any longer. You knew if you didn’t move now then you would never leave, and you needed to go.

“That’s the last of it,” you brother smiled, putting a final box in your car. “You sure you’ll be okay without me?” you asked.

“Oh Im planning on calling you every day,” he smiled, “Seriously though, this is something for you. Aunt Callie wouldn’t have left it to you if she didn’t think so.”

“Only if you’re sure-“

“I am, now,” he turned from you, “Kids come say goodbye to your auntie.” Two children came running out of the house, their mother following behind.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you said squeezing them tight. “We miss you too,” your 2 year old niece spoke. “Will you come and see us?” your nephew asked.

“Of course Bud, and you can come and see me, and we can call!” Giving them one last squeeze you hugged your sister in law. “It’s gonna be strange not having you around, you take care of yourself okay?” she said.

“I will, and you too. Don’t let him start slacking off or I’ll come back and get him,” you laughed. “I’ll never slack off, now come here and hug me,” you brother smiled, opening his arms.

“I’m gonna miss you Scottie,” wrapping your arms around him. “I’ll miss you too Kid.” Rubbing your wet eyes and pulling away you climbed into your car. “Call us when you get there okay?” you sister in law spoke.

“Will do May, I’ll see you all soon!”

Soon enough you were off, driving away from your hometown to a small place called Hawkins.

You’d spent a lot of Summers there, your Aunt Callie had lived there. You’d spent your time playing in the lake and exploring the forest. It had been so much fun.

She had passed away a few months back, and soon you were sent a letter about her old shop. She’d left it for you.

If you weren’t swimming or running around you were in there with her. Helping her run the place for 3 weeks of the year. It was your escape, something you and Scott always looked forward too.

Hawkins had undergone some hard times, a serious of earthquakes and a whole bunch of nasty rumours. Now it was being built back up, physically and its reputation.

Your aunts shop, well your shop would be the next thing on that list. It would take a while to get there, but you hoped it would be an uneventful journey.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was not an uneventful journey, “I swear to god next time I see that mechanic I’m gonna beat his ass,” you ranted, your car had broke down, only half an hour away from where you had to be.

You knew there was something us with it, but the smarmy man had said no it’s all in your head. He was just too lazy to take a look. Groaning you dropped your head onto the wheel of your car.

A knock on your window caught you off guard, “You alright miss?” Looking up it was thankfully someone you recognised. “Chief Hopper!”

“My god, is that really you! I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you?”

“Great, I’m good. How are you?”

“Wonderful, what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually going to be running Callies old store. My car broke down though.”

“I see. Well I can ring a mechanic for you, stay with you until they get here.”

“Would you?”

“Course, Munsons are the best.”

“Old Wayne Munson?” You asked.

“That’s him.” He left to make a radio call from his car, giving them an idea of your location. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Thanks Hop, so how’s life treating you?”

“Life’s good right now, got a wife. Kids.”

“Finally had the guts to tell Joyce how you feel?” He nodded, chuckling. “And the kids?”

“Well her two boys, mine now. Jonathan and Will. Then we’ve got a daughter, El.”

“Callie mentioned, gosh I bet little Wills all grown up now.”

“He’s 19 in a few months.” You let out a sigh, “Man you’ve made me feel old.” Hop laughed at that.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The catch up continued for a while, laughter and shared memories. Hopper was baffled by the fact Scott had a wife and kids of his own.

Soon enough a tow truck came driving up towards you, loud music playing. “Here we go,” Hopper said, motioning to the vehicle.

A man climbed out of the truck, clad in overalls and a grease stained white tee. Curly hair pulled into a bun on his head, hands cover in rings and tattoos here and there.

“Eddie, thanks for coming,” Hopper spoke.

“No worries, this the car?” he asked.

“Yeah it’s mine,” you motioned to yourself, and he met your eyes.

Dark eyes that looked like melted chocolate held your gaze. A face with light stubble, maybe from 2 days of not shaving. Wrinkles by his mouth, smile lines clearly, but darkness under his eyes.

He was beautiful. “Eddie this is Miss Callies niece,” he introduced you.

“Right, Eddie Munson. What happened?” he asked. “Well it was fine, it’s been making weird noises and then it just stopped. I had it checked over a few weeks ago but the guy wasn’t the best.”

“Well I’ll tow you into town, and then we can sort everything out at the shop.” He walked to grab his gear from the back of the truck.

“Great. Thanks for staying with me Hop,” you smiled at the older man. “Sure thing, Eddie you alright to take her into town.”

“Sure, you can get in. I’ll be with you in a minute,” he spoke, he voice was dull. Almost like he was bored, or tired or both.

Saying goodbye to Hopper you climbed in the van, waiting for Eddie to connect your car to the van.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Here we are,” Eddie spoke as you pulled into a mechanics shop. This was the first time he’d said a word since you left Hopper. You’d tried to make conversations, only met with grunts and hums.

Climbing out you saw a few other guys around the shop. A older man walked over to you, “Hey Son, this the one Hop called in?”

“Yeah Wayne, says there’s been a strange sound. Had it checked a few weeks back but not thorough.”

“We’ll get it sorted for you,” the man, Wayne, smiled softly at you.

He had a kind face, old and worn, but you could tell he was a gentle soul. “Thank you so much, you don’t happen to have a phone I could use do you. It’s just I’m moving here today and all my stuff is in the car.”

“You got someone who can help?” Wayne asked. You nodded, “Right, okay come with me.” Wayne led you into an office space, a phone on the desk. “Take as long as you need, I’ll help Eddie check it over.”

Dialling a number in, you waited for it to ring. “Harrington.”

“Stevie,” you smiled, he spoke your name, “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I’m really sorry to ask though, can you help me out?”

“Sure, what do you need from me love?”

“Think you could come and get me and my stuff from Munsons Mechanics?”

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks Steve, you’re the best.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A maroon BMW pulled up. You’d met Steve good few summers ago, he’d been playing basketball with your brother. You’d become fast friends, he was a sweetheart, a flirt, but a sweetheart.

He spoke your name, smiling widely. “Steve!” you grinned, he wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Hello you, god I’ve missed you,” he said.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Course.”

“Hey Mister Munson, would I be okay to start moving my stuff?” you asked the older man. “Sure, I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out too.”

“You go do that and I’ll start moving your stuff,” Steve said, squeezing your shoulder.

“Harrington.”

“Munson, how you doing?”

“I’m alright. What are you doing here?”

“Picking up my friend,” he nodded over to you, who was currently filling in paperwork. Chatting away to Wayne as she did.

“You know her?”

“Mhm, childhood friends, Callies niece.”

“I’ve heard, never seen her.”

“She used to come every summer with her brother, makes sense you didn’t see her, was when you just moved here.”

He hummed, as Steve went and moved boxes between cars. “Right that’s the paperwork sorted, we’ll give you a call when it’s all ready.”

“Great, do I need to pay a deposit, I’ve got my purse.”

“We don’t really do that ‘round here, small town and all.”

“Oh I insist,” you pulled out a 50 and passed it to the man, smiling at him softly. “At least for fuel money for you coming to get me.”

“That’s very kind. Did you want help with the boxes?”

“Oh no it’s okay, I haven’t got much.” Smiling again at the man, you walked over to help Steve move the last few boxes.

“Thank you for the help, it was nice meeting you,” you spoke to Wayne.

“Course, we’ll give you a call. Nodding you climbed in besides Steve, “Thank you too Eddie.” He gave a grunt of your welcome and you were on your way.

“God I can’t believe you’re staying! It’s so exciting,” Steve said happily.

“It is, I’ve got a lock of work to do though. I know those earthquakes did a lot of damage to the shop.”

“I’ll help you fix it up, sure the others can too. Does anyone else know you’re coming into town?”

“A couple people, I mean Hopper was the one who helped me out when my car broke down.”

“Ah right, well Wayne and Eddie will get it fixed up in no time.”

“Don’t think Eddie likes me all that much,” you huffed a laugh. “Don’t worry about him, he’s grumpy all the time.” Nodding you head, you couldn’t help smiling when the shop came into view.

Climbing out of the car Steve spoke, “You go open up and I’ll start grabbing stuff.” Walking towards the door, you used the code to unlock where the key was kept.

Pushing it open a wave of memories took over, some new ones were about to be made.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N: AHHHH! It is here, the first part of Oil At The Coffee Shop. I can’t wait for you guys to find out what’s to come I hope you like it 🤍

Thank you so much for reading 🤍

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Thanks to my post about the 28th, it’s come to my attention that a significant portion of humanity don’t read history books for fun, so here’s a few broad strokes of what, exactly, is going on with the cultural connotations of race within Dracula, as understood by an American:

European racism of the day was predominantly based on cultural ethnicity rather than skin color, and one of the main sliding scales (other than how old and prestigious the ancestry was) was how far west you were on the Eurasian continent. The further east you went, the less “civilized” things became, until you hit Asia and Oceania and just became inundated with absolutely rancid racist caricatures. Stuff from the “Orient” was there for exotic/shiny toys and moral lessons about how much better the West was, and not much else, so you can imagine what depictions of actual Asian people thus became.

(We’re faced with this east vs. west scale in Jonathan’s very first entry: Budapest straddles the line between the “civilized” western part of Europe and the “uncivilized,” opulent, and exotic world of eastern Europe. Jon is going from the known and familiar city into the mysterious, unfamiliar wilderness, an extremely common Gothic horror archetype.)

Both the fear of the unknown and the exoticizing/othering of Eastern Europe play heavily into Dracula’s themes, with the sexually predatory Count Dracula coming to England to do all sorts of unspeakable sordid things to innocent English women. (Not exactly Stoker’s finest hour, but this was a typical attitude of the day.)

Following that, it was also thought at the time that one’s moral character was essentially genetic. Certain people of certain races were predisposed to be “better” or “worse,” and your own moral character was also influenced by your parents’ status in society and behavior. A prostitute mother or a criminal father meant you would inherit their dubious moral quality, which is partially where “this person has bad blood” comes from. Bad blood is literally the negative morality passed onto you from your parents: you’ve inherited the bad qualities carried in their blood.

