#chris 008 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gigiii1sblog · 1 month ago

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KISS ME LIKE A SECRET 008

Warnings: mature content, cheating, fluff, sexual content, 2 year age gap, 18 & 20 and more

Chapter eight: we were never careful

Y/N:

It started as a lie.

Now it’s a full-blown operation.

Matt’s voice still echoed in the back of my head—“She’s planning something for your birthday”—and somehow, that last-second save had spiraled into me actually planning a surprise party for Nate.

The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

The living room was already cluttered with streamers, cheap balloons, and a half-deflated blow-up “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banner that wouldn’t stick to the wall. Nick was sitting on the floor in front of the Bluetooth speaker, building a playlist and arguing with himself about whether Nate would tolerate any Charli XCX. Matt was on the phone with a liquor guy who definitely wasn’t carding us.

And me?

I was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in bowls of chips and store-bought dips, trying not to burn the frozen pizza rolls, thinking about how my hands had been on Chris’s back just the night before.

How his were all over me.

And now we were planning his best friend’s surprise party like I wasn’t sneaking around behind that best friend’s back.

Chris hadn’t shown up yet. Not to the house, not to the group chat. Not even a text. Which… wasn’t like him.

I tried not to care. I tried not to refresh the screen.

But it’d been hours since that scene on the porch, where Matt made something up so quickly I couldn’t decide if I was grateful or terrified. The lie had felt like a slap and a blessing, all wrapped into one. And now, there was pressure to make it real. Because if we didn’t… Nate would know.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel, eyes flicking toward the front window again.

No sign of Chris.

“You good?” Nick asked from the floor, glancing up at me with that all-knowing gaze of his.

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He stared at me for a beat too long. Then shrugged, going back to curating the soundtrack like he hadn’t just caught me in a silent spiral.

Matt walked in holding two packs of Solo cups and looked around like the place might explode. “This still looks like we’re throwing a sixth grader’s sleepover.”

“Not my fault you made up a party out of thin air,” I snapped, half-teasing, half-overstimulated.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey—I saved your asses.”

You did, I thought, lips twitching. And now I’m stuck throwing my brother a party because of it.

The door creaked open behind us.

I didn’t even have to turn to know it was Chris. I felt him. Like a spark in my chest that hadn’t stopped flickering since the night in his car. Since the shower. Since every touch that shouldn’t have happened.

He walked in slowly, nodding at Matt, barely sparing me a glance—but my skin still buzzed like he’d dragged his fingers across my bare spine.

“You’re late,” Matt said.

“Was getting the stuff,” Chris replied, lifting a bag filled with firewood, a case of beer, and plastic forks.

“Good,” Nick chirped. “Now this party might actually not suck.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Not with Chris so close, smelling like pine and cologne, his shoulder brushing mine as he passed by to drop things off on the table.

Our eyes met for half a second.

It was enough to remind me what his mouth felt like between my thighs.

He turned away.

And just like that—I was losing my mind in a kitchen full of party decorations.

⸻

CHRIS:

The party had only just started, and already the bass was shaking the floors of the beach house. Lights flickered across the ceiling in lazy pulses, and the place was filling up faster than I expected. Nate was in the backyard shotgunning beers with some guys from the team, yelling like it was his birthday, not that he knew we planned the whole thing for him.

I was leaning against the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, trying to play it cool. But the second the door opened again, and I saw her—

Fuck.

Y/N.

She walked in like the entire house wasn’t about to tilt in her direction. Tight flared low-rise jeans hugging her hips. A little black crop top, thin straps tied behind her neck, showing off her stomach—and that damn silver belly ring glinting under the lights.

Her hair was down, curled, framing her face in waves that made my throat go dry. And her makeup? Sharp winged liner, eyelashes, glossy lips, a dusting of shimmer on her cheeks that made her look too good to be real.

She laughed at something Nick said, eyes crinkling. And then she looked up, saw me across the room. Our eyes met, and it was like the air dropped ten degrees.

I didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

“Yo,” one of the guys beside me—Eli—elbowed me with a grin. “Is that Nate’s sister?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

“Damn,” he muttered, biting his lip. “She grew up fine. You see that piercing?”