Linking back to the east-west thing, the further east you go -you’ve guessed it- the worse this supposed ancestral bad blood gets. People of “lesser” races included the Romani, Jews, Slovaks (and sometimes the Russians), and they were just supposed to be, like, naturally inclined to be bad. They were Programmed For Crime from the moment they were born, so you didn’t need to explain why such a character was evil when they showed up in your novel: I mean, they’re [INSERT RACE], aren’t they? It’s in the blood. No explanation needed. Everybody knows that. 

The assumption of the time was that such people were literally born bad, which of course naturally justified how they were treated. When they showed up on a page, you were supposed to distrust them on sight. 

Occasionally, low-class people were also treated as a race all their own, like poverty was some kind of moral failing. After all, the older, more prestigious, and wealthier your family was, the better their inherent moral quality, so poor people are obviously uncouth and have bad blood, right? 

(It’s an extremely stupid circular way of thinking, but that’s bigotry for ya.)

Dracula is a nobleman with old lineage, but he’s also steeped in the flavor of Eastern Europe: “barbaric” and proud, yet initially treating Jonathan with extreme courtesy; threateningly exotic and yet also familiar with English customs. As we go through the book, you’ll see that he almost exclusively hires Romani, Jewish, or extremely poor for his henchmen: he’s a force of evil that uses other “evil” tools, who bend easier to his will than “normal” people of “proper” races. 

(By all means, please pause here a moment to scrub yourself of the nauseating feeling that such a bullshit attitude evokes.)

In any case, Dracula himself is a pretty good example of all these racial ideas converging, which was also why he made such an effective monster to the Victorians: there’s just enough that’s familiar and proper in him that they couldn’t quite properly Other him, which links back to the transformative horror of vampirism turning something formerly good into something very very bad, which with their worldview of “you are born with this moral code because of racial predisposition and lineage” is just shocking. You mean this Eastern European man can infect our formerly good and pure citizens and make them act his way, just by an act of force? Uh-oh.

Anyways TLDR Dracula is a book steeped in the cultural traditions and expectations of the day which means that it’s lovely horror but also an absolute crock of shit at times due to racism (and several other -isms, which I will not cover here because I am trying not to make this an essay). 

[denimbex1986]

'The actor and Baftas host answers your questions about facial hair, Doctor Who, Scrooge McDuck – and growing up as the son of a minister

How do you face the challenge of being this year’s Bafta host? practicalpanic I don’t currently feel particularly challenged because everything’s written down for me and I don’t have to worry about winning – or not winning – an award. If it was the first night of a play, I’d be curled up in a corner in the foetal position. But the fact that it’s not my day job certainly feels liberating. Who knows why they asked me; I must have been pretty far down the list. Expectations are pretty much zero. I don’t have anything to prove. Will I be phoning [previous Bafa hosts] Jonathan Ross and Stephen Fry for advice? I might do. But I’m travelling in blissful ignorance at the moment.

What’s your sideburn policy? They appear to be sized in direct proportion to your characters’ confidence. DrHugbine That’s a very interesting observation, which I don’t think has any truth behind it, but it’s making me wonder …

Here are some examples … Fright Night’s Peter Vincent – long and bushy, confident vampire killer. The Doctor in Doctor Who – long and pointy, charismatic and charming. Broadchurch’s DI Alec Hardy – beard, no sideburns, introverted and suspicious. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’s Barty Crouch Jr – no beard, no sideburns, complex and a traitor. Good Omens’ Anthony Crowley – ginger, no sideburns, stylish but tempted Eve in the garden of Eden as a snake so a bit of a bad egg generally. TopTramp I don’t think you’re going to write a doctoral thesis based on that evidence. It’s very thin evidence, at most. I grew sideburns for Doctor Who because, back then, I was worried I was a bit young for it and I thought they slightly aged me. Which, of course, I then had to recreate recently when I’m almost certainly too old for it. I guess increasingly I am unshaven, in which case you don’t really have to worry about sideburns because they’re part of something else. Whatever length my sideburns are on the night of the Baftas has no reflection on how I’m treating the Baftas.

As a vicar with young kids, I wondered what influence being a son of the manse has had upon your work? RevdAl It’s hard to know, because you only know the influences you had specifically from your parents because they’re your parents – it’s hard to unpick. It certainly wasn’t a childhood filled with religious dogma or any kind of restrictions. It was more a moral guidebook.

What was it like kissing Michael Sheen [in season two of Good Omens]? And who enjoyed it more? carnies18 Who enjoyed it the most? Presumably Michael was thrilled. How could he not be? But it was another day at work. The most difficult bit was other people’s awkwardness. We thought it was quite fun, so it was fine. He’d brushed his teeth.

Would you accept a knighthood just to fuel an excellent argument with Sheen in the next series of Staged? Shirls Because he sent his OBE back? That predisposes the fact that anything that’s talked about in Staged is based on real life. We are in our own houses, acting opposite people we spend our life with. But that’s pretty much the extent of the reality of Staged.

Which is best – playing a detective, a murderer or a murder victim? JonnyMorris1973 Well, one of them solves the crimes. One of them commits the crimes. And the other one has a crime done to them. It probably depends which character the writer is most fond of and therefore the most fun to play. It’s not really in the gift of the actor, so much as in the gift of the scriptwriter. I think I’ve only played one detective, haven’t I? What’s my favourite way I’ve been murdered? Oh my goodness. I was shot in The Last September. I get murdered on stage every night in Macbeth, although that’s a spoiler. I sort of died in Doctor Who when I got shot by a galvanic beam in a radiation chamber that filled my body with more radiation I could cope with.

Am I as geeky as the Doctor who fans? Yes. As a Doctor Who fan myself of old, I can very much can plug into that. I don’t think I ever got in trouble at school. That is one of those stories that’s ended up on Wikipedia. I wrote an essay on Doctor Who, which some unpleasant newspaper found and printed. But I didn’t get in trouble for it. I think I got quite a good mark for it.

Who would win in a fight between Crowley, The Doctor and Scrooge McDuck? AlistairDionysus Probably Scrooge McDuck. He seems to be able to survive just about everything. He’s far more resilient than Crowley or The Doctor, who seem to end up staring destruction in the face. Scrooge McDuck, nothing seems to trouble him.

You have a lovely singing voice! Would you like to do a musical? Beatrice_Tate, gaityr, laibarra622 and Luigii I make a nice curry, but I’m not going to open a restaurant. Would I do the Masked Singer? I love The Masked Singer. Nothing has excited my eight-year-old daughter more than when everyone thought Ricky Wilson from the Kaiser Chiefs was me, week after week. You can imagine how disappointed she was when it turned out I wasn’t.

If you were a cheese, what kind would you be? BrianBraddock I’ve got very into paneer curries. Paneer is neither hard nor soft, so I’ll say that because it makes me sound like I’ve really thought about it.

What’s the last item you snatched from a set? NataliaBCN I’m just going back through things I might have pocketed. Maybe this is the upbringing we talked of earlier. I’m very bad with nicking things. I’m plagued with guilt. The last time they released a new sonic screwdriver toy, someone gave me one but I gave it away because I’m so full of generosity, but now I slightly regret it.

Your portrayal of serial killer Dennis Nilsen [in ITV’s Des] was truly terrifying. How do you prepare for a role like that? YorkshireExPat With someone such as Dennis Nilsen, there is quite a lot of material that’s been written about him. There’s video evidence of him. So you immerse yourself as much you can, then join a line between that and the version of the character that’s in the script, because, ultimately, that’s the version you have to portray. One thing we were very careful to do on Des was to not make it from his point of view. I don’t think you can ask an audience to sympathise or understand someone like Nilsen. It’s the story of how he got away with all these things, then was caught. Hopefully the audience is left thinking: how can someone who is just another member of the human race be committing these extraordinary acts and the rest of us not notice or understand?

If you could regenerate as anyone else for the day, who would you choose? TopTramp My wife, just to see how annoying I really am so I could be properly objective and understand her pain.'

[amomentsescape]

can you do J squad baking headcanons please?

The J Squad Baking with Reader

Jerome Valeska x Reader, Jonathan Crane x Reader, Jervis Tetch x Reader

A/N: I think this would be such a cute activity to do with them!

Jerome Valeska

So you want to turn your kitchen into a complete disaster?

Because that's exactly what you're going to get with Jerome

Although he has such a big sweet tooth, this poor boy has no idea how to make most of those treats

He jumped at the idea on helping you bake though

(He agrees to literally anything you ask because he just enjoys doing things with you)

But before you can even pull up the recipe, Jerome has gotten flour all over the floor and counter

A little did make it into the bowl in his defense

"You're supposed to start with flour and sugar, right Doll?"

You just give him a look

You decide that maybe he'd be better at the decorating portion

But you basically have to battle him out of the kitchen

He keeps coming back, insisting that he can help

(He can't)

But once you finally have the batter in the oven, he just COMPLAINS

"I have to wait how long?!"

"Are they done yet?"

"I bet they're ready now!"

You just throw a pillow at him

But once they're finally out, Jerome is already piping frosting, shaking sprinkles, and pouring syrups onto the hot cupcakes

The poor treats end up looking all beat up by the end of it all

At least they still taste good though

Jonathan Crane

"Are you sure you want my help?" he asked you quietly

When you insisted with a big smile on your face, there was no way he could refuse

You decided to make cookies since they seemed the easiest to attempt

You had him help measure out the ingredients and pour them into the bowl

This step honestly took the most time out of anything because of how cautious he was being

He'd carefully level each cup of flour and sugar, making sure it was perfectly even

And then he'd pour the ingredients into the bowl very slowly so there wouldn't be a mess

Watching him made your heart melt

He was trying so hard not to screw it up

Once the dough was formed and on the sheet, he stood back as you placed them in the oven

(The heat kind of bothers him)

And while you wait for them to bake, you both just cuddle up on the couch and talk about other things you could make in the future

Jonathan is super happy about the idea

And once they're done, you both have trouble being patient and end up splitting a piping hot cookie together

Jervis Tetch

Baking is one of Jervis's many talents and hobbies

It honestly intimidates you at just how perfect he is at the task

He asks you to help him out, wanting to introduce you to one of things he loves

Plus, he was preparing for a tea party date for you two, and wanted to have a lot of treat options

You follow along to the measurements written down on old paper, squinting through the fancy cursive Jervis tends to write in

You poured, mixed, measured, and even tasted here and there

And yet, you still had no idea what you were making

There were several different trays at this point, all being balanced and placed into the oven at different times and in different places

You were amazed at how relaxed Jervis seemed with all of this

Once every tray was in the oven baking, he was already pulling out several decorative bowls and placing them on the counter

He was making the frostings and syrups by hand

He carefully pulled you over, showing you the best way to stir the sugary liquid in front of you

This ends up leading to a little ballroom dance break

And once the items were done baking and cooling, Jervis had you help decorate one of the trays of cupcakes

And in the time it took you to complete one tray, he completed all the others

You ended up having a multitude of little cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and even pretty dipped treats that you could not name

You just smiled at him in amazement, excited to try every one at your tea party

[hexhomos]

HI! hope your day is treating you well, i’ve been interested in doomreed for some time but cape comics are sort of daunting to me just because there’s so much content and i really don’t know where to begin. what do you suggest? thank you!