I didn’t answer. Just clenched my jaw and sipped my drink, watching as she made her way through the house like she belonged to no one.

Nick was with her, like always lately. Protective, subtle, the only one who looked at me like he knew.

Y/N didn’t come up to me. She didn’t have to. The tension pulled anyway—stretched like a wire between us, hot and silent.

Matt came up beside me, catching my line of sight.

“You’re staring,” he muttered.

I didn’t look at him. “Am I?”

He smirked. “Try not to punch Eli in the face when he says something else about her.”

“I’m not gonna punch anyone,” I said tightly.

“Sure,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Just keep pretending this isn’t driving you insane.”

The music pulsed louder. Y/N moved through the crowd, swaying to the beat, accepting a drink from Nick and leaning in close to say something in his ear. And all I could think about was how good her skin looked under this light. How my hands knew every curve under that top. How we hadn’t touched in three days and it already felt like a month.

She glanced over her shoulder again, like she knew what I was thinking.

I lifted my cup to my lips, smirking.

This was going to be a long night.

Y/N:

The second I stepped into the beach house, I knew I was in trouble.

Not because of the party it was packed, music thumping through the floorboards, people spilling out onto the back deck with drinks already half gone. Not because of Nate, who was shirtless in the backyard screaming with a beer in one hand and a sparkler in the other.

No.

Because of him.

Chris.

I spotted him right away, posted up by the kitchen counter like he always did when he wanted to look chill but really wasn’t. His jaw was tight, shoulders flexed under his white tee, the sleeves hugging his arms in that way that made girls whisper. He had that red Solo cup in his hand like he was pretending to care about the drink, but his eyes were locked on me.

He didn’t smile.

Just stared like he was mad at me. Or like he wanted to drag me into the nearest room.

Maybe both.

Nick bumped into me gently, offering me a drink. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

But I wasn’t. Not even a little. Not when Chris looked at me like that. Like he was still angry I ignored him after everything—the beach, the bonfire, the way he touched me under the stars like I was his secret.

And maybe I had ignored him. I needed to breathe. To think. Because being around Chris was like standing too close to a fire, and I was starting to feel the burn.

Still, when my eyes met his again from across the room, I felt it like a slap to the chest. That magnetic pull. The secret we shared.

And then Eli leaned toward him, said something, and Chris’s expression changed. His jaw clenched hard, the muscle ticking. Like he wanted to throw the guy into the fridge. I looked away quickly, but my stomach twisted.

What the hell was I doing?

Nick looped his arm through mine as we made our way to the back deck. “Nate’s gonna get himself kicked out of his own party,” he said with a grin.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I laughed, but my smile felt off.

I could feel Chris behind me, even when I wasn’t looking. Could feel the burn of his stare. And part of me liked it liked knowing he was watching. That he noticed me.

But it was dangerous.

He was Nate’s best friend.

And Nate was…

“If I ever catch any of my boys looking at my sister that way,” Nate suddenly yelled from across the backyard, lifting his drink and swaying a little, “I swear to fucking God—”

The crowd laughed.

My heart stopped.

Nick’s hand tightened around mine protectively. “Don’t flinch,” he whispered. “You’re fine. He doesn’t know anything.”

But Chris had frozen where he stood. His jaw clenched tighter than before, red creeping up his neck.

Nate kept going, still drunk and yelling to the crowd. “My sister is off-limits, alright? Y/N’s like—she’s not for any of you losers. You even try it, I’m knocking teeth out.”

More laughter. But Chris didn’t laugh.

He turned away, stalking off the deck and around the side of the house.

And my chest ached.

Because even if no one else noticed what we were, we did. And pretending not to care wasn’t working anymore.

⸻

The party didn’t slow down.

If anything, it got louder, sweatier. Bodies swaying under string lights, music pulsing through the bones of the house. People I hadn’t seen in years were brushing past me, hugging me, saying how much I’d grown. Girls I barely knew complimented my outfit, tight black cropped top, low-rise jeans that hit just below my belly piercing, and asked if I had someone special tonight.

I laughed them off.