STRAIGHT OUT THE GATE ill say, read [ "My Dinner With Doom" ] (this is a rly high-qual upload, open it up on desktop!)

It's a key issue oneshot with a lil bit of backstory retelling, featuring a private dinner that happens in the 00's - a good entrance point if you're curious about doomreed in summarization + generally speaking a Real Good Comic overall.

LONG POST INCOMING THIS IS A LONG POST / click readmore

the fantastic four are one of marvel's darling old founding teams so there is pretty much... endless archival, ongoing, multimedia and games content popping up all the time.

They are also kinda one of the rare teams where the growth of the characters is consistent? The kids are allowed to grow older and events from every major run are carried/referenced by the next author so if you want to do chronological there's a lot of incentive and fun stuff.

If you wanna dip your toes into the F4 as a concept, check out:

*the #1 issue of Fantastic Four By Waid & Wieringo (1997) *Mythos: Fantastic Four (2007) [ *The FF (1994) movie that is up for free on youtube!! ] *Fantastic Four (2022) by Ryan North as the current ongoing!

(Some) Singles centered on Doom/Doomreed:

*Fantastic Four (1961) Annual 2 is Doom's original backstory issue *Marvel Two-in-One (2017) by Zdarsky issue #11 & Annual #1 are both crazy good but they spoil big events/conclusions from previous runs if u care abt that!!! (My current fav fic came from these issues.) *Doomgate (novel) by Jeffrey Lang is a good option if you want something that is mostly prose, instead of a comic or movie

NOW BEFORE YOU JUMP AHEAD WITH ANYTHING I *am* following [ this reading guide ] which breaks down specific issues relevant to their relationship as a line through all the different authors over the years.

[ There's also this 2021 guide w/ a few other story/AU highlights! The author said u can send the blog questions and theyll answer too ]

The 'Modern era' (late 90s/00s/10s/Now) Starts with Waid and McDuffie's stuff. The latter wrote My Dinner with Doom!

If you're scared by all the names, don't be - when searching for the issues, just pay attention to the year, # number & author/artist creds.

What I'm reading/liveblogging rn is Hickman's Secret wars era, generally regarded as yaoi ketamine; It's a good epic narrative entrance point if you want to jump into it, and it eventually led into this huge marvel event that changed the multiverse and even brought miles morales into the main timeline, so its BIG and it happened in multiple books - the best way to go about it is;

Pre-hickman:

Fantastic Four (1961) #551 #552 #553 ➡️ (these introduce main ideas we will touch again in secret wars)

Fantastic Four (1961) #558 to #562 ➡️

Doom appears in these too, first/last issues more heavily. Stuff here will be ref'd during the next era.

If you're having fun and want to keep reading you can! Just know that the next storyarc has gathered a largely mixed response bc..... its Millar going hammywammy....... not that necessary.......

anyway when you see hickmans name in the cover STOP and

Jump to actual Hickman secret wars era:

Fantastic Four by Jonathan Hickman: The complete collection➡️

(optional, side plot) If you like Val + Doom, read specifically; *Fantastic Four (2014) #3 & #5 + Fantastic Four Annual (2014) #1 *Agent of Asgard #6 & #7 *Avengers World (2014) #15 & #16

New Avengers (2013) ➡️ check issues on picture, or, if you're a completionist, look for 'Avengers by Jonathan Hickman; complete collection' and skim for the doom/reed relevant bits. There's a lot of characters here but this is a buildup to the big secret wars. Secret Wars (2015) ➡️ (All issues!) Infamous Iron Man (2016) ➡️bendis' doom writing is not very good but hang in there because right after him: Marvel 2-In-One (2017) ➡️ (All issues!) is a banger. Yaoi btw.

You can basically read all the future/past ones as listed, or starting from the beginning of that author's period without worrying, bc they aren't as indebted to each other storywise.

You can also start somewhere else if you want or check out other single issues on the reading guides; It's not a crime! There's a lot of stuff with different takes and genres, I'm slowly chipping away at the secret wars era bc its just very thick and like a serious television drama attempt, except its also insanely funny sometimes.

(I'm still making my way through it so that's what I have at the moment!)

[g1rlr0b1n]

My headcanons are that after Trinity proved that Damian is a good babysitter everyone keep leaving him their kids to him. He says that he hates it but all the kids love him and when he doesn't accept they will use Jon to convince him. Damian knows that Jon can't be left be alone with a kid and that's how they both keep gettin the job as babysitters. People who doesn't know them keep thinking they are the adoptive fathers of a bunch of kids since they keep fighting as an old couple everywhere they go.

I love this!

sorry, it took me so long to respond I was going back and forth on whether this was a regular ask or a writing prompt (if this was actually a writing prompt please let me know...fyi, I'm really backlogged on those 😅)

Anyway, I can totally see this because we all know this guy. They swear up and down that they hate kids and never want their own but are the first to agree to play with them every time and every kid loves them because they are fun and don't treat them like kids.

Also, yes Jon cannot be trusted to babysit alone. He's bad at it. Kids don't like him because he's lame and therefore he gets very intimidated by them. He's called Damian from inside a bathroom before because he needed help and didn't know what else to do. Jon: Dames! Thank God you picked up! I need help! Damian: Where are you? Jon: I'm babysitting for [insert random hero here] and the kids are out of control! Damian: where are you physically? Jon: I locked myself in the bathroom Damian: where are the kids? Jon: ... Damian: Jonathan. Are the kids unattended right now? Jon: Dami, I'm scared. Damian: *sigh* I'm on my way

And yeah, Damian will only babysit now if Jon has to tag along because: 1. he gets to be with Jon 2. it's only fair I mean, he was so good at it that he was having to do it alone ALL the time and that was so not fair! But yeah, now they look like two dads trying to out-adopt Bruce Wayne and people just go, "I guess he's following his father's footsteps?"

[southern-fried-simpin]

Doctor-Patient Confidentiality | BTAA!Scarecrow x fem!reader

A/N: Hey y’all look I’m writing again lol

Warning(s): Implied doctor-patient relationship kinda thing, floof with some suggestive stuff, mentions of implied abusive relationship, therapy stuff, unethical practices technically, this might be a little cheesy 😅

Should you really be wearing a new dress and heels that you bought for “no reason” just to see your doctor? No, probably not. However, he probably shouldn’t be recommending you other doctors “in case you feel like you need a second opinion on…anything” either.

To anyone else, it would sound like he found that you were in need of some sort of specialized treatment he couldn’t provide, however that couldn’t be any farther from the truth. The truth was that Jonathan had slowly taken a liking to you, and unfortunately, you had taken a liking to him too.

When you first started seeing him, you had the run-of-the-mill doctor-patient relationship: he was there to provide counseling and you were his patient. Jonathan was…looser though. More relaxed than other therapists you’d had before. He made you feel comfortable, even when talking about the hard stuff. He made you laugh. He made you smile. He even made you blush sometimes. That isn’t to say he ever said anything lewd, he just gave you a compliment here and there in the beginning.

“Well, don’t you look nice! Doing something fun later?”

Then the compliments became more frequent and more…audacious.

“Ooh, cute little number ya got on! Did you wear that just for little old me?”

You hadn’t that day, but you had started getting dressed up for him after that.

And now here you were: sitting in the lobby reading your book and eagerly waiting for Jonathan to come out and usher you in.

“Good morning, Miss y/n,” you looked up at the sound of his voice as he stood in the doorway grinning, “ready for our session?”

You nodded before standing, at which point his eyes widened for just a split second before they returned back to normal.

Once inside the office, you sat down on the couch while he sat in the matching chair opposite you, pen and clipboard in hand.

“Now I believe last session…” he flipped through some of his notes,”…we ended with your fear of romantic relationships…” Jonathan looked up at you with a warm yet sly smile on his face. “Would you like to pick up from there?”

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled back, watching as he clicked his pen. As happy as you were to see him, you remembered that you were also here to deal with any obstacles that held you back.

Oddly enough, one such obstacle was the subject of romantic relationships with others.

And you were discussing it with your therapist that you had a crush on. God really does have a sick sense of humor, doesn’t he?

“Now you said something last time about not wanting to…’share’ yourself with someone?”

“Share pieces of myself…”, you said quietly.

“Because in your last relationship, you were with someone who wasn’t treating you as an equal, is that right?”

“No he- well it’s not that I wasn’t his equal, it’s that he um…” you struggled to find the words. Meanwhile, Jonathan sat patiently waiting for you to figure out what you were trying to say.

“May I say something here?” His voice broke the silence between you two.

“Sure.”

“You said this person treated you as an equal…” he raised a brow at you, “…yet they didn’t allow you to have the same right they had to things like privacy, free time, ability to make choices…right?” He looked at you knowingly. It was a question you knew the answer to already.

“Right…” you sighed.

Jonathan set aside his clipboard and readjusted himself in his chair before speaking. He leaned in closer towards you.

“So let’s say for example’s sake…” He looked up in thought for a moment then snapped his fingers. “Let’s say you and I are dating…” A toothy smile.

“So let’s say we’re a happy little couple and we’ve been a happy little couple for awhile because we looove each other and we wanna be together forever…” The sentence is punctuated with a sugary sweet tone made to make you laugh, and it did. “So we have a healthy relationship,” he continued, “where, yes, you do share pieces of yourself with me, but I also share pieces of myself with you. We don’t share ourselves just hoping the other will reciprocate, we share because we’re comfortable, because we want to. Are you following?”

“Yes.” You said with an unwittingly dreamy tone to your voice.

Jonathan smiled softly. An oddly warm gesture that differed from his usual calculated yet charismatic demeanor.

“Okay, so in sharing ourselves, we share respect for each other; we communicate, we set boundaries, we build trust. If there’s a problem, we talk about it. I don’t hack into your phone to look at your private messages, I ask you if I have done anything to make you feel like I’m mad at you or neglecting your needs. The same goes for you.” His eyes traveled down to your lap, where your hands were neatly folded, as he carefully took hold of them before looking at you again.

“That’s what a healthy relationship, where two people are equals, is. Does that make sense?”

You nodded and smiled, again dreamily.

“Okay and does that sound anything like your past relationship?”

With a smile still on your face, you shook your head and began to slowly lean in towards him. At this point he had turned slightly to gather some things, you weren’t sure what and didn’t care, honestly. Nonetheless, he kept talking.

“Exactly, and you deserve to have th-“

He fell silent when he turned back to you and noticed your face, now only inches from his. Jonathan looked a bit nervous all of the sudden, his ears and cheeks flushed slightly as he stared at you quietly. He was stuck there, eyes flitting from your eyes then to your lips and back again. The air of haughtiness and charisma he usually had about himself had disappeared.

Or maybe it had just moved in your direction.

As you leaned in closer to Jonathan, he shifted backwards slightly in his chair, a movement so minuscule that you didn’t notice despite your eyes being on him.

Then finally, your lips met his. His heart raced and was beating so loud that you could hear it.

Yet somehow it felt like you were both floating. Time and space didn’t exist

He broke the kiss rather abruptly, and cleared his throat.

“Ah…hm…um…” he blinked rapidly and tapped his fingers on the arm rest.

Oh no. Oh nononononono. You made him uncomfortable.

You watched him expectantly, prepared for the worst and cringing at your impulsivity.

“I think you’ve made a great deal of progress here, however I’m not sure if I can treat you any further…”

There it is, and here it comes to hit you head on.

“The issues you’re facing are…outside of my field of expertise I’m afraid, but uh…” Jonathan quickly took a business card and scribbled something on it. “Why don’t you make an appointment with a colleague of mine, hm?” You nodded with a solemn smile.

He stood up, and smiled somewhat awkwardly at you. You carefully followed suit, the pit in your stomach almost felt so heavy that you would fall right back into the chair if you stood up too fast.

After walking you to the door, he cleared his throat again.

“Oh and uh…,” he swallowed. “If you’d like, I can tell you about more options available over dinner on Saturday?” He gave you a smug grin.

Now there was the Jon you knew.

You grinned back at him before speaking.

“I’d love that, actually…do you maybe want to see that new slasher film afterwards?”

“Holy f- I mean, yes absolutely!”

With that you said your goodbyes to each other and left, giggling on your way out.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

[mothmanmunson]

Aftershocks

A hurt/comfort Steddie blurb while I take a break from my main fic.

“Something's up with Steve, Eddie.”

Robin was pacing back and forth in front of Eddie, who was sitting on his couch in the trailer the government had so graciously gifted him and Wayne after the spring break incident, and after they finally cleared Eddie's name.

“And?”

“He won't tell me! He tells me everything.”

“And you're coming to me because?”

Robin huffed and gestured to Eddie, as if to try and emphasize the fact he was sitting there at all as the reason, and she had a point. If it hadn't been for Steve he'd probably have just bled out in the Upside Down.

Dustin had explained what happened when Eddie woke up in the hospital. How Steve carried him out of the gate that was in his old trailer, even though he had several broken ribs, and then insisted on being near him.

“Cause according to him, you two bonded in the Upside Down… I know he won't talk to anyone else, so you're the guy.”

Eddie sighed softly.

“Robin, Steve and I haven't talked since I got out of the hospital.”

“Exactly! Don't you think that's weird? He literally fought with the doctors when they tried treating him because he didn't wanna leave you or Max alone, and then once you're both out he just goes radio silent on you?”

Eddie shrugged. He had just chalked it up to him going back to prepping for college or whatever now that Hawkins was safe again. Robin huffed once again, which brought Eddie out of his thoughts.

“Will you just… will you talk to him? For me? He looks terrible and I'm worried about him.”

“Yeah, I will. Just don't get your hopes up, okay?”

—

Steve sat on his couch after getting home from chauffeuring the kids to their different activities for the day, Will had art club, Max, El, and Erica had gone to the new mall they had built where Starcourt used to be, and Dustin, Lucas and Mike were hanging out at the arcade.

He had been running around non-stop since everything settled after spring break, and that was just with them. He only got short breaks between all the drop offs and pickups, and those were usually filled with college prep, house work, or doing favors for the older kids, much to Robin's dismay.

“Steve if you keep this up you're gonna make yourself sick or something,”

She had said one day while her, Nancy, and Jonathan were over. They had offered to take over some of the driving duties so Steve could have a break, but he refused.

“I'm fine, guys, really. I appreciate it but you've all got your own stuff going on.”

“Well, so do you.” Nancy chimed in.

“Steve, the last drafts of your college application essays had so many typos in them it looked like you were writing them in your sleep.” Steve scoffed softly and shook his head.

“Well, then it's a good thing I had you look over them, isn't it?” After more bickering back and forth, the three had left empty-handed, and Steve continued on his self-destructive helping spree.

Which is why he was surprised when Eddie showed up on his porch on a Friday afternoon unannounced and out of nowhere, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

“Hey, uh, can I come in? I wanna talk to you.” Steve let him in and noticed Eddie had slipped off his shoes at the door.

“What's up, Eddie?”

“I could ask the same of you. You look like… well you don't look great.” Steve scoffed softly at the comment before considering the fact Eddie had clearly said something less harsh than he was originally going to.

“I've just been busy.”

“Busy enough to skip meals?”

“Eddie. Not you, too.” Eddie stuffed his hands in his Jacket pockets after setting the bag on the coffee table.

“What do you mean, ‘not me, too’?”

“You're here to ask to take over driving the kids around, aren't you?” Eddie let out a short laugh.

“What? You think I'd let the Hellions into my van? Mike and Dustin are lucky I don't make them walk home from sessions.”

“So… Robin didn't tell you to come see me?” Steve had just guessed, but the way Eddie shrugged confirmed his suspicion. Of course Robin would go to Eddie-she knew if anyone was gonna get through to Steve it'd be him, especially after he insisted on being by Eddie's side in the hospital. She saw something spark up in Steve that she knew was the starts of a crush.

“Oh, no, she totally did. But I'm not gonna try a tactic that already didn't work. I just came to hang out, to encourage you to take a break.”

“Well, I have to work on my essays for my applications, so maybe some other time, yeah?” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve mentally curse both him and Robin.

“No can do, big boy, it's my turn to dolt around for you. Sit.”

“Eddie I really don't th-”

“Steve. I'm doing this for Robin's sake and for yours. Pick a movie, sit your ass down, and relax.” Eddie went over and nudged Steve in the direction of the movie shelf.

“Otherwise I'm gonna go grab 'The American Werewolf in London' outta the van and we're watching that.”

“Why is it in your van?”

“Cause it's a rental and if I leave it in there I'll remember to return it.” Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded, picking out The Dark Crystal and popping it into the player before sitting down.

—

The two watched the movie for a while, and Eddie kept an eye on Steve, who had visibly relaxed.

“Hey, so, I've gotta ask, why have you been running yourself into the ground, Harrington?” Steve looked over at him before looking back at the movie. It looked like he was trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

“I just…I don't wanna be stagnant, I guess.”

“Steve, c’mon, tell me the truth. I'm not gonna force it out of you but I can't help if you don't tell me, man.” Steve let out a soft sigh and sat up, placing his drink on the table as he did. Eddie watched as the tension made itself at home in Steve again as he moved, and part of him wished he hadn't opened his big mouth.

“The night Starcourt burned down.”

“Yeah?”

“Hopper wasn't the only one who went through shit that night.” Eddie let Steve take his time, watching him with wide eyes. The brunette looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide, and Eddie didn't blame him.

“Well, to make a long story short, Starcourt was a front for a Russian military base and they captured Robin and I. It was awful, we were only there for hours, but it felt like days…” Steve took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“I felt so useless. I couldn't help Robin even though she was right there, and it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I told myself if I survived I never wanted to feel like that again.” Eddie frowned and furrowed his brow, twisting the rings on his hand as he did.

“Steve. You're not useless, you were just as trapped as she was.” He reached out and grabbed Steve's shoulder supportively.

“I know but-”

“No buts. From now on, if you start to feel that way, tell someone. Hell, tell me. Just, don't dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of, okay? You've got so many people that care about you, but we can't help you if you don't ask for it.” Steve looked at Eddie for a moment before looking down at his hands.

“Yeah… okay… Thanks, Eddie. Really.” Eddie smiled and nodded, giving Steve's shoulder a squeeze, and went back to watching the movie.

It wasn't long before Eddie felt Steve's head on his shoulder and he smiled as he adjusted himself so both he and Steve would be more comfortable.

“One more question.”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“Why didn't you tell Robin? She'd be able to comfort you a bit better than any of us.” Steve shrugged a bit, which made Eddie sigh.

“Steve. She's your best friend, and who else would know how you felt better than her?”

“It's not just Starcourt, Eddie.” Eddie raised his eyebrows expectantly and it was Steve's turn to sigh as he pulled his knees up to his chest. It was a defense mechanism he had picked up after all the body blows he'd taken throughout the past year, and it seemed to have latched onto his mental health as well.

“I thought you were gonna die… You did, a couple of times, on the way to the hospital… Then I saw Lucas and Max and I started feeling helpless again. Dustin told me what you did and all I remember is hearing this voice in my head telling me it was my fault you were even in that position in the first place. You and Max are just as much a part of this weird, fucked up family as the rest of us and-” Steve stopped when Eddie put a hand on his knee, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.

“Steve, you weren't the one that made me do anything. None of this was your fault, and I'd have done it despite what you had to say. Like you said, we're a weird, fucked up family, and I'd literally kill for Dustin, so of course I'd do what I could to help.” Eddie watched Steve wipe at his face with his sleeve and reached over to gently grab his arm, pulling him into a hug. Steve had stiffened up a bit in surprise, but Eddie soon felt his body shake as he sobbed, and rubbed his back comfortingly.