But my eyes kept flicking to the doorway. Always to him.

Chris hadn’t spoken to me all night.

Not really. Not since Nate’s little off-limits speech made the air go tense. He was acting like he didn’t care—laughing with Eli, dapping up his teammates, occasionally shooting pool in the corner of the game room but I knew that look. I knew that vein in his neck, the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He was pissed.

And when he caught one of Nate’s friends talking to me too close, he made it worse.

I had only been talking to James—the guy worked at the same surf shop I did over summer break. But Chris appeared out of nowhere, shoulder-checking him just enough to seem like an accident.

“Didn’t know you were doing interviews tonight,” he muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t stop. Just gave me a once-over slow, mouth twitching at the sight of the curve of my hip, the chain from my belly piercing peeking above the waistband of my jeans, and then walked off again, drink in hand, jaw tense.

I wanted to scream.

But I didn’t. I let the party continue. I danced with Nick, let Matt try to teach me how to shotgun a beer and failed miserably. I even let a guy spin me during a song and laughed too loud, mostly because I knew Chris could see it.

I was petty like that.

But even through all the chaos, the alcohol, the music, I was still only tuned into one person.

Chris.

He didn’t look at me when I passed by the kitchen. Didn’t even glance up. But I could see his hand grip the counter harder. His friends were talking about something loud and dumb, but he wasn’t listening. He was tracking me in the corner of his eye like I was a storm he was trying not to chase.

And I knew the moment would come.

The moment he got a little too tipsy.

A little too jealous.

A little too much.

And that was when things always exploded.

But we weren’t there yet.

Not yet.

Right now, we were still pretending. Still circling each other like we hadn’t already broken the rules. Like we hadn’t already seen each other bare, emotionally, physically. Like he didn’t whisper my name when we were alone.

Still, my heart stuttered when I saw him lean against the wall near the stairs later—drink in hand, shirt clinging to his chest from the humidity, eyes locked on mine like he was waiting.

Daring me.

But I didn’t move.

Not yet.

I wanted him to crack first.

And something about that made the air between us even hotter.

CHRIS:

She knew what she was doing.

Walking past me like that. The slow sway of her hips. The flash of silver from her belly piercing when her top lifted just enough. The lip gloss—pinkish brown, wet, meant to be bitten off someone’s mouth.

I’d been ignoring her all night. On purpose. Because Nate’s voice was still echoing in my skull, all that “I’d kill any of my friends who looked at her like that” bullshit he spat when he was three beers deep and posturing in the backyard.

But the problem was, I’d always thought she was a pretty girl. I just hadn’t done anything about it until recently.

And now? Now I’d had her. Tasted her. Felt the sound she made when she came. She wasn’t just Nate’s little sister anymore.

She was mine.

And it was driving me fucking insane.

I took another sip of whatever was in my red cup. I wasn’t drunk, not really, just warm in the chest. Buzzed enough that my filter was thinning. Eyes heavy. Body twitchy. I wanted her. Now. Somewhere dark. Somewhere I could remind her who the fuck she belonged to.

Her laugh rang out from the kitchen. Not loud, not dramatic. Just soft. Playful. The kind of laugh that made my stomach curl. Someone said her name, some guy from the skate park. I didn’t even know his name, but he was standing too close.

I didn’t move.

But she caught my eye again.

Held it.

Like she was challenging me. Like she knew.

And I cracked.

⸻

I found her in the hallway near the back of the house, away from the crowd. She was leaning against the wall, nursing a drink, scrolling through something on her phone.

“You just gonna act like I’m invisible all night?” I asked.

Her eyes lifted slow. “You’ve been doing it to me.”

I stepped closer. “Yeah, and how’s that working out for either of us?”

She smirked, didn’t answer.

I hated when she did that, when she had the upper hand. When she knew I’d cave first.

My hand slid down the wall beside her head, my body just inches from hers. I could smell the coconut lotion on her skin. The hint of tequila on her breath.

“You gonna keep flirting with every guy in here just to piss me off?”

“Why?” she asked. “Is it working?”

I let out a breath. “You know it is.”