After a while, and a lot of crying, Steve finally pulled back and looked at Eddie. His face was red, and his eyes were puffy from crying, but his eyes were full of something Eddie never really saw much when he'd try comforting someone.

Gratitude.

Usually it would wind up in the person getting upset with him, which he didn't mind because it took their focus off of what was upsetting them in the first place, but he never got so much as a thank you for it.

“Thank you… Sorry for soaking your shirt.”

Eddie laughed softly and shook his head, taking Steve's hands in his.

“It's alright, Steve. You feel better?”

Steve nodded and let out a soft laugh, wiping at his face with his sleeve before rubbing his face fully.

“God… that was such an ugly cry. I can't believe you let me go for so long.”

Eddie laughed as well and wrapped an arm around him playfully, giving him a squeeze.

“You should see me cry, like, really cry. Snot gets everywhere.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at the thought, making a disgusted sound.

“Gross.”

“Right? At least you managed to stay pretty somehow.”

Steve tilted his head and smirked softly, heart jumping into his throat for a moment before he managed to speak.

“You think I'm pretty?” Eddie's face went red and he cleared his throat, which confirmed it for Steve before he even started talking.

“Well…yeah. Even when your hair's a mess you still look like some deity, couple that with how caring you really are and any girl would have to be blind and dumb not to want you.” Steve's heart dropped like a rock just as quickly as it had leaped, and he was hoping it wasn’t readable in his body language.

“Actually…I don't think I'm all that into girls anymore.” Steve noticed Eddie's head tilt to the side just the slightest bit before he glanced around, avoiding eye contact. Was Eddie nervous? Steve couldn't tell, equating Eddie's neutral expression to that of a scared puppy.

“When did… when did that happen?”

“Well… I guess I've always felt like that, but just avoided it, y’know? I know how hard it is to be anything but straight in Indiana but…when we were alone in the Upside Down, it kind of confirmed it for me, I guess.” Eddie finally made eye contact, and his eyes were full of confusion and a bit of fear.

“I…I was your gay awakening?” Steve let out a soft laugh and shrugged. He hadn't really thought about that. Sure, he knew he had a crush on the metalhead, but he didn't think of it as a sexual awakening or anything.

“I mean, I guess? I never really thought of it like that until now but… I dunno, it's dumb.” Eddie leaned over and grabbed Steve's face in his hands, the confusion and fear in his eyes replaced with an intense passion.

“Don't ever call anything you think dumb, Steve Harrington.” They were so close to each other their noses were almost touching, and Steve took in the scent of cigarettes and sweat. All he had to do was lean forward just the slightest bit…

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I… uh…” I love you, I wanna hold you and kiss you and never let you go. He wanted desperately to tell Eddie how he felt, how badly he wanted to kiss him, but he found himself, instead, swallowing his words.

“You…?” Eddie dragged, the passion replaced with a softness that made Steve melt. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, leaning in to softly kiss Eddie's lips before pulling away.

When he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes, Steve was greeted by a red-faced Eddie, who sat there dumb-founded and blushing.

“Eddie? I-Im sorry, I shouldn't have done-” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve stop.

“No, no, it's okay. It was…a wonderful surprise.” Steve felt his heart skip a beat once again and bit his lip. He couldn't tell if Eddie meant that as a good thing or not, his voice was so soft and monotone in that moment it felt like he was replaced with a robot while Steve had his eyes closed.

“Is that a good thing or…?” Eddie smiled softly and leaned in to close the distance Steve had created.

“It's a good thing. I promise.”

[hornyhornyhimbos]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨: 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

What is up, my fellow sluts and whores? Well, other than the obvious 😉

Sorry, anyway, it has been a hot minute since I have posted on here (apologies on my end, my brain is fried lol) but today I'm here to change that! I have put together some good ol' slutty fanfics for you guys to indulge in. Candy's not the only treat you're getting this year 😌

As always, this celebration is not limited to just this account. There will of course be SFW fics on both @reidsaurora and @honeysuckleharringtons if those tickle your fancy as well!

▪︎ October 25th:

Steve Harrington 🕯 Pitchin' A Tent?

In which Reader and Muse try on their old scouts uniforms in hopes of using them for Halloween costumes.

▪︎ October 26th:

Aaron Hotchner 🕯 Michael Myers and Chill

In which Reader and Muse completely abandon their horror movie in favor of more desired activities.

▪︎ October 27th:

Jonathan Byers 🕯 Love Potion No. 9

In which Reader and Muse accidentally consume a serum of desire and have to find some way to rid themselves of their pent up feelings.

▪︎ October 28th:

Luke Alvez 🕯 Seven Minutes In Hell

In which Reader and Muse are paired for a game of 'Seven Minutes In Heaven' at the office's annual Halloween Party.

▪︎ October 30th:

Eddie Munson 🕯 Oh, Bite Me!

In which Reader proceeds to tease Muse in a haunted house.

▪︎ October 31st:

Spencer Reid 🕯 It's A Scream!

In which Reader and Muse simply cannot wait long enough to take off their costumes after a long night of keeping their hands off each other.

mutuals! feel free to share the sluttiness!

@dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @reidsbookclub @writer-in-theory @serenity-lattes @foxy-eva @reidselle @battymunson @reputationmunson

celebration post art: me!

halloween dividers: @firefly-graphics

[satelliteddie]

grapejuice - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: a nervous eddie tries his best to buy you flowers and wine for the first time, but can’t seem to get it right

content warnings: implied sex (but no details), neck kisses, first time saying I love you to each other <3

word count: 3.7k

author’s notes: had to write in some eddie and wayne interactions bc we were ROBBED of them; anyways, enjoy xx

Yesterday, it finally came, a sunny afternoon

I was on my way to buy some flowers for you

Thought that we could hide away in a corner of the heath

There's never been someone who's so perfect for me

Eddie is way out of his element. I don’t even know which flowers she would like. His brain is running in circles as he stares at the endless rows of floral arrangements. Half of these flowers look like weeds to him, while the other half seems like they were artificially dyed. Eddie knows you—better than he knows anyone, but when he looks at these flowers, it seems like everything he once knew goes out the window.

“Did you need some help?” A Bradley’s Big Buy employee asks. She wipes her hands on her apron and smiles at Eddie.

“Uh,” Eddie stutters. He focuses his attention on her employee badge, “Stacy, is it? I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Okay,” Stacy sighs, pressing her lips together. “Are these for a girlfriend?” Eddie nods in response, his whole body is itchy. He wants to go home and forget this entire thing. You’ve told him time and time again that you don’t need material things. However, Eddie knows you like flowers; you and Nancy always gush over the ones Jonathan sends her. You would never tell him, but you always hoped Eddie would pick up on how much you wanted to get flowers from him. Eddie had tried to get you a fancy arrangement for your first official date; he even went to a florist for them…but he panicked and told the clerk they were for a funeral and ran out of the store before he could pick any out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get you flowers, he did. It killed him that he wasn’t good at this couple-type stuff. So here he was, in a discount supermarket picking out week old flowers. They weren’t a personalized arrangement by any means, but it was better than nothing. “Does she have a favorite color?” Stacy suggests, as she picks up a few bouquets from the buckets on the wall

“She loves all orange and pink tones, whenever there’s a pretty sunset she always says: ‘that’s it, that’s my favorite color’. It’s one of my favorite things—” Eddie coughs and stops his rambling when he notices Stacy watching him closely. “Sorry I don’t know why I told you all of that, I’m out of my element here.”

Stacy grabs two clusters of flowers from the selection; one set of pastel pink and red colored roses and the other a mix of orange and yellow flowers with all different shaped petals. “Listen,” Stacy whispers. “I don’t know you, and I don’t know your girlfriend, but no matter what you get she’ll be happy with them—it’s the thought that counts. However, if you want to guarantee she’s more than happy, I would go with these.” She passes the two bundles to Eddie, “you can even take them out of the plastic, mix the two together and put them in a vase. She’ll never know you got them from Bradley’s.” Eddie thanks her profusely before checking out of the store. His arms ache from carrying all the bags to the van. Pasta, check. Sauce, check. Cheese, check. Random vegetables that Nancy told him would elevate the sauce, check. Wine, check. Flowers, check. Eddie went through his mental checklist a half a dozen times in his mind hoping he remembered everything. Eddie tried his best to contain his nerves as he drove from the store back home. This would be the first time he actually cooked for you; every day for the last four months, Eddie had wanted to cook for you and treat you like royalty. He was so disgustingly in love with you that he would do anything for you…yet every time he tried to wine and dine you something went amiss. He burnt the chicken the last time, undercooked the burgers the time before, and somehow overcooked a salad before that. This time would be different, he knew it would be. The last times he tried, he wasn’t sure that he was in love with you, but this time? Eddie was in love with you. Tonight he would tell you and make it official, but he needed everything to go right first. Eddie shuffles inside the trailer with the groceries and tosses them onto the counter.

“Your girl coming over tonight?” Eddie’s Uncle Wayne asks while looking over the top of his coffee mug. “Has to be the only reason you would willingly go food shopping. Haven’t helped me in years.”

“C’mon, Wayne. Now isn’t the time for this,” Eddie pulls out all of his purchases from the plastic bags. “You told me you wouldn’t be home, by the way.” Eddie points at his uncle from the kitchen. Wayne rocks back and forth in the recliner that sits in the far side of the living room. Eddie continues to take out the penne pasta, pasta sauce, red wine, vegetables, and other ingredients from the bag and lays them out on the counter. He goes through his mental checklist again and smiles down at his purchases. I remembered it all.

“You making penne vodka?” Wayne asks, moving from his seat into the kitchen. He pushes around Eddie’s collection, taking in all the ingredients. Eddie nods, while his mind races thinking about how you always order penne alla vodka when you go to Enzo’s with your family. “You bought the wrong wine, Son.”

“What?” Eddie blinks harshly at his uncle. “It’s wine, how can it be wrong?”

“You bought a cheap red wine, it’s way too acidic. You need a white wine like a Chardonnay or something.”

“First of all how do you, of all people, know that? Second, shit, shit, shit!” Eddie curses, grabbing at the roots of his hair. “What am I gonna do? She’s gonna be here any minute!”

“Look, I have an old bottle of white in the closet. It’s cheap and pretty much grapejuice, but it could work for you kids.”  Wayne crouches down as he digs in the pantry looking for a bottle of wine. “I got it as a work gift, so it can’t be that bad.” He turns the label to Eddie and passes the bottle to him. Eddie releases his breath and puts the wine onto the countertop next to the pasta. He nods in appreciation at his uncle and Wayne smirks at him, “glad I was home now, huh?”

“Dick,” Eddie mutters while Wayne ruffles a hand through Eddie’s hair on his way out of the trailer.

But I got over it and I said

"Give me somethin' old and red"

I pay for it more than I did back then

There's just no gettin' through

Without you

A bottle of rouge

Just me and you

You puff out your cheeks as you put your car into park in front of the Munson trailer. I can do this, just a normal date with my boyfriend. You think as you check your makeup one last time in the rearview mirror. No, it’s not just a date. I’m gonna tell him I love him. Your devil's advocate practically screams. After another minute, you stand from your car and walk up the front steps of the trailer. Raising a fist to the door, you knock against the window pane. Muffled steps come from inside and before you know it a disheveled Eddie whips open the door. “My girl,” he smiles. “You look, God you look amazing.”

You glance down at your sundress and Keds (a favorite combination of Eddie’s), your cheeks burn from his words as you look up at him. “Hi, Eds.” Eddie runs his fingers down your arms and clasps his hands with yours. The smile on his face continues to grow as he pulls you inside his home. “Hi, sweetheart.” Eddie moves his hands from yours and plants them on the sides of your neck, bringing his mouth down to yours. He can’t help but smile into the kiss, his teeth gently scraping your lips. His smile is infectious as you break the kiss, “what’s got you all smiley today?” You ask in between giggles, Eddie continues to pepper kisses all across your face.

“I just–” he shakes his head, “I just missed you.” You can tell he’s lying, but you don’t push him. The two of you step into the kitchen and you notice the small dish towels all over the tile floor. “Uh Eddie?” You ask as you step over the mess on the floor, “what happened here?”

“We’re having pasta so I got red wine, which I now realize is wrong, thanks to Wayne,” Eddie rambles on as he picks up the towels and tosses them into the sink. He gently nudges you back from the mess as he picks up the broken shards of glass, “So Wayne gave me another bottle, but then I- I dropped it.” He shakes his head staring at the ground, “I messed it up again.”

“Eds–” you reach for him, but he doesn’t let you pass the threshold of the kitchen. Just in case the broken glass dares to touch you, Eddie steps towards you, his sneakers crunching against the shards near his feet.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I ruined it,” Eddie’s eyes are closed again as he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I can’t ever get it right. I just get so nervous, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Hey,” you bend down, trying to meet his eyes that are now focused on the floor. You run your fingers over his curls and tuck them behind his ear, “I’m so over all those white wines anyways”

“Yeah?” He asks, slowly opening his eyes. The deep brown shade of his eyes seems to be even warmer tonight as he looks right into your eyes.

“Yeah, besides I bought wine today,” you reach into your tote on your shoulder. “Figuring you wouldn’t have a clue how to pair wine.” You tease as you place the bottle on the counter behind the two of you.

“God, I love you,” the words slip from Eddie’s mouth before he can stop them.

“What?”

Sittin' in the garden, I'm a couple glasses in

I was tryna count up all the places we've been

You're always there, so don't overthink

I'm so over whites and pinks

“Nothing,” Eddie states, moving back to the kitchen. He rushes over to sweep up the rest of his mess. He turns his attention to the cooked pasta as he drains it into the strainer placed in the sink.

“Eddie–” you try to get him to look back at you.

“I didn’t say anything, nope. Nothing. I’m drunk. Yep, drunk,” Eddie rambles on. You stand behind him as he tosses the pasta in the sauce warming on the stove top.

“Fine,” you huff. “I’ll let it go, for now.” You smile at him and Eddie returns it. He nods in a silent ‘thank you’. You had a feeling that Eddie did love you, but hearing the words directly from him struck you right in the center of your chest. This night meant a lot to him and you could tell his word-vomit just threw him totally off his game. You swallow your pride, knowing you’ll bring the conversation up later and pretend it didn’t happen. “So what’s on the menu?”

“Penne alla Eddie,” he grins as he moves around the pasta, sauce, and vegetables in the pan.

You chuckle at his corny nature, “Alla Eddie? Never heard of it.”

“Yes, that's because I only make it for very special occasions.” Eddie comments as you slip into a stool behind the breakfast bar. Eddie has the sleeves of a button up shirt (presumably one of Wayne’s), rolled up to his elbows, his dark wash jeans are cleaner than you’ve ever seen them and his white sneakers have definitely been scrubbed. His fingers are tapping against his thigh to a song you can’t place, but you know it’s his nervous tick. This is a special occasion. You smile at your boyfriend and the time and effort he took to make tonight special for you both. Eddie continues to cook while you two make small talk about work, Hellfire, and how ridiculous Robin and Steve look in their new Family Video uniforms. Eventually, Eddie finishes with the pasta and flicks off the stove.

“Alright sweetheart,” he smiles at you. “I’m gonna need you to stay here for five minutes. And promise me you won’t peek outside.” Eddie knows how much you hate surprises, but this time you let it go and promise you won’t look. You keep your eyes fixed on the counter, as you hear Eddie shuffling back and forth from the small kitchen to the front door. After a few minutes, Eddie tips your chin up to meet his eye line. You raise your eyebrows at him, “ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he smiles and places a quick kiss on your lips. “C’mon.” Eddie pulls you from the stool in the kitchen, out the front door. You’re confused for only a moment before you notice the elaborate set up. Just a few steps outside of the trailer, Eddie has a wooden picnic table (that he for sure ‘borrowed’ from the communal portion of the trailer park), covered with a sheet and decorated with small tea light candles and flowers. You contain your gasp as you take in the entire scene. He cooked for me and did all of this? Eddie leads you to the table and holds your hand as you take a seat on the wooden bench. Eddie jogs around the other side and sits directly in front of you. There’s two plates of pasta made up for both of you, but you can’t even focus on it as your eyes stay fixed on the flowers. The flowers. In the center of the table sits a perfect bouquet of orange, yellow, pink and red flowers that bring the entire scene together. He bought those for me?

“Is this okay?” Eddie breaks the silence and you pull your focus back to him. He continues, “I know it’s not Enzo’s, but—are you crying?” He stops dead in his tracks. Did he read this all wrong?

“No,” you sniffle trying to hide your emotions. Eddie smiles at your lie, but you continue: “This all just, it’s too much Eds. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Yes, I did.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens, “you deserve so much more than this.” He reaches across the table and grabs your hand. His silver rings are cool against your skin, and cause goosebumps as he moves them back and forth over your knuckles. “I know you would never ask for this, or- or even say you like it…so I really hope I’m not getting this all wrong, but I just wanted to show you how much I care about you. About us.” Eddie emphasizes, his hands still fidgeting with yours.

“Eddie, you show me everyday,” you frown at him. You would hate for Eddie to be so worried about the material things in your relationship, when that’s not what you care most about. He releases your hand and pours the wine you brought into the glasses in front of you.

“I wanted to,” Eddie blushes, his head tilted.

“Well,” you smirk at him. “In that case, can we eat? I’m starving.” Eddie’s mushy exterior cracks, bringing forward the ‘normal’ Eddie as he lets go of your hand to grab a fork.

“Thank God you said something first,” he shoves the fork into his plate of pasta. “I didn’t want to be un-gentleman-like.”

I pay for it more than I did back then

There's just no gettin' through

Without you

A bottle of rouge

Just me and you

1982

Just me and you

There's just no gettin' through

The grape juice blues

There’s only a ¼ of the bottle of wine left on the table, two empty bowls where the pasta once was, the candles have been burnt out, and the perfect flowers still sitting in the center. The two of you have moved to the same side of the bench, swapping stories from high school and the time before you knew one another. Eddie throws his head back in a laugh, nearly falling off the picnic bench. “There’s no way,” he choked out in between laughs. “There’s no way you broke Harrington’s nose.”

“It was an accident, but it's true!” You practically yell, swatting his arm. “Do you really think so little of me?” Eddie swings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you tight to his side. He plants a kiss on your temple, “no, I think the world of you. I just also thought more of Harrington.” Your giggles die down when you look at Eddie, who’s already looking at you.

“Hi beautiful,” he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Hi handsome,” you kiss his jawline causing Eddie to crack into another smile.

“Alright I can do this,” Eddie comments more so to himself than you. You glance up at Eddie through your lashes and give his hand a tight squeeze in yours. “Y'know I went to the store today completely clueless about what flowers I should get you?” Your eyes move from his face to the collection of flowers set in the center of the table. “I was so lost, but then Stacy—”

“Stacy?” You lean up with an eyebrow raised.

“Irrelevant,” he dismisses your teasing. “She asked me what your favorite color was. And instead of giving her a simple answer like orange, yellow, red…I went on this tangent about how much you love sunsets. This poor girl was just trying to do her job and there I was talking about you.” You press another kiss to his jaw, encouraging Eddie to keep talking. “I’m just so overwhelmed by the idea that you’re mine that I have to make sure everyone knows. I love how you always look at the sky and try to find constellations. I love how you always make us stop to watch the sunset. I love how you wear outfits I casually mention I like. I love how you let me ramble on about D&D even though you don’t have a clue what’s going on,” he smirks into your hair. “I love how you bring wine because you knew I’d mess up. I love how you don’t care if our dates are here or out somewhere.” Eddie releases a big sigh into your neck before lifting his head up to look at you. He brings his hands up to the sides of your face, brushing his ring-clad fingers over your cheeks. “I love all of that stuff because I love you.” You both don’t say anything for a moment, Eddie’s confession hanging in the air. The crickets around the trailer park crip to fill the silence, but the longer you don’t say anything the longer Eddie grows restless. “Look you don’t...Fuck. You don’t have to say anything,” Eddie releases your hand and wipes his palms on his jeans. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Eddie,” you grab his wrist and trace his veins with your finger tips. “I was so nervous coming over here tonight because I wanted to tell you that I love you too. I nearly passed out climbing the three steps into the trailer.” A smile creeps onto Eddie’s face as you continue to talk, “I don’t know how long I’ve loved you, but it feels like I always have. Like it’s always been just me and you. I love you, Eddie.” His brown eyes seem clearer than ever when he reaches up and pulls your face to his. His lips catch yours effortlessly in a messy, love-filled kiss.