Her eyes flicked to my mouth. My fingers were already brushing against her hip, slow, testing. I leaned in, close enough to kiss her, but stopped just short.

“Tell me to stop,” I said, voice rough. “Tell me to go back out there and pretend like I don’t wanna take you upstairs.”

She stared at me for a second. That same storm in her eyes from earlier. Then:

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Y/N:

The party buzzed below like a muffled hum, laughter spilling out into the night through open windows and cracked beer cans. But none of it mattered, not with his fingers laced through mine, tugging me up the stairs, two at a time.

Chris didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

His hand squeezed mine tight like he was afraid I’d change my mind. Like if he didn’t get me alone right now, something inside him might snap.

The hallway was dark except for the flicker of colored lights from the living room bleeding up the walls. I could hear Nate’s voice somewhere downstairs, still laughing, probably drunk out of his mind. Good. That meant we had time.

When we slipped into my bedroom and the door clicked shut behind us, the whole world fell away.

No noise. No party. Just the sound of us breathing.

Chris leaned back against the door, chest rising and falling, like he was trying to get control of himself. I didn’t move. I just stared at him.

The way his hair were damp with sweat. His jaw tense. His lips parted.

“Come here baby, ” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate.

In three slow strides, he was in front of me, hands cupping my face like I was something fragile, but his eyes said the opposite. He looked starved. Devoted. Possessive.

His mouth met mine, rough at first. Desperate. But then it softened, slowed, like he didn’t want to waste a second of this.

I tasted the beer on his lips. Felt the edge of his teeth when he bit down gently on my lower lip.

My fingers slipped under his shirt, palms tracing the ridges of his stomach, his ribs. I pushed the fabric up and he let me, arms raising as I pulled it over his head. I kissed down his chest, slow, my lips lingering at the little scar under his collarbone.

Chris’s hands slid under the hem of my top, fingertips brushing lightly over my ribs, then down. He paused when he reached the silver of my belly piercing, looking down at it.

“When the fuck did you even get this?” he breathed.

I smirked, just barely. “Months ago.”

He didn’t say anything.

He dropped to his knees.

Pressed a kiss right above it.

And I swear I almost fell apart right there.

I reached for him, pulling him back up, and we moved together like gravity was pulling us into one another. Clothes were peeled off one layer at a time, slow, reverent. My back hit the mattress. His weight settled over me. Every inch of our bodies touching, heat buzzing between us, heavy and tense.

His lips ghosted over my collarbone. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

My fingers tangled in his hair. “Then take it.”

He lined himself up slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. My nails dug into his shoulders.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I won’t,” I said. “Not with you.”

He pushed in—slow, steady—and I gasped, the stretch making my back arch.

Chris swallowed a moan against my throat. “Still fit me like you’re made for me.”

I was barely holding it together.

His hips rolled slow, each thrust deeper, hotter, more intense. One of his hands reached up, fingers slipping through mine above my head, holding me still. His forehead pressed to mine.

We moved together, breathless, like we were trying to memorize the feel of each other’s skin.

And just when I felt myself starting to lose it, just when his lips grazed my ear and he whispered, “You’re mine,”—

the bedroom door slammed open.

“Yo—what the f—” Nate’s voice cracked like a whip.

Chris froze inside me.

My heart stopped.

Nate stood in the doorway, eyes wide, drunk, but not drunk enough to misunderstand what he just saw.

Silence.

None of us moved.

“Are you FUCKING serious?”

heheheh cliffhanger….

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze @pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44 @emeraldsturns-deactivated202505 @sturnslux3 @kalel2005 @sarahsturnn

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drfirsnogayny · 8 months ago

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Flower Color Gram Halloween, but updated

@flower-color-gram

Adonis: Fairy 🧚

Alina: Demon 👿

Hop: Vampire 🧛

Abigal: Pirate 🏴‍☠️

Callum: Zombie 🧟

Pixy: Dead Lady 🪦

Mike: Mummy ⚰️

Chris: Ghost 👻

Byron: Priest ✝️

Ivy: Werewolf 🐺

List of changes:

Adonis: The clothes have acquired an orange hue, the sleeves and collar have become sharp, the belt and the design of the boots have been changed

Alina: the horns, tail and skin turned green, the hooves disappeared, the tip of the tail became diamond-shaped. Accessories (hairpin, patches and bracelets) were returned, patches on horns were added, a pendant similar to a hairpin, gold jewelry on the arm, right horn and tail.