“Say it again,” Eddie smiles against your mouth.

“I love y—”, you are cut off Eddie’s giddy kisses again. His hands run over your sides prompting you to straddle him on the bench. “Eddie,” you giggle as he continues to kiss all over your skin. He doesn’t leave an inch of your face and neck untouched. “Baby,” you finally get his attention with a pet name.

“Yes, my love.” He answers, his mouth plump from kisses.

“Can we go inside?”

“Fuck yes,” Eddie hops up from the bench, practically dragging you with him. You both make it to the front door before you pull away from him. Quickly you hop down the stairs grabbing your array of flowers in their vase. “My flowers,” you smile back at him. Eddie’s eyes never leave you and they practically sparkle as he watches you carefully bring them inside. You set the flowers on the counter, Eddie close behind you as he plants a kiss on your collar bone. “Thank you,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Why are you thanking me?” You ask him, turning around to face Eddie properly.

“I know you heard me say that I loved you before, but you waited until I did my whole, huh…speech?” He says as if it’s more of a question. You wrap your arms around his torso and kiss his chest. Eddie rests his chin on top of your head as you both stand in the kitchen.

“How many times did you practice it?”

“So many times,” Eddie grins into your hair. “Wayne started giving me pointers. He told me to leave out the fact that ‘I love the noises you make when we—’”

Eddie is cut off by you muffling his mouth with your hand. “You did not tell Wayne that,” your eyes are wide while you release his mouth.

“Nah I didn’t, but I would love to hear those noises now…” Eddie's hands trail down your sides as he lifts you. You wrap your legs around his waist, letting him carry you to his bedroom. “Don’t press your luck, Munson.”

“Eh,” Eddie shrugs under your arms, the smile on his lips never wavering. “I’m feeling pretty lucky today.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

I’m such a sucker for the “say it again”-trope I’ll literally punch a whole thru my wall <3 anyways, I didn’t know how to end this so my apologies, but I love Eddie :””

next in the series: as it was - s.h. (coming saturday!)

✭ masterlist ✭ requests

[cassiopeiaemiliagaunt]

Waiting for a Girl Like You | E.M.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Harrington!Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you, along with Robin, Nancy and your brother Steve to one of his concerts in The Hideout. Feelings ensue. 

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: some angst at times, but nothing too serious and it has a happy ending, bad relationship with parents, curse words

Author’s note: My very first Eddie fanfic! Hope y’all enjoy ;)) Disclaimer: GIF is not mine!

For as long as you can remember, it’s always been you and your brother, Steve Harrington. There’s an age gap of only one year between you two, as if your parents knew soon after Steve was born that they couldn’t care to keep him company, so they provided him with a sibling to do the job. Knowing your parents, that’s probably exactly what happened. Ever since Steve hit the ripe age of 11, they decided he was old enough to take care of himself and his 10 year old sister and fucked off to each and every business trip they could possibly go on. Separately of course, they cared for each other even less than they cared for their children, yet they couldn’t be bothered to get divorced. Something to do with keeping up appearances probably. In the beginning, they went on trips for a week at most, but as the years went on they tended to disappear for months at a time.

Maybe it’s for the best. Steve and you truly have all the family you need in each other. Sure you fought with each other, but you almost never went to bed angry. You were also one of the only people who could knock some sense into Steve during his douchebag, King Steve era. You were the one who convinced him to go to the Byers’ home after Jonathan punched him for calling Nancy a slut. You even went with him and stayed in the car when he went inside.

That’s how you got wrapped up in the whole Upside Down-nightmare. You were there for the first round with the demogorgons, you were there for the awful demodogs - one demogorgon, you could handle, but man, those demodogs really freaked the shit out of you. When the mind flayer came around, and you somehow got kidnapped by the Russians, you kept wondering how you kept getting into those situations. And when you dove into the murky water of Lovers’ Lake after your brother got dragged away by some vine, and you were hysterically fighting off those wretched demobats so they wouldn’t kill the only living family member you loved, you wondered if you would ever be free of it.

But here you all are now, a couple weeks later, Vecna defeated and the Upside Down officially destroyed, everyone you care about still alive. They rushed your brother, Eddie and you to some hidden government facility to get your demobat-wounds treated, one of the bat-fuckers managed to sneak in a bite on your hip, and Vecna never got close enough to Max to hurt her more than a broken arm. 

It feels weird, just going back to school after that. You feel wary. Like you can’t actually believe it is actually gone. But as the physical wounds started to scar and fade, some other side effects were more difficult to get rid of. For example, the nightmares started acting up again, causing you to be really tired often times. 

Which is why you shoot awake at Robin calling your name rather loudly.

“I’m up, I’m up,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes and lifting your head from the - probaby dirty - cafeteria table, to meet the eyes of your best friend. 

“Good, thought you were Vecna’d for a second,” Robin jokes. You force out a smile. You know the band geek copes with humor and can’t let yourself ruin that.

“Well then, I’m very disappointed to see that you haven’t even taken out a walkman with my favorite song yet. Do you even know it?” You ask playfully, with your eyes narrowed in a teasing way.

“Of course, it’s-”

Robin is interrupted by Eddie making his way, rather theatrically, to your table. 

You, Robin, Steve, Nancy and Eddie had all gotten quite close after the battle with Vecna. Shared trauma really does get people closer. The five of you would often hang out after school and on weekends. There had even been several sleepovers at your and Steve’s house as it was the biggest and almost permanently free of parents. At school, however, you all lead separate lives, with only you and Robin hanging out regularly. Eddie has his Hellfire Club and Nancy is almost permanently absorbed by the newspaper club. 

“Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite ladies in the world. How are we on this fine day of having to confirm to society and attend high school?” He asks, while dropping dramatically onto the seat next to you, draping his arm over your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at his antics, but there is no actual mirth behind it. You suddenly feel nervous actually, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. Truth to be told, after your whole adventure in the Upside Down, you developed a quite big and quite embarrassing crush on the metalhead. 

“What are you doing here, Eddie? Finally bored of hanging out with literal kids?” you tease him.

“You wound me, princess. Can’t a guy just visit his very, very dear friends without any ulterior motive?” He asks, lifting his free hand to his chest to mimic hurt. You give him a light shove and an unimpressed look at the nickname. He decided one day that since your brother was the King Steve of Hawkings High, that made you the princess. 

“No,” Robin answers his question.

“Spit out what you want already, Munson.” Is your reaction.

“Alright, alright. You’re both too smart for your own good. So maybe I do need a favor from you,” he starts, and there is a shyness to his demeanor that is not often seen on him.

You and Robin share a look, before both looking at him with raised eyebrows, egging him on to continue.

“Alright so, this Friday my band, the very well known Corroded Coffin, as you both are undoubtedly aware, is playing in the Hideout and well, I thought it’d maybe be cool if you’d come. I was planning to ask Steve and Nance as well, for some nice little post-Upside Down team building.” He winks at the last part, but you still pick up on his slight nervousness around his request.

You and Robin share yet another suspicious look, you really could communicate without using words, to the annoyance of Steve mostly, before you answer. “... That’s it? That’s the favor you wanted to ask us? That’s not even a favor, of course we want to come, Eddie!” 

“Great! Amazing! It starts around 9 p.m.! I’ll see you two there then!” He exclaims excitedly, before just standing up and leaving you and Robin to yourselves, bewildered at the sudden departure. 

“Of course we want to come, Eddie, oh man of my dreams! Keep it in your pants, Harrington.” Robin teases you.

“Oh shut up, Buckley,” you answer, desperately trying to hide the blush blossoming on her cheeks. Robin is one of the only people you told about your little crush. Not even Steve knows, you’re too nervous about what his reaction would be. You know he’s come a long way from the douchebag he temporarily was, but you always yearn for his approval and don’t know what you’d do if he didn’t approve of Eddie. So only Robin knows. And Max. But that’s only because the girl is very observant. And Max is to you what Dustin is to Steve. Dustin and Steve gravitated towards each other almost immediately, instantly forming some kind of brother-relationship. And while you understood why that happened, you always felt more kinship with Max. You recognize pieces of yourself in the redhead and you are overall just very fond of the girl, supporting her through the complicated mourning around the loss of her stepbrother. 

~~~

When Friday rolls around, Robin and Max are perched on your bed. It’s 6 p.m. and you had begged Robin to help you pick out an outfit for the concert. And Max decided to tag along, because well, it’s Max. She couldn’t come to the concert itself of course, because she’s way too young, but you would just drop her off at her house on your way to The Hideout. You had all decided to take one car, Steve driving of course, and you would pick up Nance along the way.

Currently Robin and Max are quietly chatting, while you are, quite stressed, emptying your entire closet onto the floor, searching for something to wear. You don’t know why you’re so nervous for Eddie’s show. It’s just that he’s acting quite suspicious since he invited you guys to his show. He won’t answer any questions about it, dodging the subject entirely. And then there’s the whole ‘asking for a favor’-thing, when it wasn’t even a favor to go to his show. And the shyness he showed. Maybe he’s just nervous? Maybe you’re reading way too much into it and maybe Eddie just has a normal little case of stage fright?

You are snapped out of your thoughts by Max waving a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! You still with us?”

“Yeah, yeah, was just thinking.” You reply.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Max retorts lovingly. You retaliate by messing up the redhead’s hair, rubbing your hands in it. Max slaps your hands away.

“What about this?” Robin interrupts you, holding up an outfit she fished from the clothes strewn all over your now very messy room. It’s a cool outfit. Definitely cool enough to fit in in The Hideout, but it’s also still very much your style.

Your face lights up at the outfit. It’s perfect. “You, my dear friend, are an angel!” You exclaim, wrapping your arms around your friend and hugging her. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Now go take a shower and get ready, or we’ll be late to Loverboy’s show!” She teases. And you do just that, heading into the en suite bathroom to your room and hoping a nice shower will ground you and calm your nerves before Eddie’s concert.

When you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in the outfit, hair done and makeup applied, Robin and Max quiet down for a second.

“Damn, you actually look really good.” Max says suddenly. 

“Language!” Slips out of you before you can stop it. Steve’s Mother Hen-persona is rubbing off on you it seems.

It’s silent for exactly one second, before the three of you erupt in laughter. 

“No, you actually look really good, Y/N. He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.” Robin winks, once they’ve all calmed down. You cannot express how much you want that to be the truth.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

~~~

When the four of you arrive at The Hideout, there’s more people than you expected. Eddie seriously undersold his ‘audience of about five drunks’. The Hideout was quite packed, almost all dressed in a similar way as Eddie usually dresses. Steve and Nancy, with their obvious preppy style, stick out in this bar, but you guys can’t seem to care about that. You make your way through the crowd, before finding a nice standing spot in the middle of the audience, with a good view of the stage.