Hop: Hair coloring and beret have been restored, decorations in the form of maroon bats have been added to the beret, decoration on trousers has been added, gloves have been added.

Abigal: A daisy pattern has been added to the eye patch, the color of the vest is turquoise, the color of the scarf has been changed to green, and a skirt decoration has been added.

Callum: Skin color was changed to purple and pink, the patch on the eye was returned (I also replaced the closed eye with an empty socket, but I won't show it), the color of the trousers was changed to white and the color of the scratch

Pixy: Added a skull to the hat.

Mike: The color of the jewelry and bandages turned purple, an earring was added.

Chris: No change.

Byron: A broken halo has been added

Ivy: Finger lines and pockets on the vest have been added, the collar color has become white

#artist on tumblr #kindergarten 2 #kindergarten game #kindergarten au #kindergarten oc #flower color gram #adonis 001 #alina 002 #hop 003 #abigal 004 #callum 005 #pixy 006 #mike 007 #chris 008 #byron 009 #ivy 010 #halloween #drfn dolls

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flower-color-gram · 11 months ago

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The prisoner....

You will see them soon...

Starting 20/7/24

We will post every week, prepare..

Get ready!

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mattslolita · 1 year ago

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psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( intro. )

in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.

ghostface!chris x black!fem oc

warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc

"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

𝒁aria 𝑺imone as 𝑪harmaine 𝑰rie 𝑬vans

The Final Girl. I Did Something Bad.

𝑪hristopher 𝑺turniolo as 𝑯imself

The Boyfriend. Disturbia.

( everyone else as themselves! )

playlist :

( 001 ). psycho killer - talking heads

( 002 ). in my room - insane clown posse

( 003 ). all-american bitch - olivia rodrigo

( 004 ). pacify her - melanie martinez

( 005 ). all i wanted - paramore

( 006 ). favorite crime - olivia rodrigo

( 007 ). i did something bad - taylor swift

( 008 ). disturbia - rihanna

( 009 ). na na - trey songz

( 010 ). heaven - julia michaels

( 011 ). friends - chase atlantic

( 012 ). gasoline - halsey

( 013 ). starboy - the weeknd

( 014 ). tag, your it - melanie martinez

( 015 ). heads will roll - yeah yeah yeahs

( 016 ). heathens - twenty one pilots

( 017 ). daddy issues - the neighborhood

( 018 ). dollhouse - melanie martinez

( 019 ). doin time - lana del rey

( 020 ). kill bill - sza

( 021 ). criminal - britney spears

( 022 ). serial killer - lana del rey

( 023 ). mad hatter - melanie martinez

( 024 ). brutal - olivia rodrigo

( 025 ). pumped up kicks - foster the people

( 026 ). woo - rihanna

( 027 ). stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey

( 028 ). sippy cup - melanie martinez

( 029 ). smooth operator - sade

( 030 ). cake - melanie martinez

( 031 ). ready for it? - taylor swift

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱

💌 lil

this fic was on my burner wattpad acc but i missed her, so here she is for y'all to enjoy !😜 most chaps were pre-written, so expect pt. 1 soon😏

for my baes : @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @guccifrog @e1ias3 @mrssturnioloo @prettiest-poision @mattsivy ❤‍🩹

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #joe quinn #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #Spotify

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reputationshqs · 10 months ago

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to ease the burden on our distinguished guests, the owner has opted to select whom you will be rooming with. each villa has more than enough space for up to four guests to be comfortable. when you arrive you will receive your room key and there is a welcome basket waiting for each of you. we do have to inform you that no switches will be allowed to be made, every room has been specifically assigned for one reason or another. we do hope that you enjoy your stay with us here at the wavecrest! these are the roommates for our first event!