You chatter amongst yourselves, curious as to what the concert might bring, when suddenly you forget how to breathe. Eddie had come up on the stage and words escape you. He looks absolutely gorgeous. He has changed his trademark ripped black jeans for leather pants, with his trusty chain. And he’s wearing his familiar leather jacket. Silver adorns his neck and lots of chunky rings are wrapped around his fingers. But what really gets you is the fact that he’s shirtless underneath said jacket. Tattoos and demobat scars on full display. You almost begin to feel your mouth water, as it is slightly ajar.

You receive a subtle nudge from Robin that effectively wakes you from your trance and you snap your mouth shut. Steve gives you a questioning look that you just wave away. 

Eddie struts confidently to the microphone and announces the band. “My esteemed ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce my band, Corroded Coffin!” He waves his hands around at his fellow band members theatrically. “Are you guys ready?” He asks, to which the audience, including the four of you, replies with a loud cheer. You can see the way Eddie soaks it all up. He really is in his element on the stage. 

He turns around and grabs his trusty guitar, slipping it around himself. The band communicates quietly and starts playing the first song, Eddie strumming expertly. You recognize the melody. It’s a metal song he frequently listens to and they’re now playing a cover of it. Eddie also spots you and your friends, and throws a wink in your direction. 

He moves his head to the microphone and starts singing. And suddenly a few realizations wash over you like a tidal wave. First of all, he sings. You knew he was the guitarist, but you didn’t know he was also the lead singer. Second of all, you realize that this isn’t just a crush. Seeing him up there in all his glory, singing like his life depends on it, you know deep in your heart that you’ve fallen head over heels, madly in love with him. You never let yourself ponder the deepness of your crush on him and now it all comes crashing down on you. And thirdly, you realize he probably doesn’t feel the same way about you. It feels like a stab in the heart. He never expressed anything other than friendship to you. Never dropped any hints. I mean, sure, you guys flirt with each other often, but he flirts with all his friends, so it doesn’t mean anything. The chances of this being unrequited are quite big.

You try to push your thoughts aside and enjoy the concert - enjoy Eddie. You focus on the music, moving your body along to it, really feel it, but you can’t escape the tight feeling, as if a hand is squeezing your heart.

Apart from your internal crisis, the concert is an absolute hit. The Hideout is thrumming with energy and elation and despite the squeezing feeling in your heart, you appreciate the concert. It’s a mix of metal songs and pop songs in a metal coat. In between songs, Eddie, ever the showman, entertains the audience, keeps them on their toes. He really is made to do this. 

“Alright, my lovely ladies and gents! It is, very unfortunately of course, time for our last song. This one is a special one, if I do say so myself. It goes out to a special girl in the audience! Enjoy!” Eddie announces. He spreads his arms while he is talking, in his usual way. Then you hear them counting down for the song to begin. 

You can’t fight the sadness that washes over you as his words sink in. He’s serenading a song for the girl he likes and you’re quite sure it’s not you. You subtly look around you. There are quite a few girls present. You try to figure out who it could be, but soon give up, once he starts singing. Your eyes snap to his. You make eye contact. Your breath is hitching in your throat and for a second, only a second, you let yourself hope. 

So long, I've been looking too hard I've been waiting too long Sometimes I don't know what I will find I only know it's a matter of time

Almost as soon as your eyes meet, he moves them away, avoiding your gaze. 

When you love someone When you love someone It feels so right, so warm and true I need to know if you feel it too Maybe I'm wrong Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong? This heart of mine has been hurt before This time I want to be sure

He’s singing earnestly now, pouring his heart and soul into the song. Yet your eyes never meet again. He looks everywhere but at you. 

I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life I've been waiting for a girl like you, your a love that will survive I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life

Your heart sinks into your shoes. It’s not you. You’re not the special girl he’s singing this song for. You’re mad at yourself for letting yourself have hope. You should have known. Not even your parents love you, why would he?

When the song is over you look over at Robin with sadness in your eyes, only to be met with confusion. She shoots you a questioning gaze, but you just shake your head. 

The room packed with people starts feeling like it’s all too much. There’s too much noise, it’s too hot, and you’re getting a claustrophobic feeling. You need to get out of there, fast. 

You turn around, moving to get away when you’re stopped by your brother. “Hey, hey, hey! Where are you going?” He asks, concern written on his face. 

“I just really need to get some air.” You answer vaguely. 

“Okay, I’ll come with you!” He says, moving to go with you. 

“No, please, I really just wanna be alone for a minute. I’ll be fine, I promise!” You look at him with pleading eyes. He looks at you for a long second, before sighing and nodding, letting you go. 

You make your way quickly through the crowd, as they’re all still cheering and clapping for the performance. Somewhere deep inside, you feel like a bad friend for not staying and cheering, but that feeling is no match for the overwhelming sadness. 

When you finally make it outside, you take a few calming breaths, hoping to calm yourself down. But your eyes have another idea and tears start slipping out of them. You stand against a wall near the entrance and let it all wash over you. 

It feels like the hand that wrapped itself around your heart starts squeezing more tightly, using its nails to hurt you even more. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there. It could be only a few seconds, it could be 20 minutes. People are slowly exiting the bar, but mostly everyone stays inside. 

Suddenly the door slams open and catches your attention. You see Eddie exiting and looking around frantically. You turn away from him, wipe your tears and hope he doesn’t see you. Your hope is in vain of course, as you hear his chain rattling as he approaches you. 

“So what did you think of-” He cuts himself off when he sees your blotchy red face, the smile slipping from his. “Hey, what’s wrong, princess?” He asks softly, brushing your hair behind your ears and cupping your face. 

You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him - which is quite difficult as his face is awfully close to yours - and say: “It’s nothing, it’s just something silly.”

“I’m sure it’s not just something silly, tell me!” He insists. 

“Just leave me and go to your stupid special girl.” You bite back, anger in your eyes. You push his hand away from your face and try to put as much distance between you as possible. You know you have no right to be angry. He can like whoever he wants. But being reasonable is off the table for you right now. 

He looks at you, pondering. “… Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?” He asks incredulously. 

“Fuck off, dickhead. No need to rub it in.” You snap back, anger boiling. 

“Well, the thing is, my very dear princess, it’s quite impossible to be jealous of yourself, I’m pretty sure.” He answers, a smile starting to break out on his face. 

“What do you mean?” You eventually ask uncertainly. 

“I mean, Y/N, that you’re the special girl from the song.” He explains patiently. 

The very second the words are out of his mouth, the hand around your heart disappears and you can’t do anything but rush forward and almost connect your lips. Almost. You’re still giving him an out. If he doesn’t want you, if he doesn’t feel that way about you, he can back up now and you will both pretend nothing happened. 

But he doesn’t do that. No, he wastes no time to close the distance and you finally feel his lips on yours. As your lips move against each other tentatively, his hands find your waist and he guides the two of you back until your back hits the wall. 

The tentative kiss soon turns into something that’s starting to resemble a full blown make out session. Not too long after that, you both pull away, gasping for air, with lovesick smiles on your faces. You both start blushing as well, remembering that you just did that in public. 

Suddenly a thought pops into your head. You smile a mischievous smile. “Rock, paper scissors on who tells my brother we’re dating?” You joke. 

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Oh, so we’re dating now, are we, princess?” He winks at you. 

“Well, you ain’t getting rid of me now, dickhead.” You nudge him playfully, but there’s still an insecure edge to it. Maybe you assumed to quickly and he doesn’t actually want to date you?

Before that train of thought can leave the station, he slings his arm around your shoulder. “Alright, that’s fine by me, princess. Where do you want to go on our first date then?” He drops a kiss on your cheeks and you can’t help the blush that spreads. You both start walking, ever so slowly, back to the entrance of the bar, to go back to your friends.

“Surprise me.” You wink.

~~~ 

A/N: That’s it! Hope you guys enjoyed it!

[pompomoo]

Please read from right to left. This is BartNat, maybe. I drew in line with the request for a story in which Nathaniel is treated as a villain after PG. It contradicts my previous post, haha. But there is no right answer for AU, so it's good that different patterns exist. I have also thought a lot about responding to this request. Here is some additional information I thought of.

After PG, I don't think that the surviving magicians would make Nathaniel a villain. Even just for the sake of it, the public has the worst opinion of magicians. I think the surviving magicians will treat Nathaniel as a hero in order to restore the honor of magicians as a whole. 

However, the situation may be reversed if the commoners take power. The empowered commoners overthrow the magicians' government and set up a new government. And I think eventually the commoners who built the new government will learn magic. In that world, knowledge is a weapon. It is also true that magicians were needed to prevent invasion from other countries. Don't need iron, gunpowder, factories, or money. All they need is to learn a spell and they will have a strong military force. How could a human being give up such power? However, the new government has not forgotten the PG incident and will be as polite as possible to the spirits. 

The new government also harshly denounced the old government's way of being in order to emphasize that they were the righteous magicians. The criticism was strongly directed at Nathaniel, who was also the symbol of the old government after the PG. Despite the criticism they faced as a former government, Nathaniel's grave was made by Kitty and Piper. This was an AU in such a setting. 

Bart's transformation into the form of Nat is something I have always wanted to portray. After PG, Bart will borrow Nat's form. Jonathan Stroud said as much. But before the memory of the incident fades, if he walks around London in his 17 year old Nat form, he will be immediately noticed by others. Bart wants to borrow Nat's form, but he doesn't want people to notice he's in Nat's form. So he borrowed Nat's appearance as a 14 year old. Because no one knows and no one remembers 14 year old Nat. And conveniently, half of his face is hidden by bangs like a lion's mane. Well, it is all a fantasy in my head. haha. 

Thank you for reading this far! As always, I would appreciate it if you could let me know if there are any typos or misuses.