VILLA 001 : tom holland, zendaya coleman, harry styles & florence pugh

VILLA 002 : pete davidson, sabrina carpenter & alycia debnam carey

VILLA 003 : callum turner, jesse williams, madison beer & dua lipa

VILLA 004 : hailey bieber, justin bieber, camila morrone & shawn mendes

VILLA 005 : nicholas galitzine & awsten knight

VILLA 006 : sydney sweeney, glen powell, louis tomlinson & kendall jenner

VILLA 007 : olivia cooke, taylor zakhar perez & sebastian stan

VILLA 008 : taylor swift, chase stokes & aaron johnson

VILLA 009 : isabela merced & chris evans

VILLA 010 : zayn malik, gigi hadid, kaia gerber & jacob elordi

VILLA 011 : nick jonas, selena gomez, joe jonas & ariana grande

VILLA 012 : austin butler, reneé rapp & noah sebastian

VILLA 013 : hailee steinfeld, bill skarsgaard, & lauren jauregui

VILLA 014 : dove cameron, dacre montgomery & chris hemsworth

VILLA 015 : daisy edgar jones, chace crawford, bradley cooper

VILLA 016 : maia mitchell , drew starkey & derek discanio

#reputationshqs.event01 #reputationshqs.event

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kiemiu · 6 months ago

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──── STURNIOLO ROMANCE TROPE DUMP PT. 1 ˎˊ˗

synopsis this is honestly just a few cute romance ideas that i've thought of and would love to see implemented into some sturniolo fics :> these are completely free for taking just provide credit if you happen to get inspired! <3

001. 7 days | pathetic!chris sturniolo x brat!reader | the pursuit trope |

all chris wants is 7 days to prove to you that he can be the man for you. and if that means spending all the money on his card or embarrassing himself in the process, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to get you to fall in love with him.

002. unfortunate events | matt sturniolo x reader | soulmate trope |

you and matt can't seem to stay away from each other. always bumping into each other in the most unfortunate ways. accidentally spilling coffee on you before a job interview, him nearly running over you on one of your morning jogs, getting trapped in an elevator together, crashing into each other while riding bikes,, you think this is all just unlucky coincidences but what if he's actually seeking you out with the worst approach?

003. he's all that | outcast!chris sturniolo x popular!reader | makeover magic trope |

your biggest challenge yet relied in the form of chris sturniolo. obnoxious, loud, and a bit gross, he was everything you found icky about boys despite dating the biggest asshole on campus. with prom only being a few weeks away, will you be able to transform him into everyone's dream guy while simultaneously falling in love, or will you fail?

004. kiss me already! | student council!matt sturniolo x cheerleader!reader | grump x sunshine trope |

you, the pretty, popular, cheerleader suddenly interested in him—the nerdy, uptight, student council president? matt doesn't understand your sudden obsession with him, and frankly isn't very fond of it. yet, his constant disdain for you doesn't stop you from asking him out on dates and flirting with him, will his insecurities stop him from pursuing you, or will he finally fall into your charms?

005. love letter | jock!chris sturniolo x nerd!reader | secret admirer trope |

chris has a hard time expressing his feelings verbally, so he resorts to writing poetry. the depth of his work only increasing when he finds a muse. you're quiet, shy, always having your nose in a book, and completely in tune to your own world. nothing like him, yet he wants you so badly. afraid of his friends making fun of him, he decides to keep his poetry a secret, and his identity hidden from the heartfelt letters he leaves in your locker.

006. glass onion | matt sturniolo x reader | forced proximity trope |

the two of you, complete strangers to each other, decide to bind together after a series of tragic murders occur at the fancy resort you're both staying at. the killer is still at large, and could possibly be the man you're partnering up with...

007. secret potion | gryffindor!chris sturniolo x hufflepuff!reader | hogwarts au |

on the cusp of losing the girl he's hopelessly in love with, chris creates a love potion to lure you back into his arms.

008. somebody else | townie!matt x rich!reader | forbidden love trope |

his parents hate yours, and your parents hate his. growing up with a high profile lifestyle and always being in the public eye for one thing or the other, your parents had laid out very strict ground rules for you to follow. the main one being stay away from the sturniolo's. but you were never one to follow rules.

009. p power | playboy!chris sturniolo x playgirl!reader | enemies to lovers + fake dating trope |

chris has to convince his parents he's officially settled down to avoid being forced into a marriage with a woman he doesn't want. to keep playing the field and get his parents off of his case, he decides to make up a fake girlfriend. and who better to use as a scapegoat than one of his old hookups?

010. mine all mine | nerd!matt sturniolo x nerd!reader | friends to lovers trope |

it's obvious to anyone with two eyes that you and matt have feelings for each other, you're both just too shy to take it a step further. with the help from his friends, will he finally confess his feelings to you before it's too late, or will another guy swoop in and take you?

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comicwaren · 1 year ago

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From Black Panther Vol. 9 #008, “Reign at Dusk: Part 8”

Art by Mack Chater, Chris Allen, Craig Yeung and Jesus Aburtov

Written by Eve L. Ewing

#black panther #t'challa #penance #monet st. croix #beisa #natima ngoza #aliinya nkisu #baba nkisu #marvel #comics #marvel comics

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v4vile-a · 1 year ago

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luanne jackson / @unbaptism : 008. back row of an empty movie theater .

IT WAS VERY TYPICAL OF OLD RE-RUNS to garner either a huge audience, or none at all. the latter had occurred tonight, but chris didn't care all that much. over time, he'd developed a great connection with wet cigarettes' luanne jackson and he'd invited her tonight to see a childhood favourite of his. they didn't need a full room to break any ice between them, it had occurred long ago.

‘ noooooo! ’ chris cries out, reacting to the death of a character. he begins to throw chunks of popcorn as far as he can, but obviously falling short of the movie screen.

kicking his feet up onto the seat in front, chris holds out the popcorn bucket to luanne, ‘ sorry, you were eating these. ’

#﹫ ╱ v4vile⠀:⠀ inbox.#﹫ ╱ v4vile⠀:⠀ america — it's not me it's you.#queue #unbaptism #some of my faves 2 develop atm

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gigiii1sblog · 14 days ago

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DORM-ROOM DEVIL 008

Warnings: mature content, fluff, sexual content, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sexual content.

Chapter Eight: Closer Than Cold

Y/N POV:

We stayed in the car for hours.

I don’t even know when the flirting stopped and the real talk started. All I know is somewhere between him lighting his second blunt and me stealing a drag, we ended up talking about love. About hurt. About people who swore they wouldn’t leave and did anyway.

His voice was quieter then. Softer. His walls cracked just a little. Just enough to show he wasn’t just the cocky frat guy everyone saw.

And somewhere in all that haze and moonlight, I kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me. It didn’t matter. Because once it started, it was like gravity.

He took me apart slowly in the backseat. Like he knew it couldn’t just be fast and easy this time.

He touched me like he’d been waiting. Held eye contact. Whispered my name like it meant something.

So yeah, I thought maybe… maybe this was something.

But that was last night.

This morning was a different story.

Chris sat on the edge of the couch, hoodie on, hood up, backwards hat still perfectly in place. Hoodie strings dangling. Barely looking up when I walked in, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else.

No smile. No smirk. Not even a glance at my bare legs.

He was already checked out.

“Morning,” I said, testing the waters.

He didn’t respond.

I blinked, heart tightening. “We’re doing the silent treatment now?”

Chris looked up, finally. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, maybe something? Anything?” I crossed my arms. “You were literally inside me for two nights in a row and now you’re acting like we’re strangers.”

He scoffed and looked away, spoon still lazily circling his cereal. “Don’t make it a big deal.”“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to just let you use me and then get over it before breakfast?”

That hit. I saw his jaw clench.

“I didn’t use you.”

“You’re treating it like it meant nothing!”

“Because it didn’t have to mean something!” he snapped, standing now, voice raised. “You were the one telling me you didn’t want anything serious. You. You were the one always talking about how you didn’t want the ‘feelings and fallout bullshit.’ So don’t get mad at me for actually not taking it serious.”

The room went still.

My stomach dropped.

My voice was quieter now, bitter. “I said I didn’t want anything serious because I thought you didn’t.”

Chris looked at me — really looked — for the first time that morning.

And I saw it: panic.

Not because he didn’t care, but because he did. And he didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

“I’m not built for this shit, Y/N.”

“You’re not built for honesty either,” I whispered. “Or decency. Or not treating people like options.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, stepping forward, angry now. “You think I planned this? You think I wanted to catch feelings for the one girl I live with? The one who sees me at my worst and still walks around in baggy shirts and messy hair like she owns the place?”

I blinked.

He stared, chest rising and falling hard.

“I didn’t plan on you,” he muttered.

And suddenly, I didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that he cared and wouldn’t admit it… or the fact that I did too, and I was already admitting it out loud.

He grabbed his keys, as he opened the door, he paused. Didn’t look back.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one scared.”

And then he was gone.

And I hated that part of me wanted him to come back.

Y/N POV: Later That Night

I don’t hear him come in last night.

But I feel it. The weight of him in the apartment. The way the energy shifts like the air knows I’m holding back tears over someone who technically doesn’t even belong to me.

I stay locked in my room.

Not because I’m mad, though maybe I am but because I don’t want to be pathetic. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to see my red eyes or the way my mouth is still swollen from his kiss while he walks around here like it was just some accident. Just some fun.

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want anything serious…”

Yeah. I said that. I just didn’t think it’d hurt so bad when he believed me.

It’s late morning when I finally crawl out of bed. My head’s heavy, my stomach empty, and I can hear him in the kitchen.

Laughing.

He’s laughing. With someone on the phone. The tone of his voice makes something curdle inside me.

“Nah, she was crazy. But the head was insane.”

I freeze in the hallway. That’s not about me, at least, I don’t think it is, but it doesn’t matter. It still slices.

I walk in anyway. Bare-faced, hoodie on, hair in a bun like armor.

He’s leaning against the counter in gray sweats, his hair messy and his phone to his ear. He looks up when I enter, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t change tone, just gives me a look like you good? and goes back to laughing.

I brush past him to grab coffee. My hands are shaking.

He ends the call a few seconds later and tosses his phone on the counter.

“You sleep good?” he asks, casual.

I glance at him. “You really gonna ask me that?”

Chris raises a brow, slow smirk pulling at his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I say, voice low, “maybe next time you want to treat me like just a fuck, you should wait a day or two before talking about other girls in the same house we slept in.”

He blinks.

Then shrugs.

“You’re the one who said it didn’t mean anything.”

My jaw tightens. “Yeah. But I guess I thought that didn’t mean nothing.”

CHRIS POV:

She’s standing there in my sweatshirt, fire in her voice and her eyes all glassy like she doesn’t wanna cry but might anyway.

And yeah, I feel like an asshole. But I also feel like this is what I was afraid of.

This is why I don’t commit.

Why I keep things light.

Why I keep girls rotating, never let them get too close.

Because when they do, everything gets heavy.

But Y/N’s different. From the start. From the second she moved in and told me with that smug little smile that she parties harder than any frat boy I’ve ever met.

I should’ve known.

I should’ve known she’d crawl under my skin. That the lap dance, the jokes, the joint-sharing would lead to her curled in my sheets and me wondering why the hell it feels like something.

“You mad at me for doing exactly what you said you wanted?” I ask her, voice low now. Real.

She doesn’t answer.

So I keep going.

“’Cause if you changed your mind, Y/N… you could’ve told me.”

She scoffs, bitter. “What, and watch you walk away faster?”

My throat goes tight.

Because maybe she’s right.

But maybe I wouldn’t have.

Maybe I’m scared I would’ve stayed.

We’re both quiet for a beat. The only sound is the hum of the fridge and the sharp inhale as I light a joint, eyes locked on hers.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say finally, and my voice is softer than I mean it to be.

She doesn’t look at me. Just grabs her coffee and walks back toward her room.

Right before she closes the door behind her, she says:

“You already did.”

And I don’t stop her.

Because what the fuck would I even say?

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze @pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44@emeraldsturns @sturnslux3 @kalel2005 @sarahsturns @teheabrams @needchrissturniolobad @julessspoetry @sturniszn @slutforchrissturniolo2 @alinagrace11 @beardedbernard

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